by Mina Khan
His throat ached, protesting the lack of moisture. Jack lumbered out of the pack and snagged the flask. He fumbled with the top, finally unscrewed it, and tipped back his head. Cool, wonderful water ran down his throat, his skin. He splashed some of it on his face and head. Then, grinning like a wet fool, he just sat there on the rock like it was the comfiest recliner. Somewhere a mourning dove cooed.
Life was good. He didn’t need the treasure. He didn’t need any more riches because financially, he had enough. What he needed was another type of treasure. Lynn. And she was not at the top of the hill. He almost started back down, but he remembered his father’s words that whatever was up there was his to protect. Well, he wouldn’t fail his dad this time.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself straight and started climbing again.
Almost to the top, Jack noticed an outcrop of rock that resembled the head of a dragon frozen in mid-roar. He chuckled. Everything reminded him of dragons. Yet something about the rock caught his attention and ignited his intuition. He pulled out the map from his backpack and looked it over. Bingo! Using the axe, he hacked his way through the thorny underbrush, and found a dark opening hidden beneath the ledge.
Someone had tried to fill the hole in with rocks and crumbling mortar. He attacked the plug with his axe, tapping at the stone with the back of the head. By the time he’d dismantled the barrier, the banana suit and hat lay discarded in a heap.
He stared down into a man-sized hole in the dry earth and caliche. No answers floated up. He could make out some details in the dim interior. The passage stretched downward like a long throat waiting to swallow.
Blinking, Jack looked up into the clear blue sky. The sun was already rolling toward the horizon. He pushed his glove top out of the way and glanced at his watch. Four in the afternoon. His stomach growled in hunger reminded of the lateness of the day.
His gaze returned to the inky blackness of the hole. Forget dragons, what about the native West Texas frights like scorpions, rattlesnakes, and spiders? He stumbled back. He could return the next day and finish the exploration. Then he glanced down at his truck parked way below. Or not. Jack trudged to his backpack and found the flashlight and the rope. Good thing he’d brought along a good bit. He tied the rope around the nearest large boulder, double knotted it, and tied the other end around his waist. Then, clutching the lit flashlight in one hand, he lowered himself into the opening.
He rappelled down, using the dirt walls of the shaft to steady himself, past crooked roots sticking out of the earth and striations of rocks. Dust rained down on his head, slipped under his clothes. The grittiness made his skin itch like mad. Jack grasped the rope tighter and tried to ignore all distractions.
Finally his boots touched ground. He looked up, the hole framed a circle of West Texas sky. A desperate longing, for light and fresh air, tore through his lungs and almost sent him scrabbling back up. Swallowing the panic, Jack let go and untied the rope from his waist.
So, he stood in a dirt tube. An old mine shaft or well? Whatever, he was stuck at the end of the road. Now what?
The ground seemed to slope. Nosing around with his boots, Jack discovered another opening at the base. He pressed his back into a wall and lowered himself, letting his feet slide along the tilt. He’d have to lie down on his back to get through. Momentum carried him off and bounced him into another tunnel. He wiggled and slid forward. Gravel and rock dug through his clothes into his skin. He ignored their sharp bite as well as the growing sense of doom. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Would he make it out alive?
Just as he’d decided to throw himself an all-out pity party, the new tunnel widened. Jack curled into a sitting position, then struggled upright. He dusted himself off as best as he could and looked around at his surroundings. He stood in a cave, which opened to other caves in different directions. Stalagmites and stalactites formed luxurious solid drapes and twisting spires, frozen butterflies and gothic icicles.
He turned off the flashlight. The cave and its fantastic architecture glowed with a soft luminescence. The quiet trickling of water reached his ears. Tightening his hold on the metal barrel of the flashlight, Jack followed the sound. He stopped at every turn to scrape out an X on the wall to his right. The thought of defacing the natural caverns didn’t settle well with him, but the idea of being lost underground seemed a tad more disturbing.
