Sky High!

by Gareth P. Jones

  “Of course, I know,” said the other dragon. “But it is not me who is living in this human hive. Our kind are supposed to stay hidden.”

  Dirk shrugged. He knew the risks. Ever since a conference held high in the Himalayas around a thousand years ago, the dragon world had gone into hiding. Those in favour of fighting had risen into the air and became known as up-airers. Minertia, the greatest dragon of all, had counted the votes and announced the result. Attacking a human, being seen by a human or allowing a human to find evidence of dragons were outlawed. Many dragons were banished to the Inner Core as a consequence, including Minertia herself.

  “OK, here’s what I know about you,” said Dirk. “You’re a Sea Dragon who recently left the sea in a hurry and travelled to London specifically to find me. You haven’t eaten in a while and you have never had any dealings with humans before.”

  The desk wobbled and the Sea Dragon’s head appeared.

  “How are you knowing all these facts?” she said. It was a female, with some kind of accent. Dirk wasn’t sure what, maybe Spanish.

  “Well, it’s not difficult to see you’re a Sea Dragon. The gills are a dead give-away. A Sea Dragon’s back hardens with time out of water, but your back is still soft. Usually you would hide out until it hardens but you didn’t, so that means you were in a hurry. You’re under my desk so you came looking for me.” Dirk blew a smoke ring. “How did I do?”

  “How did you know about the food?”

  Dirk pointed to the dragon’s foaming mouth. “Only a hungry dragon would steal food from my office and only one who doesn’t know much about humans would eat a bar of soap.”

  “I did not like it,” replied the Sea Dragon, spitting out bubbles. “Not one bit.”

  “So, what brings you to London?” asked Dirk.

  The Sea Dragon climbed out from under the desk and cricked her back. “I am wanting the help from you.”

  “What sort of help?”

  “Detective help,” she replied, “like you give the humanos. My name is Alba Longs. My sister, Delfina, has gone vamoosed. We meet up every year in the same place, in the mountains of Spain, but she was not there this time and I am needing you to help finding her.”

  “I don’t take cases from dragons,” replied Dirk. “They’re too much trouble and they don’t pay well.”

  “I can pay,” she said. “I have gold.”

  Dirk smiled. “Gold’s great in the dragon world but I can’t exactly pay the rent with it or use it to tip the pizza delivery guy, can I?”

  Alba looked confused. “I do not know who the rent is or what the … pizza delivery guy … might be, but you must help me. I have no one else to be asking.”

  “Do I look like I give a rat’s banjo? You shouldn’t be this close to humans. It’s not safe.”

  “But you are living with them and speaking with them and making work with them. Please. I must find my sister.”

  Alba was prowling around the room, inspecting the strange objects she found on the floor. She picked up an unopened tin of chilli-flavoured baked beans. “What is this?” she asked.

  “My dinner,” replied Dirk tersely.

  “Food? Oh, please!” she begged.

  “Fine. Have some beans, then go.”

  Alba bit into the can, sending beans and chilli tomato sauce across the room, splattering the walls and catching Dirk in the eye. Red gloop dribbled down her chin as she chewed, crushing the metal between her jaws before gulping it down.

  “I very like it,” she said, burping. “But the shell is quite crunchy.”

  Dirk wiped the sauce off his face.

  “Oh, what is this?” she asked, picking up the TV remote control.

  “Leave my stuff alone,” barked Dirk. “I’ve told you, I can’t help you find—”

  Dirk’s words were drowned out by the TV, which Alba managed to turn on. A group of scruffy looking teenagers were playing guitars and screaming, “We’re louder than a juggernaut, we’re crazy like a fox, we’re playing our guitars and not wearing any socks.”

  Petrified by the noise, Alba threw the remote control behind her and ran at the TV. Dirk tried to block her but she whacked him in the ear and leapfrogged over him.

  “Stop the loudness!” she screamed, knocking the TV off the filing cabinet once again. Dirk attempted to catch it but Alba was in his way and he watched helplessly as this time it smashed. The screen went blank but the speakers were unaffected and the rock band continued to sing.

