The Harry Ferguson Chronicles Box Set

by William David Ellis

  “Hmm, must have been something he ate,” she said as she turned the bloody steak over onto its other side.

  Lizzy, who was sitting on the Huslus’ back porch with Shani, also noticed Brian’s wild run ending behind the large oak near the back of the property. “I hope he’s okay. He looks a little peaked.” She took another bite of her steak. “This is some of the best stuff I have ever put in my mouth, Shani. You did an amazing job preparing it. One day you’re going to have to give me the recipe.”

  Shani’s face lit with the compliment. “It’s just a really old family recipe, passed down from my great-great-grandmother’s second cousin; she was Polynesian if I remember correctly and was noted for her sauces and such.” Shani’s eyes shifted to the memory quadrant of her brain as she remembered the tales about her great-grandmother. “She said it works great on any wild meat but especially good for long pig. Personally, I don’t know a long pig from a short one, but it is a great sauce.”

  “Obviously so.”

  “But my grandmother’s recipe is not what you want to talk about, is it?” Shani looked at her friend and raised her eyebrows to augment the question.

  Lizzy tried to smile but it faded quicker than she could think to replace it. She bowed her head, staring at the floor, burdened by a weight she could barely understand. “No, it’s not. We were about to get into the conversation when we were…” Lizzy was going to say distracted but thought that was surely not anywhere near the right word. She finally settled on a threadbare substitute and said, “Interrupted.

  “I mean, I am overwhelmed right now; so much is going on with me, and you guys and the whole town, really. We are all changing. I mean, good grief!” She shivered rapidly, shaking her head in disbelief. “We were just attacked by two-headed griffins; now we’re munching down on their steaks. My mother tried to kidnap me. My father is lost in time. My little munchkins aren’t even immune. They are turning into dragons, with best friends that are Sasquatch. Then there’s the eagle that keeps showing up, and finally, I am discovering I can pitch fireballs and all manner of other weird things.”

  Lizzy looked up to see Shani’s expression and was surprised to see her friend’s eyes glistening. Shani was about to comfort her friend when she heard Raleigh’s thunderous bark. The kind he used as a warning. Shani’s face contorted, starting to blur as she heard her kids scream. She jumped to her feet and ran, taking three steps and shifting from gracious Southern lady to fangs-bared female Sasquatch before Lizzy could blink twice. Lizzy thought, Please, Lord, no, not again, as her eyes raced to see the source of the commotion.

  The whole backyard party was forming a defensive circle and staring upward. There were three Sasquatches, one huge white wolf dog, and fifteen rednecks and spouses armed with everything from shotguns to a Springfield M1A semiautomatic with a red dot sniper sight (Barry had upgraded since the battle in the library parking lot) pointed toward the sky. Lizzy heard the loud screech of an eagle. The same eagle that had rescued her twice. It was spiraling downward in ever shorter circles. The eagle flew slowly, letting everyone see it. Most of the people whose guns were aimed at the circling feathered predator kept their fingers off the trigger.

  Jamie had one eye closed, sighting down the double barrels of her big shotgun, and had started to move her finger toward the trigger when her Kiwi husband, Barry, whispered, “Ya know, might oughta wait a bit… I don’t think it means us ’arm.”

  When the eagle got within ten feet of the ground and braced for a landing, the people stepped back and lowered their weapons slightly. As the huge eagle settled to the ground and moved his head in the jerky motion of his kind, tiny sparks began to twirl around him, gathering in number and brightness. They resembled a huge plume of fireflies, sparks of orange and gold springing up and covering the great feathered warrior’s midnight wings and searing white crown, which disappeared for a moment beneath a veil of golden furies. Then gradually, like dawn breaking through early morning, the sparks diminished and a man appeared.

  Lizzy’s eyes widened as the features of a young man became clear. She gasped, covering her mouth. Brady looked back at her, then at the young man. Lizzy had fallen to her knees, her eyes never moving from the face of the warrior standing before her. Slowly he stepped toward her and knelt in front of her. Lizzy’s face reddened. Her features changed from joy to anger and back again.

