Soul of the Dragon

by Natalie J. Damschroder

  “I don’t have much strength,” she admitted, sitting in the chair. “It’s not hard to get control, though.”

  “You need practice.” Cyrgyn moved closer. “We need to determine what Tarsuinn is likeliest to use against you, and develop ways to counter it.”

  “More importantly,” Alexa said, “we need to determine what I can use against him that he can’t counter.”

  Cyrgyn shook his head. “That will be difficult, I fear.”

  “I don’t know. I think—”

  A phone rang. Alexa bounced up and dashed to the stairs. “It’s my family phone.” Alexa wanted to believe the call was from her aunt again, preparing her for another diatribe from her father. But if it was that benign, her instincts wouldn’t be screaming.

  She snatched the phone from its cradle. “Hello.”

  “Alexa.” It was Peter. “You’ve gotta come home.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “The house. It’s gone.”

  Alexa’s heart stopped. “What?”

  “Fire.” Now she realized Peter was gasping. “There was a fire.”

  “Is everyone okay?” Ancient fears began to take shape. Demons she’d thought long beaten began their taunting dance again. Terror—old and new—choked her in the few seconds before Peter answered.

  “We’re okay. Aunt Ethel is in the hospital for smoke inhalation, but it’s just a precaution. Dad has some burns on his hand because he tried to get some papers from his office. But he was treated and released.”

  Alexa let the adrenaline ebb. “I’ll get the first plane out.” Thunder rumbled across the sky. “Damn it.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “A storm’s coming in. I’ll call you when I have a flight.”

  “I’ll meet you at the airport.”

  “No, stay where you’re needed. I’ll rent a car. Call me if anything else happens.” She started to hang up. “Wait. Peter?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What started the fire?”

  “Well…” His reluctance to tell her was odd.

  “Peter, was it your fault?” Alexa tried to be gentle but it came out with typical big-sister sharpness.

  “No! It was just weird. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

  “Tell me now.” Alexa immediately changed her mind. “No, you’re right, tell me later. Let me call the airlines.”

  She made a few calls but got so frustrated with hold times and a lack of service she booted up her computer and went online to search. Only two flights were going to Seattle from St. Paul, and both were delayed. She called the airport and was told severe weather was keeping them grounded indefinitely. They probably wouldn’t fly until tomorrow.

  “Damn it!” Alexa pounded her fist on the desk, then kicked her chair. It spun across the floor, heading for the top of the stairs. She whipped out a strand of energy and halted it at the top.

  Cyrgyn rested his chin on the railing. “You are right. You have excellent control.”

  Alexa didn’t care. She stomped into her room and began throwing clothes into a bag. “I know Tars is behind this.”

  “Behind what?”

  She told him about the fire.

  “It could be coincidence,” Cyrgyn said, but didn’t look like he believed it.

  “No.” She spun out of the bedroom and into the bathroom and randomly grabbed toiletries. It didn’t matter if she took two toothbrushes and no toothpaste. She doubted she’d have time for anything so mundane as brushing her teeth.

  “I’ll have to drive,” she muttered. “Maybe I can get to another city and get a flight from there.”

  She yanked the zipper closed on the canvas bag and rushed downstairs. She shoved the chair back on her way by. This time it hit the kitchen cabinet.

  “Alexa.”

  She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, impatient. “What?”

  Cyrgyn unfurled his wings partway and wiggled them. After a second Alexa realized what he meant, and smiled. “Very cool.” Then she frowned. “Won’t you be seen?”

  “The storm will help. This is important.”

  They went outside and she secured the hangar. “I hope Ryc won’t show up while we’re gone and set off the alarm.”

  “He will not.” Cyrgyn crouched and looked over his left shoulder. “Step in the crook of my foreleg and swing over my back.”

  Alexa eyed him and tried to gauge height. “I don’t know…”

  “Your leg is long enough. Take hold of the spine at the base of my neck for leverage.”

