“What?” I asked the damumoto.
“You realize they were trying to capture you,” he said.
“I know.”
Gerald slumped against Penelope’s tail. “It’s not just a Venice thing.”
“Somebody wants to stop us from going to Rome,” I said.
And they wanted it pretty bad.
Chapter Twenty
HORC ROLLED OVER and belched. “So full. Must eat more.”
Fred’s Luna Bar had been deceptive. It was only the beginning. Fred was an eater after Horc’s own heart. Fred got espresso and chocolate cornetti from the dining car. He liked those so much. He went back and got two apricot brioches. Horc ate so much, I thought his lumpy body would pop.
“No more,” I said. “Somebody has to carry you.”
“This does not trouble me.” He reached for another crumb and I smacked his hand. “No more. Iris, can you get him? I have to finish this before the train stops.”
Iris rolled Horc away from the crumb amid protests. “How bad is it?”
I bent over Penelope’s tail, examining the many wounds. I hadn’t been worried until she’d begun to swell. Her tail looked like it had a lemon in it. Percy had curled around her and was giving her gentle licks. He and Ovid had wounds, too, but they weren’t as bad.
“It’s not good,” I said, pushing on the swelling. “Gerald, did the Speciesapedia saying anything about this?”
He shook his head. “It’s just identification. The train’s stopping.”
Great. Penelope wasn’t in good shape. I wasn’t sure if she could fly. I doubted Percy could carry her. She was always plumper than him. Now, it was even more noticeable. “Alright. I don’t really know how to treat dragons. I guess I can try arnica and turmeric. Iris, can you hand me my bag?”
“Um…maybe we should wait,” she said.
“For what?”
“Maybe it will go away on its own,” said Iris.
I sniffed an oozing spot on the fattest spot. “Not any time soon. I think she’s infected. They might’ve had poison on their blades.”
“Poison.” Iris began wringing her hands.
Gerald came over and rubbed her back. “Don’t worry. Dragons are known for being tough. Matilda will fix it.”
“I think she should wait. Maybe the pope has a healer that knows dragons.”
Gerald and I exchanged glances. I tried not to be insulted. I wouldn’t hurt Penelope. I didn’t know what Iris’s problem was. She’d never questioned my healing before. “We can wait, I guess. I’ll just give her the turmeric.”
“No,” she said. “Let’s wait.”
“What is up with you?” I asked. “Percy and Penelope eat turmeric all the time. They’re spice dragons, for crying out loud.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. Go ahead.”
“Gee, thanks.” I opened my bag and got the turmeric out. Usually, I used it for tea. I walked over to her snout and patted it. She opened her eyes and my stomach twisted. Her pupils were blown wide open. The train car wasn’t dim. All the window shades were up for the humans, who were looking out in excitement.
“Okay, Penelope. I’m going to give you all the turmeric that I have. Open up.”
She opened her jaws and I dumped the pouch on her red tongue. That didn’t look good either. It was more of a dusty rose than its normal deep red. I wished I had more turmeric. It was a small amount for a dragon. “I’ll get you more when we get to the Vatican.”
She closed her eyes. Percy watched me closely and then gave her a lick.
“Victory,” I said, looking around. “Where is he?”
The little phalanx stood up on Ovid’s head. “Yes, Aunt.”
“Can you ask Penelope how she’s feeling?”
“She feels bad.”
“How about something more specific?”
Victory ended up talking more to Percy, if you could call it talking. There was sound, according to Iris, but also blinking and tail twitching. Percy said that she was aching all over and that she’d lost her fire. I’d noticed that she didn’t have fire in her nostrils. That wasn’t unusual though. The dragons didn’t always have flames in their nostrils. Like me, they created it at will. That she’d lost it was a really bad thing. I’d lost mine after the horen attack in the antique mall when I’d nearly died from the venom. We had to get her a dragon healer, if there was such a thing.
Gerald, Iris, and Horc had cuddled together like it was cold. The worry came off them in waves.
“Can she fly at all?” I asked Victory.
