Blood of the Dragon

by Jay D Pearson

  “Dad?” he asked slowly, but fearing he already knew the answer. “Where’s mom?”

  His dad turned slowly, his dark eyes red-rimmed. He’d never seen his dad so sad and fear gripped his gut. For a moment, he was worried the fear would flare, and he knew he couldn’t reveal the truth about himself to his dad. Not yet, anyways. But the fear was ice in his belly, and his magic dead.

  “She’s…she’s out shopping and…asked me to get you boys ready for school this morning.” His dad straightened, a measure of confidence returning. “Where are your socks?”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  By the time he sat down at the back of the bus, he was positive he knew the gist of his mom’s letter. His dad had refused to say anything more, but he knew she was headed to Washington state. He doubted she’d told his dad where or why, but she’d told enough for his dad to fear. Maybe she’d told his dad it had something to do with her past, but what mattered was she’d left without him. She was going to fight the evil faeries by herself.

  It was all he could do to not allow fear to ignite his gut right there on the bus. If Balor was correct, his mother was doomed if she faced the faeries on her own. She needed him. Somehow, he had to reach the Olympics and then find her before it was too late.

  Aileen was waiting for him when he arrived, her long red hair hanging loose. She might not be fond of her dad, but her Guns n’ Roses t-shirt, Capri pants, leather wristband, choker, and pumps were all as black as Balor’s duster. She leaned against the brick wall with three girls from band talking at her, but her eyes were focused on the arriving buses. They met his the moment he stepped off the bus. She pushed away from the wall and stalked towards him. He halted, forcing the other students to flow around him as if he were an oversized boulder in a river.

  “Took you long enough, Martinez,” she snarled angrily.

  “Wha…wha’d I do?” he said, spreading his hands innocently.

  She stomped up until her nose was almost touching his. Other kids were glancing at them, some stopping to stare.

  “What did you do? Are you kidding me?”

  How does she know? Did her father tell her? Or her mom?

  Suddenly, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He knew the heat rising in his face had nothing to do with his magic.

  She kissed me! He wanted to sigh.

  Instead, she threw her head back and laughed.

  “Oh, you should see your face! One moment, you’re a deer caught in headlights; the next, you’re a cat getting its ears scratched. Tell me, Miguel, what did you do?”

  Then he really did sigh, even if it was relief. She doesn’t know, he thought as she grabbed his hand and dragged him into school. His cheek still tingled where her lips had pressed against him and he wasn’t certain if he was walking or floating.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  By the time he sat down at his desk for first period social studies, however, thoughts of his missing mother brought him back to earth. He twiddled with his pencil, occasionally tapping the eraser on his desk. Balor was the only person who could help him. His dad would no more let him leave than his mother would. He was certain Aileen would want to help, but what could she do? He barely knew Àibell. His principal, Mr. Sandoval, was the only other person who came to mind, but how could he help?

  What could anyone do? He was probably the world’s sole half dragon; Balor and Àibell were the only other non-humans he knew of. Well, Carlos, he supposed, must be half dragon too, but his brother had never shown any sign of magic. No, Balor was his only hope, but how could they reach his mom?

  “Mr. Martinez!”

  Mrs. Fuller’s voice sharply intruded into his thoughts and he started. She stared pointedly at him, arms crossed and a finger tapping on an elbow. His teacher was petite, with dark curly hair and thick black-rimmed glasses, but she brooked no nonsense in her classes. His mother, like most parents, loved her while even Burton Peña was scared to death of her.

  He dropped his pencil, realizing he’d been drumming the eraser against the desk.

  “Umm, yes, Mrs. Fuller?”

  Her brow knitted as she looked sternly at him over her glasses. “I will ask you again: what was the importance of the Battle of Trenton in the Revolutionary War?”

  Every eye seemed to creep over him as if he’d landed in a nest of spiders. He slunk down. What does the American Revolution matter right now? But he couldn’t answer Mrs. Fuller with that.

  “Umm,” he stammered, realizing that even though his eyes had passed over the words of his textbook on Saturday following the barbeque, nothing had sunk in. “The Americans won?” he asked hesitantly.

