"Weldon, Honey." Mama must have gotten the phone away from his father. "I've got the address of the shelter from social services. Your father's going to take the subway up and come get you."
"No!" How long would it take Mr. Stevens to figure out Don didn't have the wristband? How long until they came back to Safe Home to get Weldon? And if he wasn't here, they'd find out where he lived and go after his family.
"What do you mean, no?" Mama said.
"Oh Mama," Weldon said, trying to sound tired. "It's already so late. I got a bed here. There ain't no reason to come downtown tonight. Papa don't got to work tomorrow. He can come then."
"And let you sleep under some strange roof?" His mother sounded alarmed.
"It's a safe youth shelter, Mama. The guy who runs it lives right upstairs. If I got to be grounded for the rest of my life, let me at least have one good night's sleep first." Weldon's hand shook on the phone.
"Darn right, you're grounded," Mama said. "You run off like that. Scare us to death. I don't know what to do with you anymore."
"Just leave me alone," Weldon said. His voice shook. His hands shook. Sweat dampened his forehead. He couldn't let his father come for him. Not now.
"Fine. You get one night." His mother sounded hurt. "But both of us will be there first thing in the morning to bring you home, and—"
"I love you, Mama." Weldon hung up the phone. He hoped Sonia wasn't listening to him sound so babyish, but if the killers got to him, he might never see his mama again. He had to at least tell her he loved her.
Weldon set the phone down and looked around. The girls acted like they hadn't heard anything.
Weldon wished he knew what to do to save Don. He noticed his pictures shuffled into a pile on the counter with the one of Baxter and the watch on top. It had seemed like such a good idea when he drew it. He'd thought if Don got his memories back, he and Don would be able to sort everything out. Wrong. He crumpled up the paper and threw it into the garbage can.
The next paper in the stack was brave Haley, heading to the Realm Above with the rest of the jewel dragons. Silver fairy dust glinted in his wake.
Shocked, Weldon looked up and focused on the cylinder of silver glitter sitting on the table beside the bottles of fingernail polish.
"Hey." Still holding the picture, Weldon slid into the chair opposite the girls. "I like that glitter. Can I buy it from you?"
"Sure," Taneshia said. "Except I think you don't got no money to buy nothing." She laughed, but Sonia didn't laugh with her.
She made sure the lid was tight on the glitter and slid it over to him. "I'll sell it to you for that picture you have. I ain't seen nothing like that drawn by a kid your age before."
Weldon handed over the picture of Haley and stuffed the glitter into his pocket next to the fishing line.
The phone rang, making them all jump.
Taneshia answered it and held it out to Weldon. "It Don."
Here it comes, Weldon thought. They've found out at last. At least Don was still alive for the moment.
"Don," Weldon said into the phone.
"D-do you still have it?" Don's teeth chattered.
"Yeah, I got it. Where you at?"
Before Don could answer a man's voice came over the phone—a cold voice, sharp like a knife. "You have the wristband?"
"Yes." Weldon whispered.
"Good. Now listen carefully, the life of your friend and his useless father depends on your following my directions exactly. Understand?"
"Yes."
The man gave Weldon an address, which Weldon scribbled onto the back of one of his drawing. "Bring it before midnight tonight. Come alone. Don't tell anyone. Don't call the police. Do not try to run. I have people watching the house. They will know if you try anything funny. If you do—" A gunshot cracked over the phone.
Weldon jumped and nearly dropped it.
"That's your only warning. The next one goes straight between your friend's eyes."
Weldon stared at the address. It would be a long walk through the streets after dark. What you afraid of, being mugged? he asked himself then laughed. He had no doubt the muggers would kill him and Don as soon as they got the wristband. Don's father too, from the sound of it. So, Jonas had been right. Mr. Stevens wasn't behind it all. Just the chauffeur.
That knowledge didn't calm Weldon's nerves. He glanced out the kitchen window, afraid he'd see one of the muggers in the dark outside. The only thing there was the brick wall of the adjacent building.
