by Angie Fox
He was hard to see through all the foliage, and he was definitely moving faster than me. Thorns tore at my skin, and I raised my arms to keep them away from my face.
“So right here. This is where I was when I heard the noise,” Pirate said, invisible in the tangle.
“Great.” I had to get out of here.
“And this is where I went.”
I heard a rustle up ahead and prayed it wasn’t too far because, darn it, I was not a camping type of girl and this? Well, it kind of counted. “Pirate, where are you?”
“Here!” He said, as I cleared one last bush that tried to snag my eye. When I emerged from the mess, my entire body itching, I found him next to a large, ornate garden gate.
It was designed to look like a spider web, with intricate iron bars spread from the center. It was beautiful, really, if you discounted the squik factor. I wasn’t a fan of spiders.
My necklace warmed against my throat.
Tall stone walls stretched out on either side. We’d somehow lost the path. Only a cleared patch of dirt led into this isolated part of the estate.
And then, briefly, I caught a glimpse of her—a pale woman among the trees.
“Pirate, look!” I hissed.
I didn’t know if she was a ghost. She certainly wasn’t a wedding guest.
“Where?” Pirate asked, wriggling through a hole in the gate.
“Right in front of you!”
She paused, watching us and a chill went up my spine.
“I don’t see anything,” Pirate said, dashing right toward her.
“Watch out!” I yelled as he ran right through her.
“What?” he asked, spinning around, scattering leaves.
In the blink of an eye, the woman vanished.
Pirate could always see ghosts. He made buddies with them. A ghost had taught him how to play Scrabble for goodness sake.
My breath caught in my throat. “You never saw her.” It was more of a statement than a question, but holy h-e-double-hockey-sticks. What did it mean that I was the only person who could?
I wanted nothing more than to leave the way I came. Instead, I tugged at the latch on the gate. It was stiff, locked. Until it loosened under my fingers and clicked open. I tried to ignore the ominous creak as I stepped through. The garden was dense back here, almost jungle-like. I scanned the thick vegetation for another glimpse of the woman.
The afternoon was warm, but I felt chilled to the bone.
“This way,” Pirate said, leading me toward the grouping of trees where I’d seen the woman. Thorny vines climbed the thick trunks, their branches brushing my head as I passed underneath.
“Hello?” I called.
Insects screeched and the air felt thick and heavy.
Pirate snerfed. “Ain’t no one out here but us.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.”
He picked up his pace. “I’d been guarding this spot. I sent Flappy to find you.”
So that’s why we’d had a dragon at the window. Too bad Flappy couldn’t talk.
I double-checked my switch stars, keeping a hand on them for good measure. But I didn’t see the woman again. I wondered if she saw me.
A few moments later, we came to an old tower, made from the same black stone as the house. It reminded me of a misplaced castle turret. There was a wooden door at the bottom and narrow windows on the first two levels. Rusted metal spikes jabbed from the windowsills and from the tower itself.
“I like to get into the mind of my prey,” Pirate explained, wriggling into a space near the bottom of the door. “And if I was running from me, this is where I’d go.”
“Be careful.” He was going to get stuck.
In the second it took me to think that, he was already inside. “I was sniffing around on the first floor,” he said, his voice muffled, “Cause, you know, I’m good at that, when I realized whatever I had was gone. Not my fault. Sometimes I like to let them off the hook.”
I glanced around, to make sure we were truly alone. It was hard to tell with the thickness of the trees, and the shadows they cast over the garden.
“It’s in here,” Pirate said from inside.
I yanked on the door.
It wouldn’t budge. I pushed harder to make sure.
Nothing.
“Is there another way in?” I asked, keeping an eye out as I made a lap around the structure. It was slow going what with the underbrush and the vines snaking across the ground and up the tower.
“Come on, Lizzie,” he prodded, as if his doggie time were valuable.