  Several kids snickered and he reddened. He’d done so well in his classes earlier when his new-found power had helped him focus, and he’d been Mrs. Fuller’s favorite since the start of the semester. Obviously, based on the tightness of her mouth, his answer was wrong or so incomplete that he was embarrassing her as well.

  Fortunately, she didn’t push him and, since Javier was waving his hand like he knew the right answer, the lesson moved on, although she didn’t call on him again.

  Afterwards, as he and Javier navigated through the crowded hallway towards Algebra, his tall friend asked, “What’s up, Miguel? You’re completely out of it today.”

  His mind worked frantically. “I…I need to talk to Aileen.”

  Javier laughed. “You and that girl. When are you going to kiss her?”

  His face flushed and his friend punched his shoulder teasingly.

  “Oh my gosh! She kissed you, didn’t she? Did you kiss her back? What did it feel like?”

  “It was just my cheek, Javier. Geez.”

  His friend laughed again. “You are such a chicken! No wonder you did so bad today! When are you going to finally do it?”

  “Aileen’s not like other girls. You know that. I just can’t…and it’s her dad, anyways. I need to talk to him.”

  “You’re gonna ask him for permission to kiss his daughter?”

  Javier spoke so loudly that time seemed to pause. For a moment, Miguel was certain he’d entered an alternate reality; instead, every student in the hallway stopped to stare at him. He wanted to strangle his friend.

  “That’s not it at all!” he hissed. Then he felt it. His magic rumbled in his belly. Convinced that everyone was wondering if he really was going to ask permission to kiss his girlfriend, he doubled over as if he were suddenly sick, praying that his stomach wouldn’t glow. That prayer was quickly answered, but it didn’t stop the massive belch he tried to swallow.

  “BWAAPPP!”

  Even if it had simply been a burp, it would have been legendary. The sound echoed down the hallway as if he’d yelled from atop a canyon. Books flew from arms. Open locker doors slammed. The closest students somersaulted or flew, landing on their backpacks with loud “oomphs.”

  He straightened, the only person standing within 30 feet, amazed at the devastation. Homework and pencils lay scattered. A now-empty bulletin board hung askew. Students slowly rolled to their feet, groaning. He was positive several must be bruised, but as soon as he was sure no one was seriously injured, he sprinted down the hallway towards his Algebra class, hoping to escape without facing anyone.

  The moment he stepped through the door, however, the world shifted and he stumbled, nearly tumbling over a cliff just as a hand grabbed his arm.

  The ceiling had been replaced by a periwinkle sky. Instead of carpet, whitecaps on an ocean far below appeared pink, reflecting the sunrise. He was back at the same place where he’d been on Saturday, where his mom had grown up. He turned. Balor held his arm.

  “Even I could feel that, boy. That was one hell of an explosion.”

  “You!” Miguel sputtered. It was the first time he’d ever been relieved to see the one-eyed man. “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t, but I couldn’t miss it, even across reality. Your magic is that strong. Finaarva is definitely in for a surprise.”

  Balor smiled at him and Miguel c
ouldn’t help but beam. His mentor’s face quickly grew serious, however.

  “I tried to get here before school started, but Aileen was waiting for you. This was the next best place. Listen carefully, boy. Your mother has ignored my warning and gone on to Mt. Olympus without us. We cannot wait for long. Her fury will stall our enemy for a while, maybe even forestall his escape for a bit, but she cannot hold the other faeries back forever, not by herself.”

  “I know,” he said calmly. Relief that Balor had found him so quickly settled his stomach and his magic seemed to drain out of him into the cliff side.

  “You do? Good. Then you know we must leave soon, by the end of the week.”

  Miguel nodded. “But how? My dad’s not going to let me go. He was pretty worried this morning. I wouldn’t be surprised if he dumped us all with my grandparents and went looking for my mom himself.”

  Balor simply nodded. “Why do you think I was so friendly with him on Saturday? Of course he’s going to try to find your mom. I will call him, tell him I have an opportunity to take my family to Seattle for a few days and suggest he allow me to let you tag along.”

