The Angel and the Dragon (Hattie Jenkins & The Infiniti Chronicles Book 8)

by Pearl Goodfellow

  Portia sighed, and turned to Gloom.“Look, we all know we don’t have … much time.” She struggled to find the right order of words; words that might offer us even the smallest sliver of hope. “But we need to keep our resolve. It’s essential that we keep our resolve, and keep our focus sharp,” she finished.

  Gloom guffawed. “And with the …” with a deft paw she grabbed hold of Verdantia’s wrist and looked at the beautiful fairy’s watch “...twenty-one hours we have left, can you please tell us how, where and when we may employ our resolve and sharp focus?” My lady cat looked as if she might enjoy hurling herself through the air; attaching herself to Portia’s face and, well … ripping it off.

  It seemed the penny had finally dropped, though, because Gloom’s words spooked everyone immediately. The Custodians and their ‘friends of,’ broke out into a hullabaloo of frightened and angry words. I felt a nervous flutter in my heart which turned into a wild thumping in seconds. Just as I was about to call for order, Grandma Chimera brushed up against me. I sniffed the air and felt instantly calm as Chimera’s violet-y scent flowed over me. I could feel my gran’s warmth. Hattie. Hold fast. No matter how impossible this seems right now, you have to focus. Take each task, job, idea, course of action ... one at a time. One thing at a time. The answers will come, my love.

  I thought-screamed my reply: But Grandma, we only have twenty-one hours! We have no time!

  Grandma Chimera tsked-tsked. Did you not learn anything from me, child? Time is a concept. Nothing more than a manmade, linear construct; trust me, I should know … I move about outside of time’s constraints all the time. Magic, Hattie, doesn’t come from the feeble hands of time. I could sense Grandma shaking her head. No, REAL sorcery emanates from the timeless. This is where magic is born and realized. In my mind, I could see gran’s eyes sparkling. Here is where magic picks up its vibrancy and dynamism; the timeless. Trust me, Hattie, it’s a place of miracles.

  I huffed. Which is what we’re going to need. A miracle.

  My deceased grandmother laughed again. She sounded like a young girl.

  Then don’t watch the clock, my dear child.

  I huffed. Like a ‘dear child.’

  What does ‘timeless’ even mean, Grandma? Where do I access this ‘timeless?’

  You’re already in it, Hattie. And if you stopped all your mental fidgeting, and kept still for a spell you might just realize that this timeless is now.

  The timeless is now?

  The timeless IS now. This moment. Always this moment. I must go now, my love.

  No, Grandma, can you just stay with me …

  The faint smell of violet dissipated before I could even finish my thought.

  “Hat? “ David’s fingers brushed my wrist. “You okay? You look a little … vacant.” I could barely hear David over the cacophony of impassioned voices and meows.

  “I’m fine,” I said, nodding. “Let’s get this rabble under control, shall we? Portia’s right. We need to keep focus.”

  The chief nodded. “I think that’s probably the best plan we’ve got right now.”

  “Sad isn’t it?”

  “Pitiful.” he offered me a ghost of a smile. “Right, I’m going in,” he said, flicking his head toward the madding crowd.

  I stifled a laugh as David piled into the center of the screaming bodies. Here we all are, devolving into a hot mess of panic, and I’m chuckling at a little inside joke with the man I love.

  Onyx’s silky voice crept into my head. Hmm, lots of head visitors. I hoped this second mind intrusion didn’t mess with my head biscuits.

  If there is ever an opportunity for humor, Seraphim, grab it. No matter how inappropriate it might seem. Laughing, whatever the circumstance, is vital for coping, promoting clear thinking, releasing stress, lowering anxiety in yourself and others, and it also feels nice.

  I bent down and kissed my smart cat on the head. “Thanks, champ,” I said.

  David banged the oak table with one of the prototype-test helmets that Orville had made.

  “Settle down. Guys! Settle down!” He cracked the table with the fortified metal, and gradually everyone stilled.

  “Good. Everyone calm now?” My friend asked, peering at the crowd with his clear baby-blues.