  “We do whatever we want, beg, steal or borrow. We were rocking all of yesterday and we’ll carry on tomorrow. Yeah.”

  “The loudness… Make the loudness stop!” yelled Alba.

  A pounding came on the door.

  “Mr Dilly, are you all right?” It was Mrs Klingerflim.

  “Fine, Mrs K. Sorry, it’s my TV,” he replied.

  “Well, it’s quite noisy, dear.”

  “Yes, I’ll turn it down,” replied Dirk.

  “Fish will swim, birds will fly, I’ll keep rocking till I—”

  Another banging started, this one from the adjacent wall. A voice shouted, “Keep the bleeding noise down or I’ll call the bleeding police!”

  BANG BANG.

  “Make the loudness stop!”

  BANG BANG BANG.

  “We don’t care what our parents say, they’re far too old and sad.”

  BANG BANG BANG BANG.

  “The loudness!”

  “We just wanna rock all day, so leave it out, Mum and Dad.”

  BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.

  “Stop the loudness!”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, we wanna rock.”

  “Oi! You’re disturbing the bleeding peace.”

  “Mr Dilly, the neighbours are complaining.”

  BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.

  Dirk’s head felt like it was going to cave in and just when he thought it couldn’t get any louder, the phone started to ring.

  Holly could hear her stepmum downstairs, loudly fawning over her guest. “Tell me, Brant, do you really own three islands?”

  “Four, actually. It sounds impressive but if you could see them, they’re just lumps of rock.”

  Mrs Bigsby laughed annoyingly. Holly could think of nothing worse than joining them but the smell of food proved too tempting for Willow. She wriggled out of Holly’s arms and ran downstairs.

  “Willow,” whispered Holly. “Willow!”

  The cat ignored her and slipped into the front room.

  “Get away, you awful thing,” squawked Mrs Bigsby.

  Holly darted down the stairs and burst into the room.

  “Leave her alone,” she said.

  Mrs Bigsby was shooing Willow away with her foot. Mr Buchanan stood by the fireplace. Up close, he looked older than in the photograph on the website. And the picture hadn’t done justice to his penetrating grey-green eyes, which descended upon Holly. She felt herself take a step backwards, as though his gaze was too intense to stand so close. She knocked a table behind her and a glass fell and smashed on the wooden floor. Willow jumped out of the way.

  “I must apologize, Mr Buchanan,” said Mrs Bigsby. “The creature isn’t house-trained.”

  Holly didn’t know whether her stepmum was referring to the cat or to her.

  “I’m sorry.” Holly kneeled down to pick up the shards.

  “Leave it.” Mrs Bigsby grabbed her hand, accidentally causing the sharp piece of glass that Holly had been carefully holding with her fingertips to slip. The edge was so fine that Holly didn’t feel it cut into her skin until she saw the red slash across her palm.

  “Holly, you’ve cut yourself.” Mrs Bigsby sounded more annoyed than concerned.

  Mr Buchanan, who had been watching with an air of detachment, seemed suddenly interested at the sight of blood. He leaned forwards. “That will take some time to heal,” he said.

  The fine red line thickened as blood oozed out. The sight made Holly feel faint. The pain was beginning to register.

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nbsp; “Don’t drip on the furniture,” squawked Mrs Bigsby, grabbing a bowl from the sideboard and handing it to Holly. “Hold this under it.”

  Holly took the bowl in time to catch the first droplet of blood.

  “Does it hurt?” Mr Buchanan asked.

  “A little, yes,” she replied.

  “Pain helps us understand our limitations. Only by experiencing such extremes can we learn more about ourselves.”

  “Is that why you hurt innocent animals?” said Holly angrily.

  Mr Buchanan smiled and picked up Willow who was purring by his feet. “I believe animals are far more intelligent than we give them credit for,” he said. “See your cat, for instance. She didn’t cut herself on the broken glass.”

  “I heard a crash.” Holly’s dad entered the room and looked at his daughter. “What’s happened? Come on, we’d better find a plaster. I’m so sorry, Mr Buchanan.”