“Chill out, Rapunzel.” I didn’t find any other doors or breaks in the stone. “And what you wanted to show me… You see it inside, right?” No use killing myself getting in if Pirate was leading me on a wild goose chase.
“It’s right here,” he said, as if I were purposely holding things up.
“Come on out.” I didn’t like him being alone with something that could be evil.
“No.”
Cripes. “Hold on a sec.” I was tempted to hit the door with a switch star, but there had to be another way. The lock was antique, valuable. The same probably went for the door itself.
I’d have to levitate, which I hated. I hadn’t done it much, and I wasn’t all that good. Still, I was a demon slayer, and I wasn’t about to wuss out. I closed my eyes and focused on the power I held inside. I felt its intensity, touched the white-hot spark of it, and willed myself off the ground.
My wedge sandals barely left the black soil.
What the heck?
Sure, I’d only been a demon slayer for a year. And I’ve mostly, okay always, used that power to break my falls. But if I couldn’t muster enough spark to lift off the ground, I was in trouble.
Pirate wriggled his head back out of the tower. “What’s the matter? Did you gain weight?”
“No,” I snapped. At least I didn’t think so. And it shouldn’t make a difference anyway. Sure, I was enjoying California cuisine as much as the next person, but, “go back inside. Stop watching me.”
I focused again, clearing my head of everything but the searing light of my power, my innate strength, my goodness, my ability to rise up off the ground.
Now.
This time, I didn’t even get a fizzle.
Holy Mother.
A sliver of dread ran down my spine. Something was wrong with me.
I braced my hands on my hips. I was compromised. But I couldn’t imagine what had happened or how it had started. We hadn’t needed my powers much in the last month.
My limbs felt light, the warm garden air, suffocating. I stared up at the top of the tower. Way, way up.
Get it together. I took one deep breath, then another, when strange tickling sensation settled on the back of my neck. It was almost as if someone—or some thing—was watching me. I drew a switch star and spun around.
“Ha!”
There was only a shadowy garden.
Right.
I scrubbed a hand over my jaw. I didn’t know what to think, but I had to believe I could at least count on my demon slayer senses.
“Anybody there?” As if they’d reveal themselves now.
I waited a moment, trying to detect something—anything unusual. I couldn’t escape the idea that there was more than I was seeing. But when I searched, I came up with…I didn’t know.
There was no harsh grasp of evil, no terrifying chill of imps or the possessed. Just trees, more trees, and a little niggling in the back of my head.
Sweat trickled down my neck and between my breasts. It could have to do with this house, or even an entity following us from our last adventure. Still, I’d always counted on my demon slayer danger detector, and it wasn’t going off. Yet.
I was uneasy all the same.
My emerald necklace felt heavy around my neck. It wasn’t morphing, which was both good and bad.
“Hello!” Pirate’s head popped over the edge of the roof, nearly giving me a heart attack. Then I saw his front
legs and his shoulders. There wasn’t much more to him.
“Get away from that edge,” I ordered. If he didn’t watch it, he was going to fall right off.
I felt a cold, wet nose on my shoulder and about jumped two feet. I turned, ready to do battle, and found Flappy, who simply lowered his head and peered up at me, all innocent-like.
He knew what he was doing.
“I thought dragon noses were supposed to be warm,” I said, rubbing some heat back into my shoulder. I don’t know why I’d assumed that. Maybe because of the fire belching.
Flappy nudged me again, this time on the knee, effectively shoving me into a thorny vine. “Ow. Quit it!” I didn’t have time to pet him or talk to him or do whatever the creature wanted right now.
I looked back up to Pirate, who had retreated a bit from the edge. Thank goodness.
Flappy caught me in the back of the neck with his wet snout, sending a chill straight down to my toes. “That’s it!” I spun around to shoo him away.
“You don’t have to levitate,” Pirate called down, like an impatient teacher, “you only have to climb onto a dragon.”
