The Dragon Heir

by Cinda Williams Chima

  Chapter Ten

  Coal Grove, Act I

  The hearing was like a play: everyone in costume, reading their lines, some better than others.

  Ray McCartney was acting the part of the country lawyer, all cardigan sweater and khakis, collared shirt and tie. He’d be representing Carlene for free, of course. He’d been in love with her for as long as Madison could remember.

  Carlene wore a gray dress and jacket, pearls, and low-heeled pumps. She’d bought the outfit from Sears on credit, since she had nothing like that in her closet. Madison had coaxed her mother’s blond curls into a French braid. That and her pink lipstick made her look very young.

  Madison had her own costume: a long skirt and loose sweater, dark stockings and sober flats, her boisterous hair jammed into a clip at the back of her neck.

  I look like somebody’s nanny, she thought glumly.

  They were gathered in a small hearing room on the second floor of the red brick courthouse. Snow swirled past the windows. Madison didn’t look forward to slip-sliding back up the mountain.

  Aside from Madison and Carlene, there was Ed Ragland, the county’s first African American judge, who always looked sleepy-eyed but was known to miss nothing. Bryson Roper, who owned Roper Coal Company and all the land around Booker Mountain. And his son, Brice, of course.

  Mr. Roper was a roughneck turned coal company owner. His expensive suit hung uneasily from his broad shoulders, and his neck squeezed over his shirt collar. His eyes were the color of oak leaves after a long winter on the ground. Around Coal Grove, people said he was capable of almost anything, up to and including murder.

  Brice splayed back in his seat, legs extended, collar turned up. He was air-brushed handsome, like someone in a department store ad. As if that wasn’t enough, he emitted the faint glow of wizardry.

  He was the kind of boy parents trusted. But shouldn’t. He smiled over at Maddie, lifting his left hand to wave at her, and her gut twisted up in the same old way. She’d been away nearly a year, but nothing had changed.

  Judge Ragland set the ground rules. “This is just an informal hearing, what I like to call a conversation with all the parties involved, so the court can find out the facts in the case and decide what to do about Grace and John Robert.” He turned to Brice. “Young Mr. Roper?”

  Brice could tell a story, Madison had to give him that. He explained that he’d been on his way home from school when he saw a plume of smoke rising from the old Booker place. He thought the house had caught fire, so he’d driven up there to find the shed ablaze.

  “Where were the children at the time?” Judge Ragland asked.

  “They were bringing water from the pump. I tried to put out the fire, but the shed was pretty much gone. I didn’t know where Carlene—Mrs. Moss—was. So I brought the kids back to our house.”

  Ray McCartney leaned forward. “So for all you knew, Mrs. Moss was somewhere on the property.”

  “Well, no,” Brice said, looking embarrassed he had to tell on Carlene. “The kids said she was at work.”

  “So did you take those frightened children to their mama?” Ray asked softly.

  Mr. Roper Senior took over. “No, we turned them over to Child Welfare. Those children are left on their own up there all the time,” he added. “It’s time something was done about it. People around here pay more attention to their dogs than she does those kids.”

  Judge Ragland peered over his glasses, studying some papers on his desk. “Carlene, the report from Child Welfare says these children have been removed from your home twice before for cause. One time they were found wandering in downtown Coal Grove at two a.m.”

  “That was the sitter’s fault,” Carlene said. “I couldn’t help it. I was in Las Vegas.”

  Ray gave Carlene a look. He’d told her to keep quiet during the hearing unless he asked her a direct question.

  “I have to say, I’m troubled, Carlene,” Judge Ragland said. “You’ve been in court several times on account of Grace and John Robert, but nothing seems to change. Why should I expect things to be any different from here on?”

  Ray answered quickly, “Your Honor, this episode was just a miscommunication. Ms. Moss’s childcare provider didn’t show. She wasn’t aware . . .”

  “I asked Carlene,” Judge Ragland said.

