by Bryan Davis
As she gazed at the gray skies, her heavy eyelids blinking more and more frequently, a billboard caught her attention. Could it be? She rubbed her eyes and looked again. It was a picture of her! A huge reproduction of the TV shot at the Glastonbury tor with her wings exposed! What did the billboard say? Bonnie propped up on her elbow and read the six-foot-tall words. “Help us find the dragon girl. One million dollar reward for an exclusive interview.”
Bonnie pulled the blanket over her head. Now everyone would be looking for her! She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out horrifying thoughts of being paraded around as a media freak, tabloid covers blaring “Bat Creature from Mars” or “Dragon Girl Prophesies Doom.” Of course, there would have to be the obligatory Elvis article. What would that headline be? “Dragon Girl Marries Elvis”? They’d undoubtedly dummy up a picture with her alongside the music star, maybe with her wing draped over the shoulder of his sequined white suit. Bonnie muffled a giggle. Okay, she could deal with this. She would just have to stay hidden. She yawned again, her body and mind aching for a long nap. And sleep.
Bonnie tucked the blanket tightly, trying to tune out the world, but the conversation between the professor and Sir Barlow in the front seat drifted back to her.
Even whispering, Barlow trumpeted like a barker from a bad car commercial. “So will the young miss marry William?”
The professor’s voice, barely audible as it competed with the pounding rain and surrounding car engines, rose and fell. “Merlin’s prophecy seems to indicate that they will eventually wed, and I get this strange feeling that Merlin himself is speaking to me in my dreams, even though he no longer resides in my body. Just a fortnight ago, I dreamed that I saw him through a pulsing red window. At least I assume it was he, for the image was my own, as if I were gazing into a mirror shrouded in the glow of a scarlet beacon. He said, ‘Young Arthur must concentrate on one goal alone, finding his father. All other goals pale in comparison.’”
“Even compared to stopping the Watchers?”
“Yes, and I believe I have deduced the reason. With the release of the Watchers, the fate of the world stands on a razor’s edge. They have only one enemy that can defeat them—dragons. Since Devin would be in dragon form himself, Morgan is sure to try to free him from the candlestone. He could counter the other dragons while the Watchers fulfill their purposes.”
“Their purposes?”
“World domination might be one, I suppose. Yet, I wonder if their purposes are subtler than that. We shall see. In any case, I advised Carl to remove the candlestone from his office. The demons are sure to look for it there.”
A long pause ensued, each man sighing, then the professor continued. “Somehow we must restore William’s father. It’s our only hope.”
Barlow coughed a fake sort of cough. “Well, that’s a fine proposition. Our only hope is to locate and rescue a man who has no body.”
“I concede it does seem hopeless, yet we have no choice but to try. I believe that William’s fate is tied to his father’s, and now that he carries the Great Key, perhaps he will find the guidance he needs to restore the man, or the dragon, he once admired with all his heart.”
“But the scoundrel Devin holds the dragon’s body. Which one would William restore? The man or the dragon?”
The professor yawned in the same way Bonnie had—understandable since he had driven most of the night. “Indeed,” he replied. “The man or the dragon? I wish I knew. But getting back to your first question, William would be best advised to concentrate on his objective. His teamwork with Miss Silver has always been a boon, but I think this final quest is one William might do well to make alone. Any distraction could be costly, including, and perhaps especially, the lovely Miss Silver.”
Tears welled in Bonnie’s eyes. Nausea boiled in her stomach. She bit her lip, trying not to sob. She had considered herself once before as a possible distraction, though she had later dismissed it as self-absorbed nonsense. Who could be distracted by a freakish girl like her? But now, after her experience in the sixth circle, she understood so much more. Someone like Billy really could love her, just the way she was. And the professor was right; they did make a great team.
But hadn’t Billy proven now that he was strong on his own? Shouldn’t he make the journey to find his father without her? She had no part in the matter, so maybe it was time for her to step aside and stay out of it. Maybe it was time to let the boy become a man. Bonnie clutched the blanket to her. At the end of Billy’s journey, when he became a knight in shining armor, would he still want a dragon girl at his side?
