by C. J. Hill
He took a turn around Baltimore’s business district. Perhaps he could purposely miss the hospitals. But a partial strike would tick off his father. He’d call it sloppy work.
Dirk circled the city one last time and then decided to check out some areas near DC. On a whim, he leapt off the dragon and flew on his own. He had to make sure his flying skills didn’t get rusty, and besides, he enjoyed the sensation of speed and the feel of wind rushing around him.
He gave Khan the mental command to fly ahead and used the updraft to gain height. Head southwest, he told the dragon. The words were directed from Dirk’s mind to Khan’s. Speaking wouldn’t have done any good. Dragons didn’t obey their masters because they wanted to. They did it because dragon lords connected with their minds—mentally hacking into their brains and forcing the dragon to obey their commands.
Dirk could feel Khan’s frustration at the new instruction. He’d been flying fast for nearly three hours, and Dirk had just told him to fly away from home instead of toward it.
For an hour, Dirk and Khan zoomed over lit-up cities, sleepy suburbs, and dark land that looked like a messy quilt. Farms maybe, or parks. When he grew tired, he climbed back onto the riding seat tethered to the dragon’s back. He should probably start acting like a dragon lord again. Time to figure out which cities to suggest to his father. Dirk let several possibilities run through his mind, judging each on importance and strategic location. Population. Resources. Transportation routes.
The city that kept popping into his mind was McLean, Virginia. Not for potential destruction, but because Tori Hampton lived there. Tori, his counterpart.
Years ago when Dirk had first gone to camp, he’d seen the Slayers match up with their counterparts. People with the same dragon-fighting ability had a bond, a way to read each other as though they’d known each other their whole lives. They could also sense each other’s presence. Knowing where your counterpart was and what they were likely to do helped in a fight.
Dirk had always figured he couldn’t have a counterpart. After all, he wasn’t a Slayer; he was a dragon lord pretending to be one so he could spy on them. But then Tori had arrived at camp—a senator’s daughter, a socialite with a model’s face, the last sort of person he’d expected to be a Slayer. And inexplicably, the two of them were counterparts. It was one of those surprises life liked to throw at you when you thought you had things under control.
Dirk was so used to living a double life that he’d never expected anyone to see beyond the act he put on, let alone understand him. But Tori had understood him too well. She’d stolen his heart with unintentional ease, then figured out who he was and told the other Slayers.
Boston. Chicago... McLean. It would be so easy to fly to her house for a visit.
Dirk hadn’t seen her for two weeks, not since the mission when Tori outed him as a dragon lord, but she still messaged him online. Mostly trying to convince him to leave his father. A lost cause, really.
Fortunately, he didn’t need to rely on technology to contact Tori. She was not only a Slayer, she was half dragon lord which meant she automatically connected to whichever dragon she was closest to. Specifically, she heard whatever it did. Living in McLean, she was generally closest to the dragon nursery, and he’d learned from trial and error that of the two fledglings there, she always connected to Vesta. But if Dirk flew near her house, she’d connect to Khan. Then Dirk could speak aloud, and she would hear anything he said.
He headed that way, letting his mind roam to Tori: Her long brown hair, mint-green eyes, the tilt of her head that made her look both sophisticated and vulnerable. He knew her every expression, including the smile that had been just his, a smile she’d given him even when she’d started dating Jesse.
Thirty minutes later, Dirk was ten miles from McLean. Close enough by far for Tori to connect with Khan. The city lay below him, the streetlights lit like candles glowing in the darkness. Only a few cars lumbered through the streets. Most people were asleep at this hour. He skimmed through the air, feeling like Peter Pan about to stop at Wendy’s window.
In the story, Peter lost his shadow at Wendy’s, and he went back to search for it. That part had never made sense to Dirk as a child, but it did now. Tori had a piece of Dirk too. Not his shadow. Nothing so insubstantial.
He flew toward an area of McLean dotted with mansions and sprawling yards. “Tori, wake up. I have a proposition for you.” He couldn’t be sure she was awake, but he went on. “I’m not far from your house. If I come in range, will you fly out to meet me?”
Tori’s powers, like those of all Slayers and dragon lords, turned on whenever a dragon came within five miles. Then she could fly, had extra strength, and had night vision.
“I want to talk,” he said. “I want to show you what a dragon is really like. Give me your answer.”
He took his phone from his pocket, went to the site where they exchanged messages, and waited to see if she would answer. After a moment, she did.
I already know what a dragon is like, thanks. Why are you flying around in the middle of the night?
He ignored her question. “I mean I want to show you what a dragon is like when he isn’t attacking you. They’re amazing, Tori—sleek and powerful. If you gave yourself a chance, you’d love them. You’re half dragon lord. This is what you were born for.”
He waited for her response to show up, hoping she’d say yes. The two of them could sail over the city, effortlessly gliding underneath the stars, and forget they were enemies for a while.
I’m pretty sure I was born for travel, chocolate, and sleeping in. You keep telling me I’m part dragon lord, but we couldn’t be counterparts unless you were part Slayer. Why can’t you be loyal to that side for a change?