  “You know I have to work for a living,” Carlene replied. “It’s hard to find a babysitter who’ll drive all the way up the mountain for what I can afford to pay.”

  “Which is why you ought to give up that place and move down into town,” Mr. Roper muttered, looking up at the ceiling. “Those kids could have burned to death.”

  Judge Ragland glared his disapproval at Bryson Roper, and turned back to Carlene. “So what are you going to do about it? I can’t return these children to an unsafe situation.”

  Carlene gripped her pink purse and leaned forward. “They’re in school on weekdays. And Maddie’ll watch them after school and on the weekend. That’ll give me time to make arrangements.”

  “Is that so, Madison?”

  All eyes were on Madison Moss. She’d anticipated this. She knew she had no choice. “That’s right, sir.”

  “You’re sure now?”

  Madison nodded.

  “What about your school? What are you, a senior?”

  “That’s all set up. I can still graduate.”

  Judge Ragland sighed and stacked the papers on the table in front of him. “Here’s my ruling then. Child Welfare will retain oversight of the children, but we will release them into your custody, Carlene, with the stipulation that Madison is available to provide care for them while you are at work.”

  Madison felt the pressure of the judge’s gaze, but she looked down at her lap.

  “Madison, if the time comes that you can’t do that, you must notify the court. The court being me. In any event, I’ll see you all back here at the end of August.” He turned to his bailiff. “Will you show the children in?”

  Grace marched in, back straight, chin raised high, like any ten-year-old queen, holding tight to John Robert’s hand. But when seven-year-old John Robert saw Maddie, he ripped free and charged into her embrace.

  “Maddie!” He wound his fingers into her hair, tearing it free of its clip.

  Madison hugged him fiercely, pulling his solid little body onto her lap. Someone had glued down his blond curls with gel, plastering them over to the side. He was wearing a redand-white-striped collared shirt and red pants. He looked like a cherubic used-car salesman.

  Grace must’ve refused the fashion makeover, since she was wearing her own clothes, and her fine brown hair was pulled into its usual pony tail. She gave Brice Roper her patented look that would curdle sweet milk, and turned to Judge Ragland. “I want to charge this man with kidnapping.” She jerked her head at Brice, who looked like he had something to say but thought better of it and shut his mouth.

  “That’s a serious charge, young lady,” Judge Ragland began.

  “An old shed caught fire on our property, and my brother and I were putting it out, when he showed up. We might’ve saved it if it wasn’t for him. And then he drug us down the mountain and put us in jail.”

  “Is that so?” Judge Ragland looked over at Brice, who rolled his eyes and shrugged.

  “Anyway, you ought to make him pay for the shed,” Grace concluded, giving Brice the eye.

  “I’ll take that under advisement, Grace,” Judge Ragland said. “Meaning, I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you go on home with your mama and mind her, hear me?”

  He looked at Carlene, shaking his head. “Carlene, you’re raising lawyers. Heaven help you.”

  With that, the hearing was over.

  Ray McCartney patted Madison on the shoulder. “Good work, Maddie. Glad you’re home.”

  But when Madison tried to give Grace a hug, her slender body was stiff and resistant.

  She’s mad at me for going away, Madison thought. She thinks it’s my fault she ended up in kid jail.
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  Madison turned around and nearly ran into Brice Roper. “Hey, Madison, what’s up?” he said. Running a hand through his artfully tousled brown hair, he grinned. That smile had charmed every girl in the Roaring Fork Valley, but it sent worms squirming down Madison’s back. “We’ve missed you,” he said. “Everyone says so,” he added, apparently speaking for the entire Coalton County High School senior class. Of which he was president.

  Madison folded her arms and tapped her foot on the weathered wood floor. “I’ll bet they do.” They had to find somebody else to talk about and blame things on.

  Brice smiled down at her, and she took an involuntary step back. He always seemed to be crowding her, taking up more than his allotted space.

