by Jen Crane
A comfortable position eluded me. I shuffled my hands from my hips to cross over my chest, and then to my lap. Finally, I let them my arms fall to my sides in defeat, and attempted to explain my hesitancy.
Chapter 5
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” trilled a cloying, mocking voice. “I know you’re in there, Stonewall. I can hear your vile little heartbeat.”
My gaze shot to Ewan’s, who was as shocked as I was to hear someone outside—especially her. So much for my explanation.
“I can hear him, too,” the voice called, sending frightened chills down my spine. “I knew you worked fast, but this gives a whole new meaning to harlot.”
“Harlot”,” I mouthed with a snarl.
Ewan’s body had gone rail straight, his face a mask of fear and rage. I was already afraid, but witnessing his reaction exacerbated my own to near hysteria.
Caught. I was caught. Dean Livia Miles had discovered my hideout and trapped me inside. Frozen with fear, I sat motionless at the kitchen table and attempted to reason my next move, some way out of there.
I’d stashed an old rifle I’d found under Bay’s bed in the front closet. Should I run for the gun? Should I just trace the hell out of here and think later? Yes!
I reached for Ewan’s hand and thought “home” with urgency. Nothing happened—not even the beginning cold blasts of air associated with tracing. I tried again, imagining the green front door of my mother’s house and the overflowing planters that lined the porch. Nothing.
I threw my hands up, desperate to escape. “You try,” I whispered.
The crease between Ewan’s eyebrows grew deep with concentration. He shook his head. “Can’t trace.”
With a last look at him, I threw myself to the ground, scuttling to the window for a view of what we were up against. Years’ worth of dust invaded my nasal cavity as I peeked past the windowsill through the glazed pane.
It was dark out, and the crescent moon provided little luminance. But Dean Miles wasn’t alone, and her cohorts had brought flashlights and lanterns. She stood in the small clearing outside the cabin surrounded by at least thirty people—most of whom I had never seen before. All of whom looked murderous. I watched in horror as the mob grew—one, two, sometimes three at a time.
How had they found me? Who were they? Didn’t matter—they were here. And more arrived with each passing minute. I’d be lucky if they didn’t lynch me.
That’s exactly what the crowd resembled: a lynch mob. The flickering orange fire of their lanterns illuminated angry, disgusted faces. One or two pointed and jeered at the cabin. Others whispered and nodded. The mob was out for blood and growing restless.
Dean Miles stood pert and powerful, completely in control as she consulted with several people surrounding her. I recognized the polyester-clad largess of Vice Chancellor Edgecliffe, and then spotted two arms gesturing in jerky movements behind her meaty rump. Professor Lochlain was making his opinion known. What Aemon Lochlain lacked in stature, he more than made up for in force of presence and intellect, and I hoped he would influence the committee on my behalf. But I wasn’t counting on it. Dean Miles was mean as a snake, and just as slippery.
Not far away stood six or eight uniformed Thayerian officials. The silver metal accents of their slate-colored uniforms gleamed conspicuously in the forested darkness. They clasped their hands behind them; their feet spread shoulder-width apart. They weren’t guarding anything, but seemed to be stoically awaiting orders.
Oh, God! I dropped to the floor as Rowan Gresham left his position at the guards’ flank. Of course he’s here. Of course! With guards. What’s he gonna do? Arrest me?
I rose up again, but only far enough to see over the windowsill. Gresham made his way to Dean Miles and loomed over her with authority. When he looked toward the cabin, his radiant, golden eyes caught the light of a lantern, giving them a haunting glow. The darkness did little to conceal her contempt for him, and she snarled something in reply. Gresham’s shoulders bunched, and for the briefest moment, I thought he would throttle her. His effort to calm himself was evident and he loosed his hands at his sides, shaking the tension from them. He said something else and her lip rose in a hate-filled jeer before her mouth opened in obvious defiance.
“Stella Stonewall,” she called out with authority, “you—”
“Stella, may I come in?” Gresham’s deep voice cut off Dean Miles’s next words. Her head snapped back belligerently, but she said nothing else.