  Finally, the man spoke. “Lizzy, I’m not him. I’m not Thomas.”

  Anger changed to shock and then to despair. Her lips quivered. “Not Thomas?” She reached out to touch his face, letting the tips of her fingers gently flow over his features. “You’re not Thomas?” she said again, denial dripping off her words.

  “No, Lizzy. I’m not. I’m Jude, Jude Ford, Thomas’s twin brother.”

  Chapter 19

  Belle Rodum watched Harry run down the hall toward the explosion. She shook her head trying to shake off her fear for him. It wouldn’t leave, so she stopped trying. She had to move quickly. She could follow him and die with him, or she could call for a jörmungandr and leave the train. The decision was made for her when the far door of the lounge opened and Cadmus walked in.

  He looked at her and raised a questioning eyebrow. She nodded and moved toward him, carefully placing the retrieved wooden box with the thorn in her pocket. Together they climbed the ladder to the train roof and stepped out into the cold wind. Cadmus handed her a German officer cape to protect her from the chill. She nodded and slipped it on. Two jörmungandrs waited and above them she felt the hovering presence of the dark dragon Laden Long had shifted into. It had the bodies of the dog and the Sasquatch in its claws. In a moment the entourage was flying northeast toward Goslar, Germany. As they traveled through the night, Belle slipped her hand into the pocket that held the thorn. She gripped it tightly. The box was surprisingly warm and her fingers tingled at the touch.

  ****

  When the jörmungandr landed at what had once been St. Jude’s church and now was known by the locals as Goslar Cathedral, even though it was never the home of a bishop, Belle was escorted to her quarters. She noticed that the captives had been chained and partially treated for their wounds. When she passed them, they both glared at her. The Sasquatch’s angry eyes seemed to drill through her. Then suddenly they changed to a quick look of confusion and then, before anyone else saw, the angry look returned. Belle could not hold his gaze and stared straight ahead, continuing toward her quarters.

  They think I betrayed him. But I didn’t. Did I? I mean, so… what if I did? He knows I am committed to seeing this through. I begged him to come away with me. Her thoughts ended when her escort opened the door to her room, bowed, and stepped away. Entering, she was startled to hear Cadmus’s voice.

  “Give me the thorn, Belle.”

  Instantly years of training and centuries of genetics pushed everything else away and brought the witch to the door. She looked through the dim light that silhouetted him. His hand was outstretched and open. Belle smiled, and had Cadmus known her better he would have stepped back.

  “No.”

  “Why not?” He withdrew his hand, staring at her.

  “I do not trust you, Cadmus. The thorn is the only weapon that can stop this whole operation. And you are an unknown.” She moved to one of the stuffed chairs in her room and sat on its arm.

  Cadmus’s face twisted, then reddened. Belle felt the room shake around her and pain rip through her brain. She fell to the floor as the Greek demon rushed toward her. She shoved her hand into the cape pocket and clutched the ancient wooden box. The pain stopped. Time stopped, everything in the room, including Cadmus, was stilled except her. She pulled up on the chair arm, not letting go of the box. She looked at Cadmus’s frozen form. With her free hand she unsheathed her pugio, an ancient Roman dagger. Cadmus’s eyes widened when she brought out the sword. A cruel smile settled across Belle’s face; then she spoke.

  “Are you worried, Cadmus? That’s not like you. What? You don’t like being helpless?”
With that, the knife slashed and the buttons on the demigod’s expensive shirt fell off. “Or powerless. You’re used to being in control and inflicting pain. Not taking it.” With that, the knife slashed again and a six-inch red streak appeared on his chest. The wound was less than a paper cut but burned like one. His body shivered as it reacted to the cut. “Or impotent.” She looked at his belt above his bare abdomen and then back into his wide eyes. “How long has it been since you have known fear, Cadmus?” The dagger wavered over the top of his pants. She allowed the razorlike blade to feather-touch the flesh above his belt. Another thinner red streak appeared.

  She put the knife back in its sheath, leaned close to his ear, and whispered, “I will keep the thorn until we need it.” She bit his ear and felt him wince. Blood poured from the lobe. She stepped back far enough away that he couldn’t pounce on her then she let go of the box.