Sure. Piece of cake. Riding on dragon back was like strapping on to one of those mechanical bull rides at a country bar—gut wrenching and uncomfortable, with a good chance of ending up on the ground.
Maybe I didn’t care so much what Pirate had found.
The dragon lowered his head, hope shining in his big, green eyes.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” I grabbed hold of the nubby spikes on the beast’s neck and hoisted a leg over his back.
These two were going to be the death of me.
“Fly slow,” I said, as if I actually expected him to listen. “No clowning around.”
I’d barely settled in when Flappy took off like a shot. My stomach settled in somewhere around my knees as I held on for my life.
He bucked and thrust with every beat of his wings. It was like riding a spastic Tasmanian Devil. He was going to throw me. Flat onto the ground. I knew it.
He gave one last lurch, and I said a prayer of thanks when Flappy landed hard on the stone roof of the tower. I half slid, half fell off, my body shaking. I bent over, hands on my knees as I tried to recover.
“Great job, Flappy!” Pirate leapt past me, as the dragon snorted and whipped his head. He shoved his snout against my hip and I nearly fell over.
“Yes. Well done. You didn’t kill me.” This time.
I waited for my stomach to settle and my head to clear. I looked over the edge, trying to see where we were, but the trees were still too tall.
Funny. I turned, trying to figure out exactly where this place was. That’s when I realized this was no tower at all. It was an old observatory. I looked up to the blue sky then back down to the copper dome fastened to the center of the roof. It lay closed, bleeding green patina onto the stone, but I could see where it opened to the night sky.
There was a yawning trap door next to it that Pirate had obviously used. “Lead the way, Kemosabe.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. Pirate scrambled down a set of spiraling wrought-iron stairs with me close behind.
The smell of old brick and dust assaulted me as we pounded down to a landing that housed a gorgeous bronze telescope. Holy tomatoes. Yes, it was dusty. And sure, it was old, but the thing was in perfect condition and still pointed at the sky. Or in this case, the copper dome above.
A sturdy iron crank was attached to the workings of the dome. I was tempted to try to open it, but with my luck, I wouldn’t get it closed again. It would be a shame to ruin such a fine instrument with rain or weather.
“That’s not what I came to show you,” Pirate said, still at the steps.
“Right.” I found it fascinating all the same.
Below the observatory floor, the tower consisted of a circular room with a staircase. We wound down two more levels. With every step, the air became more stuffy and warm.
The shadows lengthened, as the light from the upper windows grew scarcer. At last, we came to the ground floor with the door.
I stopped a few steps short of the bottom.
Hooded statues lined the walls, their robes, their fingers, carefully detailed. Except their faces were blank stone. Some of the statues gripped daggers. Others clutched bowls, which held the ashes of incense.
It was strangely silent inside. Everything was shrouded in shades of gray. Pirate breathed heavily next to me, and I could barely hear the birds outside.
In the center of the floor, was a thick stone medallion. Scrolled with…my breath caught in my throat…it looked like the dark mark.
“See?” Pirate said next to me. “It was on your hand. The devil’s mark. And now it’s here on the floor.”
Almost. Certainly too close for comfort.
“Let’s not panic,” I said to Pirate, and myself.
I glanced behind me. Habit. Before crouching to take a closer look. I ran my fingers over six identical swirls and in the middle of what looked to be a burst of fire.
The dark mark that had been etched into my skin had been emblazoned with three swirls. See? Different. I hoped. Also, these marks were not as tight. Each line on this mark ended with the curved, planetary symbol.
I traced my finger over one. “See this? It’s the symbol for Pluto, the planet of death and rebirth.”
“Pluto’s not a planet,” my dog said.
“It was when I was a kid,” I said, standing. “Certainly when this place was built.” I paused, trying to think of what it could mean. Pluto was also god of the underworld. It was also the symbol of hidden power and obsession. Transformation. Pirate followed the path of my fingers with his nose. “Don’t sniff it,” I murmured.
He jerked his head up. “Why? This is research.”