“Hell no,” I called out before even considering my answer.
Gresham’s whole body heaved with the force of his irritated sigh. “Stella, you’ve been formally charged with several counts, including malicious mischief, breach of peace, reckless fire-raising, concealment…” Gresham closed his eyes wearily as he said the last, “and culpable homicide.”
“What?” I squealed and looked to Ewan, who was vibrating with restrained emotion. He didn’t speak, but his gaze bored into mine with those dark eyes.
What is he thinking? I was thinking I wished there was a way out of the cabin. Out of Livia’s grasp and away from the murderous mob.
“Stella, you must come in for questioning to address these very serious charges,” Gresham went on.
I groaned helplessly and searched the cabin, racking my brain for my next move, but inspiration failed.
Dean Miles and some of the angrier members of the mob had begun to stir. The more time passed the more agitated—and numbered—the crowd grew. Surely these people have something better to do than hunt down harmless girls over a misunderstanding.
“Come out, Stonewall,” she said angrily. “Or we’re coming in for you.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Livia,” Gresham growled. “You’ve filed the charges. You’ve mercilessly led the way. The rest is up to me—to the Defense Department and law enforcement.”
Dean Miles laughed wickedly. “Oh, there’s no way I’m leaving this solely in your hands, Rowan. Not after watching you hound her like she was in heat.” Sleek dark hair caught moonlight when she shook her head. “No. As a citizen, as a leader of Thayer, I’ll ensure justice is done. And one way or another, you can bet I’ll see that fire starter fry.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood one by one like pious parishioners in the presence of their pastor. Before I could turn to discover what had caused my visceral, bone-deep reaction, his voice slithered through the cabin.
“You’re in a pickle now, aren’t you, sugar?”
Nauseous. I was instantly nauseous from the sound of his voice. It was caramelized venom. Smooth as steel, and just as deadly. I knew without turning Brandubh loomed behind me.
A small noise from where Ewan had been standing jerked my gaze in his direction.
“Ewan! Oh, God! Ewan!”
I covered my mouth to stop the scream. Ewan was plastered against the wall—forced against the cabin’s wooden planks as if a giant vacuum sucked at him from the other side. Like he was experiencing G-force en route to space. His lips pulled back to his ears, his eyes wide, his hands and legs restrained against the wall. I opened my mind to him, to determine if he could speak to me, but only picked up a crazed static.
“Ewan?” I said. “Ewan, are you okay? I’ll get us out of this.”
Either he didn’t hear my silent communication or he was unable to respond. He sent nothing back, only stared wildly ahead.
“What did you do to him?” I half-screamed at Brandubh.
“I only immobilized him. For now. Certainly, worse is possible.” He took a step toward me and I scuttled back, hitting my elbow painfully on a side table. Noticing my fear, he abandoned his pursuit and looked at me benevolently, like he would a rambunctious puppy.
Brandubh’s appearance had never met my expectations of an ‘evil sorcerer.’ He wasn’t gnarled or ugly, and he didn’t sport a long white beard. He was tall and stout, and particular in his appearance. Meticulously so. His dark hair was closely shorn and silvered along the t
emples. Methodical, clear blue eyes shone from beneath a heavy brow, and his maniacal smile gave me cold shivers.
“How did you get in here?” I rasped. “What do you want? Why won’t you just leave me alone?”
“Want? I only want to help you out of this mess, Stella. I want to see you safe.” His saccharine smile didn’t fool me for a second. Brandubh’s evil was veiled in charm. He tried hard to hide it, but I knew it was there, right under the surface.
I grunted without grace. “Right. ’Cause you’ve never tried to kidnap me, kill me, or pimp me out.”
“I’ve never tried to kill you, Stella. You’re far too precious to me for that.”
“My mistake.” Sarcasm laced my voice, but it was only bravado to mask the fear.
He went on as if I’d said nothing. “You and I see things differently. That doesn’t make your opinion wrong. Just inaccurate.”
“This is not a difference of opinion, you whack job. You were going to enslave me and breed me to my cousins.”
