Squawk: Beginnings (Book #1)

by Craig Halloran

  The dragon hunter dropped him onto the sofa. Gabe bounced off the couch and hit the floor. Balled up in a fetal position, clutching at his throat, eyes watering, he gulped in mouthfuls of air. He coughed and hacked, fighting for his senses. He took in huge gasps, one right after the other. I can breathe! I can breathe! Thank God, I can breathe!

  “Malak, you have overrun your station!” The Count stared right into his eyes. Her voice was angry and loud. Nostrils flared, hand on her weapon, she continued. “You almost killed the boy! You would have the audacity to commit a murder underneath my own roof? Are you mad?”

  “The boy was eating—”

  With the speed of a striking cobra, Angela drew her weapon and smacked Malak right across the face.

  The burly man staggered backward. He fell hard on his knee. The corner of his mouth bled. His shook his head. With a scowl, fists balled up at his sides, he shot a glare at Angela.

  She pulled back the hammer of her gun and stuck it in his face. “I’d be more than happy to defend myself against the likes of you.”

  Eyes on the barrel, Malak shrank back. His meaty fists opened. Head cast down, he said, “There will be no need for that. Mercy. I have made a mistake.”

  “I don’t recall you being invited back in here to begin with, Malak.” She tucked the gun in her holster. “What compelled you to just barge in here unannounced? That’s the first of your many transgressions. I’m disappointed in you. I should have the guards beat you to a pulp right here. Tell me, what madness possessed you?”

  “A bird arrived.”

  She flung her arm at the window. “I can see that for myself. I don’t need your eyes.”

  In a dejected voice, he said, “I’m aware, but this bird was different.”

  Through clenched teeth, she said, “I saw that myself. Again, Malak, you’ve overstepped your station, and this isn’t the first time. I’m losing confidence in you.” She tipped her chin at Gabe. “I give you this boy to raise like your own. Then you bring him to me in deplorable condition. I’ve seen starving dogs on the streets that look far better. Look at him. He has blisters from his neck to his toes. His belly blossoms from starvation. He’s burnt to a crisp. I wonder how he even moves.”

  Malak’s eyes slid over to Gabe for a moment. There was a shade of guilt in them. It passed. His head hung toward the floor again. “I’ll do better.”

  Sage whispered something into Angela’s ear. She gave an agreeable nod. “No. No, Malak, you won’t. You have dishonored me. My house. My word. I trusted you to care for the boy.” Angela walked behind Malak. “Look at him. You were supposed to nurture the broken young man. Instead, you’ve punished him. Bruised him. I can’t imagine how else you’ve tormented him, but you clearly have. You have failed. Is that what you’d want if Jubal was in the same situation?”

  “No.”

  Angela made her way over to Gabe. She helped him up onto the sofa and rubbed his back. He lightly coughed. “You poor little bag of bones.” She let out a loud sigh. “Malak, you are dismissed. I’ll decide your punishment later. Guards, escort him back to his cove.”

  Rising to his feet, looking at Gabe, Malak said, “Is he not coming with me?”

  “Oh, was my disappointment not clear? Of course not.”

  Malak’s look intensified. With a sneer, he turned, pushed through the guards, and stormed out. The guards closed the doors behind them, leaving Angela, Sage, and Gabe alone.

  Angela picked up a towel from the counter. She tossed it over to Gabe. “Clean up this mess.” She stood by the window, staring up at the buildings where the dominion lived. Her hands were locked behind her back.

  Without hesitation, Gabe dropped to his hands and knees. With the towel, he started wiping up the soda. He was thankful. Delighted. He wouldn’t have to see Malak for a long time, he hoped, but he didn’t have any idea where he’d be staying next. Part of him wanted to thank Angela, but he didn’t have any idea what to say or how to say it. He wiped the soda can and placed it back on the table, having cleaned every drop he’d spilled.

  “Thanks to Malak’s ignorance, I have a dilemma,” Angela said. “I have to find you a new home, Gabe. As you know, I don’t have any children of my own, nor do I want any, so end any fantasies you might have that you’ll be staying with me.”