  He wasn’t surprised by Balor’s revelation of why he’d been so nice to his dad, but he was surprised his mentor already had a plan.

  “Really? And you’d let Aileen go too?”

  “We may need my wife’s magic, what little she has left. I can’t very well leave Aileen alone. My daughter is strong willed enough that she’d try to follow.”

  Miguel chuckled, acknowledging the truth. Balor gripped his arm.

  “Listen, boy. You may see strange things on the news coming from the Olympics. That will almost certainly be your mother’s doing. You must stay strong and patient. Wu Zhao the dragon is still a mighty force, and she’s enraged because of the danger the faeries we fight present to your family. Until she expends some of that anger, she’s not likely to even recognize us, so leaving today is pointless. The faeries themselves will hide in the valley where they’re imprisoned until her initial fury dies down.”

  Every sense of his magic deflated. “How long?”

  “A few days, this weekend maybe. Regardless, the day will come soon when she will listen to reason.”

  A bit of hope returned. “And that’s the day we need to be there, isn’t it?”

  Balor smiled for a second time.

  “You are truly your mother’s child. Remember that, boy. We will not only be there, but you and I will fight alongside her. That, I promise. But you cannot tell anyone, not even your dad or Aileen. Swear that you will stay silent. I will make arrangements for us to be there by Saturday. That I swear.”

  Miguel did not hesitate. He could do this. It would show not only Balor that he was ready, it would prove to himself that he could fight.

  A moment later, the world shifted and he found himself facing Mrs. Fuller. She was looking past him towards the hallway.

  “What is that racket, Miguel? Why are you out of breath?”

  Chapter 27

  The Dragon

  By the time Miguel returned home from school on Wednesday, his dad’s black hair stuck out in nearly as many directions as his own, and grey whiskers sprouted from his cheeks, matching the newly grey sideburns. He’d closed his architectural office early, cancelling all appointments for the remainder of the week, something Miguel didn’t remember his dad ever doing before.

  Miguel was cuddling Isabel when his dad opened the door, assuring them with the same story he and Carlos had heard, that unexpected legal issues regarding her family estate had come up, forcing Maeve to make a sudden trip back to Ireland. A couple of his dad’s assistants brought dinner over, which he appreciated, as his dad really only knew how to barbeque or heat up frozen tamales, leaving Miguel to make sure they had vegetables or salad.

  Grandpa had returned home already. As much as he adored Isabel, taking care of her all day wore him out, especially when she kept crying for mama. Carlos had thrown his hands up last night, storming out and not coming back until 9. At least his friend’s mom had called to make sure it was okay if Carlos hung out at her house. Today, his brother hadn’t even bothered to come home, getting off the bus with his friend.

  As he tried to get Isabel to sit in her high chair so he could get her some applesauce, his dad turned on the news. Just like Balor had predicted, the Olympics had been one of the first items reported on yesterday. Today, however, the news station had labeled it “The Sasquatch Storm.”

  “It’s no longer just the record rainfall in the national forest as well as the entire Puget Sound,” the news anchor was saying, “or the unprecedented lightning storms. Today, we have reports of sasquatch sightings from numerous sources throughout the Olympic Peninsula, and especially near the Hoh Rain Forest Visitor Center and campground, and along the Hoh River Trail that leads to the Blue Glacier on Mt. Olympus. Dave Ellis has more for us from Lake Quinault Lodge. Dave? Can you hear us?”

  The cameras switched to a young reporter all bundled up in a heavy blue raincoat standing outside the rustic lodge resort. Dark grey clouds boiled above him while rain fell like a curtain of water, dripping down the camera lens. A roar flowed from the television. It took Miguel a few seconds to realize it was simply the pounding rain, forcing the reporter to yell.

  “John, can you hear me? I can barely hear myself. Do you have any of those photos to show folks back home what the locals here have been showing me ever since we arrived?”

  “They’re pretty fuzzy,” said the local news anchor, “but we do have several.”