“Living in the past will never take you forward, sweet one.”
I shook my head because there were no words. Why did I even try? You can’t argue with crazy.
“I’m here to help you now,” he soothed. “You need a way out of here. I have one.”
Ewan grunted from his paralyzed station on the wall, but he needn’t worry. I would never accept Brandubh’s “way out,” no matter how desperately I needed one.
“Yeah, no thanks.” I backed away from Brandubh as inconspicuously as possible. “Some other time, maybe,” I said and inched toward Ewan. “Thanks for stopping by.”
It was clear I would never willingly take his offer, and when Brandubh realized that, he went from amiable to agitated in the time it took to blink. “I offered you a choice, Stella,” he snarled. “You chose poorly. You’re coming with me, whether you like it or not.”
I threw my hands in the air. “Oh, for God’s sake. Surely, you’re not this obtuse. It’s not a ‘choice’ if you force me onto the road I didn’t take.”
The air crackled with tension, with the barely-leashed threat of violence. If skin could smoke, Brandubh’s would have been ablaze.
Ewan attempted to shut me up by moving the only thing accessible to him, his eyes, but that only made him look crazed, too.
“I gather by your silence you’ve chosen not to surrender to our investigation,” Dean Miles sneered from beyond the cabin walls.
I scrubbed my eyes. Why couldn’t everyone just leave me alone?
“Fine by me,” she called. “We’ll come to you.” The crowd erupted, wicked and angry cheers filling the space around me, exacerbating my already-frantic nerves.
I bit the cuticle of my thumb and attempted to think through my problems. But I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t escape. No way out. Trapped. Need help. Help, I pleaded with anyone. With no one.
Gresham’s words were lost in the crowd’s violent shuffle toward the cabin—toward me—but I caught his muffled “leave this to the authorities…” just before all hell broke loose.
Across from me, Brandubh’s fox-like grin spread until his entire face beamed evil menace, sparks of malevolence shooting from his icy glare. He had something else up his sleeve, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what.
The cabin moaned. It was too deep in tone, too encompassing to be classified a creak. It sounded like the ancient structure was being pulled up from its roots. I glanced wildly around to determine the cause. The worn wooden planks under my feet had begun to shudder. The air was heavy with the synthetic, singed smell of magic.
Ewan was still held helpless against the wall. The muscles of his jaws ground with effort. Was he using magic to free himself?
Brandubh’s chest inflated with confidence. He stood, hands in pockets, still sporting that evil, anticipatory grin.
Outside, an eerie cloud cover swept over the dark sky, and the crowd, raucous and driven to violence only moments before, hushed.
“What the hell’s going on, Brandubh?” My voice was forced, frightened.
Half of his face pulled up in a spiteful sneer. He was delighting in his secrecy, relishing in connivance.
“What’s going on?” I said louder, but my voice broke with fear.
Brandubh’s blue eyes lit with giddiness just before the walls, the roof, and the entire upright structure of the cabin broke from the floorboards, flying into the forest and splintering into a thousand shards. The explosion was so loud, the turbulence so disturbing, that I threw myself to the floor and covered my head with my hands, scrambling awkwardly toward the kitchen table. I couldn't see Ewan, and that scared me. He had been trapped against the cabin wall before it splintered into the forest. There was no sign of him, and I couldn't determine if that was reassuring or not.
I hadn’t made it half way when the breath was knocked from my lungs faster than I could gather it to scream and I was flattened and rolled beneath a massive body. I kneed my attacker, dug my heels into his sides, but he was too big, too strong, and too determined. He didn’t thwart my attack or restrain my legs, but took each blow with a heavy grunt.
When I finally broke free enough to breathe, I took a deep lungful, intent on using any strength I could gather to throw him from me. Juniper. The forest. A modest trace of cologne. “Ewan,” I sobbed and tucked into his body. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered roughly. “Stay down. And stop kicking me, for gods’ sakes.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my face into his chest. Tears stung behind my eyes. “Are you okay?” I mumbled against him. “I was so scared he had hurt you.”