  “There’s really no need,” said the billionaire. “I require a moment alone with your wife anyway.”

  Holly followed her father through to the kitchen, where he located a first-aid kit.

  “It looks like quite a cut. Perhaps I should take you to hospital.” He wrapped a bandage around her hand.

  “It’s fine,” said Holly hastily.

  The wound would heal as she slept. Self-healing skin was one of the dragon powers she had gained from consuming a small amount of Dirk’s blood, but that was hardly the sort of thing she could tell her father.

  “Now, please try not to, you know, get in the way,” he said. “If your mother gets this job, it could make a big difference to us.”

  “She shouldn’t work for a man who hurts animals,” said Holly stubbornly.

  “Life’s more complicated when you’re a grown up,” replied her dad.

  “It’s not exactly simple when you’re young,” replied Holly.

  “I suppose not,” he admitted.

  With her hand bandaged, she left the kitchen and walked loudly upstairs only to tiptoe quietly back down again. She could hear low murmuring from the living room. She crept back to the door and, ever so gently, eased it open. Seeing an opportunity, Willow darted inside.

  “That cat!” snarled Mrs Bigsby.

  Holly used the distraction to slide into the room. She pushed herself against a wall and vanished from sight as she turned exactly the same floral pattern as the wallpaper. Blending was another power she had picked up from the dragon blood.

  Neither Mrs Bigsby nor Brant Buchanan noticed her enter. Mrs Bigsby picked up Willow, carried her to the door and flung her out. She closed the door behind her.

  “She’s persistent, I’ll give her that,” said Mr Buchanan. “What’s her name?”

  “Er…” Mrs Bigsby thought for a moment. “Pillow? Something like that. She belongs to the child.”

  “Children need company,” replied Mr Buchanan. “She’s very strong-willed, isn’t she?”

  “The cat?”

  “Your daughter.”

  “Stepdaughter. And yes.”

  Holly was concentrating hard on remaining still. Mr Buchanan glanced at the patch of wall where she was hiding. She closed her eyes.

  “Anyway, to the matter in hand,” he said.

  Holly opened one eye to see him walk across the room, but he didn’t sit down, instead putting his palms outstretched on the table.

  “Can you help me, Angela?” he said, fixing her with a firm gaze.

  “I’m sorry. I honestly can’t see how I can. I lost my job. The other lot deal with it now.”

  “Yes, but we both know how these things work. Little will have changed. They haven’t scrapped the AOG project. All I need is the location.”

  Holly felt her heartbeat quicken. The AOG project was a secret government scheme. AOG stood for Acts of God and referred to weapons designed to create natural disasters. She knew this because she had helped Dirk stop a rebel group of dragons known as the Kinghorns from using an earthquake creator called the QC3000 to wipe out half of Europe.

  “I wouldn’t want to be involved in anything, well… I’ve always been very above board…” Holly had never heard her stepmum sound so nervous.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m the chairman of the board,” replied Mr Buchanan, chuckling at his own joke. “Your future at Global Sands will be both secure and bright. Above all, we reward loyalty.”

  “Can I think about it?”

  Mr Buchanan turned and took a couple of steps towards the door. Holly saw him bite his lip in frustration before putting on a smile and turning around.

  “Of course you can,” he said. “But please remember I have spoken to you in confidence.”

  “Yes, I understand and I’m grateful. I know how valuable your time is.”

  “Valuable and expensive,” replied Mr Buchanan, inspecting a mini fishcake before thinking better of it and placing it back on the tray.

  “Should I call you?” asked Mrs Bigsby.

  “No, I’ll call you tomorrow. Please don’t disappoint me, Angela. I loathe being disappointed.”

  Mr Buchanan opened the door and left. Holly heard the front door close, then Mr Bigbsy came back into the room.

  “Well? What did he say? Did he offer you a position?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Holly couldn’t see her stepmum’s face but her dad didn’t look as pleased with this news as she had expected. Mrs Bigsby must have noticed this too.

  “I have to take it,” she said.

  “Have to?” asked her dad, with a raised eyebrow.

  “It’s too good an opportunity to refuse.”

