Wildfire: A Paranormal Mystery with Cowboys & Dragons

by Mina Khan

  Ayako thundered to her side. She held fast as Lynn washed out her mouth and helped dry her hands and face with paper towels. Finally, she half carried Lynn to the couch and sunk down beside her. “What’s wrong Hana-chan? You seemed okay.”

  Sobs stormed out of Lynn. She held tight to her mother as she cried. Finally, she could breathe again. She still didn’t loosen her grasp. “I’m sorry mama-chan.”

  “About what?”

  Her mother’s cool fingers stroked her hair. Lynn listened to the steady rhythm of heartbeats marching along underneath her head. She wished she could freeze the moment forever. “I should have saved her.”

  Ayako stilled, drew out of her arms. Cold air filled in the space.

  A hand lifted her chin, until mother and daughter stared into each other’s eyes. “You tried.”

  The truth burned her tongue. Scorching her gums, the soft insides of her cheek until she wanted to fling the words out, be rid of them finally. But the other part cowered in fear. She remained silent until the taste of ashes filled her mouth. “Sometimes I think I killed her.”

  Her mother pulled her into a tight embrace. “I know, the Dragon Council fools almost had you convinced.”

  “Maybe they had a reason to believe—

  The hug loosened as her mother pulled back and looked her in the eye. The familiar steely glint was back in place. “I don’t care what those fools believed, I know you didn’t.”

  “But you weren’t there.”

  “True, but I know you.”

  Her steady gaze shone with truth, enveloped Lynn in bone-deep warmth. She nestled in against her mother. “I should have done more that night.”

  “What more could you have done?”

  “I don’t know,” she sniffled. “That’s the thing. I should remember every detail, but I only have these bits and pieces that flash through my mind, make me sick.”

  “Trauma does that.” A soft kiss blessed her forehead, a gentle hand stroked her back. “What do you think Obaa-chan would want?”

  “I don’t know,” Lynn mumbled.

  Ayako laid her head on top of hers. “Do you think she’d want you to live your life full of regret? Do you think she’d want you to try and save her at the expense of your life?”

  “I just feel like such a worthless piece of dragon shit.” Lynn cringed. Her mother considered curse words to be right up there with germs. “Sorry. But I mean, look at my life. I haven’t done anything worthwhile beyond surviving.”

  A sigh puffed across her hair. “What about what you’re doing to help Jen and the people of Paradise Valley?”

  Lynn plucked at her t-shirt. “I’m not sure how much help I’m going to be in that situation.” She couldn’t even figure out what Henry was, how on earth would she fight him?

  Her mother shifted into a more comfortable position. “Why do I feel you didn’t give me the whole story about Paradise Valley?”

  Heat flushed through Lynn. How exactly did you tell your mother about close encounters with two different men? Plus, she hadn’t wanted to add to her mom’s worry. Fine, the story was more than a bit sketchy.

  “Even though I’m not a dragon, I might be of some help,” Ayako said. “But I need all the details.”

  Those words, the need to affirm her non-dragon mother, the need to cement this new, fragile mother-daughter bond, had her nodding. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything.”

  Her mother pushed out of the couch. “How about you tell me everything as we clean up the rest of the apartment?”

  By the time the entire story —from scenting dragon musk at Jen’s fire to her interview with Barton— spilled out, clothes had been packed away into garbage bags, dishes had been wrapped in newspaper and then put in boxes and every surface of the apartment shone. Of course, Lynn had still skirted around several Jack situations. She figured no mother really wanted graphic details of her daughter’s unsuccessful love life. Plus, it was over. No use talking about a guy who didn’t want to be in her life.

  Ayako flopped down on the couch. “I think I could give you a scientific explanation for Henry.”

  Lynn, who’d collapsed on the floor at her mother’s feet, jerked upright. “What?”

  “It’s just a hypothesis, of course.”

  “Mo-m.”

  “Remember we were talking about recessive genes?” Her mother patted the seat next to her.

  Lynn joined her on the couch. “And?”

  “Well, if it worked for us, why not for the Callaghans?”