  Eyes down, he nodded.

  “Gabe, you are special, a boy of promise who needs a second chance. Like your father, there could still be a bright future for you. Don’t get any ideas, though. You hold no more special a place in my heart than any other urchin. I have more important matters to deal with. Keeping order in this scum-ridden city is one of them. It’s the thing that I’m expected to do. It takes much to satisfy all parties. It takes a callous hand.” Staring out the window, she stood poised, still as a statue. “So now the matter of your adoption is at hand. You need suitable mentors who are as worthy of you as you are them. It’s been a long day, however, and I’m out of ideas.”

  Picking up the tray of food from the table in front of the sofa, Sage cleared his throat.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “I could watch over Gabe on a temporary basis.”

  Gabe’s head snapped up, and he caught the man’s deadpan stare. No.

  Sage continued. “At least until you find a better option. I’ll help you sort them out.”

  Angela’s words chilled his bones. “So be it.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Sage’s cove was different than Malak’s. It was a series of small, connected rooms on the first floor of another smaller building near Angela’s headquarters. The floor was covered in rugs of all sorts. One room had a cot and another a bed. There were cupboards, dressers, and a small closet. There was a bathroom. The living quarters had an odd sofa, metal framed and padded with pillows. The last room had a sink, counters, and cabinets. His place was tidy and had few furnishings other than the candles.

  Sitting on an olive rug, Gabe slipped on a black sock. He’d been with Sage for two days. Two very quiet days. Sage spoke little. No greetings. Nothing. He’d seen to it that Gabe cleaned himself up, and he’d even trimmed his hair a little. He’d provided Gabe with pants and shirts, three sets. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but it was far better than what he’d had before.

  Gabe slipped the second sock over his bare foot. Wiggling his toes, he yawned. It was morning. The sun glared through the cracks in the closed shutters that hid the windowpanes.

  What does he have in store for me today? Since he’d been living with Sage, all he’d been doing was cleaning the man’s home from top to bottom—the bathroom sinks and drains, the windows, the countertops.

  He picked up the heavy rugs and beat a few of them on a line outside. In between the bouts of cleaning, Sage made small meals of oats and rice. He had salt-and-pepper shakers, a porcelain canister of butter, boxes of crackers, and meals packed in plastic and cans. Sage even had a small stove top he used to warm the food on. Like the rest of the building, there was a constant hum in his cove.

  Sage came out of the bathroom, rubbing his teeth with his finger. His robes covered him from neck to feet. The cotton linen was a stitched-up fabric that looked too hot to wear in the summer. Beige with green fibers at the seams, it was unique only because it appeared to be something he’d made. Most of what many people wore came from somewhere else. He slipped on a pair of leather sandals. With a nod to Gabe, he headed out the cove’s front door.

  Gabe followed. He hadn’t been outside since he’d come to live with Sage. The solitude was nice. Plus, he didn’t have any desire to run into Malak. The man hated him enough to kill him. He was convinced of that.

  They made their way down the hallway and headed through the double glass doors that led outside. Sage’s long, quick strides were hard to keep up with. The man wasn’t particularly tall, either. The people he passed moved aside. Sage had an air about him—not dangerous but disturbing. Gabe could see the uneasiness in the people’s eyes when they passed by.

  How
did Dad even put up with this guy? He’d say I should find the good in everybody. I can’t sense good or bad in Tight Face.

  They passed Jack. Bucket at his side, he scrubbed the walls. Gabe tried not to look, but it was too late. Jack slung the brush into the bucket. He mouthed the words, I hate you.

  Face forward, Gabe hid his smile. Better you than me, Jack. At least he had a break for the moment, and if he could, he’d make the most of it. He was clean. His belly was full enough, and he was confident more food would come later. At least for that day, he was better off than Jack. What tomorrow might bring he didn’t know, but worrying about the future wouldn’t do him any good. One day at a time, Gabe. One day at a time.

