A Crown of Dragons

by Chris D'Lacey

  “Nothing. I have to sit tight, wait for the call.”

  “Strange,” he said, pulling at the cuff of a glove. “Once they’ve made up their minds, they don’t normally hang back.” He zipped up his jacket. “All right, I’ve done what I came here to do. Ultimately, it’s up to you, Michael, but I’ll be at your back whenever I can. Everything okay at home, school?”

  I took a moment.

  “What?” he said.

  “I don’t know. It might be nothing.”

  “What?” he pressed.

  “There’s this man, Harvey. He wants to date Mom.”

  He smiled. “Not really UNICORNE business.”

  “What if he was a Talen who could make a crow fly into a car’s windshield?”

  That got his attention. “Go on.”

  So I told him about the weird things that had happened, including the nonexistent tire puncture, and how Harvey had always been on the scene.

  He stood up and checked the front wheel of the bike. “You cycled here okay?”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  “Then something strange is going down, and I don’t just mean your tires.” He took out his phone and connected to the Internet. “How long has this Harvey guy worked with your mom?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve said nothing to Klimt about it?”

  “No.”

  “What’s his surname? Harvey what?” The home page of Holton College came up.

  “I don’t know. He’s in the languages department.”

  He thumbed a few pages. “I’ve got the staff listings. Delraye. Professor Harvey Delraye. That sound right?”

  “I guess.”

  “Okay, I’ll check him out.”

  “Should I do anything — try to keep him away?”

  He stood up, shaking his head. “There’s an old saying, ‘Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.’” He slipped the phone into his jacket. “If this man is what you think he is, trying to stop him from seeing your mom will only put him on his guard. Here, take this.” He passed me a card. “My number’s on it. I know Chantelle is your primary contact, but keep this just between us for now. Anything suspicious, text me or call.”

  “Okay.” I picked up the bike.

  “And, Michael?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be kind to Dennis. Trust me, he’s one of the good guys.”

  When I got home, Mom was in the kitchen. “Where did you disappear to?” she said. “I thought you were supposed to be helping Dennis?”

  I heard a drill upstairs. “He’s still here?” Despite Mulrooney’s parting words, I wasn’t really in the mood to see Dennis.

  “Yes. He’s worked like a Trojan all morning. Phase one almost done, he says.”

  “Phase one?”

  “He has to come back next week, to plaster over the boards he’s put up. Don’t scuttle off, I haven’t finished.” She closed the kitchen door, blocking my exit to the garden. “I have something to tell you. You said you wanted to meet Harvey.”

  “I already have.”

  “Huddled up in the back of his car doesn’t count.” She took a breath. “I’ve invited him for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Dinner?”

  She crossed her arms. “A short expression meaning ‘to eat in the evening.’ It will require the use of cutlery and a reasonable degree of table manners. Napkins might be involved. Don’t look at me as if I’ve invited a serial killer into our home. I am giving you the chance to make amends for that dreadful episode the other night. He said you were getting along better yesterday. You had a nice chat about dragons, he said. I actually think he likes you — strangely.”

  “Hi, I’m done.” Dennis tapped lightly on the kitchen door. He saw me and nodded. I nodded back.

  “Oh, thank you,” Mom gushed, going straight to him. “Are you sure you won’t stop for a sandwich or something? Another cup of tea?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got some lunch in the van. I’ll let you know when I can get back to skim the ceiling. I’ll source one of your roof shingles as well. Should be done by the end of next week. Michael.” He nodded again and Mom saw him out.

  “Lovely man,” she said, coming back into the kitchen.

  “Sure you don’t want to invite him as well?”

  “Don’t start,” she said. “It’s just dinner.”

  Yeah, right. How about we bring the pair of them around with dueling pistols? Walk ten paces, guys. Turn. Bang! Bang!

  All my problems solved in one go.

  My ceiling looked like a flat gray quilt, but Dennis, to be fair, had done a neat job. I was trying to decide how I felt about Dennis, when I saw a white envelope taped to my bedpost. A note had been penciled on the front. Don’t know if you wanted these, but here they are anyway. D.