  “So whoever’s part Callaghan is also part dragon?”

  Ayako nodded. “Possibly, if they got the right gene.”

  “Well, that kind of explains why I’ve been getting almost drunk on dragon essence in Paradise Valley.” She thought of Jack’s womanizing ancestors. “But why didn’t I smell it all the time then?”

  Her mother’s brow pinched in thought. “From what you’ve told me, the musk seems to be triggered by intense emotions, like at the fire or in a confrontation.”

  Her tongue lay thick and swollen in her mouth, but finally the words whispered through her lips. “Jack seems terrified by the idea and doesn’t seem to have a clue about his dragon blood.”

  “Our family —on Obaa-chan’s side— actively tried to marry into dragon blood to keep the trait as strong as possible, but what if the Callaghans didn’t?”

  Tension rocked her back and forth. “Why?”

  “Well, maybe because of lack of opportunity and knowledge, they mated without worrying too much, which eventually faded their dragon abilities.”

  “And somewhere down the road, they forgot.”

  Ayako spread her hands. “Of course, that could also mean that on accident they might have brought in other recessive dragons and/or other traits, creating hybrids with a whole new combination of abilities.”

  Goosebumps rushed her skin as the idea gelled with her memories of Henry. “But Barton didn’t seem to think too highly of Eva’s psychic abilities.”

  “Layers.” Her mother placed one hand on top of the other, building layers in the air. “What if, again unknowingly, they ended up layering the same trait?”

  Lynn pressed a fist to her forehead. “English, please?”

  “Well, dragons can mindspeak, right?”

  Lynn nodded.

  “So, what if they mated with somebody with some psychic abilities, this strengthened the Callaghans’ mental powers, then someone else with similar traits came in later down the line?”

  “Like Eva.”

  “Like Eva or someone else and so on. As a result, the trait got stronger and somewhere along other recessive dragon genes may have been pulled into the mix.”

  “And so we have Henry.” Triumph burst through like fireworks painting the night sky, then faded. “Wait, if Henry could almost control me, why isn’t he having better luck getting people in Paradise Valley to sell to him?”

  Her mother leaned her head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. “Henry’s hold on you broke when Jack interrupted, right?”

  “Yes.” Lynn wondered where her mother was leading. Her pulse ratcheted up. Had Dr. Mom guessed about her and Jack’s weird mental connection?

  “Again, hypothetically speaking,” Ayako said. “Maybe sharing the same genes, or at least some of the genes, makes one family member immune to another.”

  “So Jack can resist Henry.”

  Placing her hand on her knees, Ayako struggled off the couch. “Given what you’ve told me, maybe anybody with Callaghan blood would be resistant, or at least have some level of resistance.”

  Now if she could just call up an army of legitimate and illegitimate Callaghans. Henry would so not be a threat. Lynn gave a weary shake of her head.

  The shrill tones of her cell phone cut the air. Lynn leapt up and ran for her backpack. Fumbling, she pulled out the phone and brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Hi Lynn, it’s me.” Jen’s voice quavered like a bird shivering in the cold.


  “What’s wrong?”

  “Henry’s got Timmy and me.” The words almost got swallowed by a sob.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Whispers in the background.

  Lynn’s dragon clawed at flesh and skin, wanting out.

  “He— he wants you to return to Paradise Valley.” Jen hiccupped. “Now.”

  “Okay. How am I going to contact him once I get there?”

  More whispers filled a long, terrible moment.

  “Hi Lynn.” A smoother, more dangerous voice filed down the line, turning her blood cold. “Don’t make the mistake of calling the police. Come alone. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

  Anger hissed in her breath. “Don’t you dare hurt them.”

  A smug laugh. “Are you really in any position to make threats?”

  She drew in a deep breath. Let it out. “What do you want?”

  “I’ll contact you.” A quick click, and the phone went dead.

  Lynn ran back to the main house to grab her car keys. Her mother fluttered behind, caught up in her old panic. She wanted to stop and comfort her mom, she wanted to say goodbye to her dad, but adrenaline whipped her on. She needed to be in Paradise Valley.