  There wasn’t a whole lot to Newton. It was a big complex, but that was all. Gabe had been over just about every square inch of the parts he was allowed to be in. When the new trek led him in a direction he was more than familiar with, his heart started to race. Sage quickly took the alley steps to the door outside of the dragon den and rapped his fist on it.

  Garland’s familiar face appeared in the portal. His bushy brows rose high as soon as he saw the two of them. Some clicks and clacks sounded on the other side of the stout door, and it swung open.

  Gabe’s nostrils flared. The familiar scent elated him. It was the smell of the dragons. A flood of memories washed over him as he went inside.

  Garland gave him a nod. His face was stern and showed no sign of the joking they’d once shared. He bolted the door shut and resumed his post.

  In stiff strides, Sage led them back into the main section of the dragon den and stood among the cages. The dragons basked underneath their warming lamps. Some were curled up. Others lounged over a piece of wood. Mollie, the dragon who’d won the last tournament, flicked out her tongue and snatched up crickets. She gulped them down. On a closer inspection, Gabe could see that the cages were in decent order but not as good as they should have been. Many of them needed cleaning. Dragon excrement was caked on cage bottoms and coated the lower rims. Dragons were relatively clean, but over time, in such a small space, things would get messy.

  “You and your father’s participation in these matters is missed.” Sage covered his nostrils with his index finger. “Do you think you can handle this?”

  Blinking as if that would help him to clarify that what he heard was true, Gabe said, “I don’t understand.”

  “Clean the cages. Move the dragons. What you used to do. As you can see, things are in disorder, and the dominion has taken notice.” Tapping his foot on the ground, Sage asked, “Are you up for it or not? I’m certain there are plenty of other menial tasks that I can find for you to do while I’m working on your adoption.”

  Gabe said, “No, no. I can do it. I know what to do. I can do it.” He was shaking his head the entire time. One of the last things his father had taught him to do was move the dragons from cage to cage. He’d seen his father do it so many times before that the routine was branded in his brain. Still, he had to be careful. The dragons were always comfortable with people who handled them. Lewis had escaped the last time they’d tried to move him.

  A hair-raising thrill coursed through him. I can do this! Yes, I can!

  “You will have one opportunity to get things right. I’d like to say I’m confident in you, but I don’t know.”

  Sage stared at one of the caged dragons. Its face was pressed against the wires of the cage, and it watched intently. Sage shrank back with a souring face. “And I won’t be here to oversee you.” He sniffed. “I have more important tasks. But be aware: some fingers and toes have been lost recently. Not to mention hunks of flesh. It seems that most don’t have your father’s touch, and we can only hope that it’s instilled in you.”

  Gabe started to drift among the cages, feeling as if he was walking on air. The dragon den was home to him.

  “Gabe, do you hear me?”

  He nodded. His eyes were searching the cages. He shuffled around the pens, looking high and low. Half were empty. Half were filled with dragons. He knew all of them, but one in particular was missing. Squawk. He made his way around the circle of cages again. A core of cages was stacked in the middle, a high row and a low row. Across from them was the outer ring with cages jammed together at his knees and chest. His heart began to pound in his ears. Squawk wasn’t in any of them. The tiny dragon was gone.

  CHAPTER 41

  “Is this all of the dragons?”

  “You would know better than me,” Sage said. “Dragons are not my forte. Now listen, Gabe. If you do well, you will stay. But mind yourself. I can’t predict when the dominion comes in and out. If they show up when you’re working, avoid them. Don’t speak unless spoken to.” He started to back out of the den of cages. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Do your best to not disappoint me.”

  Nodding, Gabe said, “I will.”

  “Are you certain that you can handle this alone? I can bring someone in to assist you?”

  “No. No.” Gabe grabbed a small shovel that hung from a peg jutting out of one of the support beams. “I’ll just start with the smaller ones and see how it goes.”

  “A wise plan.” Sage exited, sealing Gabe inside with the dragons.

  He let out a long breath. Even though the air was stuffy, he could breathe for the first time in weeks. Part of him was elated. Part of him was sad. Where was Squawk? The question ate at him. The joy of being reunited with his one and only friend had been stifled. Dread mixed with his sense of freedom. His mind tried to sort things out. He got to work.