He tried to calculate in his mind how long it would take to get there. When he would have to leave. How he would get out without anyone noticing.
"What did Don say?" Sonia interrupted his thoughts.
Weldon stared at her. She'd been so nice to him, but he couldn't tell her. "He accidentally left something here. Just wanted to make sure I'm keeping it safe for him."
"Something valuable?" Taneshia gave Weldon a wicked smile. "I wouldn't mind having one of them expensive watches. Sure would get us into a nice apartment."
Weldon shook his head. The diamond wristband worth millions felt hot in his pocket. He backed out of the kitchen. "I'm going to bed now. G'night."
He went to the bedroom and climbed onto the top bunk but couldn't close his eyes. Images of the chauffeur and the three muggers had imprinted themselves on his mind and wouldn't leave him alone. He heard the girls talking for a while, and then they went off to their rooms.
Sometime later the bedroom door slammed open and the light switched on. Weldon jerked up, his heart racing, sure the muggers had decided to come in and get him instead of waiting.
Two older boys tromped into the room. They had spiked, leather jackets and baggy pants.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in." One of them circled Weldon's bunk and poked Weldon in the shoulder. Weldon could tell the boy was trying to scare him, but he felt no fear at all. These two clowns couldn't hurt him worse than what waited for him later.
"Ugh," Weldon said. "Turn out the light." He lay back down and flung his arm over his face.
The other guy turned off the light. "Sorry, kid, didn't know you were in here. You got a name?"
"Weldon."
"Whatcha doing here, little pipsqueak?" the bully boy asked.
"How bout you leave me alone?" Weldon said taking his arm away from his face and glaring at the boy. "I'm gonna be dead in a few hours and would love to spend my last moments on earth in peace."
"What you talking about?" the nicer boy changed into pajamas and stretched out on top of the next bunk over. "Ain't no one dies under Jonas's care."
The other boy slouched off to the shower.
"Ain't talking bout nothing," Weldon said.
"Talking about dying isn't nothing. You considering suicide?"
Weldon could see the other boy staring at him in the dark from the opposite bunk. "I don't need to kill myself. I got plenty of other people to do that for me."
"Did you tell Jonas?" the older boy sounded concerned.
"Course I told him. He don't believe me. Says everything okay."
"It's not?"
"No. It ain't. Leave me alone." Weldon rolled over and pretended to go to sleep.
The other boy came back from the shower. In a little while the room was filled with their snores. Weldon slid down from the bunk and sneaked out of the room. He went to the kitchen and in the light from the stove checked the address one more time, committing it to memory.
On the way out of the kitchen he noticed Taneshia's cell phone sitting on the table. He stared at it wistfully. If he took the phone, he might be able to call for help after giving up the wristband. Of course that depended on how the chauffeur planned to kill them.
It's not really stealing, he thought. I'm gonna bring it back before morning . . . unless I die, but then it won't matter?
He picked up the cell phone and crept into the living room, headed for the front door.
A body loomed out of the darkness and grabbed him.
&nbs
p; Weldon let out a quiet yelp then relaxed. It was just Victor, though he seemed a lot bigger up close than from across the room.
"It's too late to go out. Not safe," Victor said in a firm voice. "How old are you anyway, twelve tops? You should be in bed."
Weldon squirmed from his grasp, wishing Victor hadn't suddenly decided to come out of his shell. Weldon had forgotten about Victor, sitting quietly in his chair.
"I'm just going for a little walk," Weldon whispered.
"Oh no you're not?" Victor moved his bulky body into Weldon's path. "Hey, is that Taneshia's cell phone? You think you can come in here, steal stuff, and run off?"
Weldon backed away from the angry look Victor gave him. "I'm just borrowing it."
"We'll see what Jonas has to say about that." Victor tried to grab hold of him again, but Weldon dodged and almost made it to the door. Victor slammed into him, pushing him away. Then Victor leaned his back against the door and folded his arms across his chest. "You aren't going anywhere."