  “We’re calling an end to this meeting.” The dark circles under his eyes emphasized the seriousness of the chief’s words. “We are all going home to get some sleep. Or an approximation of sleep, at least.” An outbreak of murmurs from the spectators. “Guys, we have nothing here.” David held out his hands. “I’m serious … there’s nothing to go on right now. It’s unfortunate, but it’s where we’re at. But rather than devolve into a pack of screaming chimps over it, I think we need to sleep and reconvene tomorrow. With focus.” David cast a glance at Portia and gave her an almost imperceptible nod. “And resolve,” he finished.

  “We will meet here at noon,” said Portia, handing Verdantia her jacket.

  “Noon?” Millie said. “With respect, Ms. Fearwyn, but isn’t that cutting it a little fine? That’s like …” Millie squinted as she did the mental calculations. “...only four or five hours away from … dragon time.”

  “We have the chief’s men posted at points around the coast. The chief himself will be there until our meeting tomorrow, so If Jyldrar breaks for Cathedral, we’ll know about it, and we can act accordingly then. But for tomorrow morning … just go about your usual business, act normal, and behave as you normally would.”

  Millie guffawed. “You’re kidding, right? You want Hattie and I to weigh lavender and distill witch hazel as if its business as usual?”

  “That is exactly what I’m asking of you, Ms. Midge,” Portia said, giving each of us a sharp gaze. “It’s what I’m asking of all of you. We literally have nothing better to do, and, besides, if it gets back to Shields that we’re all getting on with life as if nothing’s happening … well, at the very least it might unnerve the governor. We will speak at noon tomorrow. Please be on time.”

  Nobody added anything to the Witch Fearwyn’s parting words. Each of us had to struggle through our own personal hell of anxiety, anticipation and a crushing feeling of hopelessness. And it was in this state that we left Gaunt Manor. To our beds … so we could each snuggle up to a night of sleeping on giant, toothsome tenterhooks.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Jet, will you please stop tearing around. These books are fragile, for goodness sakes.” Millie reached for the water mister and pointed it at Jet. My catnip fueled cat leapt behind a jar of dried marigolds and poked his face out the side of the container. “Yep, it’s my nerves, Millie, yep. I’m trying to let off some steam, is all, yep, yep, yep.”

  “Well, I am trying to play my part in helping save the world, and in case you didn’t notice I only have a few of hours left for research.” Millie’s eyes darted to Grandma Chimera’s grandfather clock. My eyes followed hers, and my stomach flipped. Eleven a.m. How did that happen? We still had nothing, no news of Jyldrar, no sniveling apology and offer to make everything right from Ankou, no … nothing. I snipped frantically at the lavender bushel I was holding. “See anything yet, Millie,” I asked my assistant as she pored over the ancient Futhark.

  “Not a damned thing …. I’ve looked at this pile here more than a …” Her voice trailed off.

  “What?” I demanded. “Have you found something?” I rushed over to where my friend stood next to the register. “I … I… don’t know. It’s probably nothing.” Her head dipped down to the page she was studying, and my assistant read the passages in a hushed murmur. I could see her lips moving to the strange shapes of Futhark. Her head flew up. “Where’s that piece of paper with all my notes so far?” Millie picked up a host of books to try and uncover her list of ideas.

  “You mean the one with the eye of newt and, what was it ...seafoam, or something?”

  “Yes, that one,” she said, still frantically searching.

  “You’re lucky,” Carbon shouted out from his spot on t
he hearth rug. “It was on the floor; I thought it was scrap paper… was just about to burn this puppy.” He swatted the balled paper toward Millie. My assistant stopped it with her foot and unfurled it. She flattened the sheet out on the counter and compared it to something she’d found in her latest volume from the Avalon Vaults. My assistant was silent for a few moments and then burst into a flurry of activity, grabbing her coat and bag, and positively flying out the door. “I have to go,” she said. “Can’t explain now, but hopefully we’ll talk later.”

  “Wait, what? Where are you going? I don’t understand. Are you coming to the meeting at Portia’s?” My assistant didn’t answer as she was already one foot out. Just before the door closed, she turned and looked at me. “I don’t know about Portia’s yet. Might not be there. Look … Hattie … I don’t know how this is all going to turn out, but I want you to know … you’ve always been like a sister to me. And … well, I love you, girlfriend. I really do” Millie charged toward me, squeezed me tight and then flew out the door again.