Hundreds of people jammed the airport terminal, hustling from ticket counters to security checkpoints, scrambling up and down escalators, gazing at arrival and departure monitors, sometimes cursing when ‘Flight Canceled’ flashed on the screen or the departure time numerals changed by two hours.
The nasty weather seemed to have everyone on edge, especially Bonnie. She pulled her sweatshirt hood as far over her eyes as she could and kept her head down as she followed Professor Hamilton to the rendezvous point. Sir Patrick and the other knights had planned to arrive on a British Airways flight at about three o’clock, so Professor Hamilton asked Mrs. Bannister and her company—Ashley, Karen, and Shiloh—to fly in on Merlin II, the Bannister’s airplane, at about the same time. But the international flight had been delayed by the weather, and who could tell what the storms might do to the little private plane?
The professor slowed. Bonnie lifted her head and scanned the crowded terminal. A familiar face appeared above a woman’s shoulder. Ashley! Bonnie tugged the professor down to whispering level. “I see Ashley. Be right back.” With her hands stuffed in her sweatshirt pockets, she scooted toward the eighteen-year-old genius, the brains behind all the gizmos that had allowed her to dive into and return from the candlestone. Ashley strolled from a vending machine area, smiling as she read what looked like a greeting card, her brown hair falling into her eyes.
Bonnie sidled up to her, whispering. “Ashley. It’s me.”
Ashley threw her arm around Bonnie’s shoulders and guided her to a more secluded spot, leaning over slightly to talk eye to eye, her voice low. “Where’s Prof?”
Bonnie gestured with her head. “Over there, where the passengers come out.” She nodded toward the card in Ashley’s hand. “Whatcha got there?”
Ashley held up the card and chuckled. “It’s from Pebbles. Mrs. Bannister stopped in Castlewood and picked up the mail.”
“And you didn’t read it until just now?”
“Right. I’ve been learning to fly the plane.” Ashley opened the card and read out loud. “Dear Alberta.”
“Alberta? Oh, yeah. Alberta Einstein.”
“Right.” Ashley cleared her throat and continued reading. “Dear Alberta. I miss you. Ever since you sent Beck and Stacey away with Gandalf, I’ve been real lonely. I know you’re just trying to keep us safe, but I don’t have anyone to play with. I hope you and Red are having fun, and I hope you find your mother. Please try to remember all your adventures so you can tell me about them when you come home. Soon, right? Did I mention that I miss you?” Ashley hesitated, and with a cracking voice finished with, “Love, Pebbles.”
Bonnie pinched the edge of the card. “Wow! I didn’t know Pebbles was old enough to write like that.”
Ashley sniffed and showed Bonnie the drawing on the front, a dragon picking daisies. “She’s a smart one, but she probably dictated it to Mrs. Foley.” She flipped the envelope to the address side. “Cumberland postmark. I guess Mr. Foley has them hiding in Western Maryland.”
“Probably.” Bonnie tried to read Ashley’s weary eyes. “Pebbles mentioned finding your mother. Do you still think she’s one of the dragons we rescued from the circles?”
“She has to be,” she said, putting the card back into the envelope, “and I’m pretty sure which one she is.”
“The healer?”
“That’s my guess.” Ashley slid the envelope into h
er jeans’ back pocket. “The dragons are on their way, and they know where to meet us, so I’ll get to see her soon.”
Bonnie glanced around the area, trying to spot the others. “So where are Mrs. B and Shiloh and Karen?”
Ashley pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “They’re waiting in the plane at the air cargo gates. When Sir Patrick and the knights show up, we’ll all head back to West Virginia.” She bent closer and whispered, “Have you seen all the ads offering money for an interview with you?”
“I saw a billboard.”
“Well, they’re on TV and radio and in all the newspapers.” Ashley pulled Bonnie’s hood down farther over her eyes. “Just be careful. You lead the way to Prof, and I’ll kind of hover nearby.”
