Playing With Fire: Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society

by Meg Ripley

  "Wow. I’m genuinely surprised. I didn’t know you were capable of such...sentimentality."

  "Well, when it comes to your mother, I’m still a sentimental fool." He took the handkerchief from his pocket, and Jason turned back to the bar, making two more drinks and giving his father a moment of privacy. No matter how distant the two of them were now, Jason knew his father had a heart. Once. Now it was buried with his wife.

  "I’ll do my best," Jason said, handing over a full glass. It was the most, and the least, he could do. The only thing he could promise.

  "I know you will. I wouldn’t accept anything less." Damian took a long sip of his drink and Jason knew the conversation was over. He finished his own drink, gathered up the folder, and excused himself. He walked out of the den, the words that his father had spoken to him swirling through his mind as he tried to stitch them together.

  He bypassed the comfort of the Club for his small apartment, collapsing on his couch with the photo of his mother in one hand, and Adventure Isle’s dismal financial forecast in the other.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jason woke before the sun burned off the morning fog, groggy and distracted by dreams of roller coasters that felt more like memories. He used his phone to pull up the quickest route to Adventure Isle, waking up gradually as he drove. Halfway through the long and winding journey, he entered what felt like a permanent sense of déjà vu. He recognized landmarks and yet had no memory of ever traveling on that road before. He also had no idea how long it would take to reach his destination. The GPS became spotty as his phone reception went in and out.

  Just as he was starting to worry he’d missed a turn somewhere, a rickety billboard reassured him that his "adventure is only a mile away!"

  "I don't think that 'isle' was really the best name for this place," Jason muttered as he followed another sign down a narrow, dirt road. "Unless they want to remind you that you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere. With no reception. And no help for miles."

  The empty parking lot had been all but lost to the creep of the surrounding woods, the lines completely obscured by weeds, vines, dead leaves, and trash. Ancient light poles looked as out of place as the streetlight in Narnia, and Jason was sure that no matter where he parked, he would be stepping in broken glass.

  His earlier impression that the park was more like a set from a horror movie only increased when he saw the front gates. The left had only one hinge and swung back and forth with every gust of wind. The right one was still tight, but its red paint had been weathered away, leaving only patches of what, at first glance, looked like blood. A massive dragon’s head hung over the gates, its red tongue still remarkably vibrant, despite the broken and missing teeth in its gaping jaw. Its eyes once lit up, but the left globe was completely busted out, and the right was hanging from a tendon-like cord.

  There were a few other cars in the parking lot, and since they were mostly clean and no weeds grew from beneath the hoods, Jason assumed they weren’t just abandoned there. Gathering up his courage and hoping this wasn’t all just an elaborate joke—or a weird trap—he stepped out of the car and picked a careful path towards the gate.

  The man standing in the cylindrical ticket booth at the front of the gate was so small and so gray that Jason almost didn’t see him at all. He approached the window in time to see the old man shuffle a deck of cards and start dealing out a game of solitaire. He worked with the speed and precision of a Vegas dealer, and Jason couldn’t help but be a little impressed.

  "Excuse me? Mr. Kelsey?"

  The man looked up at him with a small frown of confusion that quickly morphed into a radiant smile.

  "Jason!" The man’s voice was as warm as his smile, and the card game was abandoned immediately. He made the exclamation as if he had known Jason his entire life. Jason was slightly taken aback. He wasn't accustomed to a new client referring to him by his first name right from the first moment of meeting, but something about the older man told Jason that this was simply the type of person Mr. Kelsey was, and it wouldn't occur to him to be anything else.

  "Hello," Jason said. "Thank you for letting me come by and see the park."

  "Of course!" Mr. Kelsey said, putting the deck of cards down on the counter. "I'll be right out."

  The older man scurried through a door at the back of the small ticket booth, and a moment later, he emerged through another door at the back of the cylindrical building. He came toward Jason with his hand already extended toward him. Jason took it and Mr. Kelsey shook it enthusiastically.

  "I'm thrilled to have you here," Mr. Kelsey said, still holding onto Jason's hand. "I can't wait to bring this park back to its former glory." Finally, he released Jason's hand, but continued to smile at him broadly. "My great-grandfather opened this place, you know. Of course, it was just a picnic ground and a swing back then. My granddaddy built it up a little more, and then my daddy after him, and then me. It's floundered a little bit in the last few years, but I know that we can make it amazing again."

  Jason felt himself smile. Hearing that Mr. Kelsey's great-grandfather had started the park just like his own great-grandfather had opened the firm softened Jason's heart. Not only did it mean that the sparkle in Mr. Kelsey's eye when he talked about the park was the sparkle of the generations that came before him and the hope and faith that had trickled through his family, but it also meant that that park had actually been around longer than the firm hired in hopes of finding an investor to save it.

  "Can you show me around? Maybe tell me a bit about what you hope to achieve for the park once we find an investor for you?"

  Jason followed Mr. Kelsey through the turnstiles a few yards behind the ticket booth and onto the main road of the tiny park. He could hear the voices of the few patrons around them, the occasional laugh or scream telling him that the people who had come out to the park were at least enjoying themselves.