  Fraidy watched mine and my assistant’s exchange from his place under the tea rack. “It’s all over,” he said, his voice monotone. “Even Millie knows it.”

  “Dude,” Shade said. “I think you’re overreacting. Millie doesn’t know that. She’d have hugged and kissed us and made us purr if she thought it was going to be the last time she saw us.”

  I stroked Shade’s head. I hoped my good-natured tom was right about that. Right now I wasn’t feeling too convinced.

  “What’re we gonna do for this last hour, boss-lady?” Midnight said, pacing the shop floor.

  I picked up my phone and checked to see if anyone had called. Nothing. What was everyone doing, I wondered. I fought the urge to scream. In less than four or five hours these isles would see firestorms like nothing we’d seen before. And here I was deflowering a sprig of lavender. You couldn’t make this stuff up.

  I looked at Midnight, and then at the rest of my kitties, and made up my mind. “Come on, guys, let’s go,” I said, jamming my phone into my pocket next to my wand.

  “Go?” Gloom said. “Go where?”

  “Out to Gaunt Manor,” I said. “Let’s get there early. It’s got to be better than mooning around here pretending it’s a normal day.”

  “Word,” Midnight said, flexing his legs. “I’m in.”

  Fraidy shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter where I die.”

  Carbon, Onyx, Eclipse, Shade, and Jet got to their feet, and we bustled out the back door to get the broom.

  “I wonder if David’s guys have seen anything yet,” Carbon asked as he hopped on the stick.

  “Well, he hasn’t called yet, so my guess is no,” I said, nudging Eclipse and Shade along the handle so I could accommodate more of my furry companions.

  “Do you really think our time’s up?” Fraidy asked, nuzzling into a newly loaded Gloom. Without a word Gloom wrapped a paw around my scaredy cat and pulled him into her.

  I shook my head. “I won’t hear talk like that, sweetie,” I said, plopping a fidgeting Jet on the handle in front of my she-cat. “We need to stay open to possibilities and --”

  “Miracles,” Eclipse said. “Forget possibilities, we need miracles.”

  “That’s all the answer I need,” Fraidy said, tucking his head under Gloom’s armpit.

  It would be a miracle if a miracle happened. I mean, what are the chances if not slim to none?

  I hopped on my besom and kicked off, pointing the nose of my ride to the Gorthland Swamps.

  So what if we’re early? Perhaps I could prepare some calming chamomile tea for the guests as they arrived? Yes, that would be a lovely little respite before we were all incinerated by a dragon gone rampant.

  We crossed the swamps on a straight trajectory. Sometimes the clouds hung so low over the Gorthlands that you had to duck under them to get a sense of the lay of the land. Gaunt Manor, fragmented by the narrow bands of shifting clouds, loomed into view. I squinted at the assortment of brooms resting against the gothic porch of the building. “Looks like we’re late, not early,” Eclipse observed. I nodded and pointed my besom toward the foyer. “Yeah, it seems like everyone else has ants in their pants too,” I said counting the brooms resting against the gargoyle strewn archway: nine, including Portia’s cherrywood chariot.

  Dismounting, I leaned my broom up against the others and made my way to Custodian’s HQ; or Portia’s basement depending on where you were standing.

  There was no sound as I pushed on the heavy oak door that led to the command room. My skin prickled; I heard none of the usual banter I’d grown accustomed to over the last few days.

  It was a dismal scene. Portia, Verdantia, Hinrika, Reverend Peacefield, bandage-wrapped Carpathia Alecto, Maude Dulgrey, Horace Mangler, Artemis Caves, and Gabrielle; all sat like slumped stone statues, not talking, not crying, just staring into space. Utterly defeated.

  “I’m an hour early,” I said, entirely randomly. To be honest, I just didn’t know what to say to the soul-draining tableau in front of me.

  Carpathia raised a bandaged eyebrow. “Well, darling, we all got here an hour ago, so you’re technically an hour late.” She dropped her gaze from me and looked into space again.

  I slowly surveyed the slew of lethargic bodies. “We need a miracle,” I said out the side of my mouth to my cats.

  “I hear dynamite’s pretty miraculous,” Gloom quipped, giving my zoned-out friends a severe case of stink-eye.

  “Gloom!” I hissed.