After many twists and turns, he emerged into a larger cave, rounded with a great pool of water at its center. Water ran off a high ledge and down a wall into the pool, which narrowed at the opposite end and meandered out a smaller tunnel. A cobweb of light danced on the smooth, green surface.
Jack tipped back his head and studied the dome. A million little perforations let in light. Cracks among the rocks outside? Tension tightened his neck. How fragile were the walls? Could he be buried alive in the next moment?
He glanced back at the tranquil pool. The light swooped and peaked in a definite pattern. Not natural, someone had put in a lot of thought and work to create just the right effect. Breathing easier, Jack walked around the perimeter of the pool, careful to stay near the wall where it was dry and less slippery. The moisture in the air made it a damp seventy degrees or so. He sniffed. The musty smell was gone too.
The path curved and as he rounded the bend, he saw another cave opening. At the far end, he could just decipher something large and ghostly white. Jack flicked on the flashlight.
Bones. Bones bleached white by time formed a hulking skeleton, half-buried in a drift of scales. Shimmering scales, twins to the one in the library. Silence hovered in the air as possibilities multiplied within his mind. Jack stepped closer, reached out a hand and ran his palm over one smooth surface. He angled himself and pushed between two of the ribs. It felt like standing inside a giant bird cage. His heart ached, seeing the truth at last.
All around him, the bones glistened. Large bones, small bones, narrow ones and flat ones forming the outline of a dinosaur-like creature. Except there were the wing bones to consider. Dragon. Lynn’s questions about the scale in the library now made sense.
Touching this ridge and that curve, he stood silent inside the remains of a real dragon.
The last full-blood in the family.
Great, great grandpa Callaghan.
Chapter 28
Jen parked El Burro in front of Grandma Edith’s house and tapped the horn twice.
In response, the front door flew open and Timmy tore down the path to the car. Arms, legs, muffler and backpack flailed in all directions. Brenda stood in the doorway smiling at her son’s hurry and mouthed, “Thank You.”
Answering with a grin, Jen leaned across back to unlock the door behind her. Tommy climbed in. She twisted around to make sure he’d buckled in, all safe, before starting the car.
Many cheery shouts of goodbye punctuated the air and heralded their leaving.
“Ready for our date?” Jen inquired of her temporary charge. The Jarvis family planned to clean up the burnt shell of their house and didn’t want to drag their son through the destroyed wreck. So she’d offered to keep Timmy for the day.
“Oh yeah!” Timmy’s voice vibrated and rose like the whine-bark-yelp noises made by one of those super hyper terriers. “Are we going to Kids’ Kingdom Park? Can we go? Please? Please.”
Looked like she was in for a super exciting time. “Aye, aye Captain.”
As soon as they were out of sight of the house, Timmy pulled off his knit cap with a pompom on top and tossed it to the front. “This is so babyish.”
“I don’t know, I think it makes you look cute. Cute enough to kiss.” She puckered up and made smoochy noises.
“Miss Jen!”
A glance in the rearview mirror revealed the boy’s face had turned the purplish red of a ripe prickly pear fruit.
Laughter bubbled out of her. She pointed the car toward San Angelo and sped up. Jimmy reeled off lists of things he hoped to do and places he really wanted to go. Yup, there’d be plenty
of options.
As they neared the narrow Lone Wolf Bridge, she slowed down. Another casualty of the many fires plaguing the area. The charred markings still on the frame and rails of the bridge filled her with sadness. What kind of rage led people to such meaningless destruction?
Close to the end of the bridge, Jen stepped on the accelerator. The rapid-fire ringing of a bicycle bell jangled in her ears. A blur of salt and pepper passed her.
Then time slowed to a series of freeze frames.
An arm swung out to the left as did the bike.
Ice cold fear wrapped around her, like something dangerous had slipped inside the car and taken control. A continuous scream filled her head. Clutching the steering wheel, Jen jammed her foot down on the brake.
Instead of stopping, the engine rumbled and the car bucked forward. Shit.
A dull thud shook the car. Her airbag exploded. Her feet scrabbled. This time she found the brake.
