The Dragon's Descent

by Laurice Elehwany Molinari

  Tack eyed the flattened roll, then looked at the floor, and back to the roll; Vero couldn’t believe he was actually considering it. Davina handed Tack her dinner roll.

  “Just take mine,” Davina said.

  “Thanks,” Tack replied as he shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

  Nate flashed him a disgusted look.

  “What do you think is up with Danny?” Vero asked Davina.

  After all, Vero was Danny’s guardian angel, so he had to be interested in what was going on with his future charge.

  “Don’t know.” Davina shrugged. “I asked him and he won’t tell me.”

  It didn’t make any sense to Vero. He knew that Danny was crazy about Davina. She had such a positive influence on him. It would be a shame if Danny cut her out of his life.

  “I could ask him,” Vero said to Davina.

  “Dude, if he won’t tell Davina, he’s definitely not about to tell you,” Tack said, chunks of bread stuck between his teeth.

  Tack was probably right. Danny had hated Vero since way back in the sixth grade, when Davina had been new to the school. Back then, Vero had the biggest crush on her. Problem was, so had Danny. But last year, Vero felt that he had made some inroads. A rumor had been going around that Danny was the one who’d destroyed the gym. Vero had refused to believe the rumors. Even though he was confused by it, Danny had really appreciated Vero’s support, so maybe he would now confide in Vero.

  “Thanks, but just let it go for now,” Davina told Vero.

  Vero nodded.

  “How’s your volunteering going?” Missy asked the boys.

  “Great,” Nate said. “It’s a lot of fun.”

  “You are not volunteering!” Tack said.

  “Of course I am!” Nate yelled.

  “You’re working at a place called Puppy Love,” Tack said. “Your job is to play with puppies all day!”

  “I also have to pick up their poop! And puppies eat a lot, so they poop a lot.”

  “Get real. You’re not dealing with life-and-death situations like Vero and me down at the hospital.”

  “What life and death? You hand out magazines and coloring books.” Nate rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, really? You think that’s all we do?” Tack asked.

  “No, they probably let you wash the dirty bedpans.” Nate now full-out laugh-snorted.

  “Yeah.” Missy laughed along.

  “Very funny. For your information, Vero here properly diagnosed some baby as being tongue-tied, and he knew when a man was about to flatline even before the doctors did,” Tack said proudly, puffing out his chest. “He ran and got the man’s son, and he was right there when it happened.”

  “Is that true?” Davina turned to Vero.

  “Well, sort of . . .” Vero stammered.

  “That’s pretty awesome,” Missy said.

  “I think Vero’s on his way to becoming the most famous doctor since Dr. J.” Tack slapped Vero’s back.

  “Dr. J was a basketball player in the seventies, you idiot,” Nate said, shaking his head.

  Tack held up a card to a curly redheaded little boy wearing Spiderman pajamas. He and Vero were playing with several kids in the children’s playroom at the hospital. The room was decorated with bright, colorful wallpaper of circus scenes. The boys and kids sat on a red rug with a yellow circle pattern on its edges.

  “Is this your card?” Tack asked the boy.

  The boy shook his head.

  Tack pulled out another one and held it up.

  “Is this one your card?”

  “No,” the boy said with a laugh.

  “How about this one?” Tack flashed another card.

  The boy shook his head. Tack flashed card after card.

  “This?”

  “No.”

  “This?”

  “No.”

  “It’s gotta be this one, right?” Tack asked, holding up the Jack of Hearts.

  The boy’s baby-blue eyes lit up. “Yeah!”

  “Yes! Tack the Magnificent strikes again!” Tack said to his audience.

  “But you went through half of the deck,” a seven-year-old girl in a pink bathrobe protested.

  “That’s called ‘creating suspense.’ ” Tack smirked.

  “You’re crazy,” the girl said through a chortle.

  “I’m crazy? You think I’m the crazy one?” Tack asked as he leaned over her.

  “Yeah.” She giggled.