  Holly missed the rest of the conversation because they walked out but as soon as she knew it was safe, she picked up the phone and dialled Dirk’s number.

  Dirk yanked the television plug out of the socket with his tail. The sound cut out, the banging from next door ceased, Mrs Klingerflim went quiet and Alba stopped screaming. He picked up the ringing phone.

  “The Dragon Detective Agency,” he said, catching his breath. “Dirk Dilly speaking. How can I help you?”

  “It’s me…”

  It was Holly’s voice, but he couldn’t hear what she said next because Alba spoke over her, saying, “I have been telling you already. I want you to help finding my sister.”

  “I’m not speaking to you,” Dirk said to Alba, causing the Sea Dragon to lower her head apologetically.

  “What have I done?” said Holly, thinking he meant her.

  “Not you,” replied Dirk.

  “Then you will help me?” said Alba.

  “Dirk, I need your help,” said Holly.

  “No, I won’t help you,” replied Dirk, again speaking to Alba.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” said Holly.

  “You are very indecisive,” said Alba.

  “Look, can I call you back?” he said into the phone, turning away from Alba.

  “What’s going on?” asked Holly.

  “Why do you want to call me Back?” asked Alba. “My name is Alba.”

  “Nothing. I’ll call you back,” said Dirk, hanging up.

  “OK, I let you call me Back if you promise to help me,” said the Sea Dragon.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of a phone?” asked Dirk.

  “A-forrn,” repeated Alba. “I have not heard of A-forrn. Is this another of your crunchy-shelled humano food stuffs?”

  “Never mind. You have to go.” Dirk picked up the broken TV and placed it back on the filing cabinet. “You’ve caused enough damage for one day.”

  “But I will not go without you,” she replied. “I need your help. I need the help of the great Mr Dirk Dilly, dragon detective.”

  “How do you know about me anyway?” asked Dirk, his eyes narrowing. “How do you know where I live?”

  “The Shade-Hugger said not to say— Oops!” she said, clasping a paw to her mouth.

  “What Shade—” Dirk stopped mid-sentence. “Karny.”

  “Captain Karnataka,” Alba corrected him.

/>   Dirk sighed. His old friend Karnataka was the most corrupt dragon he had ever met. He was a swindler, a con-artist and a thief. His most daring feat had been to steal the Council’s Welsh gold reserves from under their noses, so it was ironic that the Council had since seen fit to elect him captain of the Dragnet, the dragon police force.

  The question that bothered Dirk right now was why Karnataka would pass on his details to this Sea Dragon.

  “I can’t help you,” he said. “I’ve already got a case on the go.”

  “But if I do not find my sister, I do not know what I will do…” Alba broke off and burst into a howling wail.

  The banging from next door started again.

  “Oi, stop that bleeding racket before I come round and give you an extreme close-up of my fist!” yelled the neighbour.

  “Mr Dilly, the neighbours are complaining again!” shouted Mrs Klingerflim.

  “All right,” Dirk said through gritted teeth. “I don’t seem to have any choice but to help you.”

  Alba stopped making the noise.

  “Are you talking to me or Aforrn … or whoever Back is?”

  “You.”

  “So you will help me find my sister?”

  Of all the bad ideas he’d had in his life, helping Alba was the worst. It was even worse than the time he decided to mix his favourite foods together – the cocktail of orange squash, baked beans and toothpaste made him so violently sick that he set light to the carpet. Dirk didn’t work for dragons. Never had. Never would. Dragons were too much trouble. They asked too many questions, the answers to which could result in Dirk being arrested and hauled in front of the Council. He had got away with that once, he didn’t fancy giving it another go.

  In spite of all this, he said in a quiet, already regretful voice, “Yes.”

  “Thank you. Thank you, Mr Dirk!” exclaimed Alba, hugging him. “I know you’ll be able to find Delfina! When do we start?” she asked.

  “No time like the present.” Dirk scribbled a note for Mrs K, which he left on his desk, and opened the window. “You said you were supposed to be meeting your sister in Spain.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I guess we’re off to Europe,” replied Dirk.