“Very little.”
The train came to a stop. Fred and Sal stood up and put on their fat backpacks.
“Percy, she’s got to get on that pack,” I said.
Penelope heaved herself to her feet. When Sal turned to the aisle, she managed to fly up to the pack and clamp on with her claws. Percy and Ovid got on either side of her and braced her with their wings.
“Aw…” said Iris. “They’re so sweet.”
I was pretty sure that nobody had described dragons that way before, but it was sweet the way they curled their heads toward hers.
“I swear this backpack just got five pounds heavier,” said Sal.
“You’re nuts,” said Fred.
“You carry it.”
“I’ve got the bigger pack.”
The humans bickered as they eased into the aisle.
Volotora nuzzled me. “Get on, Your Highness.”
“Please knock off the royal thing. I’ll fly. I know you don’t like being ridden.”
“We need you strong. My dignity is less important.”
“I will ride the horse,” said Horc.
“You called me meat,” said Volotora.
“And yet I did not eat you.”
Volotora’s muzzle twitched and Iris picked up Horc. “I’ll carry him.”
“Yes, you will. Get on, Matilda,” said Volotora.
Reluctantly, I got on the damumoto’s back and held his mane. He cantered up to Sal’s shoulder and stopped next to the backpack strap. I started to slide off, but he told me to stay in case something happened.
Please don’t let anything happen. I can’t handle it.
Nothing did happen, unless you counted being in the world’s biggest train station. The Rome Termini Station was like six stations packed into one. Fred and Sal were overwhelmed and I didn’t blame them.
I tapped Gerald on the head and he looked up. “Do you have a map for Rome?” I asked.
“No, Hercule said that the de’ Medici would deliver us to the Vatican. He said that since we’d lost our carriage, it was protocol.”
“I’m so sick of that word. I bet it wasn’t protocol to attack us and stab our dragons.”
“Probably not,” said Gerald.
Fred and Sal wandered with the crowd until they stumbled onto a colorful tourist information desk. They got in line and I asked Gerald to fly over and see what he could figure out.
“I will go as well,” said Horc. “I am better with numbers.”
“And Victory is best with languages,” said Iris. “He should go, too.”
“I don’t need any help,” said Gerald. “I can do it.”
I tousled his hair and yawned until my jaw cracked. “Don’t fight. We need all the help we can get.”
He sneered and nodded. Victory climbed up the backpack and leapt onto Horc’s head.
“I am not your mode of transport.” Horc waved his stubby arms, trying to smack Victory off his lumps. Victory avoided the swats easily. “Mother, are you coming?”
“I’m going to stay with Matilda,” said Iris. “You go.”
Gerald heaved Horc onto his hip and flew over with considerable effort, weaving side to side around Fred.
Our humans got to the front of the line after a ten-minute wait. From what I could tell, they wanted to go everywhere and didn’t know how to do it. Gerald flew up and shoved Horc into Iris’s arms. “We have to take Metro A direction Battistini. Easy.”
“They want to go to the Colosseum first,” said Horc.
“That can’t happen,” I said. “Penelope can’t get to another backpack.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Horc, tapping his moist lips.
“They have to buy tickets for the metro. Gerald will just decide for them again.”
Gerald looked determined and we high fived. Fred and Sal finally finished interrogating the tourist advisor and headed off to a ticket machine. They waited in line and pored over a bunch of pamphlets.
“So it’s the B line to the Colosseum,” said Fred.
“Yep,” said Sal.
Oh, no!
“Gerald, get ready,” I said.
Gerald took off when it was their turn. We screamed, “Vatican!” And Gerald kept messing up their tickets.
“What the heck?” asked Fred. “Is it us?”
“You pushed B.”
“It keeps changing to A.”
“Vatican! Vatican! Vatican!” we yelled.
After fifteen tries, Sal finally said, “I don’t even care anymore. What’s on the A line?”
They went back to the pamphlets.
“The Vatican,” said Fred.
“Fine. I just want to get the heck out of here.”