  “You’re the crazy one, storing quarters in your ear . . .” Tack proceeded to pull a quarter from the back of her ear. Then a second, then a third.

  The girl, along with the rest of the kids, smiled, astonished.

  “Tack the Magnificent.” Vero chuckled under his breath.

  “Can you do any tricks?” a girl hooked up to an oxygen tank asked Vero, her breathing labored.

  “Not really.”

  “Me either.” She sighed. “But if I could, I wish I could fly.”

  “Really?” Vero asked, his curiosity piqued. Was she a fledgling?

  “I always felt like I could,” the girl said. “If it weren’t for this oxygen tank . . .”

  “Then you could sail through the endless blue skies, breathing in the pure white clouds that billow past your face,” Vero said dreamily. “Over rivers so crystal clear, that from half a mile up you can make out every single stone in the riverbed, and over fields of wildflowers so brightly colored, you’d need to squint your eyes. Feeling weightless . . .”

  Vero then realized that he’d gotten carried away. He abruptly stopped speaking. Tack gave him a curious look and said, “Wow, guys . . . looks like we found who the real crazy one is in here!”

  Vero blushed. Nora walked in the room, interrupting them.

  “Boys, back to your rounds,” she told Vero and Tack.

  “Okay, Mom,” Vero replied as he stood.

  “No, stay,” the kids protested.

  The girl approached Nora, dragging her oxygen tank. “You’re Vero’s mom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Vero was telling us about flying. Did he ever fly?”

  Nora began to shift uncomfortably. “Of course not.”

  “He tried once.” Tack chuckled. “He jumped off the roof of his house . . .”

  “Tack, get to work!” Nora’s eyes insistently darted toward the door.

  “Really?” the girl asked, wide-eyed.

  “He fell, and nearly broke both his legs,” Nora adamantly stated. “He did not fly.”

  Nora locked eyes with Vero. He knew his mother was upset. Anything that reminded her that he was different troubled her greatly. She did not know that he was a guardian angel, but she had always known there was something otherworldly about her son, and Vero knew it scared her. So he quickly crossed over to Tack and pulled him by the arm and led him out, waving good-bye to the kids.

  “Now it’s time for Tack the Magnificent to make himself disappear!”

  The hospitality cart was waiting up against the wall in the hallway. Tack stepped behind it and began to push it while Vero walked alongside it. As they wheeled forward they came past a petite woman standing next to a stretcher. Vero recognized his next-door neighbor.

  “Mrs. Atwood,” he said, with a curious tone.

  He looked down at the stretcher. He saw Mr. Atwood asleep.

  “Hello, Vero,” Mrs. Atwood said, then glanced over to Tack. “Hello, Thaddeus.”

  “Hi.”

  “Is Mr. Atwood okay?” Vero asked, as worry lines formed across his forehead.

  “He’s fine. He’s just coming out of surgery. We’re waiting for a room.”

  Mrs.
Atwood saw the look of concern on Vero’s face. She leaned into the boys.

  “Hemorrhoids. He’ll be fine,” she whispered.

  Tack chuckled. Vero elbowed him.

  “We’re going home later today.”

  “Would you like some coffee or tea while you wait?” Vero asked.

  “No, thanks, but that chocolate bar looks good.”

  Tack handed Mrs. Atwood the candy bar. Mr. Atwood groaned.

  “He’s in and out of it,” she said.

  Mr. Atwood’s eyes fluttered. Vero stepped over to him.

  “He’s waking up!” Vero said.

  Mr. Atwood’s eyes opened. As his head turned to Vero, his eyes went wide and his heart monitor began to spike.

  “Hi, Mr. Atwood.” Vero smiled.

  Tack also leaned over his head and smiled at him.

  The heart monitor spiked even higher. Mrs. Atwood rushed over to his side. She turned to Vero.

  “Vero, Mr. Atwood really needs to rest right now,” she said, in a way that was clear she was trying not to hurt Vero’s feelings. “Why don’t you come visit Albert later when he’s home.”