For a moment, Jen sat still, breathing in the sharp, biting odor of gun powder brought tears to her eyes. The wailing scream seemed to be coming from the backseat. Oh God, Timmy. She twisted around.
Eyes scrunched shut, mouth open wide, the boy wailed.
Jen backed up the car slowly, parked and ran around to the rear door. She fumbled with his seatbelt, managed to hit release and pulled Timmy into her arms. She hugged him tight and spoke soft words of calm until he became quiet.
“Do you hurt anywhere?”
Timmy sniffled, but shook his head.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
“I’m so sorry, Timmy.” She let him go and stood to stare at the still bundle of clothes and human on the road in front of her car. The mangled bike lay a little bit further. What have you done? Madre de Dios, her conscience actually had a voice. “I’ve got to check on the man.”
Timmy scrambled after her, managing to latch onto one of her legs. “Who is he?”
Lynn shrugged as she dragged herself and the boy forward. “I’m not sure.” He looked like one of the vagrants she’d seen hanging around downtown.
As they drew closer, the stink of stale sweat, urine and alcohol assaulted her. Definitely one of the homeless winos. Still a life, a human being. A whisper inside her head. She tried to pry the child off her leg. “Why don’t you wait in the car?”
Wide-eyed, Timmy shook his head. “Where’d he come from?”
Step closer. The siren call of an invisible force grabbed her, urged her forward.
Jen sighed and straightened, then continued her slow progress. “I don’t know. Maybe he’d been fishing under the bridge and rode his bike up from there.”
They stood over the wretched form in silence.
“Now what do we do?” Timmy whispered.
Jen squatted next to the man. “Let me check his pulse. Then we’ll take him to the hospital.”
Timmy sidled next to her, peering down.
Her fingers closed around a grimy, warm wrist.
Eyes popped open. A startling cool, gray gaze bored into her own, reminding her of stormy winter skies.
The wrist tore from her grasp and flew toward the boy. The other hand flew out from beneath the coat. A whirlwind of flesh and cloth.
Timmy yelped as fingers clinched like handcuffs.
Jen stared at the struggling boy and then at the gun now pointed at her.
“Good to see you, Jen.”
Henry’s voice. A whisper left her lips, “Madre de Dios.”
Chapter 29
Burdened with cleaning supplies, Lynn followed her mom up the stairs to Obaa-chan’s apartment. Her planning had paid off and she wouldn’t be the first to step inside. Dread had eased a bit, but grief and loss still lodged inside.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Her mother called over her shoulder as with a quick twist of the key she unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“Reference books on mythological creatures,” Lynn said clattering across the last step and onto the landing.
“Dragons?” Her mother flicked on the lights.
“Dragons and others.” Lynn fixed her gaze on the maroon and yellow patterned carpet as she stepped inside and shut the door.
“What kind of others?” Ayako strode over the bookcase and stopped.
“I’ll know it when I read the description.” Lynn’s gaze traveled over a mass of photographs arranged on the wall across. Most were of her at different ages, a scattered few of other family members. Finally, she settled on a photograph of Obaa-chan and herself at Lost Maples State Park. Two sweaty, red-faced grinning fools framed by a breathtaking canvas of fall colors. Totally oblivious that a month later Obaa-chan would be gone.
A sob caught in her throat. She padded to the picture and caressed the cool glass with shaky fingers.
Ayako came and stood next to Lynn, pulling her into a gentle one-armed hug. “Are you okay?”
Lynn nodded, taking a deep breath. Her mother’s soft honeysuckle scent soothed her nerves. “I just miss her.”
“I miss her too.” Her mother smiled at Lynn’s quick, sidelong glance. “I loved her in my own way and she loved me as much as she could.”
The question, always inside her, elbowed out. “Why didn’t you two get along?”
Ayako went still, as still as the photographs facing them. “I disappointed her.”
“How?”