  “Why can’t you just call the police and tell them to take care of it?”

  “He said not to call the police.” Lynn pushed through front door.

  “You don’t have to listen to him.” Her mother sounded near tears. “Is this that mind control thing?”

  Lynn stopped and searched the small shelf in the hall. Where had she put her keys? “No, but I don’t want to rile Henry up even more.”

  “He sounds dangerous,” her mother wailed, following her into the kitchen.

  The keys lay on the kitchen table. Lynn snagged them and turned to face her mother. “Don’t worry, I’ll take a Callaghan with me.”

  “But he told you to come alone.”

  “You just told me not to listen to him.”

  Mother and daughter stared at each other.

  Lynn smiled, not a happy smile but an understanding one. “And you told me that my surviving the fire was a good thing because I was helping Jen and others,” she said. “I have to do this.”

  Ayako sighed, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Be careful.”

  Chapter 30

  Flyers with Timmy and Jen’s smiling faces greeted Lynn from light posts and shop fronts as Lynn drove into Paradise Valley. The word “MISSING” printed in bold block letters. Lynn stopped at the San Angelo Herald.

  She paused by the mail slots and absorbed the hum of activity— the cheerful chatter of several conversations going at once, the constant but discordant clicks of the keyboards and rings of telephones, the rush of people in pursuit of stories. The noise and energy washed over her in a warm welcome.

  The knots inside her loosened a bit. Lynn emptied her overstuffed mail slot into her backpack and made a beeline for Missy’s blonde head.

  As she approached, the cop reporter looked up, then jumped out of her chair to hug her. “You’re back! How’s your dad?”

  “Fine, thanks. What do you know about Jen and Timmy?”

  Sadness shaded Missy’s face. “I’m so sorry, first your dad and now your best friend.” She sighed. “They went missing sometime yesterday. No one got worried, until they failed to return to have dinner with the Jarvis family at six. They tried calling Jen, but no answer. Some kids later found her cell phone in a ditch by the Lone Wolf Bridge and turned it in to the Sheriff.”

  Lynn tugged at her lower lip. “Any suspects?”

  Missy turned and messed around with some papers on her desk. “Just Jen.”

  “What?”

  Missy lifted her chin and shrugged. “Well, the cops haven’t found any evidence of foul play. She could have lost the phone, or chucked it. The car’s gone too. And Timmy was last seen with her.”

  “Crap.” Feeling lightheaded, Lynn sat down in Missy’s chair. “What’s being done?”

  “The Sheriff’s put out a BOLO.”

  Lynn craned her neck. “A what?”

  “Be On the Look Out notice,” Missy explained. “The volunteer fire department, San Angelo police and fire, DPS and community volunteers are all searching.”

  “What about Jack?”

  Missy scrounged up her face in thought. “Can’t say I’ve noticed him, but I’ve also been mega busy.” She shrugged. “He’s bound to be in the thick of things. He always is.”

  That’s exactly what she was worried about. Henry was a Callaghan. Did he want revenge on the family? If so, was Jack in danger? Or had the two been playing her and the rest of Paradise Valley? Doubts picked at her mind.

  Lynn thanked Missy and said goodbye.

  Despite the dread curling her intestines, she headed for Jen’s place. The cottage looked orphaned without her colorful friend. Lynn parked the car and found her cell phone. Turning it silent, she pressed 9-1-1 and kept her finger poised over the send button. Then she slid out of the car and approached the porch with measured steps. She didn’t want to be surprised.

  The smell of dragon musk and old cigarettes stained the air, making the hair along her arms bristle. She stopped and glanced around. Nothing out of the ordinary caught her attention. Finally, she stepped onto porch and marched to the door.

  The sense of danger thickened, but she pushed through it and stared at Jen’s doormat.

  Henry had left her a message.

  The word “welcome” spelled out in cigarette butts.

  Lynn stumbled backwards and almost ran off the porch. At the last moment, her anger kicked in and held her steady. She would beat Henry. She’d get Jen and Timmy back. Somehow, some way. She snapped a picture of the message with her cell phone and emailed it to her newspaper account. Nothing wrong with extra precautions.