Weldon imagined the bullet that would tear through Don's brains if Weldon didn't show up. "Victor, please," he said. "Don in trouble. They gonna kill him if I don't bring them what they want. I got to go. They'll shoot him if I don't. They said to come alone. Not tell no one. I just thought if I had the phone I might be able to call for help if things go bad."
"You are the biggest liar I have ever heard," Victor said in disgust.
"I'm not." Weldon threw the phone onto the bench. "There, I'll leave it. It don't matter nohow. Just let me go."
"What else have you got?"
"Nothing." A horrible desperation filled Weldon.
"Turn out your pockets," Victor said.
Weldon edged back into the living room. Victor would freak out if he saw the wristband in Weldon's pocket.
A breeze no longer blew through the living room window. Someone had closed it for the night. That didn't stop Weldon. He raced across the room, flicked the latch, and pushed the window up. He got out before Victor could grab him.
Victor swore at him, calling him a lair and a thief. Weldon pelted away down the dark sidewalk.
Weldon hurried down the dark street. Ancient yellow streetlights made vacant puddles on the cement. The hot day had cooled. Monster buildings glared down at him. Now and then a car rushed past, spraying the dark streets with light for a few moments then returning them to emptiness.
He thought he heard footsteps behind him, but when he turned he saw nothing. Despite that, he was sure whoever the chauffeur had left to watch the house was following.
He left a row of apartment buildings behind and came out onto a strip of nightclubs, restaurants and theaters. The silent night fell away to bright lights and crowds of people. The jumble of movement and noise gave Weldon a semblance of comfort. If they murdered him here in front of all these people, at least his parents would know what happened to him. The smell of pizza and flame-broiled stakes made his stomach grumble, reminding him he hadn't eaten dinner.
He crossed the street away from the food to a park where couples strolled along the sidewalk or sat on benches and watched the neon lights from the buildings reflect off a pond. Weldon imagined his dead body might be floating there come morning.
Laughter and snatches of conversation followed him as he hurried on. His course took him down another street, this one more silent and dead than all the others. Boards covered the building windows. Half the street lights were broken and dark. A drunk lay moaning on stairs that led up to a door with bars across it.
Weldon bit his lip and tasted blood on his tongue. The smell of vomit and alcohol swirled around him. He stumbled over a crack and fell to his knees. Before rising again he peered into the jagged narrow hole in the sidewalk.
He imagined this was how Haley must be feeling right now. He'd come into the Realm Above, a horrifying place. He tried to flap his wings, but they were gone.
Weldon staggered to his feet. "Haley, I don't know how you gonna save him," Weldon muttered. "The Realm Above be too big. Too dangerous." Weldon started walking again, scanning the front of the crumbling buildings for the number he'd been given. "It's not really your fault anyway," he said to Haley. "Barthelme brought this on himself by feeding them dragons his blood. Not your fault you boasted of that to the wrong person. Not your fault them baby dragons caused so much trouble."
He stopped in front of an old theater building. A sign, advertising a movie that hadn't been shown in theaters in Weldon's lifetime, dangled from the front, held up by a single wire.
Another sign, no less weathered, pointed down a set of stairs at the side of the building to a dance hall.
Weldon shivered. He'd reached the place at last. He had to go down there. He couldn't just fly away. Still he hesitated. The chauffeur would kill them all as soon as he got the wristband. Weldon had no way of protecting himself, no weapon except his own imagination.
He pulled out the cylinder of silver fairy dust and twisted off the lid. Then he started down the stairs, heart thumping with every footstep. With his other hand, he got out the fish line. Didn't know yet what he'd do with it, but he wanted to feel prepared instead of helpless. The line wouldn't have shown up in his picture of Baxter, and Baxter wouldn't have left it at Safe Home if it didn't have some purpose in Weldon's story.
Weldon found the old wooden door slightly ajar. He pushed past it into a dark building. After a few steps forward he noticed a single yellow light bulb glowing on the far side of the dance hall. An old silver disco ball hung from the ceiling surrounded by an array of colored lights, all off at the moment.