  “Well, look at them, they’re like washed-up zombies. Goddess, they make Hector Muerte look like a spring chicken.”

  I looked at the Witch Fearwyn. “Portia, where’s Millie and Dilwyn?”

  She shrugged. “What does it matter now? We’ve lost.”

  My jaw dropped in disbelief. “Portia Fearwyn have you lost your mind?”

  “I have not!” She snapped. She turned away and muttered: “Just my hope.”

  “But David and his men are out looking for the Wyrmrig!” I protested. “Are you all seriously just going to sit here and give up?”

  Portia sighed and wiped her face with her pale hands. “Hattie,” she said softly. “It’s now ten after eleven, and there’s still no sign of the dragon. What hope do we have?”

  I snapped my head toward the faeries. “Hinrika? Vee?” Verdantia shook her head and closed her eyes. Hinrika just stared blankly at the ceiling, her licorice stained lips slightly parted. I noticed she was wearing the same exquisite lemon-yellow gown from yesterday. If ever there were an omen of deep despair, it was this. Hinrika not changing her evening attire on a daily basis was akin to the sun suddenly deciding not to rise one morning.

  Warm fur stroked my ankle, and I looked down to see Fraidy tiptoe gingerly into the middle of the apathetic group. He sat down and looked at everyone. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, right?” Reverend Peacefield hoisted himself to a more upright position and opened one eye.

  “The Chief is out there on his own!” Fraidy shouted. “He’s out there fighting the good fight. He’s not lying on his side somewhere bemoaning his lot, no, CPI Trew is taking the battle to the end. Which is what we should be doing.” Fraidy’s head swerved from face to face, his eyes ever-widening at the lackluster response from his Custodian friends. Inexplicably, my kitty stomped out of the room.

  “Is… is that the frightened one?” Portia said. She sounded exhausted.

  “Yes. It is,” I said, my voice heavy with resentment. I felt the fight draining from me by swift degrees. “But it looks like he’s the bravest of all of us so far.” The scene before me got the better of me, I guess. I pressed my back against the wall and slid down, so I was sitting on the floor next to Portia. “It can’t be all over ... can it?” I whispered. The Witch Fearwyn didn’t answer. Not even Grandma Chimera chimed in with her two-cents worth of worldly wisdom. Was it? Was it all over for us? I closed my eyes to ponder our fates. How did we get here? How did we back ourselves into such an impossible c
orner? A corner with no obvious escape route.

  A dragging sound interrupted my end-of-days thought commentary. Something brushed past my leg, and I heard a soft clattering of metal knocking metal. My eyes flipped open. Fraidy dragged a sack across the floor with his teeth; all of the Infiniti’s dragonsteel helmets resting on top of the cloth vehicle.

  “Suit up,” my scaredy-cat barked to his brother’s and sister. “We’re going dragon-slaying. Just because the bipeds have given up the fight, it doesn’t mean we should.” Fraidy reached for his too-large helmet and slipped it on over his tiny head. The headgear slipped down over his eyes almost immediately.

  “Dufus, you’re not going anywhere,” Gloom said, watching her brother.

  “No, it’s you that’s going nowhere, Gloom,” he said, lining up all the helmets. The little guy had to keep pushing his up so that he could see what he was doing. “And you’re going nowhere fast. Me? I’m going to try and save the world from the Warlock Chief and his fire-breathing pet, that’s where I am going. Nobody’s gonna tell me that I did nothing to stop the menace.”

  Jet got up and stood by his brother. He pawed at his own helmet, engraved especially with a flashy ‘J’ on the front. A bolt of lightning erupted from behind the letter in a playful gesture to Jet’s speed. One of Orville’s inspired moves. “Jet’s gonna deal with the menace too, yep, yep,” he said, tossing his headgear on. “ Yep, I’m catnipped up, and I’m raring to go, yep, yep. Yep.” One by one, before the Custodians and friends of the Custodian’s eyes, my kitties stepped up to the plate to don their dragon-steel lids. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. It was beyond touching.

  Portia kept her eyes on the scene, sinking ever further in her already slouching position. The Witch Fearwyn remained unmoved by the Infiniti’s bravery.

  “You’re wasting your time; you fool cats. You don’t even know who the Wyrmrig is. How can you follow something that hasn’t even presented itself?”