Ducking through a swarm of scurrying legs and feet, Bonnie wove her way in and out of the bustling crowd to the place where she’d left Professor Hamilton and Barlow. Finding both still waiting at the security checkpoint, she squeezed in between them. With her gaze riveted on the floor, she flattened her voice into a mock monotone. “Secret Agent B. Silver reporting. I have located super genius, Ashley Stalworth. What is my next assignment?”
Her head pressed against Professor Hamilton’s shoulder, allowing her to feel the tiny tremors of his silent laughter. He patted her head lovingly. “I think Walter’s humor is rubbing off on you.”
The professor’s cell phone chimed the opening notes of Beethoven’s fifth symphony. “Want me to get it?” Bonnie asked.
The professor glanced down at his hip. “Very well.”
Bonnie unhooked the phone and flipped it open. The caller ID said, “Carl Foley,” so she decided to have a little fun with Walter’s dad. “Hello. Professor Hamilton’s new personal assistant speaking.”
“Bonnie? Is that you?”
He sounded a bit agitated, so she dropped her game. “Hi, Mr. Foley. Yes, it’s me.”
“I assume you’re with Prof. Are you at BWI yet?”
“Uh huh. Just got here a little while ago.”
“Good. You know Walter’s sister Shelly, right?”
Bonnie noticed a man staring at her. She turned and lowered her head. “I’ve never met her. I wore her coat once, though.”
“She was supposed to fly home from Boston tomorrow, but she got worried about the weather. If this rain keeps up, they might cancel everything, so she’s flying to BWI right now. Think you guys can give her a lift to the campsite?”
Bonnie glanced up. A middle-aged woman nudged the man next to her and gestured toward Bonnie with her head, whispering.
Bonnie turned again. It seemed no angle was safe.
“Bonnie, did you hear me?”
“Oh, sorry, Mr. Foley.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sure there’ll be room on the plane.”
“Great. She’s coming in on AirTran. I think it will be the only flight from Boston.”
“We’ll just check the monitors,” Bonnie said. “No problem.”
“Thanks a million. I’ll meet you at the campsite.”
Bonnie reclipped the phone and relayed the message to the professor. He just nodded his approval and kept his eyes fixed on the passageway to the concourse gates. With flight information monitors flashing all around, he wouldn’t have any trouble finding Shelly’s gate, so Bonnie kept her head low.
As they waited, Bonnie felt hundreds of eyes gawking at her, though she couldn’t see any of them. The sound of a woman clearing her throat prompted Bonnie to tip her head back up. A lady had stopped in front of the professor. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Her British accent was thicker than Prof’s.
“I don’t know, Madam,” he replied. “I don’t recognize you.”
“Well, then, some relation who looks like you, I suppose.”
“Yes, Madam. That must be it.”
A British accent. Maybe the British Airways flight had arrived. The professor had also been on television in England when the whole world saw him with the dragon girl, so it’s no wonder he looked familiar.
Bonnie peeked up. Dozens of passengers were making their way into the terminal, but it wouldn’t be hard to spot Sir Patrick and his crew.
“I see them,” Barlow whispered. “Act natural.”
Bonnie dared to peek again. Yep. There they were. Sirs Edmund and Newman in the front, looking like two buddies on holiday; Woodrow, Fiske, and Standish behind them, examining a brochure of some kind; and Sir Patrick bringing up the rear, tapping a long white cane on the floor.
“Hmmm,” Professor Hamilton murmured. “Obviously, Patrick has already instructed his company to act circumspectly, and his cane is part of the ruse.”
Sir Patrick walked directly up to the professor, pressed something into his hand while whispering in his ear, then walked away without his cane. Leaning close to Bonnie, the professor handed her the cane, then slipped a pair of dark glasses over her eyes. “You’re a blind girl now,” he whispered. “Patrick’s idea. And he said to keep your hood low over your brow.”
The professor gazed at the flight arrivals monitor. “Barlow, follow their lead to the baggage claim area. Miss Silver and I will try to find Miss Foley at concourse D. We will all meet back at this spot and reconfigure our travel arrangements.”