  As they walked, Jason tried to pay attention to everything that he saw. Buildings that likely once held small shops and restaurants were dark and boarded. A few shells of staging areas showed what was left of rides that had been removed but never replaced. At the far end of the main street was a Ferris wheel that spun lazily, three of the cars inhabited by families that gazed down at the rest of the park.

  He looked to one side and noticed the roller coaster that he’d seen from the parking lot hadn't moved since he’d been there. They turned a corner and Jason realized that the ride was closed. The skeleton rose against the sky, pieces of the wood missing and the cars that had once soared along the tracks sat under the abandoned rails, grass and ivy trying to reclaim them.

  "Why isn't the rollercoaster running?" Jason asked.

  Mr. Kelsey stopped walking and looked at the still, silent ride. He sighed and Jason saw the sparkle in his eyes fade.

  "That one's been down for a few years now. I always wanted to fix it up and give it a new theme, but I was just never able to do it."

  "Having a coaster would really bring in the crowds."

  "Maybe we can make that happen." He took a slightly shuddering breath, trying to retain the smile on his face. "We have to, Jason. This is all I have. This is all I have ever been."

  Jason felt a twinge of sadness in the way that Mr. Kelsey said "we." Even though it was Jason's job to find someone who would make these things happen for him, he suddenly felt a sense of camaraderie toward this man and his dream.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jason stepped out into the garden behind the Club and drew in a breath of the heavily scented air, enjoying the combination of flowers, herbs and the green, earthy scent of the tremendous hedges that spread in a complex maze ahead of him. It was the smell of the earth, so rarely enjoyed in the heart of the city. A white stone path wound around hedges to sprawling flower gardens, an orchard next to the section of river captured within the tremendous walls of the grounds, and directly in front to the huge labyrinth that many of the members used as a sanctuary for quiet thought.

  He needed tha
t sanctuary now. He could already feel the change occurring within him. Sometimes, the shift happened very suddenly, but when he had the opportunity to control his emotions and guide his body through the often stressful transition, he could shift gradually, giving himself the chance to acclimate so he wouldn’t suffer.

  His body began to grow, his bones rearranging their configuration as his skin darkened into a rich, shimmering green; the shade of a meadow in moonlight. He kicked off his shoes and curled his toes into the ground beneath him as his feet changed, tipping forward onto four lethally-sharp claws. The tension in his back became excruciating until his wings erupted from his skin, flaring into the evening air.

  His eyes were sharper, his sense of smell keener, and his ears tuned to the most delicate shifts in the air. His wings fluttered and folded down along his back, his tail unfolding and stretching a good six feet beyond his body. He arched his back like a cat, stretching his tendons and gathering up a roar from deep in his stomach. His thunderous bellow echoed through the hedges, a greeting to the other dragons that were staggered throughout the garden.

  By the time the shift was complete, Jason had meandered his way deeply into the maze. It was quiet there. Though this was a popular area, it seemed that no one else had decided to roam the wide passageways that night, but that was just as well for Jason. Though he didn't spend as much of his life in dragon form as many of his friends and family members did, when he was in this form it was a primal, almost peaceful experience that often helped him to work through emotions or feel more connected to those around him.

  Tonight, as he walked the maze, Mr. Kelsey and Adventure Isle weighed heavily on his mind. His father had expressed surprise that Jason had no memory of Adventure Isle and Mr. Kelsey had greeted him like an old friend. A strange sense of melancholy swept over him, a bittersweet feeling he associated with memories of his mother. He actually had very few concrete images of her, most of them distant, muffled by time and trauma. Why did the park make him think of her? Did she take him there as a child? When he was given the account, all he could think about was the impact it might have on his aspirations for advancement. Now his promotion was a distant consideration compared to Mr. Kelsey's sincerely placed hope and his own curiosity.

  Jason opened his wings slightly as he continued to walk, allowing the night air to swirl around them like soft, cooling ribbons. He often wished that he could stretch them fully and soar into the sky whenever he pleased. He had heard that there was a time when the dragons flew freely and many maintained their dragon form throughout their entire existence, some not even knowing that they could shift. Now, though, the dangers of being exposed were far too great, and the Club could only offer a very limited amount of freedom. He celebrated his graduation with a trip to New Mexico where he roamed the desert for a week, living, sleeping, eating as a dragon, swooping and soaring through an endless, open sky. He'd never known such freedom, before or since, and it stood out as the happiest moments of his life. He still dreamed about it often.

  At the center of the maze, he found a series of large, interconnected pools, each illuminated from under the water with a different color of light. In the rapidly darkening evening, these lights glowed brightly, casting an ethereal atmosphere around the space. Dragons large and small relaxed at the water's edge, drinking from the shimmering pools while others glided through the water, moving from pool to pool, and color to color. Silver platters laden with fruit and meat caught his attention, reminding him that his last meal was nearly twenty-four hours earlier. But before he could claim a platter for himself, Vincent beckoned to him from the other side of the pool, gesturing at Jason to follow him away from the crowded baths into the silent, empty shadows at the far end of the maze. Once they found a quiet corner shielded from view, they shifted back to their human forms.

