“Yackros, listen to me. That’s not important right now. I’m going to save you. That has always been my plan, and nothing in that regard has changed. But what has changed is who’s on my side. Rohesia is trying to train me physically and mentally. Today was the second day. I know we’re running out of time and it’s probably pointless anyway, but it became too overwhelming. And all I could think about is if I’m going to do this, spend every minute preparing to rescue Fyazum, I’m going to speak to you. I need your calm. I need your knowledge. I need hope. So don’t tell me not to sacrifice, give up, or hold off on my life. This, this is my life. This is what I want. And I am fighting for it. So please, speak to me. Talk to me like you used to. Help me find a path that will bring us back together.” I didn’t know it was possible to convey so many emotions at once, or to speak them in my mind the way I would aloud.
“I’m sorry, Little Wingless. You are right. I love you dearly. I could never ask that you do this for me. But you must know that I too want it. I am quite literally incomplete without you. Since this banishment, I am blind, I am weak, I am cold. And I need you more than ever.” He sounds so sad.
“You have no idea how much I understand, though my situation is far better for the time being. And speaking of which, I have a question.” I pause, wondering how to broach the topic.
I glance at Max, who’s picking at the grass beside me, his cheek resting on his fist, elbow on his knee. He raises his brows.
I close my eyes again. “I brought Max with me. He’s trying to help even if he still doesn’t believe you’re real. Is there any chance you can communicate with him? Or are you limited to speaking with me alone?”
I can feel his mood change in an instant. From warmth to hatred. Iciness rolling from him in waves. “Why would you bring that scoundrel here, Alita? He is not good for you. Or me. He cannot be here. Please take him away!” he bellows.
I exhale sharply, surprised by this reaction. “Rohesia has said the same thing, but I thought she simply didn’t like him. What is the issue, Yackros? Why is he so awful?”
“My dear, any dragon who meets you will know that you’re bonded to a dragon. Any of our kind with strength in magic will know who you’re bound to. There is a magic in that sense, much like an aura around you that tells us what we need to know. And in that same sense, anyone with our ability, or even less than what we have, someone that just knows what to look for, can tell the kind of person he is, he will become, and the people of his past, present, and future that shape his aura. There is a darkness about him that I’ve only ever seen once before.”
“And who was that?” I ask, feeling less confident than before. I glance at Max again, wondering if he knows. If he’s aware of this inherent evil around him, within him, causing the people and creatures in my life to question him.
“Séraphin. Ruxsiu’s bonded human.”
19
I run my hands through my hair, pulling out a few strands. I wrap them around my finger, twiddling with them as I contemplate how to respond to that. Is he actually saying Max is evil? Is there a connection?
Could Max have a dragon and not know it? I mean, I suppose anyone in the world could. And until dragons can be a part of our lives again, there is no way of knowing.
But the idea of Max accepting that dragon, I can’t imagine him opening himself up to the life I want. Do Yackros and Rohesia have an issue with Max aside from his aura, or is that truly what bothers them?
And if that’s it, how could they expect me to figure that out on my own? Why didn’t Rohesia tell me rather than bad-mouthing him repeatedly and letting me wonder? All she could say on the matter was that he was bad news. What does that even mean?
“I’m sorry, Yackros.” I say, opening my eyes and jumping to my feet. “Come on, Max. We need to go.”
“Wait—what? Why? What did he say?” He gets up and follows me.
“It doesn’t matter. I need to take you home. I have some important things that I have to do alone. I’m sorry.” I don’t look at him. I can’t. I need time. I need space. And I need to gather up my research because one way or another, I’m going to find out if Yackros is right.
If it comes down to a moment when I have to put my life in his hands, would Max choose to save me, or would he let me fall? Is he refusing to believe dragons are real because to him, they are only mythical creatures? Or does he already know they’re out there, and his is evil?
“Did I do or say something wrong? What happened, Alita?” He places his hand on my leg. I know he’s trying to be comforting, but at the moment, it’s just irritating.