Bonnie felt the professor’s arm around her shoulder as he guided her down the wide, terrazzo hallway. She glanced back and saw that Ashley had decided to stay close to Barlow and company, peeking over the card she had received from Pebbles while the others bustled toward baggage claim.
“Don’t look around,” the professor said softly. “You’re blind, remember?”
Bonnie hovered the cane in front of her. “Should I tap it or something?”
“There is no need. I’m guiding you.”
Although Bonnie had to march quickly to keep up with the professor’s long strides, she enjoyed the secure embrace of his steady arm. She had learned to completely trust this amazing gentleman, his wisdom, his spiritual strength, and his physical stamina. Even if she really were blind, she would go wherever he guided, no questions asked. They had been through so much together, he was like a grandfather she had known all her life.
The professor pulled Bonnie to a stop, and his warm breath brushed her ear. “We’ve arrived, Miss Silver. Do you know what Miss Foley looks like?”
She kept her gaze straight ahead. “I saw pictures of her at their house, but I don’t know how old they were. She’s real pretty—shoulder-length blond hair, blue eyes, dimples when she smiles. In the family shot, she was the same height as Walter, and she’s kind of thin like he is. But I can see through these glasses. I’ll help you find her.”
“As long as you keep your head still. Otherwise you won’t appear to be blind.”
“Sure, I’ll just—”
“Enough talking,” he said, taking her hand. “Squeeze twice if you see her.”
For the next twenty minutes or so, Bonnie surveyed the crowds of people streaming in from the arriving flights. Quite a few looked sort of like Shelly, and she worried that the dark glasses might skew her vision too much. Several onlookers held signs with people’s names on them, obviously searching for someone they wouldn’t recognize. A “Shelly Foley” sign would make it all so easy, but would it draw too much attention?
Bonnie read some of the signs to herself, Alf Mortenson, James Ricardo, Juanita Ames, wondering about the person represented by each one, where they were coming from, where they were going. Sam Hutchinson, Bill Marks, Shelly Foley. Bonnie stiffened. Shelly Foley! She squeezed the professor’s hand twice.
He leaned down. “Where is she?”
Bonnie whispered hoarsely. “Look at the sign to your right, about twenty feet away. The guy with the curly blond hair.”
A young man held the sign, so stunningly handsome he seemed unearthly. Bonnie distrusted him immediately. “He’s up to no good. I can feel it.”
“And I concur.” The professor placed his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s see what his intentions are.”
They c
rept toward the man, Bonnie with her cane in front, but just before they came within speaking distance, a young woman broke free from the crowd. “You looking for me?” she asked the man.
The young man’s bright eyes gleamed as he flashed a million-dollar smile. “Shelly Foley?”
She nodded. “That’s me.”
Bonnie looked her over. She certainly resembled Shelly, but Bonnie had never seen a photo of her dressed so . . . casually—an unzipped sweatshirt revealing a tight Harvard top that didn’t quite reach her low-slung jeans.
Bonnie kept her chin tucked close to her chest. With the hood draped over her brow and the shades over her eyes, she doubted that Shelly would guess who she was.
Professor Hamilton strode forward, leaving Bonnie behind. “Excuse me! Miss Foley! I was summoned by your father to pick you up.”
Shelly pulled her head back, staring at the professor suspiciously. “Who are you?”
He dipped his head in a quick bow. “I am Charles Hamilton, your father’s professor and mentor from Oxford and your brother’s homeschool teacher. Surely they have mentioned me to you.”
“Of course he’s talked about the Prof,” she replied, her brow furrowing, “but I’ve never seen a picture, so I don’t—”
“Perhaps I can explain, Mr. Hamilton.” The young man placed a hand behind the professor’s shoulder. “I’m Christopher Hawkins with Freestate Limousine Services. Shelly’s father called and asked us to pick her up. He was concerned that you wouldn’t be able to find her, so he made a reservation for her just in case.” He flashed his smile again. “Sounds like a good father to me.”
“Carl is a devoted father, to be sure.” The professor’s voice grew just a bit more aggressive. “But we have found her, so your services will not be necessary.”