Dirk wasn’t sure she was right. At least, his father didn’t want to admit that Dirk’s genealogy, or worse, his own, might be contaminated with Slayer genes. Dirk repeated his father’s explanation to Tori.
“The original Slayers and dragon lords both used dragon DNA to create their powers. That’s why the two groups have similar abilities.” Slayers weren’t the only ones with extra strength, night vision, and if they were lucky, the ability to fly. Dragon lords had all of those abilities too. “Crossover in other areas was bound to happen. If more dragon lords were around, some of them would probably have counterparts too.”
He had no way to test that theory, because he and his father were the only other dragon lords around.
“Say you’ll meet me,” Dirk persisted.
Did I ever mention that your last dragon tried to eat me?
“I’ll make sure this one behaves.”
Right. I’m not even sure you’d behave.
He laughed and missed Tori all over again. “I’ll make sure I behave too. When I come close enough that your powers turn on, fly out of your window, straight up. I’ll watch for you.”
Her words appeared on his phone screen fast now. Each sentence by itself. Dirk could tell she was angry.
I can’t fly off with you at three in the morning for a rendezvous.
You seem to have forgotten that we’re on opposite sides of the whole your-father-wants-to-take-over-the-country issue.
You already betrayed us and tried to lead us into traps, twice.
How can I trust you anymore?
He winced. He didn’t like to remember his betrayals. Last summer he’d led the Slayers into an ambush in a dragon enclosure. In the middle of the fight, he’d had a change of heart, and he got them back out again—a fact that made his father set up the second ambush last Halloween. That was when Tori had figured out who he was.
“I was trying to protect the Slayers, not hurt them.” Dirk had told Tori the same thing before, but she refused to see his point of view. “If they lose their powers, they won’t fight dragons and get hurt. Do you think I want to see my friends killed?”
In theory, taking away Slayer powers should have been an easy thing. When Slayers were drugged to the point of unconsciousness, the brain pathways cont
rolling their abilities were destroyed, turning them into normal people again. What’s more, a Slayer who’d been drugged lost all of their Slayer memories. They didn’t remember ever having powers.
The problem was that Slayers had highly acute senses even when their powers weren’t turned on. They could tell when someone around them had a spike of adrenaline that signaled fear or an impending attack. It was hard to take a Slayer by surprise.
“I’ve never wanted you to lose your powers,” Dirk insisted. “I want you to start using your dragon lord ones. Come out, and I can show you how.”
Maybe you want to kidnap me. That way you’ll eliminate one of the flyers who can kill your dragons.
“I’m not leading you into a trap. I’m your counterpart. You’d know if I were lying.”
I didn’t before.
“Yes, you did. That’s how I got caught.”
Well, I couldn’t tell the first time.
Dirk kept Khan in a circling pattern. The dragon glided, wings outstretched over winding roads. “You hadn’t known me long enough yet.”
I spent most of the summer with you at camp and never realized you were a traitor.
He didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t sure whether to admit that after the first ambush, he’d switched sides. He hadn’t been pretending at camp. His loyalties really had been with the Slayers then. But when summer ended, common sense kicked in again. He was a dragon lord. With or without his help, his father would take over the country. So Dirk had to help. His father’s revolution would be less violent and more humane if Dirk had a part in it.
“Well,” he said, “you apparently learned how to tell when I’m being deceitful. You’d know now.”
She didn’t answer for a full minute. He imagined her sitting in the darkness of her bedroom, her long hair messy with sleep as she stared at her screen, debating.
“Come,” he whispered.
I’m not a dragon lord. Not if they’re like your father—playing God with other people’s lives. I can’t do what you’re doing.
“Come,” he said again. “Maybe you can convince me the error of my ways. I’ll let you try.”
If you want to talk, let me choose the time and place. And it won’t be three in the morning. What are you doing flying around Virginia anyway?
Was she fishing for information—something to pass on to the Slayers? He couldn’t give any hint of the coming attacks, or of the cities that would be affected. Otherwise the Slayers would be waiting.
“It has to be now. I can’t hear your voice, so I can’t tell whether you’re lying. If I let you choose the time and place, you would almost certainly lead me into a trap.”
You don’t trust me, but you expect me to trust you?
“You can hear my voice.”
That doesn’t mean I can trust you.
He thought she’d finished writing, and he was forming a response, when she added, That will always be our problem, won’t it? How can we trust each other?
Maybe their counterpart senses worked better over large distances than he’d thought. He knew she wouldn’t ever come and meet him, if for no other reason than to make a point that she didn’t trust him anymore—punishment for his betrayal.
He’d offered her a chance to meet a dragon: to touch it, to fly on its back and see the world how it should be seen, but she’d turned him down to make a point.
He shut off his phone and slid it into his pocket. “I’ll let you get back to bed.” He turned the dragon away from McLean, cutting a quick line into the night air. “While you fall back asleep, remember this. Last summer, I helped you destroy my own dragon instead of letting it kill the Slayers. And on Halloween, I could have kidnapped you when we were together, but I let you return to the Slayers. And then I saved all of your lives by warning you that a dragon was about to attack your plane. You have more reasons to trust me than I have to trust you. But I’m the one who made you the offer tonight, and you’re the one who refused it.”