“No, Max. It’s not about you. I’m sorry, okay? I just need a break. I’m tired and sore and I want to go home, shower, eat, and sleep. In that order.” I wriggle my leg as much as possible with my foot on the gas pedal because I don’t want to seem rude or out of character and physically remove his hand, and I don’t have the energy to speak and know fully what I’ll say. Right now, with all the emotions coursing through me, it could be anything.
Luckily, he gets the hint and removes his hand. I don’t look at him or speak. I’m worried about the assumptions I’ll make. Am I letting my emotions for him cloud my judgment? I glance over, watching his bouncing knee with my peripheral vision. I don’t see any dark cloud around him. Is that what an aura looks like? How do I tell? How could Rohesia? I mean, Yackros knowing it makes sense. But the old woman didn’t know anything about me when we first met. If she knows something about Max, why didn’t she know about me, that I really was trying to find proof of dragons’ existence?
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. This is all one big game of wits and war. The harder I try to win, the less likely I am to succeed. I take one step forward and am pushed ten steps back.
I pull into Max’s driveway and wait for him to get out. He pauses and I know he wants closure, but I just can’t give him any. I have no answers, at least not ones he will like. And I’m certainly not going to accuse him of being evil without some kind of proof to back me up. Something aside from a bad aura.
“I’ll talk to you later. I hope you feel better. And Alita?” He waits patiently as I make the forced decision to turn and face him. “I love you. I hope you know that. I’m trying to understand, and I appreciate you giving me time. Today was a step in the right direction, I think, even if it was difficult at parts.” He bites his lip, which is so adorable. I’d totally want to kiss him if I wasn’t so upset.
“Thank you, Max. I’ll text you later.” I can’t say more without admitting something I’ll regret, so I keep it short.
He nods, as if he could understand, and gets out. I fight back tears and other strong emotions associated with them. I’m not ready to go save a dragon. This is all too much for me to handle. I thought Max knowing would help in my favor. Instead, it worked in Ruxsiu’s. What if that monster is able to keep Yackros locked up forever? I don’t know what I’ll do.
Thankfully, the drive home is short. I park and go inside, welcomed by the warm scent of bacon, eggs, and waffles. It must be breakfast for dinner tonight, which will get no complaint from me. It’s one of my favorites.
“I’m home!” I holler, already on my way up the stairs.
“I assumed that much by the slamming of the front door. Want to talk about it?” Mom hollers back.
“Not really! I’m going to shower.” I rush to the bathroom, flinging off my clothes. I jump in the shower, letting warm water fall down over my body, gently massaging every aching inch of me.
I lather my hair with shampoo, scrubbing my scalp because it’s never felt so sticky from sweat. I didn’t even know it could sweat up there, which is just disgusting. By the time I get out, I feel like a whole new person—at least, on the outside.
There’s no scrubbing away my feelings on the inside, which is unfortunate. I’d look at everything critically instead. But as a hormonal teenage girl dating the subject in question, I don’t see a way to do that.
Mom seems to be waiting for me when I enter th
e kitchen. “Now do you want to talk about what’s got you all upset? I don’t think I’ve heard a slamming door in some time. Is it Max related? Do I need to talk to him? Or his mother? You know I will.” She smiles, which I hope is an indication that she’s joking.
I chuckle to lighten the mood. “Well, it is about Max, but it’s not anything he did or said.” I sit down on the stool, eyeing the bacon in front of me.
Mom pulls it out of my reach and leans on the island across from me. “What happened?”
“Well . . .” I pick at a piece of something stuck to the tile. “What do you do when someone tells you your boyfriend is bad news?” I think about leaving it at that, but I know Mom will ask more questions. “I mean, if just one person says it, you can blow it off, right? Clearly, they just don’t like the person. But what if multiple people started telling you the same thing? Then do you just wonder for the rest of your life if they were right? Do you confront the boyfriend and ask him if he’s doing bad things when you’re not around?”
