by Rena Rocford
When the door opened, he led me inside. The quiet in the room blotted out the rest of the world, cutting out all sounds and smells. This was the sort of place psychopaths would hide bodies. Or worse, soon-to-be bodies. I shivered at the thought.
The teller held his hand out. “The key,” he said.
I laid it in his palm, and he turned it over.
“Ah, an old customer.” He walked along a bank of drawers.
Each one had a place for two keys. Safety deposit boxes. My hopes jumped, startling my heart into fluttering like a bird. There could be deeds in these boxes, cash. More keys to more boxes.
He bent down and stuck my key into a hole before putting a key from a giant key ring into the other hole. He turned them both and pulled out a long thin metal box. He pulled a shelf out from the wall of drawers and set the box down. Discreetly, he stepped away so I could view the box in what limited privacy the vault offered.
My heart pounding, I flipped back the front half of the metal lid. It clanged back, startling me. The room seemed to swallow sound, but even my breathing was loud. I tried to calm down and search the box, but there was nothing inside. I picked it up, and something slid from the back to the front. A ragged black book the size of my hand clanked to the front of the metal drawer. It was rubber-banded shut, and on the dog-eared front cover were two dragons twisted together in a Celtic knot.
I checked the rest of the box, but except for the ratty journal, it was empty.
“Is that all?” That couldn’t be all. This was supposed to be my inheritance, my fortune, the answers to why I’d never met my father, not some cheap, dingy diary. A diary? This couldn’t be it. There had to be more. There just had to be.
“Is something missing? Has there been a theft?” he asked.
Just of my dreams. I grabbed the book and turned toward the door. “No,” I said. A lump lodged in my throat, so I didn’t try any other words.
He didn’t comment on my lack of chatter, just carried on in his same professional manner. “Are you finished with the box?”
“Yes.”
He locked things up and handed back my key. It seemed to mock me. I was such an idiot. I read Great Expectations. What was I thinking?
followed the banker to the front lobby, clutching the book. How could I be so stupid? My inheritance? Yeah right. I checked my pocket, and pulled out my cash: a twenty, a five, and some ones. Why had I bought those clothes in Farmington?
The clerk held up the false counter for me, and I stepped through. I didn’t want to open the book here. I had no idea what might be inside, and if it was a bunch of lewd pictures or something, I didn’t want my blushing face caught on the casino’s security cameras. Of course, I had enough latex makeup on for any blushing to be completely hidden… at least on one side of my face. Damn scales.
Recap: I ran away from home, chased kidnappers with my best friend–in a stolen car–and all of it for a stupid, worn out journal.
A man in a black suit jumped in front of me. I stepped back on instinct, but his fist slammed into my chest. Air exploded from my lungs, and pain shot through my limbs. He watched me sailing through the air calmly, as if he punched teenage girls every day. I crashed into the mannequin of John Wayne. Thousands of pieces fell to the ground as I crashed to a halt.
“Not John!” the desk attendant screamed.
My lungs ached for air, but I couldn’t draw a breath. I panicked. Could lungs collapse? I lay stunned, trying to breathe, and Dr. Targyne walked toward me, nodding. Another unicorn, dressed in a black FBI suit, stood behind him. They had that clean, polished, special agent look about them.
“Goddamned dragons ruining the whole bloody planet,” he said. “Traitors, every last one of you.”
My head rolled from side to side as I looked for help. The desk attendant had his hands to his mouth as if trying to hide the fact he wanted to cry about his life-sized doll.
John–the troll, not the mannequin–struggled to keep his hand over Beth’s mouth. She fought back, but John had her pinned. Behind them, Bob and the third troll slunk toward the nearest exit.
That asshole wrote her poetry, and now he’s kidnapping her!
My lungs burned with the need for oxygen, and agony clawed up my chest.
Dr. Targyne’s eyes grew wide as his gaze settled on my hands. “What’s this?”
