The Dragon Lord

by E. G. Foley

  At least the vampire queen should feel right at home down there. A low whimper escaped him as he neared the fray. Badgerton strove to gather his courage, but unfortunately, lost his footing about ten steps up from the bottom.

  Feeling himself about to fall, he clawed at the ice in desperation, but it was no use. The next thing he knew, he was slipping and sliding, tumbling and bouncing the rest of the way down to the bottom, where he sprawled on his belly and went whizzing across the ice like some awkward baby seal, until he crashed, cheek-first, into something solid.

  It turned out to be the heel of the general’s boot. Raige kicked him away, and Badgerton ricocheted backward like a hockey puck, only coming to rest when he slammed against the bottom of the staircase.

  He sat there panting for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

  At least he was out of harm’s way here behind the three fighters. Sweet Proteus, he was lucky the general hadn’t automatically shot him by mistake.

  Well aware he had thoroughly humiliated himself, Badgerton winced. His pride hurt worse than his bruised body, but his first order of business, as always, was self-preservation.

  Cowering against the ice staircase, he shook his head to clear it and tried to get his bearings. Thankfully, his eyes adjusted to the half-light in seconds; he was used to making tunnels, being underground.

  For a moment, he watched the bizarre battle in progress. The general was having a grand time, blasting away at the little gray freaks.

  So, those are ice grendels.

  Goodness, they were speedy! Badgerton watched them zip and run around the cave. About four feet tall, with oversized heads and huge, jet-black, almond eyes, they looked like some arctic species of big-eyed goblin to him.

  But goblins were stupid. They most assuredly did not set up science laboratories under glaciers, nor travel in sleek silver dirigibles. What on earth? Badgerton squinted at the disk-shaped vessel ringed with colored lights.

  It looked more advanced than Captain Dread’s airship, The Dream Wraith. How the deuce had those little creatures maneuvered their vehicle down here?

  He watched in wonder as the grendels tried to escape the general’s aim.

  They could run right up the walls on all fours like goblins did. One tried leaping down on top of Viola, but she grabbed it by its big, bulbous head and snapped its spindly neck with a vicious jerk.

  Badgerton shuddered. Yeeks, she’s stronger than she looks. The vampire queen was fast. Mean, too. Why, she seemed to be enjoying this almost as much as the general.

  With her preternatural vampire abilities, the black-clad beauty dove and darted almost too fast for the eye to see, evading the burning beams of red light that shot from the grendels’ wondrous little guns.

  Badgerton had never seen such weapons before. He could well imagine that Raige wanted to get his hands on them as soon as the creatures were dead.

  Their blood, he noticed, grimacing, was green.

  Fionnula let out a squeak of pain as one of the shining red beams grazed her arm. Infuriated, she struck back with her wand, turning the grendel into a frog—or rather, its own strange-looking version of one. Frogs weren’t normally gray…

  With all this playing out before him, Badgerton hung back, feeling redundant. He had come down the stairs, like Viola said. That was enough, he decided. His three vicious comrades clearly had matters in hand. He was done risking his neck today.

  As the fight raged on, however, the exchange of magical gunfire and wand blasts and red-beam weapons hammering away at the walls of the ice cave seemed to offend the mighty glacier.

  It began to creak and groan around and above them in the most worrisome fashion. Badgerton glanced about, fearing the whole cavern might collapse. We’d better get out of here soon.

  But first they had to get what they came for. Where is Wyvern?

  He scanned the farther reaches of the cave, his gaze coming to rest on the sight of the mighty Nephilim warlock hung upside down like an oversized ham in a smokehouse.

  When Badgerton saw the son of Shemrazul shackled and powerless like this, he stared in utter shock.

  Then he looked blankly at the ice grendels darting all around the cave. These little pips had done this to a demon-born wizard twice their size?

  Egads, how?

  On the heels of his astonishment, horror washed through him as he realized the true danger they all were in down here.

  Just because the grendels were small did not mean they were weak. Certainly, they possessed very high intelligence. Their light-beam guns and fantastical airship made that plain. Badgerton gulped, staring at Wyvern.