  Alexa swung the bag strap over her shoulder and across her chest. She lifted her left foot and set it in the bend of the dragon’s leg, then lifted. Once she was at full extension she could grab the pyramid-shaped spine at the base of his neck. Unlike some artists’ depictions of dragons, Cyrgyn had spines only on his neck and tail, not on his back, a fact she was grateful for as she swung her right leg up and pulled herself over the top in one motion.

  His scales at this spot were harder than the ones on his underside, the ones she’d felt before. They weren’t as warm and flesh-like. She imagined they were more protective and had less of a need to be flexible.

  As soon as she settled the bag on her back, Cyrgyn’s giant wings spread, his muscles bunched under her thighs, and he leaped into the air.

  Alexa immediately forgot about the fire and her father’s and aunt’s injuries. She forgot her worry over Tars and her suspicions of Ryc. For the first few minutes after they became airborne, she felt free, almost euphoric.

  Cyrgyn’s wings beat next to her in long, even strokes as they climbed through clouds. It only took seconds for them to be above the massing storm and in bright sunlight.

  Alexa had flown in gliders and had airborne training, though she’d never dived during a mission. Nothing could compare to this soaring, especially when Cyrgyn banked to angle northwest. Through a break in the clouds she could see some of Minnesota’s famous lakes surrounded by tall evergreens. It was the most beautiful scenery, viewed without the barrier of an airplane window.

  “How can you give this up?” she wondered aloud, not expecting Cyrgyn to hear her in the rush of wind.

  “You know the answer.”

  His voice was clearly audible despite the noise in her ears. She immediately regretted opening her mouth.

  “I will miss the sky, I admit,” he added. Alexa could hear the smile in his voice and relaxed.

  It was a three-and-a-half-hour flight from St. Paul to Seattle by airplane. Alexa figured it would take twice as long by dragon, and settled in for the long haul.

  After about an hour of flying they were in heavy, but stormless, cloud cover. Cyrgyn was pleased.

  “As you know, I cannot cloak in full sunlight. The clouds will help us avoid detection.”

  “What about radar?” she asked.

  “I do not know how I appear on radar,” he said, “but no one has attempted to shoot me down. If I avoid general flight paths, we should be safe.”

  Before Alexa knew it, they were flying over the Rockies. The view took Alexa’s breath away despite the clouds. The peaks jutted high above the low-hanging cover, and Alexa felt like she could reach out and grab a fistful of snow.

  With that thought, the chill of the air made her shiver and she realized how cold it had gotten. She pulled her bag around to the front and unzipped it. Her sweatshirt-lined windbreaker was at the bottom, and the bag almost fell off Cyrgyn’s neck before she managed to get it out.

  She slid back a little and balanced the bag across his withers while she struggled into the jacket and flipped up the hood. Then, unable to combat her drooping eyelids, she leaned forward and looped her arms around the bag, then gripped the pyramid-shaped spine.

  “Is that okay?” she murmured. At Cyrgyn’s assent she let her head drop and fell immediately to sleep.

  She awoke when Cyrgyn’s even flight changed. She lifted her head and felt wisps of cloud whip past them as Cyrgyn descended. He must be taking a brea
k. She leaned to look down, and her jaw dropped as she saw his destination.

  “We’re here already?”

  “Here” was a tiny clearing in the woods about two miles from her family home. Alexa feared someone would see them descend, but he did it so swiftly and the light was so dim from the drizzle and heavy rain clouds she doubted anyone had.

  Cyrgyn landed with barely a thump and furled his wings. Alexa grabbed the handles of her bag and slid down his flanks, then had to lean on him so she wouldn’t collapse.

  “We made it faster than I expected,” she commented, shaking her legs to get the feeling back into them. “How fast do you fly?”

  Cyrgyn seemed to shrug. “I have no method of measurement. But I do not bear the weight of a passenger airplane and do not have a specified flight path, which balances my lack of jet engine. Hence, it is simple to determine that I fly with greater speed.”

  “Hence.” Alexa looked at her watch. “I need to get to the hospital. Visiting hours should just be starting.” She opened the bag to change her shirt, which had grown damp in the clouds, and fix her windblown hair.