The other unicorn stared for only half a second, before leaping on me. He punched my cheek, and my head slammed back into the broken mannequin. Air surged into my lungs, and he tore the book free from my hands.
Fire erupted from my mouth, burning my teeth as it rushed out in angry gouts of superheated death. The smell of ammonia filled the air. Flames slammed into the unicorn’s face, and his hair caught on fire. Screaming, he dropped to the carpet, slapping his head with his hands and the book.
Just as I sat up, Dr. Targyne kicked me in the jaw. My head snapped back and hit the ground again. Something sharp dug into my side; I’d forgotten I had my backpack on.
Darkness swirled in my vision; I fought to keep my eyes open as the pain in my head surged, my heartbeat thundering away in my ears.
I didn’t hear them anymore. I scanned the room with blurry vision, but they were gone. When my head hit the ground, I must have blacked out. How long had I been unconscious? Seconds? However long, it was enough. The unicorns were gone. John still struggled with Beth, but the other two trolls were already through the door. Beth’s arm came free, and she elbowed John in the face.
John wrenched her hand back. “I’m just trying to help!”
“Stop helping me!” Beth stomped on his foot, and he released her. In a flash, Beth raced to me.
John looked from me to the exit, then swore. He threw down the crash bar and disappeared into the noontime sun.
“You okay?” Beth asked.
“He took it,” I said.
“What? What did he take?”
“I don’t know. A book, I think. It was mine.” It was mine, and I needed it like I needed water when I was thirsty. The book was part of me, an extension, and someone else had control over it. It might be part of a broken dream, but it was still mine. The fury stoked the fire inside, and my stomach cramped on the roiling pain in my gut. I would be sick soon.
Beth’s face dropped into a stone mask. “Those jerks steal everything.”
With one hand, she pulled me to my feet and propelled me toward the door. She threw it open, and I looked around. Bob and the other troll lay on the asphalt of the parking lot in a lake of blood. John stood over them, but he didn’t look worried, just angry. “They took the truck!”
“Which way?” Beth asked. John pointed. I was having a hard time following the conversation, and my brain refused to catch up. Beth dragged me to the car and dropped me into the passenger seat. My backpack caught, and for a moment, I thought about taking it off, but Beth started pressing against my pockets, and I returned my attention to her.
“Come on, Allyson, I need the keys.”
I reached into my pocket and gave over the keys, but I had to focus on not throwing up in the car.
Beth rammed the gearshift into reverse and floored it. No bunny-hop for Beth.
What the hell? “You didn’t tell me you could drive.”
“You never asked.” Beth threw the shifter into first and peeled out of the parking lot, barely missing John and the other trolls. Already, the two on the ground were showing signs of life. Maybe gunshots couldn’t kill a troll.
I had to grab the roll bar to keep from falling out of the seat as Beth took the corner too fast. The tail end of the car swung out in a dangerous arc, and Beth slammed the accelerator just as the squealing tires were pointed in the right direction.
“There.” I pointed at the disappearing van.
The engine roared as Beth drove it past its happy place before shifting. The car briefly let up as she jammed the shifter into gear and floored it. The acceleration pushed me into the seat, and I pulled on the seatbelt, not bothering to t
ake off my backpack.
Bikes roared to life along the road, pouring out of the side streets. They filled the road behind us like an angry mob of bees. The sharp clean scent of water filled the air, like clouds or fog.
Clouds. They were gryphons. The MGB stayed ahead of the bikes, and the truck rushed into view.
“Now what?” Beth yelled.
“Just get me close enough to get inside.”
A small part of me gawked at my words. Get inside? How would I do that? Fly? Not unless these scales suddenly turned into wings. But a deeper part of me uncoiled with the need to get back what was mine. They had my aunt. They had Steve. They had the book. And, no matter what was in that book, it was mine. I wanted it back. My lungs burned, so I knew I’d have a weapon, if only I could keep from actually puking until afterwards.
By the time I could easily read the writing on the van, we were already well out of town. Beth tore up the two-lane desert highway and pulled to the right of the van, driving on the shoulder.