  Their leader.

  The haughty earl could not even shout for help, gagged, his face flushed red from being hung upside down. What if the rest of them ended up like him?

  Fionnula suddenly whirled around and snapped Badgerton out of his daze. “Don’t just stand there, furball! Do something useful! Here!” The sea-witch tossed him the keys she had swiped off the belt of an ice grendel she’d immobilized with her wand.

  Embarrassed by his cowardice, Badgerton quickly turned himself back into a man and snatched the keys up off the ice floor where they had fallen. As a badger, he couldn’t catch them, but at least they had slid right to him.

  He was straightening up when motion overhead caught his eye. He tilted his head back and spotted an ice grendel scampering across the cave’s rounded ceiling right above him.

  Badgerton’s eyes widened as it started to drop down onto him, but Viola swept sideways, half woman, half puff of black smoke, and hurled the creature against the distant cave wall. Then she flew after it to slash it with her vampire claws.

  Impressive lady. With a gulp, Badgerton gripped the frigid metal keys harder in his cold, sweaty hand. Then he raced across the slippery cave floor until he reached Wyvern, pinned down on his cruel contraption.

  When he saw how enraged the Nephilim was, he was almost afraid to go near him. Wyvern was trying to kick and scream, but could not move.

  His eyes burned with hate.

  Clumsy with fright, Badgerton scrambled to tilt the exam table back to a flat, horizontal position. As fast as he could, he used the key to undo the metal bar across the earl’s mouth, then freed him from the collar, slowed only by the trembling of half-frozen hands.

  Badgerton unlocked the silver steel bands that pinned Wyvern’s arms to his sides. As Badgerton freed the earl’s wrists, his gaze was drawn to those six-fingered hands, and he gulped.

  As soon as his wrists were free, Wyvern snatched the key from Badgerton and undid his ankles himself. With a baleful look, Wyvern leaped off the table. “Give me a weapon!”

  Badgerton remained by the horrid contraption, watching in awe as the warlock took his revenge on his captors. Green blood everywhere.

  He had a feeling that Zolond was next.

  When all the ice grendels were dead, a silence fell. The only sound was Wyvern, Raige, and Viola panting with exertion.

  But Fionnula gave her beau a tender look. “Oh, Nathan, what did they do to you?”

  Badgerton saw the earl’s eyes go lizard-like at the question; his pupils turned into vertical slits like those of a snake.

  “We shall never speak of this again.” Then he whooshed away in a cloud of black smoke.

  Without so much as a thank-you.

  CHAPTER 27

  Two Spies

  Jake eyed Parliament Square in disgust. Not this place again. He could hardly believe that their decision to follow Aunt Ramona had led him and Archie right back to the grassy plaza where they’d nearly been killed by phantom assassins last night.

  At least he didn’t see any Nightstalkers this time. Of course, they didn’t come out in daylight. Still!

  Jake doubted he would ever look at this seemingly tranquil lawn of the garden square the same way again. The bronze statues of dead politicians stood on their granite pedestals like silent, knowing witnesses to their ordeal.

  Ah well, it was over
now.

  Nearly an hour ago, Nixie had helped the boys escape Buckingham Palace with what she called a Lesser Vanishing Spell. This was for individuals rather than the big umbrella one she’d used last night to hide the whole group.

  Slipping out of the palace, the two transparent boys had spotted Aunt Ramona up ahead on Birdcage Walk, hurried after her, and followed at a safe distance until they’d found themselves at the edge of the square.

  Meanwhile, the Elder witch marched right up to the wrought-iron gates that wrapped around the Parliament buildings and presented a note to the guards. The boys theorized on the spot it might be from Queen Victoria; Jake had seen their kinswoman coming from the direction of Her Majesty’s office, after all.

  Whatever the Queen had written, the guards took one look at that little piece of paper and instantly let Aunt Ramona into the gates. One of them escorted her over to the doorway at the base of Big Ben, whereupon she had gone inside the Clock Tower.

  This surprised the boys greatly. They didn’t let just anybody in there.