  “So,” he said, perfectly aware of the effect he was having. “When are you coming back to school?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not. I’m ...um ...being home-schooled. It’s a distance course.” So I can keep my distance from all of you.

  He stared at her a moment, a slight frown on his face, like he didn’t know whether to believe her or not. “That’s too bad. Well, listen, I’ll call you, then. We can hang out. I’ll introduce you around,” he added.

  Un. Be. Lievable. After everything that had happened, Brice Roper was hitting on her. Again. For a minute she was speechless, the words seeming to stop up in her mouth. “Why . . . thanks so much, but I’m from here, I don’t really need an introduction.” In fact, there were people she’d like to be unintroduced to. Guess who was top of the list?

  “Besides, I’m going to be really busy, and, anyway, we don’t have a phone right now.”

  “Right,” he said. “Carlene’s been using our phone a lot. Stop by and use it any time you want. I’m usually home in the afternoon unless there’s something at school.” He reached out and lightly brushed back her hair with his hand.

  She slapped his hand away and he caught hold of her wrist, his face flushing to the color of old brick.

  Bryson Senior spoke from the doorway. “Brice. What the hell are you doing? Come on. We’re late already.” He pointed at his watch, turned, and stalked out the door.

  Madison looked back at Brice in time to see hatred pass across his face before he swept it clean. He let go of her wrist. “I’ll be seeing you,” he said, and turned away.

  Not if I see you first, Madison thought.

  “What did young Brice want?” Carlene asked as they descended the broad, shallow steps of the courthouse, Ray trailing hopefully behind.

  “He wanted me to know everybody misses me.”

  “I believe he has a crush on you, Madison,” Carlene said, reapplying her lipstick without breaking stride. “That boy has a hungry look.”

  “Mama. Just . . . don’t.”

  “They say the Ropers have scads of money.”

  “They say a lot of things.” Too much and too often. “Gramma Min told me to steer clear of him.”

  Carlene shrugged. “She never liked any of my boyfriends, either.”

  Ray followed them all the way to the car, buzzing around like a locust in summer. Carlene handed Ray the brush and he cleared snow off the car while she started the engine.

  “I’ll get the terms of the custody ruling in writing and get back to you on that,” Ray was saying. “When’s your birthday, Maddie?”

  “Not till August.”

  “As long as you’ll be here, we can arrange the paperwork so we’re ready to transfer the deed to the house and all whenever you turn eighteen.” Ray was the executor of Min’s estate.

  “I still don’t know why Min would leave you the mountain,” Carlene muttered. “I’m her daughter.”

  “Because if she’d left it to you, it’d be gone already.”

  Carlene shut up, then, fumbling for a cigarette, lower lip trembling.

  There goes your wicked tongue again, Madison thought. Min always said you never could suffer a fool.

  Carlene worked a shift that night, so after supper Madison helped John Robert with his bath, washing the foster-mom gel out of his hair and letting it dry into its natural ringlets.

  Pulling on her coat, she walked out onto the porch. She rested her hands on the splintered porch railing, and breathed in the raw cold like a tonic. Lights glittered in the valley below. Off to the left, Booker Creek worried over stones and whispered secrets on its way down the mountain.

  She explored the vacancy left by Seph’s absence, like she might the space once occupied by a broken-off tooth. He was a constant presence in her peripheral vision, tall and silent and accusing, pale face framed in a tangle of curls. But he disappeared each time she turned her head.

  There was something else, now, too. Ever since the encounter in the church basement, the Dragonheart seemed to be constantly on her mind, filling any unoccupied space, like images of fireworks seared into her retinas.

  Navigating the crumbling stone steps, Madison crossed the side yard to where the charred remains of the shed huddled next to the greenhouse. Carlene had left the wooden bones to molder.

  Her great-great-grandfather had shaped the timbers with a hand axe. Had laid the stones of the foundation higher at one end to account for the slope of the land.