“Yes, but we don’t know what this is.” I touched the emerald at my neck. It was warm, yet strangely lifeless at my touch.
“We need to show Grandma.” And Dimitri, when he arrived tonight.
In the mean time, I took a few pictures with my phone.
Pirate sneezed every time my flash went off.
“Don’t mention this to anyone else,” I told him.
He nodded. “You know I don’t like to share our business.” He tilted his head. I could almost see the wheels spinning. “I’ll have Flappy stand guard.”
Right. “Because a dragon standing outside a tower isn’t at all suspicious.”
He didn’t get the irony.
Still, Flappy was the best we had. He was loyal, good at guarding things, and he wasn’t drinking my mom’s tea. All three were plusses in my book.
I tried to open the door on the ground floor level, but there was no way to unlock it from the inside.
“As soon as Grandma sobers up, we’ll get her out here,” I said as we climbed the stairs. Lord knew how we’d get her inside.
Pirate missed a step. “You mean she’s not watching her sandwiches?”
“Focus,” I told my dog.
Flappy managed to get us down from the tower, with my dog whooping the whole way. He was on cloud nine. I was less so as we headed back to the house.
I didn’t know what we’d found, but I didn’t like it. I needed things to be normal—well as normal as they could be—for one week. Was that too much to ask?
Apparently so.
When we got back to the house, we found Sidecar Bob at the Steinway, belting out Only The Good Die Young like he was at a piano bar.
He’d slapped a few new stickers onto his wheelchair and had crammed a pint of Southern Comfort into the cup holder. His long gray hair stuck out in tufts from his ponytail.
“I thought boys didn’t come to tea parties,” I said, tugging on his ponytail.
“I crashed,” he said, grinning.
He had five cups lined up on the piano. I was glad to see at least one was filled with nickels, pennies, and quarters.
Meanwhile, my wedding tea party attendees had pushed the couches, chairs, and tables to the s
ide of the room. Some witches were actually napping on them. Mom was dancing in a motley circle with at least a dozen Red Skulls. She’d taken off her shoes, wedding reception style, and was wearing Grandma’s yellow bow in her hair.
I stopped for a second. It was truly a sight to see. I couldn’t help but grin. If this was how my reception turned out, I’d be glad.
Or maybe I was just high on life after almost falling off a dragon. Twice.
I backed up toward Bob, who was blowing kisses at the end of his song.
“Hey,” I said, before he started in on another one, “have you guys warded for demons?”
He tisked. “It’s the first thing we do. Now go act like a bride. Have fun. You know what fun is, right?”
I gave him a saucy smile. “Yes, but Dimitri isn’t here yet.”
He responded with a cheery rendition of AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long.
Ah, well, it’s always good to have crazy musicians rooting for you.
In the meantime, Mom spotted me and waved for me to join in.
I walked on over and gave her a hug instead. She smelled like a case of champagne. “I’m beat,” I said into her ear, hoping she could hear me. “But thank you so much for the tea party with my friends. It was magic.” Literally.
She tried to turn the hug into a dance, but I kissed her on the cheek and headed for the stairs. After a few steps, I stopped. I didn’t know where my room was.
My mom seemed to realize it at that exact moment as well because she broke away from the group and took my hand, dragging me out into the foyer like we were school kids.
At least it wasn’t as loud out here.
She couldn’t stop giggling.
“Hey Mom, have you been out in the garden?” I asked, in the loaded question of the century.
“Of course,” she trilled. “I made diagrams. I was thinking of trimming down the rose garden and having the wedding out there. It’s so pretty.” She held up a finger. “Unless we use the huge, huge grand arch near the back. But we’d have to edit the fountain out of the pictures because I don’t want unicorns with penises in the shot.”
I didn’t even know my mom knew that word.
And I was going to have to see that fountain.
I slipped an arm through hers as we took the stairs. “What do you know about the tower near the rose garden?”