“By not being a dragon.” Lifting a finger, she skimmed the dust of a frame. This one held a picture of three generations— Obaa-chan, Ayako and Lynn as a baby. “But it’s okay, I think I made up for it by giving birth to you.”
Heat peppered Lynn’s skin. The heat of shame and guilt sunk her head low on her shoulders, but she pushed more words out. “How did I end up a dragon? I mean if you aren’t and dad isn’t…”
A pretty laugh sang through the air, unwinding the twisted, knotted tension. “I agreed to go out with your dad when he first asked because he was as un-Japanese as could be and I thought that’d upset both my parents.” She shook her head. “You’re a good child. I, on the other hand, was a pain.”
After a soft glance in her direction, Ayako continued. “I almost dumped your dad, when Obaa-chan not only liked John, but actually advocated for him to your grandfather. Of course, Obaa-chan could sniff out dragon blood, no matter how hidden.”
“Hidden dragon blood?” Curiosity ramrodded Lynn’s spine.
“Recessive genes. Your dad comes from one of the Germanic dragon families.”
“What? How come I never knew this?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, your father is a very laidback kind of a guy. To him, being part dragon is just like being part German. He doesn’t think about such things. Just accepts it and goes on with life.” Ayako shrugged. “I’m sure if you asked him, he’d be happy to tell you all about it.”
Lynn rolled her eyes. “It’d be like one of his fishing stories. The dragons will keep getting bigger and fiercer every other sentence.”
Mother and daughter, leaned closer, laughter shaking through them.
Another thought occurred to Lynn. “Wait, what made you change your mind and not dump him?”
Her mother blushed, turning cherry blossom pink. “Somewhere along the way I’d fallen in love with him.”
The words fisted around Lynn’s heart. Somewhere along the way, somehow, she’d done the same. Holy wasabi, she’d fallen for Jack and fallen hard. She pressed a hand to her lips, remembering their kisses.
“I realized dumping him would be as your grandmother would have said: Cutting off your nose to spite your face.”
A giggle sprinted out of Lynn. “She had a saying for every occasion.”
Smiling, her mother nodded. “The woman did like getting the last word.”
Then she turned herself and Lynn back toward the bookcase. “Come on, there’s work to do.”
Lynn dragged over some empty cardboard boxes. “I want anything on mythology. Any type of mythology.”
They sorted the books
in piles. Mythology, anything unusual and interesting, Japan-related, and the giveaway pile. At the end of a good hour, Lynn sat back on her haunches, smiling. “I’d forgotten how much she loved those romance novels.”
Her mother laughed. “The patients in my ward will be tickled pink to get their hands on these. Even the guys read them.”
Each of them grabbed a book from the mythology pile.
“I’m looking for a creature that can do mind control,” Lynn said, settling into a cross legged pose.
After an hour of leafing through books, Lynn stood and stretched, popping her spine. She’d found no clue regarding Henry.
Her mother held up a hand. “A little aid, please.”
Grasping her hand in hers, Lynn helped her mom off the floor. Ayako bent forward, a hand on her back. “Growing old is a pain.” She looked down at the heap of books they’d just worked through. “Are you sure none of what we found fits your creature?”
They’d come across vampires and Brazilian water creatures, extraterrestrial beings, and Japanese goblins.
“He’s not my creature.” Lynn tucked a loose curl behind an ear. “And no, nothing fit.”
Ayako made a disgusted noise, followed by a shrug. “Why don’t you tell me more about this thing as we sort your grandmother’s clothes?” She shuffled off toward the bedroom.
Lynn stood still, unable to move. The air thickened and boiled like soup. She struggled to breath. The room had been Obaa-chan’s sanctuary. Every afternoon and night she’d disappeared into it to catch up on her beauty sleep.
It’d been easy to pretend Obaa-chan had been napping in the other room as they sorted the books. Now, she couldn’t lift her feet and step across the threshold. She couldn’t face the lie.
Her dinner churned in her stomach in a great tsunami of nerves and liquid. It rushed upwards. Lynn dashed to the kitchen sink and retched out her guts.