  “Oh, okay,” Vero said. “Bye, Mr. Atwood. Feel better. I’ll come visit you later.”

  As Vero and Tack walked away, Mr. Atwood’s blood pressure alarm went off.

  Over the next hour, the boys visited several rooms and gave out candy, magazines, freshly baked cookies, and coffee to patients and their visitors.

  “My feet are killing me,” Tack told Vero. “When’s our shift over?”

  Vero glanced at his watch. “Five more minutes.”

  A short, older woman wearing a hospital gown wandered over to them. Her hair was a mess, and she looked a bit out of it.

  “Can I help you?” Vero asked her.

  “Um, yes, I’m lost,” she said, confused. “I can’t find my room.”

  “Do you know the number?” Vero asked her.

  “231.”

  “That’s up a floor,” Tack said.

  “We’ll take you there,” Vero said as he took her arm and walked her over to the elevator.

  Tack left the cart and followed. He pushed the elevator button, and the doors instantly slid apart.

  “You must have the magic touch,” she wheezed to Tack.

  “As a matter-of-fact, I do.” Tack puffed out his chest.

  They stepped inside the elevator. The doors began to close. Vero reached for the second-floor button when the woman immediately snatched his wrist and squeezed hard. Her face contorted into one of complete anger. Tack’s eyes shot wide.

  “We know it’s you, Vero,” she growled.

  Her hand pressed even tighter around Vero’s wrist.

  “Hey, get off of him!” Tack yelled as he tried to pull Vero’s arm from her grasp.

  “Where is it?” she shrieked.

  “We left the cart in the hallway!” Tack screamed, yanking on Vero. “But we could go back and get you some cookies or something!”

  The old woman would not release her grip. Her fingers began to smolder on Vero’s skin. Tack looked as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. Vero gazed into the woman’s eyes, and he saw red—the red flecks of a malture.

  “She’s burning you, dude!” Tack screamed. The woman’s arm was as hot as fire. Tack instantly let go of it, and shook his hand in pain.

  Vero’s eyes narrowed at the woman. A determination came over him and then one by one he pried her fingers off his wrist. Tack watched in horror and disbelief as Vero bent each of her fingers back, systematically breaking them. In a total panic, Tack hit random buttons on the elevator panel.

  “We gotta get out of here!”

  The woman hissed at Tack, displaying a mouth full of rotted teeth. He recoiled. She was about to pounce on Tack when Vero ran straightforward. He took two big steps right up the elevator wall before him, got airborne, and back flipped, landing behind the woman. He put her in a choke-hold, while Tack gripped the handrail. The elevator finally stopped on a floor.

  “Run, get out!” Vero shouted to Tack.

  Tack held on to the rail, frozen with fear.

  “Tack, go! Get out of here!”

  “I can’t leave you!”

  “Do it!” Vero shouted as the woman tried to break free from his grasp.

  “I’ll get help!” Tack shouted as he let go of the railing and ran toward the open elevator door. A massive, slimy, one-eyed creature stood blocking his way. Tack stopped dead in his tracks and stumbled back into the elevator. He tripped and fell on the floor. The creature stood over him.

  “Tack!” Vero shouted as he released the old woman and threw himself between the new malture and Tack.

  The malture stepped forward. As it reached out to Vero and Tack, a black iron chain shot out of its clawed hand. The cuff at the end of the chain flew over their heads and wrapped around the woman’s neck and clasped. She shrieked. Then in one forceful tug, the malture pulled her toward him. He grabbed her, and they vanished instantly before the scared boys’ eyes.

  Tack’s eyes went back into his head. He passed out. Vero kneeled over him, desperately hoping that when he woke, Tack would think it had all been a dream.

  7

  WORLDS COLLIDE

  Vero stood over Tack, who lay on a gurney in the emergency room. They were alone behind a curtain that hung all the way around the bed. Vero lightly slapped his friend’s face, hoping to wake him.

  “Tack, Tack, wake up . . .”

