We all pressed close, trying to meld ourselves into the tree trunk.
I could hear the sound of my breath, and it was far too loud.
The watchman must be able to hear us.
The beam of light skated over my hand.
I yanked it away, realizing too late that I shouldn’t have moved, that movement was conspicuous, that it draws the eye.
The watchman was going to march back here and shine that light in our eyes and bark at us and call the police and— The light went past us.
I heard the watchman start to walk again, and the light was retreating.
I let out a sigh of relief.
But we couldn’t say anything yet.
No, we had to stay still and quiet until he had gone completely.
I peered around the tree again.
I watched his back as he headed down toward the path, watching the circle of light grow smaller and smaller.
I pulled back behind the tree.
He was still too close.
I looked down at the ants again. They were still crawling over the blade of grass. There must be thousands of ants in that little line, and they were all so very identical and perfect.
And we waited.
Only when the watchman started whistling to himself did I allow myself to relax.
I slumped against the tree trunk.
“Sorry,” said Connor in a tiny voice.
“It’s okay,” I said. “It was an accident. Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “No, I feel okay, now.”
“Are you sure?” said Felicity. “That thing looked heavy.”
“I’m fine.” Connor stood up to show us.
I yanked him back down. “Not yet. He could still see us.”
“No, he’s on the other side of the hill,” said Connor, squinting.
Felicity and I looked around either side of the tree trunk.
Sure enough, all we could see of the night watchman was the faint glow of the flashlight in the distance.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s go.” I got to my feet.
Felicity and Connor did too.
Carefully, slowly, we came out from behind the oak tree.
I started forward, walking between the headstones. I took small, even steps, trying to move like a cat in the darkness, liquid and soft. I wasn’t sure if I was succeeding, and, anyway, I wondered if it was pointless because I couldn’t imagine Connor doing anything gracefully. He was probably going to trip over another headstone.
We went down the hill, through the gravestones.
Then we crossed the white stone path to the next portion of the cemetery.
Here, the gravestones were larger, made of nicer stone, with elaborately carved decorations.
This was the dragon portion of the cemetery.
There were no real rules segregating dragons from everyone else, not even back in the 1700s when the cemetery had first been made. But it seemed that it happened somehow anyway.
Most of the graves here in the center portion of the cemetery were dragon graves.
Of course, even though these dragons had separate headstones, that didn’t mean their remains were buried beneath them.
No, they had been put through the same ceremonial process as every other dragon, with their bones, teeth, and scales removed and placed in the family vault.
In some ways, I supposed it was hubris, buying up a whole cemetery plot when you weren’t even going to be buried there.
But it was the way of my people.
I liked having headstones for my parents to come and visit.
In fact, we would be going by them in a few minutes. They were near the vault.
But I wouldn’t be able to stop and look at them or to talk to them.
I hadn’t seen my parents’ graves in quite some time, and I was tempted, but there wouldn’t be time.
In fact, it would probably be better if I didn’t even look at them.
I needed to focus.
Tunnel vision.
Find the vault.
There it was, only about ten feet ahead. It sloped up out of the ground, the tall doors looming over us.
“That’s it,” I said to Connor and Felicity.
“Does it just open?” said Connor.
“It’s sealed by magic,” I said. “It opens with fire.”
“Fire?” said Felicity. “Isn’t that going to be pretty showy? The watchman will see.”
I shook my head. “No, it won’t take much.”
And then we stopped walking, because we were standing right in front of the doors.
I put my hands up against them. The metal was cold and still.
I shut my eyes. I needed to pump the fire into the gates—but not to burn them, to loosen them, bend them, melt them.
It was a delicate balance, and I had only done it once.
Right after I’d run away, I’d come here to get things to make the talisman to protect me against Alastair. At the time, however, I hadn’t yet been disowned from my family and banned from the place. I don’t think they ever knew that I came here, even so. However, it had been easier to do this in the daylight without worrying about discovery.
I forced myself to relax and to let the magic flow through me.
But when it hit the door, it seemed to fizzle out, as if the door was so cold that it was swallowing the fire whole and freezing it.
I needed to sing with power, a fire song of my people, my family. To speak to the magic of the door and tell it that I belonged, that I was a Caspian.
But… what if I wasn’t?
What if, when my grandparents had disowned me, they’d somehow barred me from my family, made it impossible for me to enter.
No.
They couldn’t do something like that. I’d never heard of such a thing.
But I’d also never heard of a dragon leaving her mate.
I removed my hands and stepped back.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“What’s wrong?” said Felicity.
“I…” I looked at her, feeling frightened. I didn’t want to be completely cut off from my line.
“You shifted last night, didn’t you?” she said. “You have magic. Or did you use it all setting up that headstone?”
“No, that wouldn’t drain me,” I said. “I have enough magic.”
Connor looked nervous. “But it’s not working? We did all this for nothing?”
