Dances With My Dragon

by William David Ellis

  He said to me last night, “My Sarah…

  Wait, he said “my Sarah”? He said “my Sarah”!

  “I am going to make you into a killing machine” Harry, I don’t like that. I don’t want to be a killing machine. It just doesn’t sound right. My other mentor… Sorry, I forgot to tell you about her. She is much like the speaker sword; she is a living book! She can talk to me in my thoughts and her job is to train me to fight for Kusaila’s people.

  So, you’re being trained by a soulful, lonely warrior king who, like you, is also a dragon, and you’re expecting to help him fight his battles… This just keeps getting better and better.

  This is a hard place, Harry.

  In more ways than one, obviously… for both of us. Good grief. I’m going to lose her. After all this time, I am going to lose her.

  P.S. Stay away from that witch! I know you would never willingly do anything to betray your own heart, but she is a witch. The King assured me that this thing about Lizzy will work out. Just be careful, Harry.

  Seriously, Sarah? You want me to stay away from Belle Rodum while you get gentle and intimate training from a dragon prince that calls you “my Sarah”? This is ridiculous. I don’t know what to think or say. I have no desire to get to know Belle any better. I was as shocked as you to discover she is Lizzy’s mother. Oh God, help me!

  Love,

  Sarah

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Harry had lost any need to sleep. He couldn’t if he had tried. All he could think was he was losing her again. His anguished thoughts cried out to the speaker sword, Speaker, are you there? What is going on? You have been with her; you delivered the mail. What’s going on? Speaker, am I going to lose her again? After all this time?

  “Harry, can’t talk right now. Remember you have company that is very, very attuned to your body language and therefore your inner thoughts. We can talk about this later. Sorry.”

  Realizing the speaker was right, Harry sighed, sat up in the hospital room chair, and opened his eyes. He looked at Belle Rodum and was surprised to see her piercing golden eyes staring back at him.

  “Am I your prisoner?” she asked, her cold tone betraying her suspicions.

  “You know, Belle, I don’t care. I really do not give a rat’s rear end. Would you like to be my prisoner? Or are you content just lying there getting well, and dealing with the fact that not everybody hates you? Even though,” Harry continued, scratching his chin, “when I think about all the people you have hurt and the demonic entities you have conjured to hurt people, it’s easy to understand why you would think that. But right now, I have not reported back to my supervisors. They only know we were to meet, and they are probably wondering where I got off to. But between you and me, as soon as you can get out of that bed, you are free to go. The only reason I stayed close by was to ensure that whoever set out to kill you doesn’t finish the job. But after that… ma’am, you are on your own!”

  “Hmm, she really has you rattled, doesn’t she?”

  Harry’s eyes narrowed and his face hardened.

  The hair on Belle’s neck stood on end and a shiver ran through her body. She quickly added, “I am not taunting you, Harry Ferguson. And if I were, I most certainly am not now. I owe you that much. It is just excruciatingly obvious your heart is troubled, and by that, I mean you project your frustration like a desert sun.”

  Harry skewed her with a stone-cold look but didn’t say anything. Belle continued, “Harry, I only have one question and you can answer it or not; it really doesn’t matter to me, but it seems to be at the center of your turmoil. But out of respect for you and the fact that I owe you my life, I will not ask it if you do not want me to.”

  Harry breathed in deep. Belle moved onto her side and was leaning on her elbow, one eyebrow raised, waiting.

  “Fine, ask.”

  “Why are you in love with a dragon shifter that betrayed you and is so emotionally unstable she might turn away from you even now?”

  Harry felt like he had been slapped. He didn’t know if that was because Belle had cast a spell or because she asked a question he had no answer for. Several thoughts fought for expression, and after a long pause, he finally admitted, “I don’t know.” He didn’t feel the need to explain anything else and realized he couldn’t explain because he honestly didn’t know. He just knew he loved Sarah. More than he had ever loved anyone else in his life.