  Inside were some fluorescent shapes: stars, crescent moons, a rocket ship, the planet Saturn. Dad had stuck them to the ceiling for me when I was young. They glowed in the dark when the lights were turned off. Dennis had taken the trouble to save them. In a tiny, tiny way, he’d kept Dad alive for me.

  I decided then and there I would apologize for ranting at him, when he came back. But how much should I try to explain? Me mouthing off about agents and crows must have made him curious, at least. Hopefully, Mulrooney would smooth it over. And Dennis wasn’t the type to blab or ask awkward questions — I hoped.

  But Harvey. He was a real unknown. I texted Mulrooney to say he was coming for dinner. He texted back. Noted. Stay alert, but calm.

  Easy for him to say. Waiting for Harvey to turn up on Sunday was in some ways more nail-biting than the thought of hunting for Dad among dragons. Mom had vacuumed and dusted the front room and laid the best cutlery on the table, along with the napkins and the napkin rings that had been imprisoned in a cupboard for as long as I could remember. “Wow, a tablecloth,” Josie said, which in three words captured the mood precisely.

  Strangely, Harvey was late. Mom had told him seven o’clock. At twenty past, she was hovering by the window, picking at her sweater, weighing her phone.

  “He’ll come,” said Josie, slipping an arm around Mom’s waist. “What man would let you down? You’re gorgeous.”

  “I’m just a bit concerned about the weather,” she said.

  It was squally outside. If Harvey had been coming by rowboat, even I’d have been concerned for him.

  Suddenly, Josie squeaked, “There’s the car. I’ll let him in.”

  She scooted to the door.

  Mom put away her phone and smoothed her skirt. She looked neat. Unfussy, but pretty. She noticed me watching her and said, “Be nice — please?”

  I wrinkled my nose. Neutral. That was the best she could expect from me. Alert, but calm.

  Agent mode.

  He came in carrying a shopping bag and a small bunch of flowers. He gave Mom the flowers and pecked her cheek. He touched her arm and called her Darcy. Despite the weather, he was still in his trademark jacket and slacks. Dark turtleneck sweater. Smart tan shoes.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said. “There was an accident at the Poolhaven crossroads. Quite serious. Police and ambulance. They had to close the road behind me.”

  “Accident?” I said, cutting Mom off. At Poolhaven?

  “Yes.” He looked me squarely in the eye. “A dark car followed me through the lights. As it turned away from Holton, it skidded, left the road, and hit a tree.”

  “Goodness,” Mom gasped.

  “I stopped to see if I could offer assistance. That’s what held me up.”

  “Who was driving?” I said.

  “How would Harvey know that?” Mom clucked.

  Harvey raised a hand to calm her. “It was a man, Michael. Youngish, in his thirties. He seemed quite fit. He had … a military tattoo on his arm. He was alive when they put him into the ambulance. Hopefully, he’ll be okay. Now, please, enough of that. Here, I brought you something.”

  He lifted the bag.

  “You bro
ught something just for him?” said Josie.

  “For both of you,” Harvey laughed. “I confess I was thinking of Michael, but in some ways, it might suit you even better. I suspect you’ll find some reason to wear it, though I’m led to believe that Michael is the dragon fan of the house.”

  “Oh, wow!” gasped Josie as he revealed the gift.

  It was a crown.

  A crown of dragons.

  It was a single band of silver with a ring of purple-colored dragons around it, each one connected by a jet of flame to the outstretched tail of the dragon in front. Harvey handed it to Josie and she showed it to me. I staggered backward, needing to hold on to a chair for support. I’d seen it before, the crown. One of the first experiments UNICORNE had put me through was a kind of “consciousness” trip. They’d strapped me into a transparent pod and immersed me in an amber-colored, breathable fluid. Somehow, they’d put me into a dream state where I’d seen a black unicorn wearing Dad’s paper chain of dragons around its neck. When I’d picked up the chain, it turned into a crown, this crown, the one in Josie’s hands.