  "I was hoping I'd run into you tonight. Did you find anyone to invest in the theme park?" Vincent asked.

  "No. I met the owner last week and I've been working on a proposal but I don't have any investors lined up yet. I need to know what I'm going to say first."

  "Isn't it easier to make a pitch if you know who you're pitching to?"

  "Ideally, you want to know your audience. But it's going to take a special kind of investor. And I don't know who that is yet."

  "How special are we talking?"

  Jason sighed. "Very special. The park hasn't turned a profit in over a decade. Most of the rides should be scrapped. I don't know if the concession stands can pass a state inspection and it's going to take a whole lot of money just to get the place presentable."

  "So, convince the old man to sell the land to a developer while he still can and retire. I'm sure he has a family that loves him and wants to spend his golden years with him."

  "Trust me, that's not an option. But I'm not completely without hope. It's been there for over a hundred years, so it can be registered with the historical society."

  "Ooh, that'll bring in the big bucks."

  "Did you just want to bust my balls tonight?"

  "No, actually. I think I might be able to help you out. I was recently in contact with an old client of mine and I think his interests are right in line with your current dilemma." Vincent slipped his right hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a card, holding it out to Jason. Jason took it carefully, running his thumb over the embossed text. "Get in touch with this guy. I've known him for a while. He has more money than he knows what to do with and he's known for his whimsical investment choices."

  "Whimsical investment choices?" Jason asked.

  "The man is eccentric as hell and loves to throw his money at really strange projects. I can't guarantee that he'd want in on this, but he's probably your best bet right now."

  "Thank you," Jason said, tucking the card into his pocket. "I really appreciate this, Vincent."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Two days later, Jason sat before of a front gate that was even more ostentatious than the one that was at the Club, leaning slightly out of his window so that he could talk into the speaker attached to a river rock pillar supporting the gate.

  "This is Jason Cross, I have an appointment with Mr. Simmons."

  "Yes, sir. Mr. Simmons is expecting you. Please drive through the gates to the front and a valet will assist you."

  The gates swung open and Jason started through, already taken aback by the completely overdone atmosphere of the home. Less than an hour from the city, the estate managed to feel like it was in another world. Though lovely in its own way, the sprawling home, somewhat crowded landscaping, and elaborate fountain at the front of the house had the overwhelming sense of "new money;" that feeling that Mr. Simmons had crafted the opulence for himself rather than growing into it throughout his life.

  Just as the voice that came to him through the speaker had stated, a man in a pristine suit and white gloves stood on the bottom-most step of the home, his hands clasped in front of him as he awaited Jason's car. Even before Jason could turn his engine off, the man was opening his car door and gesturing for him to get out.

  Jason climbed the steps of a home that was obviously only a few decades old but had been built to resemble an antebellum mansion and searched for a doorbell. When he didn't find one, he reached up and used a massive bronze knocker shaped like a pineapple to announce his presence.

  "This is getting fun already," Jason whispered to himself, starting to see the first glimpses of the eccentricities of this man that Vincent had promised.

  Only a moment after he knocked, the door opened. He half-expected there to be no one standing on the other side just as it was when he would visit his father in the den at the Club, but as he stepped forward, he noticed that a woman in a high-necked dress and frilly white apron stood almost behind the door.

  "Mr. Simmons is waiting for you in the parlor," the woman said in a soft monotone, her eyes not moving from a doorway across the massive grey marble foyer.

  Jason looked in the direction of her gaze and then back
at her.

  "Thank you," he said.

  The woman nodded and moved around Jason to close the door. He turned to walk toward the parlor and noticed a statue of a dragon sitting at the base of the tremendous staircase that led up out of the foyer. He stared at it for a moment and then continued toward the parlor, wondering what he might discover when he entered the new room.

  As soon as he stepped in, he noticed two more dragon statues flanking the inside of the door. These were slightly different from the one in the foyer, made of red marble rather than the dark material of the first. He was staring down at them when he heard a voice from further inside the room.

  "Mr. Cross, I presume?"

  Jason looked up and saw a man slightly younger than Mr. Kelsey standing near a cold, empty fireplace. He leaned on the mantle with one hand, the other tucked into the black lapel of a red smoking jacket embroidered with the willowy, curvy shapes of serpentine dragons.

  "Um," Jason said, unsure of how he was supposed to respond to this man. "Yes. You can call me Jason."

  The man who Jason assumed was Mr. Simmons turned to him slowly and brought the cigarette grasped between his fingers to his lips. Jason braced himself for some sort of dramatic billowing smoke display, but instead, Mr. Simmons took a bite out of the cigarette, chewed it for a moment, and then gave Jason a smile.

  "Bubblegum," he said happily, starting toward him.

  Jason couldn’t help but smile. Vincent had warned him that Mr. Simmons was eccentric, but he was proving to be even more unusual than Jason could have prepared for.

  "I really appreciate you letting me come to your home to meet with you," Jason said, extending his hand as Mr. Simmons approached.

  "Absolutely. Call me Neil. Let's sit."