  Cadmus stumbled forward, then quickly caught himself. With one hand he closed his shirt. His eyes never shifting from hers, a sneer sealed in place. “That was impressive, my dear. You actually caught me off guard. It won’t happen again.” Moving toward the door, he continued, “And you know you’re going to have to pay for your little bout of hysteria, don’t you?” His eyebrows arched innocently, making his words all the more menacing.

  Belle was not amused and answered in a voice that reflected Cadmus’s own. “Probably so… but it won’t be you that collects the fee. Now if you please?” She pointed toward the door. He actually bowed and walked out, closing the door behind him.

  Belle collapsed onto the large poster bed. For a moment she allowed herself to breathe easy. Then she realized she was vulnerable lying face down and turned over and stared at the ceiling. She pulled the officer’s cape over her like a blanket, slipping her hand into its deep pocket and carefully rubbing the little wooden box.

  Chapter 20

  “Do you think she’s awake?” A loud whisper from a child who had literally been raised in a barn was answered by a shriller young female voice.

  “No, Easton! And keep your voice down!”

  “Both of ya’ll hush!” growled a low-pitched voice that seemed to hover right over Lizzy’s face. The deep grumble fussed at the two little loudmouths but didn’t help anyone who might have been exhausted and struggling with several types of trauma.

  Lizzy opened one eye, squinched the other, and saw three beaming smiles hovering close enough to her to accidentally drool on her. Together they screamed, “Hi, Miss Lizzy!”

  “Hey, Mom, she’s awake!” Bradley’s baritone boomed across the room, down the hall, and into the living room where Shani waited.

  Lizzy pretended to go back to sleep, playing with her little library urchins.

  Gracie elbowed Easton. “Back up, Easton, you accidentally drooled on Miss Lizzy!”

  “Did not, that was Bradley!”

  “Was not me. Easton, you’re the one still chomping on that griffin bone, and when you asked if she was awake, a piece of it slipped out!”

  Cornered and outnumbered, Easton moved back. He could hear the heavy footsteps of his elders walking down the hall anyway and knew he and his fellow mites would soon be patted out of the way and told to go build another treehouse.

  Sighing, Lizzy opened both eyes and attempted to sit up. She tried to remember why she was lying on the Huslu couch covered in a blanket, and as she did her heart raced.

  Shani, Brian, and Grandpa Brady bustled through the large hall entrance to the library where Lizzy was struggling to sit up. Another familiar figure stood in the background behind her huddled friends.

  Lizzy’s eyes widened when she saw him.

  “Oops, there she goes again!” Easton complained.

  Shani grabbed him by the shoulders and swatted him on his behind. “All of ya’ll out now! Go start on another treehouse.”

  “But Mom, the whole tree burnt to the ground. There’s nothing but ash?” Bradley grumbled as he turned to leave.

  “Then dig a hole in the ground. A bunker or something. I don’t care, just get out of here now!”

  Gracie faced Maggie, who had yet to chime in, and said, “Eww, a hole in the ground?”

  As they headed to the doorway, they held hands and started to skip. Maggie smiled and answered, “But Gracie, dragons live in caves and have lairs. Isn’t that just a big hole in the ground?”

  As soon as the last of her snaggle-toothed horde—girls skipping, Bradley stomping, and Easton limping and rubbing his bottom—left the room, Shani turned toward her husband and her giant father-in-law, both of whom seemed anxious to see what was about to happen, and grabbed them by their huge hairy arms. They looked down at her, puzzled, and were answered by two sharply hewn eyebrows framing a we need to give these two some privacy so move your nosy butts look. Reluctantly they complied and Lizzy was left alone with her eagle shifter, Jude Ford.

  Jude took two slow steps across the room and sat in the old rocker that faced the couch. He looked at Lizzy and started, “Lizzy, I am sorry for the grand entry and for not making you aware sooner. I know this has to be a shock.”

  Lizzy was trying to determine whether she should be mad or glad but couldn’t decide and found herself thinking, I know he is not Thomas, but he even sounds like him, has the same body movements.