I undid my seatbelt and climbed onto the seat. I watched for an opportunity to grab the truck, or somehow get into the cab, but there were no handholds. The van swerved toward us, and Beth dodged to the right. The tires hit the bumps on the side of the road, rattling my teeth. The burned unicorn rolled down the window. He held a gun in one hand, and the van veered toward us again. As it swerved, my muscles bunched, and I leapt with every scrap of power in my legs.
By luck and chance, I sailed through the open window into the lap of the gun-toting unicorn. A shot rang out in the truck, and at almost the same instant, a bullet hit something in the cab. I twisted onto my back and kicked the burned unicorn in the head. My book bounced on the dashboard. It popped into the air as the speeding van hit a bump, and I caught it.
“Get her out of here!” Dr. Targyne yelled. He threw a punch at my head, but he was distracted by trying to keep the van on the road. All around, motorcycles with angry gryphons swarmed. Another gunshot hit something in the cabin.
The doctor ducked. “Shit! They’re shooting!”
The burned unicorn dropped an elbow into my gut, and I slammed my heel into what I hoped was his crotch. He moved under me, grabbing the waist of my jeans. Wind whipped into the cab, and he yanked me toward the door. As I slid across the unicorn, I caught the edge of the door, clinging for dear life. Pavement sped by with nothing between me and the ground that would tear me to pieces at this speed. The MGB roared up next to the van, but it was too far away to reach.
The unicorn kicked my sternum, and the spasm rolled up my arm. I couldn’t hold both the book and the car. The doorframe slipped through my fingers. The world slowed as I fell to what was certainly my death. I swiped out for anything, but the kick had propelled me away from the van. I unleashed a stream of fire at the unicorns, one last hurrah before I died of road rash.
I tensed as the air rushed around me, and then my calves hit something hard. I fell into the passenger seat of the MGB, feet dangling over the door, head practically in Beth’s lap.
“Gotcha!” she said.
Adrenaline pumped through my body, and I unleashed a triumphant scream. Take that, stupid monohorns! I pulled my legs into the car, and Beth sped ahead of the now smoking van. “You’re awesome!”
“I know,” Beth said, her indestructible smile lighting the way. She shifted again, pushing the car’s engine dangerously, but the more distance we had, the better.
A gun fired, and the tire exploded. We slammed into the dashboard, and the car fishtailed dangerously. Beth fought for control, but we spun out into the sagebrush on the shoulder. Clouds of dust swirled in the air, blocking the road. The ever-present desert wind cleared the dust, and the sand rolled off the windshield in sheets. The car had come to a stop facing the moving van.
Flames leapt from the side of the van. It sat in the sandy shoulder of the road, the unicorns desperately trying to put out the fire. The swarm of gryphons drove past–would that be a flight? A flock? A wing?–followed by two Porsches speeding up the interstate.
A bullet rang off a nearby rock. Then I heard the gun shot.
“Are they shooting at us?” Why did I ask stupid questions like that?
Beth slouched down behind the steering wheel as another bullet pinged nearby. “What do you think?”
My response got lost in the roar of Harleys as the gryphons came to a stop around us.
“What are you waiting for, an invitation?” Reggie yelled. “Get on. Hurry!”
I popped open the door, and ducked down like I’d seen people do in movies, but really, what did that do other than concentrate my vital organs in one area? Beth beat me to the back of Reggie’s bike, but another gryphon waved me over.
I stuffed the book into my backpack as I dodged over to the bikes.
“Hurry up!” the nearest one yelled, but I made sure to zip my backpack shut.
I swung my leg over the back and clutched the bike. Before I could find the pegs for my feet, the bike took off, rumbling beneath me. I leaned in close, and mimicked his body movement. The bike pack roared down the highway. The silver Porsche tore up the road behind us, and gunmetal gray flashed from the driver’s side of one of the cars.