She probably had a reply to that. He didn’t check his phone to see it. That was one of the only benefits of these one-way conversations. He could always have the last word.
He flew back toward Pennsylvania, toward the dragon enclosure hidden in the middle of forest land. This time as he deliberated over cities again, he considered them with less compassion. His father thought Philadelphia was a strategic choice. Fine. Philadelphia would be city number one. He’d avoid as many hospitals as possible, and the rest of the population would have a firsthand look at how the colonials once lived.
Maybe he’d make McLean his second choice. Let Tori live without electricity for a while. It was petty he knew, vengeful.
Then again, he was his father’s son.
Chapter 2
By the time Dirk walked into the house, his temper had worn off, and he was worrying again that crippling Philadelphia was too much for a first strike. He found his father sitting in the living room, maps spread in front of him, waiting for a report.
Dirk sat down beside his father, noting the map and the cities circled on it.
“Did you have any trouble with the military bases?” his father asked.
“No.” Dirk put the camera on the table. Dragon scales absorbed radar, so none of the equipment on the base had detected him coming or going.
His father picked up the camera and reviewed the pictures. “I’ve decided you should hit New York City on the first night. That’ll throw a wrench in the machinery of world trading. Which reminds me, I need to move my stocks to Tokyo.”
Dirk hid his reaction, didn’t let any emotion show as he thought of the eight million people who lived in New York City. How many hospitals were there in a place that big? Was it even possible to avoid them all? He picked up one of the pencils and tapped it against the table. “Strategically speaking, I don’t think New York should be first on our strike list.”
“New York is the largest city in the country.” His father spoke with exaggerated patience, as if he didn’t like explaining the obvious. “More people live there than in most states. If you combined Wyoming, Vermont, Alaska, both Dakotas, Delaware, Montana, Rhode Island, and Maine, their populations would still be smaller than New York City. It is one of the most, if not the most, important targets. Unless we take it out the first night, the government will send anti-aircraft to protect it.”
“Which is why we leave it alone,” Dirk countered. “As long as New York is functioning, the government will have to protect it. They’ll tie up a large portion of troops and artillery there. If we take New York out first, the government will spread those troops out around the rest of the country, making it harder to strike other areas. Besides, we want to keep the most productive cities functioning. We’ll need the profits.”
His father considered the argument. “You make valid points.” He put the camera down and sent Dirk an approving look. “You may yet become another Alexander.”
His father’s standard for military genius had long been Alexander the Great. More than once, his father had told him how Julius Caesar wept when he turned thirty-one, because Alexander had conquered so much more territory by that age. Dirk’s father always ended the story by saying, “but you will best them both. You’ll help take down the most powerful country on earth before you turn twenty.”
Dirk was two months shy of eighteen. His father was ahead of schedule.
Dirk leaned over the maps, noting that Boston was circled. So were Chicago, Atlanta, and Baltimore. “I think we should hit small targets at first. Our goal is to instill fear, not destroy the places we want to control.”
His father returned his attention to the map, making notations next to port cities. “We need to show a force of power. Japan didn’t surrender in World War II after normal bombing raids. It took two—not one—atomic bombs to convince Japan that they couldn’t win. Do you think they would have surrendered if the US had dropped those bombs on small villages?”
“Maybe,” Dirk said. “The Japanese would have seen the
bombs’ power either way.”
His father let out a scoff, indicating that he didn’t think Japan would have been so reasonable. “The bombs were a good thing because they ended the war, ended all of the killings. Fewer than a quarter of a million people died in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Sixty million died from the other effects of the war. The same principle will be true when we rule. The country will suffer losses during the first attacks, but in the long run, everyone will be better off.”
When his father talked about the revolution, he always insisted the country would be better off in the long run, and usually Dirk believed him. That was harder to do tonight with the memory of flying over cities fresh in his mind.
His father leaned back in his chair, surveying Dirk. “Which cities do you suggest?”
“Philadelphia and Florence, South Carolina.”
“Florence?” his father repeated. “I’ve never even heard of it. What strategic advantage would it give us?”
“Taking out a small city will instill more fear. If we only hit big cities, everyone else will think they’re safe. They’ll be more defiant. If we take out a small city, people will realize that no one is safe. Anyone could lose their technology.”
His father nodded. “True.” He moved the map of the east coast, revealing a map of the United States beneath it. “But it’s more important to obtain our strongholds during the first strike.” He tapped his pencil against the western coastline. “I’ll have troops waiting on both sides of the country. Boston, Baltimore, and Norfolk, Virginia will give them footholds in the east, and Seattle and Portland in the northwest. The southwest will be more complicated.”
Complicated because his father didn’t have a dragon enclosure there. He’d built facilities to house and hide his dragons in the Midwest, the East, and the wooded West, but hadn’t bothered with the Southwest. Most of the land there was too open, barren of trees and cover. Attacks in that part of the country would have to be launched from their Oregon base.
“We need to take out the military bases in California on the first night.” He circled Vandenberg and Edwards. “I don’t know if it’s worth pushing Khan up to Portland after we’ve taken care of California. I don’t want to overtire him.”