  Miguel couldn’t help but stare as a dozen pictures rotated on the screen, with the words “Sasquatch Sightings?” A large, dark figure loomed in each photo, usually obscured by the massive trees of the rain forest, but a couple times, the figure was crossing a meadow. Due to the dim light of the storm and the heavy rain, none of the figures could be seen clearly.

  “Can we see those blowups, please?” John the news anchor said. A pair of photos immediately focused on the dark figures, filling the TV screen. What could be seen did not look human to Miguel.

  “Why do lunatics want to dress up like apes in that kind of weather?” his dad asked as he set the table. “Do they really think we’re that gullible?”

  “Dave,” John was saying, “What are the locals telling you?”

  Rain ran off the young reporter’s hood in rivulets as he answered.

  “First, John, they’re telling me this is the heaviest rain anyone here at the lodge has ever seen, and that’s saying something. No one is willing to go outside except for a few brave sasquatch hunters armed only with their cameras. Second, even the skeptics are amazed by the number of pictures taken so far.”

  “Are these photos all from one or two of these so-called hunters, Dave?”

  “No, John, and that’s the surprising thing. Each of those pictures was taken by a different person. Most are from different spots in the national park, but a couple were from near the lodge, another from Forks, and one even from Port Angeles.”

  “Thanks, Dave. And now, breaking news on the storm from Taholah, Washington, home of the Quinault Indian Nation, and our correspondent there, Ashley Hobbs. Ashley…”

  The screen switched to a young blond woman standing in the small lobby of what looked like a museum of some sort. Next to her stood a white-haired man with grizzled face, his dark eyes and skin clearly those of a Native American.

  “Thanks, John. With me is Thomas Summers, one of the oldest members of the Quinault Nation.”

  “Well, this should be interesting,” his dad said as Miguel pored several fishy crackers out for his sister, having given up on the applesauce for the moment.

  “Thomas,” spoke Ashley in a condescending tone, as if clueing her listeners to take anything Thomas said with a grain of salt. “You told me that you know what is causing this ‘Sasquatch Storm…’”

  Miguel turned his attention completely away from sister and to the elder gentleman.

  “Yes,” was all th
e man answered. Despite his age, his voice was deep and firm.

  “Could you repeat what you told me earlier, Thomas?”

  The man’s mouth narrowed the same way his mother’s did when she was irritated, although the reporter seemed oblivious.

  “Thunderbird has returned to the mountain,” he said.

  “By Thunderbird, you mean the ancient spirit of native legends? And the mountain is Mt. Olympus, correct?”

  “Yes, and she is warring against an ancient evil in Mt. Sun-a-do. It has stirred up the Skookum. That is why so many are seen.”

  “Mt. Sunadoo? Skookoom?” blurted the Tucson news anchor.

  “The native names for Mt. Olympus and sasquatch, John. But that’s not all, is it Thomas? Can you show us the picture you say one of your tribe took early this morning?”

  Miguel leaned forward as the man held up what appeared to be a computer printout of a photo. All he could see were dark grey clouds.

  Thomas pointed to a cloud in the middle. It was blacker than all the rest.

  “That is Thunderbird,” he stated confidently.

  Instantly, Miguel saw the form. It was no cloud. It was the shape of a giant bird with a long body, sinewy neck, and broad wings. Then he sat back. Not a bird. A dragon. It had to be.

  “Mom…” he whispered.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Sleep did not come any easier than completing his homework had. It would still be two more days before he and the Foleys would leave for Seattle. Balor had phoned Monday night and had little problem convincing his dad to let him go. His dad seemed relieved, as if Miguel being out of the house would be one less thing to worry about, even though Balor said he’d be missing school on Friday and Monday.

  After lying on all four sides and counting to 100 twice, he tossed his sheets off and swung his feet onto the floor. His dad might’ve laughed off all the sasquatch sightings and the picture of ‘Thunderbird,’ but he couldn’t stop worrying about his mother. He glanced at his clock. The red readout said 12:46. With a heavy sigh, he rose, quietly opened his door, and tiptoed to the kitchen. To his surprise, a forlorn figure was already hunched over the table.