Gerald pushed the buttons for them and Fred paid. Then they walked what seemed like five miles through the station and down two flights of stairs to a graffiti-covered train that smelled like cigarettes and some kind of cured meat. Lucky for us, Sal took off her backpack and kept it on her lap so Penelope didn’t have to move.
The ride took a long time. Rome must be as big as Paris. Then our humans got off at the red and white-striped station and climbed the long stairs into the morning sun. I took off my cloak and Horc started grumping, “Why is it hot?”
“It’s Italy,” said Gerald.
“This is unacceptable.”
I agreed. It was winter. I wanted snow, not a warm breeze. It was just wrong. The streets of Rome were right, though. Frantically busy and packed with humans, it reminded me of Paris. Sure, the buildings were different, but the energy was the same.
“There are no revolutions here, are there?” I asked Gerald.
“Rome’s okay,” he said before flying up to look at Fred’s map. He quickly returned. “They’re lost.”
“Already?” asked Iris.
“Already.”
Fred and Sal wandered around for a good twenty minutes. I wanted to ask directions and there were plenty of fairies to ask, if we could catch up. The Roman Fae moved fast. We didn’t. They’d race by in sharp suits or tailored dresses, wearing dark sunglasses and carrying smoking sticks. It was rare to see one alone and there was no way I was going up to one of those stylish fairies. I hadn’t looked so bad since we’d escaped Paris and ended up living under a petunia plant.
Volotora looked back at me. “You must decide. Penelope can’t last.”
I didn’t decide. I kept hoping that Fred and Sal would get it together. They didn’t. More fairies went by. I swallowed my pride and started waving and calling to them. Nobody looked in my direction. I didn’t want to send Gerald and Iris off to ask for help. I didn’t want to be separated. We had to try something else. Roman fairies had to eat. They bought those smoking sticks somewhere.
“Start looking for fairies in shops,” I said. “Like Reinthaler’s Beisl.”
We passed dozens of restaurants and shops until Iris clapped her hands. “I heard someone talking about caffè.” She pointed at a shop with a sign saying Caffè Castroni, and I saw several fairies in their tailored suits flying in.
We had to get Fred and Sal to go there. Since we didn’t have a machine to manipulate, I’d have to do something I didn’t want to do. “Percy, Ovid, we have to make them turn!” I yelled.
The dragons left Penelope, but she managed to hang on the backpack. Gerald and Iris flew down to encourage her, whispering their love and stroking her trembling wings.
“Come on, Volotora,” I said. “Get in front of Sal.”
He cantered off her shoulder and ran in front. I put a blast of fire in front of her face. She didn’t see it, but she definitely felt it. I was careful not to burn her and the dragons did the same. Quick bursts of flame left Fred and Sal waving their hands.
“Do you feel that?”
“What the heck?”
We herded them to the left. They didn’t even know what was happening. Once we had them facing the shop, I yelled, “Get in back!”
A couple of blasts at their rumps got them through the door. They stopped just over the threshold.
“Did you want to come in here?” asked Fred.
“Yes!” I yelled.
“I could use a coffee,” said Sal.
I patted Volotora’s neck as Fred and Sal went in for cappuccinos and directions. They were served standing up at a long bar. Sal took off her backpack and dropped it at her feet. Penelope fell off in a heap and Volotora ran down. I leapt off his back to check Penelope. That was it. She was done. She couldn’t make it to the Vatican. No way.
“We have to get her out of the way before somebody steps on her,” I said. Then a pair of shiny loafers came toward us. I got ready to ward the feet off with a well-placed fireball, but the loafers stopped a couple of feet away. I looked up as a sizzle of well-being went through me. An elderly man, wearing an elegant suit, gazed down. He stroked his salt and pepper beard and winked at me before stepping up to the bar. He asked Fred and Sal if they needed directions. I think he was really trying to find out if they knew they’d been walking around with dragons hanging off them. He gave them directions to the Vatican and discreetly waved to another human, who’d been loitering beside a display of candy. This younger human with a dark beard and a ponytail casually walked over and swept Penelope into a dustpan. Ovid and Percy were about to fry his feet off, but I yelled, “No!” That didn’t make much of an impression, so I yelled, “Victory!”