No answer.
“Ewan?”
When he still didn’t answer, I lifted my head to see his face.
The angle was wrong, and I couldn’t see him. My only view was from beneath his thick shoulder, but that was enough. I blinked several times to clear the wetness that had gathered in my eyes because my sight was obviously playing tricks on me.
Without walls to prevent them, the mob converged to form a slow shuffle toward the cabin. Dean Miles led the way, and when she stepped onto the wooden planks, she raised her gaze to Brandubh’s. The look that passed between them was intimate—knowing, pleased, expectant.
Weird. Am I the only one that caught that? They don’t know each other. Right?
I stretched to see if Ewan had spotted the curious exchange, but his gaze was fixed on the gathering mob.
No. His gaze was focused beyond the mob. On the sky. He squinted and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him.
“Let me up, babe,” I said and pushed on his stomach.
He growled at me. Growled. I was thankful Ewan had shielded me from the surrounding danger, but it was time for action.
“Ewan. Let me stand.”
He heaved a breath and relaxed enough that I could scramble from under him, but the moment I rose, he stood defensively between the others and me. His gaze shot wildly from Brandubh and Livia to the darkened sky, and I wondered just what had his attention.
“We’re coming, dear. Hold him off for just a moment more.” The words flashed through my mind so unexpectedly I turned in a circle, confused and searching for the woman who spoke them.
Chapter 6
I squeezed Ewan’s arm so hard he grunted and I searched the sky for a sign of my sweet, fierce Bay.
“There. Do you see them?” Ewan asked silently.
I followed his gaze over the crowd, over the top of Gresham’s head as he marched furiously toward Dean Miles and swung her around by the arm. I don’t know what happened between the two after that because just beyond Gresham’s shoulder the darkened outline of two magnificent dragons speared toward us.
Two dragons. Two.
“Bay? Bay, who’s with you?” I knew the answer, but needed confirmation. It couldn’t be. Couldn’t.
“I’m coming, baby,” she said. It wasn’t Bay’s voice.
My hand flew to my mouth and I hiccupped a sob. “Momma? Momma!”
The shock of my mother’s sudden reappearance caused my knees to buckle beneath me, and Ewan’s quick grasp of my waist was the only thing that kept me upright. Edina, my mother, the most fabled and feared dragon in all of Thayer, shot through the stormy sky like an immortal asteroid, intent on decimating whatever—or whoever—stood in her path.
The vision was such a departure from everything I knew to be true, from the person who had so genteelly reared me. My mother had always been an egregiously meek person. Weak. A victim.
But the arrow of vengeance that speared toward me was…well…she was a freaking badass dragon who had spent far too long in chains. Who’d been belittled, enslaved, and tortured. Who’d been forced to do a thousand things she regretted, and lived with that regret every minute of every day. A broken creature who’d eventually found peace and forgiveness in her own way.
That peace had been forcibly disrupted when I found my home among the magic and intrigue of Thayer. My mother’s snow-globe world had been shaken when Rowan Gresham discovered me, and when Brandubh attempted to repeat her cruel enslavement with her own daughter. The fragments of my mother’s broken world had spiraled wildly around her, overwhelming her for a while. She had been re-broken, her bone-deep wounds freshly exposed.
But since I last saw her, when she left me to fend for myself with nothing but a vague letter and a poor excuse left behind, she had somehow pieced herself back together. She had found her way through the storm. The dragon that approached was intimidating as hell. Intent. Confident. Terrifying.
The people around us stood witness to my revelation and eventually caught site of the fearsome pair. Brandubh’s sly mouth went slack in bewildered shock…and something else.
It was joy. Joy crossed his features as he comprehended the presence of his ancient pet.
Nausea rippled through my stomach. I was afraid for my mother. For Bay. For me and for Ewan. Brandubh was wicked, and I had personally felt the raw power he wielded. Gresham and I had barely escaped his grasp in the mountainous cavern, and only then because he’d underestimated me. He wouldn’t make that mistake again, and he already knew my mother’s limits.