No.
We couldn’t have done this for nothing.
“I’ll try again,” I murmured, I put my hands up against the cold metal.
Once again, I tried to relax, let the fire flow through me. And once again, when it touched the doors, they seemed to put it out. It was like a hot iron in cold water.
I stepped away.
Felicity was next to me. “What’s happening?” she whispered softly, and her voice was all reassurance and friendship.
I gave her a desperate look. “What if my family blocked me? What if they cut me off somehow?”
“They can’t,” she said.
“What if they can?”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re stronger than that,” she said. “You’re the strongest person I know. You got away from Alastair. You can do this.”
I remembered the other night, resisting him even without the talisman. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was strong.
I took a deep breath and put my hands on the door again.
This time, when it swallowed my fire, I simply poured more into it.
It took that too.
I concentrated, throwing as much fire magic as I could into the door.
And the metal began to feel warm under my hands.
It glowed orange, then pink.
The doors began to open.
“Whoa,” breathed Connor.
As the doors slowly opened of their own accord, I remembered that last time it had taken a good bit of magic too. There was nothing different about the doors. I had just allowed myself to get spooked, that was all. It was
hard sometimes. I didn’t know how to be a lone dragon.
As far as I knew, there were no other lone dragons in the world.
The doors open, we stepped inside.
I shot a bit of magic out of my fingers, and the doors closed behind us.
Inside, it was dark and musty. It smelled like a cave.
I pushed magic down into my fingers. They glowed. Flames ran over my palms and wrists.
The light from my magic illuminated a long tunnel that delved down into the earth. On either side were metal sculptures—dragon heads. Each was constructed to look like the person had in his or her dragon form. The rows of dragon heads gleamed in the light of my glowing hands.
Connor looked up overhead, his expression wary.
Felicity’s mouth was hanging open.
“The oldest dragons are at the front here,” I said, gesturing. “Most of their bones and teeth and scales have been plundered by now. As new dragons die, we tunnel down deeper. The latest burials are at the end of the tunnel.”
Neither of them said anything.
The older the artifact, the more powerful it was.
That wasn’t necessarily true of talismans, though, because they were in use. Once someone started using the magic inside a talisman, it began to deplete it. Even the oldest of artifacts had a finite amount of power.
“All right,” I said to Felicity and Connor. “Take my hands.” I reached out for them.
“Uh, Penny, your hands are on fire,” said Connor.
“It won’t burn you,” I said. “In fact, it’s better if you touch it.”
Felicity closed her hand around mine. Immediately, she and I were connected, and I could feel her essence tying itself to mine.
Connor hesitated, but then he took my hand as well.
Now, I could feel both of them. I reached out with my magic, letting it float through the tunnel, searching for the proper artifacts, the ones that would be the strongest and the most useful for each of us.
At first, I felt nothing.
No stirring, no response.
Everything was sleepy and cold.
But then, I got a tendril of warmth. I started in its general direction, and it began to grow stronger.
Another tendril shot through the air, slamming into me.
I stopped, turning to face the dragon sculpture over the collection of artifacts. I read the name on the plaque below the sculpture. “Rufus Caspian,” I whispered. “In the spirit of humility and gratefulness, we ask for the gift of your magic.”
The magic surged.
I nodded. “It’s okay. This is it. It’s for you, Connor.”
“For me?” he said.
“Yeah,” I told him. “I can feel which of these things are meant for each of us.”
“Okay,” he said, his voice a little shaky.
“I don’t have a hand,” I said, holding up both of my hands, which were clasped around them. “Can you open the case there?”
“Uh…” Connor took a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay.” He reached out and slid the stone lid back.
The cases themselves were about four feet long and two feet wide. Inside, arranged on velvet, were all the bones and teeth and scales of Rufus Caspian. None had yet been taken. “The ribs,” I said to Connor. “To protect you like a strong cage.”
He gulped. “Pick them up?”
“Yeah, put them in the pack on my back,” I said.
“All of them?”
I nodded.
He gulped again, but he did it.
Once we had the ribs, I turned to the other tendril.
We followed it down several more feet until we came to the case and sculpture belonging to Althea Caspian. “In the spirit of humility and gratefulness, we ask for the gift of your magic,” I murmured.
The magic surged.
I smiled. “Felicity, can you open it?”
“Sure,” she said, and slid the lid off.
Inside, the bones looked as if they had been picked over. But that was okay. I knew what we needed. “The scales for you, Felicity. As protection as well. And for me, two claws.”
Felicity carefully reached in and took the things. She put them in my pack as well.
“All right,” I said. “I think we have everything we need. Let’s turn around.”
Still holding hands, the three of us turned and walked back up to the front of the vault.
I shut my eyes, and I let the magic that was burning through me slowly go out, like turning down the gas to a flame. I took one, slow cleansing breath, and then I let go of Felicity and Connor. “Go ahead out,” I told them in a soft voice.