As we sped away, the unicorns made some headway on the fire in the moving van. A knot in my chest released. My aunt wouldn’t be burned to death by my fire.
But we were still running, and my aunt was back there, in that van. My aunt and Steve, Beth’s only hope at redemption.
The motorcycle pack split, and the second pack fell back while the rest of my group flew down the road as fast as their bikes could go. The engine burned my legs when they touched the side, putting me in the awkward position of trying to hold on without touching anything. The silver car caught up to the rearmost part of the bike pack. One of the bikes tumbled end over end, and the car broke free of the group.
The whine of sports bikes tore through the air, rising in pitch. I whipped my head forward and saw three racing motorcycles, red, yellow, and orange. The riders wore leathers and helmets to match the bikes. The three spun around in front of the gryphon pack at a crossroad, skidding to a halt. The pack stopped.
“Get on the red bike, quick,” said the gryphon driving my bike.
I jumped down and dashed the two feet to the other bike. The rider bent over the handlebars, keeping the engine warm as I flung my leg up and over the back. My butt barely hit the seat before he gunned it. I had to grab his waist or fall off the back, and the bike just kept going faster. I stole a glance behind us. The pack broke up going in all directions. Beth, clinging to the back of the bright yellow bike, sped down a different road.
I struggled to turn my head forward against the drag of the wind. I could only open my eyes to slits as the wind pummeled them, and tears streamed down my face. My hair whipped around wildly. I couldn’t afford to let go of the rider–pilot, really, considering how fast we were going–to fix my hair. The desert blurred by, and I just closed my eyes and leaned into the biker. I concentrated on keeping down my paltry breakfast, but I’d breathed fire. I would be sick soon. We quickly outdistanced the other bikes. The engine roared as he pushed it to some ungodly speed.
After what felt like hours but was probably more like five minutes, he turned down a badly paved road and stopped the bike behind a barren hill. Turning his head toward me, he flipped up the visor of his helmet, revealing eyes the color of the sky.
My heart skipped.
“Fix your hair, it keeps hitting me,” he said.
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I nodded and pulled my hair back and started to braid it.
My stomach did a barrel roll to the right.
I kicked my leg over the back of the bike, but I missed and nailed him in the back. I fell in the dust, but the sickness took command of everything else. I turned away and heaved. My body had lost control.
He pulled off his helmet and set it on the seat as he got off the bike. “Are you okay?”
When I was certain I could k
eep my stomach in check, I turned back to the gryphon. He had short, curly blond hair, and a lean build, enough muscle to be athletic, but not so much that he would be mistaken for a body builder.
Puking in the dust, and that’s how I meet the hot guy?
I hate you, world.
He held out a hand and helped me stand, looking me over, his brow furrowing as he took stock of my less than stellar condition. I didn’t know what to say. Thank you? Sorry?
He tilted his head to the side and reached out to touch my face.
I jerked back, whipping my hand up to the latex shield I’d created. Somewhere along the way, the cover-up had started to come off. My scales were visible.
I pressed my hand over my cheek. “Crap!”
He smiled. “It’s okay, the first molt sucks for everyone.”
“Molt?”
“Yeah, my first set of feathers scarred. It was worse than chicken pox.” He pulled off his glove. Rows of dots scared the back of his hand, like ostrich hide. “See?” He put his glove back on and narrowed his eyes. “So, if you don’t mind my asking, what are you?”
“Dragon.” My eyes widened a little… I’d never told anyone that before, yet I answered without hesitation.
“Dragon? I didn’t know there were any left.”
“I didn’t either. Well, not until, like, four days ago.” I shrugged an apology for my ignorance.
“Oh, man, you didn’t even know? Harsh.” He held out his hand. “I’m Felix.”
“Allyson,” I said, putting my hand in his.
He pulled my hand up and kissed it. “M’lady,” he said, with a lopsided smile.
I blushed, but couldn’t think of anything to say.
Felix cocked his head toward the road. “We’d better go. I think I hear a car.”