  It wasn’t a passing emotional crush; those didn’t last for a thousand years. Or at least he hoped they didn’t. And as he thought about it, he remembered what the King had told him. The King had said he and Sarah would be together. Harry closed his eyes and remembered the King’s promise.

  He had said, “You are going to spend a lifetime with her. You two are going to set back the clock on the enemy’s plans. You are the edge to my sword. It will not always be pleasant. But even those times will not rob you of your love and your joy.”

  As he remembered, a smile crossed his lips and relief spilled across his body like a cold spray of water on a hot Texas day.

  Belle Rodum watched wide-eyed as she saw the change in his features. Anger and jealousy spilled over her. Her body trembled as she watched. She didn’t understand what she was seeing. She had seen ecstasy and pleasure seize people before, but it was always dark and tainted and selfish. This was something different. It rattled her. She painfully tried to sit up, putting as much distance as she could from Harry. He heard her shuffling and opened his eyes. Belle stared at him. Fear raced across her face and stark terror manifested there.

  Harry was startled to see her response. “Belle, what’s wrong? What is going on?”

  “Stay away from me! Don’t touch me.”

  Harry didn’t understand but, trying to calm her fears, slowly raised his hand, palm open, toward her. Belle jumped back, unable to catch herself before she crashed to the floor, scattering medical equipment with a loud clang. She huddled in the corner of the room. Harry eased toward her. “Belle? Belle? I mean you no harm. What’s wrong? Let me help you,” he whispered gently.

  “Nooooo!” she wailed.

  Harry continued to move slowly toward her, his hand out, his palm open. Belle slid across the floor and began to convulse. Her body jerked, arching. Her face contorted. Something living slithered beneath her skin. Small bluish trails started at her temples and plowed across her skin toward her eyes and mouth.

  Harry was about to stoop down and touch her when the speaker’s voice warned, “No, Harry, stand! Hold out both hands, palms up, toward her and watch what happens!”

  Harry had learned when the speaker used that urgent tone it was best to obey. So he stepped back, both hands outstretched, and watched. Belle’s seizures peaked and then slowly subsided. A dark smoke that smelled like a combination of old sweat socks and sulphur crept through the room. The acrid stench caused his eyes to water and nose to curl in revolt. The dark smoke streamed from Belle’s mouth. He had seen this before with her, but then it was right after a fierce blast of light had burst from him. Harry knew that something evil was being forced out of her. He watched as the smoke and accompanying stench slithered across the floor and under the door. In a few putrid breaths, it was gone.

  Belle gasped, gulping air. Her eyes shot open wide. She looked at Harry for a moment, then frowned. She started to get up and was almost on her feet; then her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed. Harry grabbed her and sat on the edge of the bed. Instinctively Belle huddled close to him and whispered, “Alone… so alone… Oh, Harry.” Then she passed out.

  Harry looked down on her; he had to catch himself to keep from dropping her. Sucking in a startled breath, he shook his head, unbelieving. Belle Rodum’s countenance had radically changed. Before, she had dark features, hooded eyes, and an aura of constant anger. Her smiles were artificial constructs with no joy behind them. But now… now her face was pure, peaceful. She had always been beautiful, but it had been edged with a cold winter bite. Now it was like spring had
come to a landscape that had rarely known it. His heart raced as his brain tried to grasp what he was seeing.

  In the middle of this confusion, the speaker sword said, “Harry, what you are seeing is the other part of her bloodline. The angelic part. Thousands of years ago, certain angels left their positions and joined with the daughters of men. It was forbidden. The result was the angels were cast down and the children of that union became the demigods, powerful beings; some were actually good, others were evil beyond imagination. Moments ago, when you remembered the promises of the King, you invited his presence. The tormenting entities in Belle that had been with her since she was a little girl could not endure that presence, so they left. She has decisions to make now. And now she can make those decisions because her will is free to choose.”

  “Wow,” Harry whispered. “Wow! She is beautiful. And pure and my gosh… I don’t know what to do.”