  Still holding her phone at the ready, she glanced around again at the late afternoon shadows. Nothing. Sighing, she shrugged her backpack off and found tissues and plastic bags. Then she squatted and collected evidence. Déjà vu hit her, reminding her of a similar moment at Jack’s house. Had Henry been skulking there too? Or had he been on a smoke break in between scheming with Jack?

  Hurriedly, she stuffed everything in her pack, zipped it closed and shouldered it. Then, lurching to her feet, she stared at the door. Did more surprises wait for her inside?

  After a deep breath, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. The familiar sitting room with Jen’s comfy couch and chair, colorful cushions and scatter of magazines seemed tinged with menace. Leaving the door open, she tiptoed through the house.

  She searched through every room, under every piece of furniture. Nothing had been disturbed until she’d arrived on the scene. No surprises, no clues, no more messages. Disappointed, she locked the front door, slipped her phone into the backpack and headed to the kitchen. A cup of tea would help her think as she considered her options.

  Turning on the faucet, she leaned against the sink and watched the rush of water spiral down the drain. Tension sucked her energy just as fast and left her depleted. She washed her hands and put the kettle on the stove.

  Might as well do something useful while she waited for the water to boil. She slumped into the kitchen chair and pulled out the unread mail from her backpack. The first few turned out to be advertisements, and those landed in the trash. The press releases went into a To Be Read pile. Her fingers stopped sorting when she came across a thick manila envelope from the county clerk’s office. The cell phone records. She’d have to compliment Martha’s fast turnaround next time they met.

  Her pulse zipped as she tore open the envelope and pulled out the sheaf of papers. She flipped through them, scanning the entries for Mike Ward’s call. She found several calls made to a San Antonio number. While Hope Development didn’t pop up, it could be someone’s private line. Finally, she found the date she’d jotted down and the number the commissioner had called at 7:05 p.m. Lynn grabbed a pen from her backpack and circled the entry.

&n
bsp; She lugged out the heavy cross directory of the area Jen kept by the phone and searched the listings in Paradise Valley. Her finger stopped as she found the match. The directory listed Katherine Harrington as the owner of the number. The queen of Paradise Valley.

  Adrenaline arrowed through her, similar to the quivering excitement her dragon felt on the hunt, but different. A more intellectual thrill triggered by the name. Recognition that she’d found a crucial link, another piece of the puzzle. But how was Kate linked to Henry and the developers? Lynn slipped the papers back into the envelope and replaced it in the safety of her backpack. Her treasure chest.

  Lynn’s fingers brushed against something cool and soft. Curious, she grabbed the thing and tugged it out. Obaa-chan’s journal from the apartment.

  She stared at the sky blue silk cover and hesitated, not wanting to read her grandmother’s private thoughts. What if she discovered something awful —like she’d disappointed Obaa-chan by her slowness to embrace her inner dragon, her clumsiness in the dojo or air, or in a myriad of other little ways. Or worse, she might have to face all her grandmother’s love and dreams for her and know, in the end, she’d failed.

  The kettle whistled, granting her reprieve from her thoughts. She fixed herself some soothing green tea and headed back to the table. She opened the journal and flipped through until she found the entries from the month of Obaa-chan’s death. She would start with the most recent and work her way backwards. Maybe she’d find some clue to her grandmother’s state of mind, some explanation about what she’d been doing at that warehouse located in Houston’s port area. Not the usual hangout for little old ladies. Even dragon ones.

  Inhaling the fragrant steam, Lynn began reading. Instead of a depressed mind or a delusional one, she found one charged with excitement. Her grandmother had found a young dragon. A misguided dragon needing direction.

  A twinge of jealousy and regret pierced through her. Had her grandmother replaced her? Around that time, she’d been so focused on work and climbing the corporate ladder, she’d cut down on her visits. Could she blame Obaa-chan for finding a substitute? She wrapped her hands around the warm cup. No, even if she’d lived right next door still, Obaa-chan would have taken the stray under her wings. That would be just like her.