Her facial expression changes by the second, eyes widened, narrowed, brows furrowed, raised. Like she can’t make up her mind on how she wants to respond. Finally, she settles on one expression long enough to say, “Hun, who’s saying this about Max?”
“Does it matter?” I ask, trying to deflect. I can’t tell her my dragon said it. Or my mentor. She’ll just have more questions I can’t answer, and solutions I don’t want. Like seeing a therapist.
“Well, if it’s a fellow student, it could be said out of jealousy. If it’s a teacher or faculty member, I find it highly inappropriate, but it could be out of genuine concern, if they know something about him that isn’t public news. Has he ever said or done anything to make you feel unsafe? Or like you can’t trust him?”
I shake my head. “No. He’s always been a perfect gentleman. I mean, we’ve had our disagreements, but nothing that would make him ‘bad news.’” I make air quotes with those last two words.
“Well then, I think you have nothing to worry about. People say odd things all the time. Unless he hurts you in any way or makes you uncomfortable, I see nothing to worry about. He’s always treated you right , and I’ve always thought he was a good kid.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re right.” Not exactly, but I can’t tell her that. If this kind of talk against Max was coming from a kid my age, I’d agree with Mom. But given that’s not at all where I’m hearing it, it’s an illogical conclusion to make.
“Shall we eat?” She jumps up and heads for the cabinet holding all the plates.
“Really? Without Dad?”
“He’s working late. Tonight it’s just you and me. What do you say to a chick flick?” She grins, seeming way too excited about it.
“That sounds like the perfect way to relax! I’m in!” I grab a plate and start filling it.
The day is going by painfully slow. Max and I are on opposite schedules today, meaning we have no classes together, and I haven’t seen him in the halls. It feels like it’s bedtime, though that could be because I’m still sore and achy from the last two days of training.
I’m ready to go home, and yet, I still have three more classes to go. Luckily, I have thirty more minutes of lunch, which I spend wandering the halls because it hurts to sit for very long, thanks to Wren.
I walk past my locker, debating whether I should put my bag in there, when I hear a muffled call for help. It sounds vaguely familiar. I walk toward the sound and am hit with déjà vu. Five guys, standing around a locker, all laughing while a panicked voice calls from within, begging to be let free.
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I slide my backpack over my arms so I don’t lose it and step up beside one of the shorter boys, resting my arm on his shoulder as though I belong. “What’s up, bros?” I ask.
All laughing, chatting, and rude remarks die as they stare at me. “Jim, did you get a girlfriend and not tell us?” One of larger guys look at the guy I’m leaning on.
He shakes his head. “You weren’t at the party last weekend, were you?” he asks me.
“Aww, come on now. You don’t remember me?” I wink.
His face turns a violent shade of red, but he doesn’t answer.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Blondie asks. “Matt or Mark or something like that?” He looks at me quizzically.
“Actually, it’s Max. And yes.” I nod.
“Then what are you doing here flirting with Jim?” Hazel Eyes asks. He doesn’t move from the front the locker, which is no longer making noise.
“Hey, wait! I bet she’s trying to find someone who believes in ghosts and vampires and werewolves! I mean, now that you’ve got dragons covered, right?” Blondie asks, smirking.
That stings, but I don’t let it show. I can’t believe those jokes are still going around. “Oh, I’m not flirting. I actually came over here to give you a chance to let the poor kid in the locker out—or risk getting shoved in there yourself.” I smile innocently.
“What are you going to do—get your big bad dragon to save you?” Jim makes a pouty face at me, rubbing his eyes like he’s wiping away tears. “Oh, no! Not the big dragon! Anything but that, Mommy.”
“Is Max jealous of your dragon?”
“Can I meet your dragon? Maybe he’ll eat my homework.”
One joke after another, coming from all five guys in the group, with no chance of them stopping any time soon. I push past all of them, ignoring the name calling, the insults, the jokes, and pry open the locker, letting the boy out.