  “Hmm. You know, I’ve heard that certain spots are considered neutral ground between the Order and the Dark Druids,” Archie had whispered from somewhere nearby. Jake couldn’t see him. “Maybe Big Ben is one of them.”

  “Makes sense,” Jake had whispered back.

  The boys had been waiting for her in Parliament Square ever since.

  Their invisibility spell had worn off in the meantime.

  A little girl of five or six belonging to some middle-class family who were just leaving the square after finishing their picnic happened to witness the boys’ return to visibility. She had gasped, pointed wildly at them, and told her mother they were ghosts.

  Awkward. Thankfully, the mother had chided the tot about her overactive imagination and sent the boys an apologetic smile.

  They had smiled back, bowing politely. “Ma’am. Sir,” they said to the parents.

  “But I know they’re ghosts, Mama! They weren’t there and then they just appeared!”

  “Now, now, poppet, there’s no such thing as ghosts,” the father said with great authority while the mother gently pushed the child’s hand back down to her side.

  “Don’t point at people, darling, it’s rude. Now come along, take my hand. We need to cross the street. It’s time to go home.” As the family ambled off, the boys exchanged a that was close sort of look.

  “Good thing nobody ever believes little kids,” Jake said wryly, then nudged his cousin. “C’mon, we’d better get out of sight, now that we’re visible again.”

  The boys had then retreated to the far end of the sprawling green square across from Big Ben. The lengthening afternoon shadows under the colorful, half-stripped trees would also help them avoid their aunt’s notice.

  There was a low stone wall to sit on while they waited, and tree trunks as well as a couple of statues to hide behind for when she returned.

  The boys had already decided that if Aunt Ramona planned on going somewhere else after this, they’d continue their surveillance, but, visible now, they’d have to follow at a greater distance, for if she spotted them, they’d probably get in trouble. Jake doubted that the new head witch of the Order would take kindly to their snooping, even if they were related.

  Getting back into Buckingham Palace, well, that was going to be a bit of a trick—and Derek and Miss Helena were probably furious right now to find them gone—but Jake tried not to think about that.

  Until Aunt Ramona reappeared, there was nothing much to do but keep an eye on the Clock Tower and wait.

  “Maybe Zolond isn’t coming,” Jake said with a bored sigh after about fifteen minutes. He braced one foot on the wall and leaned a forearm on his knee. “We’ve seen no one else go in.”

  Archie sat down restlessly on the wall, leaned forward, and propped his chin on both hands. “Maybe he’s late.”

  “Or maybe we were just wrong.”

  “Oh, I hope so,” Archie murmured with a dire look.

  Neither of them fancied the thought of their aunt meeting with the Dark Master. It was upsetting enough to think that the Elder witch would go and meet with the treacherous warlock alone, but fine, so be it. She was the head of the Order, and at some point, a parley with the enemy might be necessary.

  But this other thing? The past that she shared with Zolond? Jake could hardly believe she’d kept it hidden from him and his cousins all this time. Not even Isabelle had been privy to her secret.

  Fortunately, the Elder witch had confided in her star pupil, Nixie. Back at Buckingham Palace, the rest of them had finally managed to drag it out of her.

  It had just happened a week and a half ago, on Aunt Ramona’s birthday, Nixie had told them. She’d made a magical cupcake for her mentor, and the Elder witch had been so touched by the gesture that Nixie had dared to ask how old she was turning. The answer?

  Three hundred and thirty-three!

  Everyone had gasped to hear Aunt Ramona’s exact age. No lady of mature years liked revealing this information, but the Elder witch, especially—for obvious reasons!

  Nixie, naturally, hadn’t been able to hide her shock upon hearing it. She had dared to ask the obvious next question: how was this possible?

  The explanation she received was extremely disturbing.

  “I still can’t believe Aunt Ramona used to be in love with the Dark Master,” Jake said. “Or, for that matter, that Zolond was ever good.”

  “Pfft, three hundred years ago,” Archie said, sounding almost as sarcastic as Nixie. “At least now we know why she’s so old. It’s all Geoffrey’s doing, using dark magic to prolong his life. Gosh, I hate magic sometimes.”