  Finally, she fell back on her default mechanism of half-cross and partially snarky that she had refined at her single father’s feet, then sharpened to a fine edge on the brother of the man who sat in front of her.

  “Shock, Jude? Uh-uh, I don’t think so. When one of my little library monsters sticks a penny in the wall socket to see what it does, that’s a shock. Although some of them like the tingle. This is… This is way beyond that. This is, this is a tsunami, an earthquake… a shock wave! Seriously, Jude, you can put your boots in the oven but that don’t make them biscuits! This is a… this is a…” She paused to look out the window and make sure her babes weren’t in earshot. “This is a volcanic ass crack. It is a world-class cluster…” She saw a motion out the window and frowned; the children had stopped what they were doing, cupped their ears, and leaned in her direction. “Well, I am not going to say that word because ladies and gentlemen do not use words like that.” She ground each word out like she was grating moldy cheese. “But you know what I mean… Good grief, you show up, rip a man’s shoulder off, and then just gawk at me; you fly off only to show up again and rip up some more monsters. And in between you don’t call, you don’t write, you don’t even text…”

  Jude interrupted, “Lizzy, I meant to…”

  She held up a stern index finger pointed in his direction and threatened to fire. He stopped.

  Lizzy stood up and started pacing. She didn’t notice that her palms were starting to smoke. Jude did and stopped rocking the old chair and braced. “Jude, the last time I saw you was at Thomas’s closed casket funeral.” She kicked the couch and kept marching. “Not a word since. You and I were close. He was our best friend… both of us… and you just disappear. Poof, gone!”

  “But Lizzy!”

  “Oh no, I’m not done yet… you don’t get to ‘oh Lizzy’ me till I have finished fuming.” She noticed a motion outside her window and saw the boys were all on their knees in front of the girls, who had one hand on their hips and their own index fingers cocked and loaded.

  “Dang!” She gestured to Jude, who got up and walked toward the window. “They are pretending to be me. Those stinking little gum-swallowing, booger-eating toots! They are playing at fussing.”

  She turned toward Jude and whispered, cupping her hands to his ear, “Just so little dragon ears can’t hear, I want you to know I am not done and will not be done for a while. But for their sake I am going to act like a God-fearing Texas woman and stop while you’re still alive.” Her voice climbed louder till it ended in an accidental shriek on the word alive. Jude rubbed his ear and five munchkin heads and a big white furry wolf head turned to stare at the window where she stood. She turned back to Jude, who was making a des
perate but failed effort to contain his laughter. She looked at him and snorted. Her own face cracked. He grabbed her and hugged her tight. “Oh, Jude, I’m so glad to see you!”

  “Well dang gummit, Lizzy, if this is you glad, give me fair warning if you ever decide you aren’t glad to see me.”

  She turned her head, which had been resting on his shoulder, and bit him.

  “Youch!” Jude yelled, jumping away from Lizzy’s laughing form. “What’d you do that for?”

  “’Cause you made me mad, you big oaf! And I’m going to be mad for a while.”

  “Lizzy…” Jude tried to look menacing but failed miserably. “You need to remember you’re not the only one in this room that bites.”

  Chapter 21

  Sarah frowned as she stared at the burnished bronze mirror in her tent. The beautiful silk robe she held was the fourth, with seven combinations of scarves and jewelry, that she had tried on that morning.

  Liv, her embedded assistant, scowled. “Sarah, what’s wrong with that one? I swear you are worse than a Hollywood diva. Just pick one and be done with it!” Her twentieth-century British Mid-Atlantic accent had changed from purr to clipped hiss.

  Sarah threw the robe on the pile of pillows that acted as her bed and plopped down in the middle of them. “I don’t know what is wrong with me. This should be the happiest time of my life and I can barely keep from crying. The only time I am content is when Kusaila is around. His presence seems to push back a weight and I can actually breathe.”

  Liv said one thing and thought another. “This is a typical reaction—it’s called wedding jitters. Brides get them.” And then in the recesses of her mind added, especially if they are marrying the wrong man.

  “Should I call Kusaila and ask him to sit in on your dress selection?”