  Madison knelt and poked through the ashes with a stick, hoping not to find any witch signs.

  A slight sound behind Madison alerted her to the fact that she was not alone. She stood and turned. It was Grace, who still couldn’t decide if she was speaking to Madison or not.

  Don’t be like me, Madison thought. Raggedy mad all your life.

  They stood side-by-side, staring at the ruins, their breath pluming into the crystalline air, stamping their feet to keep warm.

  “So what happened to the shed?” Madison asked, after a bit.

  “Some people set it on fire,” Grace replied.

  Madison turned and stared at her. “Who?”

  Grace shrugged her narrow shoulders. “There were four or five of them, out here in the dark. It looked like they had torches or something,” she said.

  There was nobody better than Grace at keeping a secret. Which made Madison think she’d had too much practice. “And you and J.R. were all by yourselves?”

  Grace shrugged her shoulders again. She picked up a stick and poked it under a charred beam, coming up with a scrap of cloth that dissolved into ash.

  “Any idea who it was?” Madison asked.

  “No. They were wearing hoods.” She hesitated. “We tried to put it out, me and J.R. We poured water on it. But it wouldn’t go out.”

  Madison shivered. “Did you . . . did you find any marks or signs or anything?”

  Grace shook her head.

  “Did you tell anyone?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Who would I tell? You were gone, and Mama, well . . .”

  “You could’ve told the police.”

  “They’d probably say we made it up. Or blame it on us.”

  Madison nodded. “Probably.” Grace was another old soul. She’d remember how little help the police had been over the past year, when Madison was the one accused.

  “Must’ve been kids, I guess,” Madison suggested. It could’ve been. Some people just liked to see things burn. And kids from the high school liked to drive up Booker Mountain Road when they needed to escape all the spying eyes in a small town.

  It didn’t have to mean the fires were starting up again.

  Impulsively, Madison wrapped an arm around Grace’s shoulders and pulled her in close. Grace resisted at first, then gave in, laying her head on Madison’s shoulder. Grace had taken a shower as soon as she got home, and her hair smelled like the kind of shampoo you could get a quart of for ninety-nine cents.

  It smelled like home.

  “Are you going to stay with us all summer?” The words came out in a rush, like Grace had been dying to ask the question all night.

  “I don’t know about all summer. Till school’s out, anyway.”

  “Will you have your truck? Can you take us places?”


  “Well. I’ll be working at home. Painting for school.”

  “Great.” Grace scraped at the frozen dirt with the toe of her sneaker.

  Madison thought of Grace, stuck on the mountain with no phone, no computer, and only John Robert to hang out with. Even the TV reception was chancy.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get out. We’ll go down to town a couple times a week at least.”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “As if that’s a thrill.” But Madison could tell she was pleased.

  Chapter Eleven

  Painted Poison

  Seph sprawled among the pillows on the wicker swing. The solarium at Stone Cottage was one of his favorite retreats in all seasons. His textbook was propped against his knees— Problems in Democracy: A World View—but it had been a long time since he’d turned a page. The text might as well have been written in Old English.

  With another part of his mind, he monitored the sanctuary. Its energy hummed all around him, like a map splashed with an occasional spot of color where wizards and the other gifted moved through it. It was not the heavy-handed smooshing down of power like before. It was like navigating an elaborate video game grid, exerting subtle control over events. His father had taught him the technique.

  Here and there a flareup indicated that magic was in play—the greens and browns of earth magic in Mercedes’s garden, the silvers and golds of wizardry, the reds and purples that signified enchanters. Nowhere the angry orange that meant attack magic. In some essential way, he became the town of Trinity—its magical framework, at least. The day and its pleasures receded.

  Something nibbled at the fringes of his consciousness. A voice.

  “Seph.”

  All at once, the magical schematic disappeared from his frame of vision, and power flooded back into his body, heating him down to his fingers and toes. He opened his eyes to see Nick Snowbeard looking down at him, his expression severe.