  “So does Aunt Ramona. At least now we know why.” Jake paused. “Isn’t it kind of weird even to think of her being young?”

  “And foolish,” Archie agreed. “This Montague and Capulet spell they did together? How daft! I mean, as fond as I am of Nixie, I would never make my survival from day to day contingent upon hers. Why, it’s downright morbid.”

  Jake nodded in hearty agreement. “I wouldn’t want Dani to die if I got killed, either.”

  Archie sighed and sat up straight while red and gold leaves rustled overhead in a passing zephyr. “Well, I’m sure she regrets it now.”

  “Let’s just hope we don’t regret spying on her,” Jake said. “After all, we know who’ll bear the brunt of it if she sees us: me.”

  Archie chuckled but didn’t disagree. “At least you’re used to it, coz.”

  “Aye,” Jake said with a roguish grin. But even if they did get in trouble for this, he did not regret coming.

  Both boys just needed to make sure their dear Aunt Ramona stayed safe. Well, they had to do something! The likes of Zolond could not to be trusted for a minute.

  “I can’t believe she agreed to meet with him alone,” Jake said, shifting position. “And she says I’m reckless!”

  “Mm.” Archie nodded, lost in thought. “I do hope Nixie doesn’t get in too much trouble for spilling her secret, though.”

  “She had to,” Jake replied. “Even Isabelle agreed it was the right thing to do.” He caught a falling leaf out of the air and fidgeted with it. “Don’t worry, if Aunt Ramona decides to be cross, we’ll send Izzy in to talk to her. She can’t stay mad at Isabelle.”

  “No one can,” Archie said. “You have no idea how hard it is having a sibling who is generally deemed perfect by our parents and the world.”

  Jake smiled. “Oh, please! Your parents think you’re perfect too, Arch.”

  “Not anymore,” he said wistfully as he straightened his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles, leaning back on his palms. “Or at least they won’t once I have the Extraction Spell to get rid of this dreadful clairvoyance.”

  Jake raised a brow. “You mean it?”

  Archie nodded. “Too much going on in one head.” He tapped a fingertip to his temple. “Father will be offended that I have no interest in inheriting his gift, and Mother will
probably be disappointed in me, too. But so be it. I can’t work with a cluttered mind. And to be honest, if there’s bad stuff happening in the future, I don’t want to know about it in advance.”

  “Really?” Jake said. “Seems like it’d be a pretty useful gift.”

  Archie shrugged. “Perhaps, but it’s not worth it. Believe me, I’d much rather be shocked and horrified along with everybody else when bad things happen. Knowing in advance is just too nerve-racking. Especially when I can’t do anything about it.”

  “But what if you worked with the talent for a while? Maybe you’d get more control. That’s how it was with my telekinesis. Maybe then your visions would start coming in clear enough that you actually could stop the bad things from happening.”

  He sighed and looked away. “I dunno.”

  But now that Archie had broached the subject of his budding psychic gift, Jake studied him intently.

  He had not forgotten his cousin’s panicked reaction back there in the drawing room. Knowing how touchy the boy genius could be on this topic, however, Jake kept his tone casual. “I take it you had another one.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “If it concerns Aunt Ramona, mate, you have to.”

  Archie glanced at him, his dark eyes full of anguish behind his tortoiseshell glasses.

  That look worried Jake anew. This latest vision must’ve been bad indeed, because Archie hadn’t breathed a word about it, even to him. Usually, Jake was the first person he told.

  “Come on, coz. I’m your best friend,” Jake said. “I’ve got eyes. I saw your face back at the palace the minute you heard Izzy describe what Aunt Ramona was feeling.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Jake! Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway.” Archie nodded at the square. “Everything’s quiet here.”

  Now you’ve done it, Jake thought.

  Archie stared broodingly at his feet for a second. “It’s not necessarily about Aunt Ramona, anyway,” he admitted in a low tone. “I’m just being cautious, following her. For all I know, it’s probably just a bad dream.”