  “Goodness, Harvey, I think you’ve stunned him,” Mom said.

  “I … I need the bathroom,” I said. And I ran, without looking at any of them. I got to the bathroom and pulled my phone from my pocket, trembling so much I dropped it into the washbasin.

  I called Mulrooney.

  The call went to voice mail.

  I tried again.

  Voice mail. Nothing.

  On the third attempt, I left a message. “Harvey’s here. And something weird’s just happened. Are you okay? He said there was an accident at —”

  “Michael?”

  Bang! Bang! Bang! On the bathroom door. Mom.

  “Michael, are you all right?”

  I swallowed a little sick and opened the door. “I needed to pee. What’s the problem?”

  Her eyes tracked downward. “You pee with your phone in your hand, do you?”

  “I got a text, that’s all.”

  She folded her arms.

  “While I was up here.”

  She gave me that disbelieving look that parents and teachers can turn on at will. “You said you’d be nice.”

  “I didn’t, actually.”

  That visibly hurt her. She pushed me deeper into the bathroom. “Let me tell you something, Michael. Something about Harvey. I could go downstairs this instant and ask him to take back his presents and leave. Is that what you want? Is that what this is about? And do you know something else? He’d understand and accept my request because he’s a decent, mature human being. It would make things awkward between us at work, but that will be nothing compared to the rift that will be created at home between you and me and your sister. And you might not feel the pain now, but you will in the months to come, trust me. All I’m asking is that you come back to the table, eat with us, and be reasonably polite. One hour. Do you think you can manage that?”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “What?”

  “How long has he worked at the college?”

  She screwed up her face. “He joined last term, about three months. Why?”

  “Mom, you don’t know anything about him.”

  “I know enough to trust my own judgment, I think.” She looked at the phone again. “Answer your text, then come down, all right? Last chance, Michael. I mean it. Last chance.”

  When I got there, Josie was sitting at the dining table. She was wearing the crown and asking Harvey where he’d gotten it. He was sitting opposite her, looking relaxed. The space next to him had been reserved for me. He flapped a hand and said, “Oh, I was passing a thrift store and saw it in the window. Cost an absolute fortune.”

  Josie laughed and fluttered her lashes. “A princess only expects the best.”

  “Precisely what I told myself,” Harvey said. “Let Michael take a look.”

  “Not now,” said Mom. She picked the crown off Josie’s head and put it aside. “It’s time for our appetizer.” She put a tureen in the center of the table.

  “Soup?” said Josie, turning up her nose.

  “Chicken broth,” said Mom. “You don’t have to have any if you don’t want to.”

  Harvey opened a napkin and spread it on his lap. “Well, you can count me in. Chicken broth? Very warming on a night like this. I bet those dragons would go for it.”

  “Dragons don’t eat chicken broth,” scoffed Josie.

  Harvey broke a bread roll in half. “Quite right — a dragon would take the whole chicken. Raar!” He made a snatching motion across the table. Josie jumped and giggled like a five-year-old. Even I twitched in my seat. Mom, on the other hand, snorted like a dragon and had to pause with the ladle in her hand.

  “Oops,” said Harvey. He threw Josie a wink.

  “So what do dragons eat?” she asked.

  “Do we have to talk about silly dragons?” Mom said.

  “Oh, and like school or the weather is better?” moaned Josie.

  Harvey backed her up. “Nothing silly about dragons, Mrs. M.”

  “Don’t encourage her,” Mom laughed, serving him first.

  They smiled at each other.

  Puke alert.

  “I mean it,” said Harvey, who refused to be discouraged. “They’re fascinating creatures. I’m sure Michael would agree?”

  Mom raised an encouraging eyebrow and ladled some of the broth into my bowl.

  Here, I supposed, was my chance to be “nice.” “Um, yeah,” I grunted, throwing in a shrug for good measure.

  Well, it was a start.

  “If the myths are to be believed,” said Harvey, “dragons are the most highly evolved creatures in the universe.”