  He started with the bottom cages, opening the doors and scraping them out one by one. The shovel scraped over the metal floor. Whoever had been cleaning the cages had been doing a horrible job. On his knees, he shoveled the dry excrement into a wooden bin. After an hour, he had it filled to the brim. He picked it up and took it over to the well of waste. He lifted the heavy lid. The foul air within felt like a slap in the face. “Shew! I didn’t miss that.” He emptied his bin and dropped the lid shut again. “Didn’t miss that at all.”

  Grabbing a bristle brush from a cabinet wedged in between the cages, he began the next tedious task. He worked hard to scrub the thin layers of waste into dust. He brushed it into a dustpan with a small whisk. Pan by pan, he refilled his bin. He thought about Jack and all of the walls he had scrubbed. This smelled worse but was far better than working with the sun beating down on his back. Plus, he was used to the smell. Unless he opened the huge waste well. No getting used to that.

  He worked hours on end, expecting Sage to come back any moment. He didn’t. Gabe’s stomach rumbled. He didn’t have any water or food. He worked through it, cage after cage, making the most of his solitude. Something about the company of the dragons kept his mind at ease. Their scraping and shuffling kept him company.

  Once he finished cleaning out all of the empty cages, he leaned back against a wooden post and closed his eyes. From there, he envisioned his father doing what he did best—smiling and working with the dragons.

  I miss you, Dad. I miss you so much.

  A swell erupted within. He cried loud and hard. All of his grief came out. His sobs filled the room. Tears soaked his shirt.

  A steady rap on the door caught his ear. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Sage must have returned and heard him. Up on his feet, he made his way to the door.

  The rapping started again.

  Gabe cocked his head. “Hello?”

  “Are the dragons out or in?” Garland said from the other side of the door.

  “In.”

  “I’m coming in, whipping post.” The door creaked open. Garland slipped through the crack and pushed it shut. His eyes were wet. The small man hugged Gabe fiercely. “You have a friend, whipping post. You have a friend. And we both lost a dear one in Sully. I’m sorry.”

  Even though Garland was little more than four feet tall, his arms had the strength of a bear. Garland’s body shuddered against his. Gabe hugged him back.

  The hug lasted seconds before Gar
land broke it off. He pinched the tear ducts over his nose. “Well, you’ve really got yourself into a bind now, haven’t you?”

  “I suppose I’ll have the station of being the dominion dung cleaner.”

  “No one knows dung better than you do.” Garland felt the fabric on Gabe’s sleeve. “That’s some fine linen. Keep it clean.” The dwarf waddled deeper into the den. He made his way to the edge of the circle of cages. “You know, I peek in on them from time to time. I don’t like them. I know they want to eat me.”

  “They don’t want to eat you. Why would anyone want to eat you? I’m certain there are soles on shoes that would taste better.”

  “I’d hope so.” Garland scratched the curly whiskers on his face with two fingers. “But they do want to eat me, don’t they? It’s because I’m small. See how they look at me? They’re hungry.”

  “They’re too small to eat people. Big rats maybe. People, even small ones, no.” Gabe waded into the room. He grabbed the dragonry gloves sitting on top of one of the cages and slipped them on. “It’s time to move them. Want to help?”

  With big eyes, Garland said, “No!”

  “It will be easy. You just have to open the doors and close them as I put them in. We’ll start with one of the little ones. They can’t even bite hard enough to make a mark.”

  “The hell they can’t! One fella lost the tip of his finger. Another a toe since Sully has been gone. What kind of fool wears sandals into the den? No, thank you.” Suddenly, Garland’s head twisted around. His body followed. “Company.” He rushed back to the door. “Bad company.”

  “Garland, wait.”

  The dwarf closed the door behind him.

  Gabe looked around. He didn’t hear anything. What’s got into him?

  He made his way over to the door that led into the arena. It was locked from the other side. Altogether, there were three exits in the den—the arena door, the one to the room where the eggs would hatch, and the one Garland had gone through.