They hesitated for a minute, and then they moved past me, through the doors, and out of the vault.
“Thank you,” I whispered into the darkness of the crypt. “For your gifts and your guidance, we are humbly grateful.”
Then I backed out of the tomb.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I squinted at the whiteboard next to Flint’s desk. On it were pictures of the four suspects: Otis Sanders, the slayer, Anthony Barnes, the drake social worker, Brody Ross, the gargoyle, Killian Henderson, the strip-club owner, and Alastair.
Beneath each names were a lot of scribbles, but I couldn’t read them. Flint’s handwriting left something to be desired. Maybe I should have come back with him the other afternoon and helped him write on the whiteboard.
He strode across the room with two styrofoam cups. When he reached the desk, he set them both down. “Sorry, the coffee they make here isn’t quite like the stuff you brought me the other day.”
I picked up my cup, which was obviously mine since it contained cream. I took a small drink. “It’s fine. The stuff I got the other day was from a convenience store, nothing fancy.”
He shrugged, picking up his cup of coffee. He was gazing at the whiteboard. “So, what do you think?”
“I think your handwriting is unreadable,” I said.
He took a drink of coffee. “Well, I don’t usually bother with this kind of thing. I just look at stuff on my phone. But I’ve heard that it can be helpful to have a visual representation of your suspects. Besides, they always do it on TV.”
I laughed. “And has it helped?”
“I don’t know. I feel like we’ve just been kind of flitting around from one suspect to the other. It’s time to double-down and get some of these guys eliminated.”
“Okay,” I said. “Well, maybe we should rank them in order of how likely we think they are to have done it.”
He cocked his head to one side. Then the other. “Yeah, my bottom of the list right now is the gargoyle.”
“You think he’s least likely?” I said.
“I don’t know. We don’t know much about him.”
“He lied to us.”
“Yeah, good point.” He sipped his coffee. “Whose your least likely?”
“Uh, the drake,” I said. “Anthony Barnes.”
“See, he ranks high for me,” said Flint. “I’d say he’s very likely.”
I chewed on my lip. “What about Otis?”
Flint scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, he could have done it. I feel like he’s got a lot of rage. And he’s skilled at killing things.”
“He had a bow and arrow.”
“Right, and the wounds were probably made with a knife.” Flint sat down at his desk.
“If he did it, why not do it when they’re in dragon form and make a profit?” I said. I still felt confused about Otis. Vaguely sorry for him, but also disgusted because he killed my kind for money. He should be locked up for what he did. But that didn’t mean I wanted him locked up for this crime, not if he didn’t do it.
Flint tapped his chin with his forefinger. “I don’t know if this is helping at all.” He smiled at me. “Honestly, talking to you about it is helping more than the whiteboard.”
“Hey, that reminds me,” I said. “Why don’t you have a partner? Don’t cops have partners?”
He grinned. “Usually.”
“But not you?”
He shrugged. “Nah.”
“Why not?”
His smile faded. “I don’t know. Just better without one.” He leaned back in his chair, looking into his coffee cup. “My last partner? Back in Texas? He slept with my wife.”
“You have a wife?”
“Not anymore.” He sat forward in his chair. “Who’s your most likely?”
“Uh, Alastair,” I said.
He nodded. “Yeah, me too.”
“Really?”
“But I don’t like it,” he said. “Because with you involved in the investigation, it just makes it all too… pat, you know? Like, if this were classic literature, then sure, I’d buy it was someone from your past. That kind of weird coincidence would be part of some character arc for you. Allowing you to move on from your deep, dark past.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I’m beginning to think I’m not the one with a deep, dark past I need to move on from.”
He pointed at himself. “Me?”
I shrugged.
He drank more coffee. “We should look harder into Alastair. If we both have a gut on him, it’s something we need to pursue.”
“Okay,” I said. “That’s a good place to start.”
“I think we should do our most likely and our least likely,” he said. “To start with.”
“Well, let’s go with Brody the gargoyle, then,” I said. “He’s low on my list.”
“All right,” said Flint. “Sounds good.”
*
“You lied to us, Brody,” said Flint.
We were inside the foyer of the Ross family home, and Brody was surrounded by his mother and sisters.
The women all gasped and glared at us.
“He did no such thing,” said the mother.
Brody looked nervous. “Ma, maybe it would be better if I talked to these guys alone.”
“Gina says she never sees you these days,” said Flint.
“What?” said Brody’s mother. “That doesn’t make sense. Whenever I ask where you were, you always say you were with her.”
Brody ran his hands over his face. “Oh, crap.”
“You’ve been lying to me, too?” said his mother. “To your own mother?”
“Just let me talk to them.” Brody tried to move forward.
His sisters blocked him.
“We don’t think so,” said one of his sisters.
Fire Song (City of Dragons) Page 11