  “I will remain here.”

  She looked around. “Is it safe?”

  “Do not worry about me, Alexa. I have taken care of myself for several hundred years, remember.”

  She smiled. “Right.”

  She started to walk away, but Cyrgyn stopped her.

  “Dreugan may arrive at some point. I wanted to warn you.”

  “You making him my full-time protector?”

  “In my absence, yes, something like that.”

  Alexa felt warmth that wasn’t anger at the notion, and wondered at the unexpectedness of it. “Okay. Thanks.” She frowned then. “Wait, how would you let him know where we are?”

  “I do not need to. He will know.”

  “How?”

  He didn’t answer. Alexa rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll find out eventually.” She wanted to tell Cyrgyn to just leave Ryc out of it. She hated the mystery, was jealous—jealous!—of the intimate relationship the dragon had with him, of the help he’d apparently given her soulmate during all those years she wasn’t even sure he existed. His presence seemed to cause as much problem as it solved.

  And she was afraid to be near him. That final fact kept her quiet. She didn’t want Cyrgyn to know how attracted she was to the mysterious man. She nodded at the dragon and started across the clearing.

  “Be careful,” he rumbled, and she nodded without looking back.

  Alexa followed a well-worn path through the sparse woods, still worried about the dragon’s lack of concealment. Even if it was dark enough to cloak somewhat, the woods were heavily traveled by kids and teens crossing from the development on one side to the town park on the other. He’d have nowhere to go if someone came near. But, like he said, he’d taken care of himself for a long time.

  She wanted to go straight to the hospital, but it wasn’t much of a detour to her father’s house and maybe she could pick up a car. She allowed a tug of nostalgia to bring a half-smile to her lips when she turned down her old street. The trees seemed taller, the houses smaller, even though she’d been an adult when she left. There was Tommy Steen’s house, and the treehouse was still in the side yard. She and Tommy had spent hours in that treehouse, reading comic books, planning spy games, and experimenting. He was the first boy she’d ever kissed, though she was sure Tommy would say he’d kissed her.

  The old house on the corner had been renovated, and a couple of others had add-ons or new siding. The old neighborhood looked good.

  Until she rounded the bend and saw the smoking black hole where her house used to stand.

  Shocked, she simply stood and stared. Peter had said it was all gone, but she’d imagined the house gutted. Maybe roofless, the contents charred and unrecognizable.

  Not…gone.

  She hefted her duffle higher on her shoulder and moved closer. Even this long after the fire she could feel heat emanating from the core. It was probably her imagination, she decided as she surveyed the scene. The firefighters would never have left if there was a chance of a flare-up.

  Not a stick of wood remained. The cinderblock basement was full of black char and gray ash. Except for the center, which was clear but for the distinctive markings of a blast.

  Alexa looked around. The houses near her father’s had some soot but no signs of burning or heat damage. She circled the wreckage, scanning the ground and edges of the disintegrated house. She didn’t know what she was looking for; the fire inspector was better equipped and experienced to figure out this scene. Except he didn’t know about Tarsuinn.

  She rounded what should have been the rear corner of the house and surveyed the back yard. The giant Oregon white oak spread green, rain-soaked leaves over the equally green grass. The tree was unharmed except for a black mark at shoulder height. She walked over and touched it. The trunk had been seared. She looked toward the back fence, a good ten feet away. It wasn’t hard to imagine Tarsuinn standing near the back gate, flinging his fireball past this tree to the house. In fact, it was more than easy to imagine. Her vision blurred a little and she saw the fireball flash past her, hitting the patio and causing a flash fire that mangled the iron outdoor furniture sitting there. She screamed and raced at Tarsuinn. Only she was still standing next to the tree, and Tarsuinn looked about twelve.

  A loud bang ended the vision as effectively as an off switch. Alexa whirled and saw her father’s best friend coming through the back gate.

  “Alexa. Saw you wandering around back here. Thought you might want some company.”