  “Well,” the speaker continued, “a good start would be, stop stroking her hair and put her back in bed.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Lizzy shook herself. She knew if she did not move quickly the police would arrive, and they would have more questions than she had answers. As she scurried to stand, she realized she was covered in blood and could not run down the sidewalk without leaving a trail. It seemed like hours since the eagle had ripped the life from her strange visitor’s associate, but it had only been minutes. Lights were turning on up and down the street. Soon people would be stirring; most would be armed. This was a small town in Texas and late—screams and the roar of an escaping car would bring a well-armed crowd moving toward her in a hurry.

  She was glad the woman had parked a block away from her house. Looking around the neighborhood she had grown up in and now lived in, a plan quickly formed. She parted the hedge that separated her from the yard in front of her, then ran through the yard and out its back gate just as quick. Three backyards and a block full of barking dogs later, she snuck into her own yard, just as the people next door stepped out on their porches to see what all the commotion was about. She slipped through her back door and straight into the bathroom. Her clothes would have to be burned. She tossed them into a garbage bag, cringing at the copper smell of blood.

  After a hot shower and a steaming cup of chamomile tea, she was just beginning to relax when she heard a knock at the door. She flinched; she half expected it but still wasn’t prepared. She drew her nightgown around her and carefully opened the door.

  Barry Dinker stood there. His hair looked like someone had roused him from a heavy sleep with a Taser. He was a part-time deputy and part-time mayor of Moab. He was also one of the few people Lizzy trusted with her life. A native of New Zealand married to a purebred redneck Texan, Barry was like a brother to her father and automatic uncle to her.

  “Lizzy, ya okay?”

  “Sure, Barry, what’s going on? I heard the sirens and got up and made some tea. I figured it would take that to get back to sleep.”

  “Lizzy, da ya mind if I come in?” In a hoarse whisper he added, “I think we need to talk, Lizabeth… You’re not in trouble with me, and I’d like to keep ya out of it with anyone else if you let me.”

  Lizzy’s face paled but she nodded and backed up so Barry could enter. “Would you like some tea?”

  “Rather have some coffee, and you didn’t hear me say that. I don’t want people thinking I’ve gone completely Texan and lose my sophisticated reputation.”

  Lizzy chuckled and hit the coffeepot button. She settled back at the kitchen table, sighed, and said, “Okay, now what?”

  Barry scratched his head, further disturbing his wild hair. He didn’t look her in the eyes and stared at the floor as he spoke. “Well, I’m not gan to beat the bush. I think ya know we found a deed min a block down the street hey… He was turn limb from limb…” Barry’s New Zealand accent got heavy when he was tired and troubled, but Lizzy had known him all her life and had no problem following him.

  “An’ before ya answer”—his eyes met hers— “ya know I loved you and your fadder. Hank was like a bratha do me… so you’re safe, Lizabeth… Just tell me what’s going on. A quarter of the people in this burg owe their lives to your dad, and so do I.”

  Lizzy stared at Barry for a moment, then recounted the last hour to him. He asked a few questions, especially about the woman who had visited her. Then he sat for a moment with his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling. Lizzy had begun to wonder if he had dozed off when he shook himself, took a deep breath, and stared at her.

  “What? What are you thinking?”

  Barry smiled sadly, sipped at his coffee, and began to speak slowly, with great care. “Lizzy, I… know ya have been reading your father’s diaries and are extremely aware that there is more to heaven and earth than is dreamt of in most people’s worldviews… Now that is stating the obvious, and it is also helping me unclog my word conglomeration…”

  Lizzy frowned, confused.

  “I will get thar, just give me a sec,” Barry responded. “I’m trying to put the parts together like a puzzle hey… only I don’t have a picture of what it is supposed to look like when I’m done hey. Ah… here’s a thought… Lizzy, do you have any idea who your mother is?”

  “Hmmm… How did I know you were going there? Well, here is what I know… the kids at story time seem to know more than I do about my mother. They slipped up and said that they—and I assume that includes other people in town—are trying to protect me from her.”