I’m glad he seems okay because when he stopped hollering, I got worried. I drown out all the jokes, searching for any feeling of Yackros in my mind as I begin walking away.
“Hey, wait! We’re not done!” One of the guys grabs my shoulder, yanking me back.
I turn, fist ready, punching him square in the face. The only audible sound for that split second is my knuckle making a nasty crunch as it connects with his now bleeding nose.
There’s a stream of expletives as he bends over, covering his face to catch all the blood. I don’t stick around a moment longer, not wanting any more trouble.
And I feel bad. I really do. I don’t know why I did it. Adrenaline? Fear? Anger? I wish I knew. I wish I didn’t feel so many things all at once. I wipe away the wetness from my eyes and head straight for my car.
All I really want to do is go home and sleep. For a very long time. Instead, I go to Rohesia’s. I’ll train with Wren or meditate with Rhys.
20
The ceiling fan above me spins around, making me dizzy, yet I can’t seem to look away. Even as I slowly close my eyes, I can see it in my mind, going round and round and round. I could get up and turn it off, but I know the second I stand, I’ll force myself to keep going.
To get dressed, go to school—especially after yesterday—listen to teachers drone on and on—between all the bullying—and then off to Rohesia’s house, where I’ll have to train with Wren, who chided me for using my newfound strength to help someone rather than being proud, which was embarrassing, meditate with Rhys, and deal with Rohesia dancing around my questions to avoid answering any of them honestly.
Everything hurts too much anyway. So here I lie, waiting for motivation to find me. My phone beeps, alerting me to another text. It chimes again, but I don’t care. It’s either Max or Rohesia, and I don’t want to talk to either of them.
I close my eyes, wishing this could all end. I don’t have what it takes to do any good. “I’m so sorry, Yackros. I’ve failed you in the worst way.” I roll over, prepared to fall back asleep and let my worries drift away.
“Alita,” his voice says softly.
I sit up, alarmed. He sounds so distant. I realize that’s because he physically is, but that shouldn’t affect his communication with me when he’s only speaking in my head.
“Yackros?” I say aloud, not meaning to.
“I need you, Alita. The pearl is nearly lost. Ruxsiu’s power over the dragons has grown too much. We have mere days bef
ore he will be able to control every single one of us. Please don’t give up now. Rohesia needs you. I need you. You’re the only one who can save us all now.” His words break apart like static on the phone.
I throw the covers back, grabbing my phone from my nightstand as I get to my feet. Thirteen missed calls from Rohesia. I hit the call back button and hold the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I change my clothes, pulling on my cargo pants.
“Alita?” Rohesia exclaims the moment she picks up.
“What’s going on? Why did you call me so many times?” I already know, but I don’t want to assume anything. Not with her.
“We need to start our journey today. I know neither one of us is truly prepared, but this may be our last chance. The pearl has been corrupted. If Séraphin completes the transformation, there will be nothing left to save.”
I startle at the name because the first time I heard it was last night while Yackros and I discussed Max. And yet, here it is again.
“What are we going to do?”
“I’m not sure it matters. We need a third person in order to get past the blockade keeping us out and Fyazum in.”
“Why not tell your family? Wren or Rhys could be that third person. We could take more than three and have a bit of a safety net.”
“No!” she says a little too quickly. “I will not tell them, Alita. I can’t. They’re all I have left. I will not risk their lives. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing to me? It’s your dragon you’re risking by not telling two people we know who are physically capable. In fact, Wren is a better fit to go than me. You risk all of us if you don’t take him.” I move the phone, putting it on speaker, and changing my shirt.
“I’m sorry, but no. I can’t do it. Telling him would cause too much pain and betrayal to do us any good.”
“Then who do you suggest? I’m all out of ideas,” I snap.
“Max. He’s the only person we know who is aware of dragons and their existence. He may not want to believe they’re real. But he does know. And even if he’s skeptical, he can still help. I believe he will, for you.”
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