  “Thanks, Bing.” She gestured toward the house with her chin. “Did you see it?” Bing lived behind her father and his second-floor office faced the rear.

  “I was on the phone with the supervisor at the SCORE office. I heard a whoosh and a bang, and looked out the window to see fire engulfing the back of the house.”

  “Did you see anyone out there?”

  He shook his head and patted his thick silver hair. He never ran his fingers through it, a vanity Alexa usually teased him about. “Nope. Sorry. I called 911 and ran out to help. Your father was helping Ethel out the front door when I got there. Before I could stop him, he ran back in. Luckily, he got out before the second blast.”

  “Second blast?”

  When he looked at her, his pale blue eyes looked confused and skeptical, yet convicted as well. “Alexa, I swear, a ball of fire came down on top of the house. It musta gone straight through.” He pointed to the blast pattern on the floor of the basement. “The fire chief thinks meteorites, but how could the first one have hit the back of the house?”

  Alexa knew, but she didn’t enlighten Bing. “Thanks for coming over. I’d better get to the hospital.”

  “I’ll give you a ride.”

  “That’s okay. You have work.” Bing was the volunteer coordinator for SCORE, the retired businessperson organization. And he was notorious for letting his tires go bald.

  His eyes crinkled with new lines when he grinned at her. “I just put new tires on, love. I’ll drive you over.”

  She relented. “I’d appreciate it.”

  “I’ll just run in and get my keys, lock up.”

  Alexa stayed in her back yard while she waited. Something ate at her, some sense of déja vû or awareness. A breeze kicked up, strengthening the stench of wet char, but Alexa caught a whiff of perfume, a distinctive fragrance. Chantilly. The kind her mother wore.

  It faded quickly and she attributed it to her imagination. Memory, her mind whispered back, and she admitted it could be that. To this day she couldn’t walk by the perfume counter in the department store or be near someone wearing the scent without feeling pangs of loss.

  Bing reappeared and slung his arm over her shoulder. “Ready?”

  Alexa walked with him to his 1956 Chevy. She’d never seen such an immaculately maintained car, which made his tire habit that much more confusing.

  “Have you seen Aunt
Ethel?” she asked once they were on their way.

  “Sure have. I was there last night. She’s fine. They just want to keep an eye on her because of her age. She’s healthy as a horse, but I think she’s enjoying the pampering.”

  Alexa smiled. “It’s not in Aunt Ethel’s nature to deny herself.” The woman had helped raise Alexa and Peter after their mother’s death, and though she was tough, she’d taught them that there was a balance to life. Take the good with the bad, she said. Alexa had learned later that the phrase meant you had to take the bad if you wanted the good. She liked Aunt Ethel’s anti-Puritan approach, herself. She had a hundred variations on the saying. “Don’t pass up an ice cream sundae just ’cause the special of the day is tuna fish” was one of Alexa’s favorites.

  It only took five minutes for them to get to the hospital. Bing parked in the visitor’s lot and helped Alexa out of the car. “Mind if I come in? I was intending to visit today, anyway.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.”

  One of Alexa’s phones rang and she stopped outside the entrance, mindful of hospital regulations against using them inside the building as well as the fact that it was the Anell Breathwater line. “Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

  Bing nodded and she moved away a few yards before snapping open the phone. “Hello?”

  “Alexa.”

  She didn’t recognize the voice. “Who is this?” She’d only given the number to Tars’ HR manager. The caller had to be connected to him. She looked around, as if he could be watching her.

  “My name is Mark Heiling. I work for Tars Suinn.”

  “Of course you do. What happened to my house?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “I think your boss is a stinking coward.” She kept her voice devoid of heat, and Mark laughed.

  “I have a message for you from the stinking coward.”

  Alexa didn’t respond, but the man didn’t seem fazed.

  “Mr. Suinn wishes you to meet him tomorrow at noon. He is certain you will understand the seriousness of his request. No doubt you wish your family to be safe. They may be safe in The Hills. Then again…”