  Really? Now he’d gotten my attention.

  Josie wiggled her nose. “What, more than us?”

  “Oh, way more than humans,” he said. “Not only can they fly and breathe fire, they have no known predators. I wouldn’t believe all that nonsense about knights slaying them. It would be a brave man who stood up in front of a dragon, wielding nothing but a sword. Even without fire, their range of powers is extraordinary.”

  As he said this, I began to feel deeply uneasy. I’d noticed a sudden shift in his tone. He’d moved away from the idea that dragons were creatures of myth and legend, to the point of view that they were real, as if he’d experienced their “powers” firsthand. I was about to test his idea on predators with a dragon-versus-nuclear-warhead question, when Josie got in front of me again.

  “Yeah, but I bet they can’t play the flute.”

  Fair point on the “highly evolved” argument. But Harvey wasn’t derailed. “I think you’ll find they could if they chose to.”

  Josie speechless was not a sight you saw often. Her jaw dropped so much that the tips of her hair were in danger of dipping into her broth. Annoyingly, Mom prevented that from happening by placing a restraining hand on Josie’s shoulder. “Never mind knights and their swords. I would like to see certain people sitting up straight and wielding their spoon. Harvey, would you like a glass of wine?”

  “No, thank you,” he said. “I’m good with water.”

  Mom poured some for everyone.

  “So how would they do it?” I asked, finding my voice. “They’d look stupid, for one thing, holding a flute.”

  “And their claws are too big for the holes,” said Josie.

  Harvey leaned forward to sample the broth. As he moved, his turtleneck caught against his jacket and I saw a long, red scar behind his ear.

  I gasped, almost winded by shock.

  He heard me and slowly put down his spoon. Making no fuss, he picked up his napkin and dabbed his lips. Looking at a puzzled Josie, he said, “Both of you are making the mistake of assuming that the dragon is in its natural form. Their ability to transform their physical shape is their supreme asset, a skill that very few humans are aware of. The dragon would simply take on a form that would give it the dexterity to play the instrument. So, if you’ll excuse me, I
need to speak to Michael alone for a moment.” He turned toward me. As he did, everything in my field of vision jolted and blurred, just like that moment in the parking lot.

  And now, when he spoke, it sounded as if his voice was crossing a vast window of space. He said, “I’ve traveled far to meet you, Michael. Considering we share a common bond, you haven’t been the easiest Talen to find.” And he pulled down the turtleneck to show me the full extent of his scar, a wound that ran from behind his ear all the way down to the curve of his shoulder. A jagged line made by the slash of a dragon scale. He had indeed come far. All the way from the Chihuahuan Desert. Now I knew exactly who Harvey was. The fourth member of Lynton’s research team. The injured archaeologist.

  Jacob Hartland.

  “Mom, run!” I screamed. I thought about grabbing a knife, but instead put my right hand under my soup bowl and tried to scoop it hard toward Harvey.

  My hand just went right through it.

  “Michael, please be calm,” he said. “You of all people ought to be aware that we’re no longer on the same physical plane as your mother and Josie; it merely appears that we are.”

  He gestured at Mom. She was looking at Josie, frozen in time. She hadn’t responded at all to my shout.

  “What have you done?” I yelled.

  “You know exactly what I’ve done. I’ve tilted our reality so we can talk unimpeded, no longer shackled by our physical bodies. Perhaps a change of scenery will help.”

  He swirled his hand as he’d done in the car before the crow had hit. In an instant, the room, the table, and the broth disappeared and we were sitting on rocks in the Chihuahuan Desert, right beside the Mogollon cairn. It was night and the air was cool and still, stars spreading across the sky like a spill of sugar grains.

  “Better?” he said.

  I jumped up, looking around.

  “I wouldn’t advise an escape attempt. To perform a shift while you’re part of this construct could have … disastrous consequences. We already have one member of the Malone family lost in the multiverse. Another would seem rather careless, don’t you think?”

  “Why have you come here?! What do you want?!”