Victory leapt onto Ovid’s head and stopped them. The human carried poor Penelope into the back of the shop. Iris was hysterical and kept asking, “What if he hurts her?”
I didn’t get the feeling the humans were into hurting injured dragons. “Quiet,” I said and she bit her lip.
I jumped on Volotora’s back to follow Penelope. The human closed the door behind us and set the dustpan on a table stacked with boxes of pasta and canned tomatoes. Volotora cantered onto the table and I slid off his back, running to Penelope.
“Che cosa è successo al tuo drago?” he asked, bending low over Penelope and then looking at me.
“I don’t speak much Italian,” I said. “Do you speak English?”
“Naturalmente. I am Dario. You are?”
We did quick introductions and Dario asked, “What happened to your dragon?”
I told him as little as possible and asked if they knew a dragon healer. Dragons weren’t common in Italy, except in the South, but there were some living in Vatican City. They served the pope as ceremonial guards. Dario didn’t know if they had a healer.
The elderly gentlemen came in, smiling. “Drago! Bellissimo!”
The younger human introduced us to his grandfather, Aldo. He was the owner of the place and a seer since he was twelve, when he first saw a sea serpent, an Icelandic flutterflange. It bit him and he got a terrible infection.
“You’re not scared of dragons?” I asked.
He eyed Ovid and Percy circling above his head. “They are well-behaved?”
“Usually.”
Aldo laughed. “I suppose that’s the most I can hope for. You are new to Rome?”
“We got here this morning. Can you give me directions to the Vatican? I have to get there,” I said.
“Your dragon cannot go to the Vatican unless I carry her.”
“I know, but it’s really important. I’m meeting someone there that will help us.”
“Family?” asked Dario.
“Er…they know my family.”
Dario gave us directions and I did my best to remember them. “Can Penelope stay here while I go?”
“You can’t leave us here,” said Iris.
I looked at the humans. “Can they stay? Just until I get back.”
Aldo frowned. “Where are your parents?”
I thought fast and said, “We got separated in Paris with the revolution. Mom and Dad always said to come here if something happened to them.”
Aldo said something under his breath. I got the feeling it wasn’t complimentary to the revolution.
“Can they?” I asked.
“Yes, but the dragon, she is bad. You must hurry.”
Gerald tapped me. “You should give her more turmeric and put that agrimony on.”
Dario bent close to Penelope and sniffed. “She has an infection. Do you have the healing gift?”
“I do, but I don’t know about dragons. They’ve never gotten sick before.”
“This tail is more than sick. She’s been attacked.”
I stayed silent. Why did they have to notice?
“Matilda?”
“Do you have any tea?” I asked.
They did and I made a healing brew in a coffee cup, the rest of my white willow, agrimony, and valerian. Aldo offered turmeric and I mixed it in with my hand, heating it to boiling. Then Aldo filled an espresso spoon with water for my wing. I mixed in one of Hercule’s packets and rubbed my eyes, wracking my tired brain for the right poetry for a dragon. None came to mind, so I did the next best thing. I detached Rufus from my shoulder and placed the lizard in the tea. The lizard bobbed around and turned red.
Aldo came in so close, the tip of his nose touched the cup’s rim. “What is it and what does it do?”
“Rufus is a fire lizard. He has some kind of healing ability. He’ll keep the tea warm.”
“This is not sanitary.”
I shrugged. “I’ve done it before.” I put Fidelé on Penelope. He climbed over to her neck and wrapped around, purring. “Gargoyles are healing, too.”
“I’ve never heard that. I thought they were vermin.”
I thought about the Whipplethorn gargoyles we’d left with Gianna in Venice and found that I sort of missed their weirdness. Vermin? Not exactly. “They’re okay.”
To the Eternal (Away From Whipplethorn Book Five) Page 30