  “Reely! They said that, did they? Hmmm…” He leaned back in his chair and stared back up at the ceiling. “What would your mother want with you? She wanted you to come with her. You sensed no malice in her till you saw her associate; then you felt his essence and were about to run when the giant eagle attacked and killed the associate and chased your mum off. So there are two questions on the board… what does your mum want? And who is the eagle?”

  “Excuse me, who… who is the eagle? I don’t understand. The eagle is an eagle… right?”

  “Ah think not so much, Lizzy… I think the eagle is a shifter… just like dragons, and others… I think the eagle is a who. But who is he, and why is he guarding you?”

  ****

  Lizzy groaned as her alarm clock rattled the walls. Barry had left around three a.m. and the clock said six thirty. She thought about calling in sick but remembered who her flock was and figured if she did, they would all traipse out of the library, walk down the road, and knock on her door. So, she forced herself out of bed, stuffed her body under a cold shower, and screamed herself awake. She was exhausted but at least she was on her feet. Barry had taken the trash bag with her bloody clothes with him. Thank God for Barry. The people of her little town were family to her, and she had no idea how she would have survived without them. She threw on her clothes and raced out the door; the munchkins were waiting and story time was calling.

  As Lizzy drove into the parking lot of her library, she saw its remodeled front porch and the new insulated windows. The new windows had replaced the century-old glass shattered in the battle between her dad, Sarah, and the evil dragon. The same battle that had marked the town and changed it forever. She didn’t have time to ponder the library upgrades long, for right behind her in a caravan of SUVs and pickup trucks, her entourage, a convoy of bouncing children escorted by their parents, arrived. There were days when Lizzy swore the parents of her little listeners must have just left Jamie’s café, where they filled their kids with pancake syrup and coffee milk, then threw them out the car windows and raced away as fast as they could, leaving the hyperized little wall bouncers to do with her as they pleased. And then there were days when they were so cute, she went home sore from laughing.

  As she walked onto the porch with her keys in hand, they skipped along behind her, the boys buzzing and making all kinds of engine noises and the girls chirping along in a most elegant and sophisticated Texas English. She counted heads as they bounced through the doors. All present and accounted for, she thought to
herself, then let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. When her munchkins were safe, she was happy; they were too young and had suffered too much. The whole town had suffered and some were still mourning the loss of loved ones and their own innocence, but these little guys were safe today. Her babes were gathered and all was right with the world. At least until one of them bopped another or started tattling.

  Lizzy walked into her kingdom, noting that the mom scheduled for helping was busy making snacks for later, and the smell of coffee for her and other adult patrons was floating through the morning air. It was time to get everyone’s attention and start. She grabbed her father’s rocker, moved it into its rightful place, and was about to call everyone to order. Only, they were already seated in their usual places with bright sunny faces and big wide eyes, waiting on her… anticipating… An unusually strange quiet had corralled and now lay heavy on her little ones.

  Lizzy’s eyes narrowed. Something was up. Her brow wrinkled. The tension in the air began to rise. It wasn’t a scary tension. More like who-is-going-to-giggle-first tension. She looked down her nose and cocked one eye, and it landed on Easton, who couldn’t help himself. He looked away and snorted and was immediately hit from both sides by Maggie and Gracie.

  “It’s not funny, Easton!” Gracie’s barnyard whisper blurted.

  “Yweouch!” he replied, grabbing his sides to protect them from his wardens.

  “Okay, okay, you guys… what’s going on?” Quiet again blanketed the room. A few heads bowed sheepishly; no one answered.

  Lizzy continued, “Have I done something wrong?”

  The question seemed to shred the fog of silence like gift wrappings on Christmas morning.

  “Oh, no, Miss Lizzy!”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Nope.”

  “Of course not!”

  “Well now, my ma always answers that question with, ‘Don’t know… did ya?’” Ryan, Lizzy’s little cowboy, drawled.