In the faint light from across the room, Weldon saw the chauffeur, still in his silver uniform and ugly chauffeur hat. He held a gray handgun pointed at two people tied to chairs: Don and Mr. Stevens.
"Come on in, Weldon," the Chauffeur called. "You took your time getting here."
Weldon stepped forward and stopped at the DJ's booth. "Sorry. I had to walk. My chauffeur wouldn't pick me up." While he talked he reached into the booth and wrapped the end of the fishing line around a lever, securing it with the hook.
Footsteps thumped down the stairs behind him, and the three muggers stepped into the dance hall, blocking Weldon's escape.
One of them pushed him. "Move it."
Weldon walked forward, letting the invisible line trail out on the floor behind him. What these men didn't know was that Haley had not come to the Realm Above alone.
His shoes made a hollow sound as he crossed the wooden floor. "Hey, Don," he said. Don's bruised face and black eyes looked ghastly in the dim light.
"Weldon." Don licked his lips and turned his attention back to the gun pointed at him. Weldon kept walking, trying to get as close as possible to the chauffeur.
"That's far enough," the chauffeur said.
Weldon stopped.
"You have the wristband?" the chauffeur's hand hovered over the trigger. His three thugs moved out where Weldon could see them. Two of them carried knives and the other a black club. They stayed close enough they could cut Weldon down if he tried to run.
"In my pocket."
"Get it out, slowly."
Keeping hold of the fish line, Weldon eased the diamond wristband out of his pocket. He turned it so the jewels flashed in the light. It time for you to fly at last, my dear little one, he thought.
"Hand it over." The chauffeur held out his left hand.
Weldon sucked in a quiet breath. That gun was no figment of his imagination. Its bullets would kill.
Mr. Eaglehead twisted his knife as if anxious to cut into Weldon's flesh. Mr. Earring slapped his palm with the club. The third mugger sneered at Weldon. Outside, a lost truck rumbled down the street.
The diamonds sparkled. Light glinted off the barrel of the gun.
"Hand it over now."
Weldon threw the wristband straight at the chauffeur. His sudden movement pulled the fish line at the same time. The colored lights came on and the disco ball turned, sending flashes of color zipping arou
nd the room. In sync with tossing the wristband, Weldon moved his left hand as well, spraying the fairy dust into the muggers' eyes.
While the chauffeur tried to catch the wristband, Weldon lunged forward and grabbed the gun out of his hand. The gun went off, and Weldon felt something hot cut across his side.
He kept his hands on the weapon even as his momentum threw him to the floor.
He rolled and came up on his knees with the gun pointed at the chauffeur and the muggers who were shouting and trying to rub the glitter out of their eyes.
The chauffeur yelled and started for Weldon.
"Don't move." The gun felt heavy and hot in Weldon's hands. The taste of gunpowder lingered on his tongue. Sticky liquid trickled down his side onto his leg. Weldon put his finger over the trigger and pointed the gun at the chauffeur's chest. This close, he couldn't miss if he fired.
The chauffeur stopped moving. "You're just a kid. You won't shoot me," he said, but his voice cracked, betraying his fear.
Sirens wailed in the street outside.
The muggers swore and took off in separate directions. Weldon kept the gun on the chauffeur and let them go. He couldn't shoot all of them at once, and he wanted to take down the chauffeur most of all.
The chauffeur moved his hand toward the gun.
"Don't do it," Weldon said. Sweat trickled into his eyes. His hands shook.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs. "Freeze!" a voice shouted. "Put down the gun."
Out of the corner of his eye Weldon saw a policeman point his gun through the door. Weldon kept his gun on the chauffeur.
"Better do what the police say," Mr. Stevens said from the chair behind Weldon.
Weldon lowered the gun and set it on the floor.
The chauffeur lunged for it and came up shooting. Weldon threw himself forward and tackled the chauffeur around the legs, knocking him to the ground. Gunshots cracked over his head. He felt the gun pressed against his temple and twisted away. The shot barely missed him. His ears rang from the sound of the shot, and the skin on the side of his face burned.
Real Dragons Page 12