  Vero was nervous. Had Tack really been able to see that malture? Would he remember the attack? If he did, how would Vero explain it? He had other questions as well—like why did the second malture rescue them from the malture posing as an old lady? What was that all about? Before Vero could think about it further, Tack’s eyes started blinking—he was coming to.

  “Tack, you all right?” Vero asked.

  Vero watched as Tack’s eyes slowly began to focus.

  “How do you feel? You okay?” Vero asked, leaning over the gurney. “You passed out in the elevator.”

  Tack’s eyes instantly shot open. Vero saw terror in them.

  “Get away from me!” Tack told Vero, as he bolted up and pushed himself away.

  “Tack . . . what?” Vero said, hurt.

  “Who are you?” Tack yelled.

  “It’s me, Vero.”

  “No, they knew you. Those freakin’ monsters in the elevator knew who you were!” Tack shouted as he raised the bedsheet instinctively up to his neck, shielding himself.

  Vero was at a loss for words. Tack had seen both maltures. Worse, he remembered it all. Could Vero reveal his true identity to him, even though Uriel had always warned him not to? The thought left Vero feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. At the same time, his heart was breaking. How could his best friend now be afraid of him?

  “Tack!” a woman’s soft voice cried out.

  The curtain pulled open, and Tack’s parents, Marty and Mary, rushed over to him. In this case, it wasn’t true that opposites attract, because Marty and Mary looked more like brother and sister than husband and wife. Both had husky, robust physiques. Each had a wide forehead with a narrow chin that made their faces look heart-shaped. Their eyes were a similar lively blue. And on top of their heads, the famous Kozlowski strawberry blond hair, which they had passed down to Tack and his sisters.

  “Are you okay?” Mary asked, caressing her son’s cheek.

  Tack nodded.

  “What happened?” Marty turned to Vero.

  “He fainted in the elevator,” Vero said, hoping there’d be no more questions.

  Nora walked over to them while holding a blood pressure monitor.

 
“He’s awake.” Nora smiled, relieved.

  “Nora, is he okay?” Mary asked, her brow furrowed.

  “Doctor said he’s fine,” Nora told them as she strapped the blood pressure cuff around Tack’s bicep. “I just need to take his pressure.”

  “Do you know what caused you to pass out?” Marty asked Tack.

  Tack looked to Vero. Vero wondered what Tack would say and nervously shifted. But then Tack shook his head, in a small sign of loyalty to Vero.

  “It’s good—110 over 70,” Nora said as she ripped off the Velcro cuff. “Did you get enough sleep last night?”

  Tack nodded. He then locked eyes with Vero. “But I won’t tonight,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What was that?” Marty asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Did you eat today?” Nora asked automatically.

  “Nora, this is Tack we’re talking about.” Mary smiled.

  “Oh, right,” Nora said. “They did an EKG, and his heart’s fine, so I think it was just a sudden drop in his blood pressure. Standing up too quickly or standing too long on your feet can trigger it. Or sometimes you can faint from anxiety or fear.”

  Tack’s eyes darted back to Vero.

  “Can we go home?” Mary asked Nora.

  “Sure,” Nora said. “But Tack should rest.”

  Mary turned to Vero. “You want to come with us while your mother finishes her shift?”

  “No,” Tack said a little too quickly.

  “Tack!” Marty said.

  “I just mean, I really need to go home and sleep,” Tack covered.

  “Well, Vero can still come and watch TV . . .” Mary said suspiciously, staring into her son’s eyes.

  “No thanks, Mrs. Kozlowski,” Vero interrupted. “I have a lot of homework. I’m gonna go to the cafeteria and study.”

  Vero turned and walked away, and Tack made no attempt to stop him.

  “I’ve requested to go to Sri Lanka for a few days,” Dennis said as he stuck his fork into a piece of chicken. “The trip could help me push my project through.”

  Clover sat across the kitchen table from Vero and her mother. Using her fork, she surreptitiously pushed some peas from her plate into a waiting napkin she held under the table.