The policeman paused for a second, his eyes squinting toward the horizon. He cleared his throat and began speaking into the radio again. “It’s hard to believe, but the suspect looked just like the middle school principal. I think his name’s Whittier.”
“It is Whittier,” Billy offered. “And he may be heading for the airport.” When he spoke, he felt a terrible stinging pain. His tongue had cleaved to the roof of his mouth, and he spat out the words. The inside of his mouth felt like he had been gargling acid, and pain radiated back into his throat, making his whole insides burn like he had swallowed a swarm of angry bees.
What happened? Did that fire come from inside me?
He needed water to cool the burning sting, but nothing was available. He tried to create some saliva to swallow. That helped, at least a little bit.
“Suspect believed to be going to the airport,” the officer continued. “Cannot pursue at this time. He’ll probably take residential roads to Airport Boulevard, so seal the corner of Airport and Vine.” When he finished, the officer turned to the victims and addressed Bonnie first. “Miss? Are you all right?”
Bonnie kept her face buried in Billy’s shoulder. She just nodded.
With an awkward limp, Billy’s mother walked behind Bonnie and pulled the sweater collar down to have a look at her wounds. She shook her head and grimaced. “Quite a few cuts. One looks pretty nasty, but the bleeding’s not too bad. It’s just oozing.”
The officer lowered his bushy gray eyebrows, making him look like a worried grandfather. “And are you all right, ma’am?”
“Just a little ankle sprain. I’ll be fine.”
“Sorry I took so long. I stopped and drew my gun, but I couldn’t shoot while he had the girl. Then the boy got in the line of fire, and the man got on the creep’s back. I should’ve kept running.”
“Don’t worry, officer,” Billy’s mom said, “it wasn’t your fault, and I think our injuries are minor.”
The policeman looked at Billy, his eyes surveying him from top to bottom. “Where did that fire come from, son? Did you throw something at him?”
Billy glanced over at his mother and Bonnie and then back at the officer. He really didn’t know how to respond, so he just shrugged his shoulders. “You got me.”
The policeman pinched his chin between his thumb and index finger, apparently mulling the whole thing over, but after a few seconds he just waved his hand toward the outskirts of town. “The ambulances should be coming from the county station, but the traffic’s pretty bad, so it might be a few more minutes. Just take it easy right here while I check on the men.” He gave a reassuring smile and hustled over to the two would-be heroes.
While his mother continued to examine Bonnie’s neck and head, Billy watched the officer tend to the fallen men. The policeman knelt and pulled up the smaller man’s pant leg while the trucker rose slowly to his feet, still shaking his head to clear the fog. The officer then left the scene, jogging past Billy toward his squad car back at the intersection.
“I’m going for a first-aid kit for the girl and the men,” he called back. “The ambulances might take too long.”
A few seconds after he left, the faint sound of a wailing siren rode the cool breeze into town. Bonnie lifted her face from Billy’s shirt and tried to speak through her crying spasms. “We . . . can’t let them . . . examine me.”
Billy’s mother stepped back and ran her hand through her tangled hair. “She’s right, and we have to get to the airport. We have a first-aid kit in the plane. I think she’ll be okay until then.”
Without another word, Billy helped Bonnie and his mother back into the car. As he walked around the rear, he saw the two injured men once again. Billy decided he couldn’t possibly leave without thanking them.
“Back in a sec!” he called, his tongue stinging a bit less.
As he hustled toward them, he noticed an unusual sparkle on the road near where the two men rested. Clouds covered the sun like a cold gray blanket, so he wondered where the light could be coming from. He leaned over and snatched it up. It was a small stone, about the size of a quarter, shaped like a slightly flattened golf ball. Instead of tiny dimples, it was covered with hexagonal facets about the width of a pencil eraser, and a hole had been drilled through one edge, as though it had been the pendant for a necklace. A crystalline shell surrounded a black core, and it seemed to emit light from one side, dim but noticeable. The faint beam flickered, painting shadows on Billy’s palm, as though it were casting the image of ghostly dancers from its glass-covered stage.
Although the pain in his mouth came roaring back, he had to ask about the gem. He showed it to the truck driver. “Is this yours?”
“Never seen it before,” he replied while rubbing the back of his neck.
The police officer had just arrived and was kneeling next to the older man, who was still sitting on the street holding his pant leg up. Billy held the stone between his thumb and finger. “Does this belong to either one of you?”
“Nope,” the injured man replied. “Don’t wear jewelry.”
The officer pulled a roll of gauze from the first-aid kit and glanced up at Billy. He just shook his head.
Several other people had ventured onto the street, talking to and comforting the men, so Billy held up the stone for all to see. “Does this belong to anyone here?”
Various shakes of the head and calls of “Not mine” gave him his answer. He dropped the stone into his pocket and spoke to the two men. “I appreciate what you tried to do. He’s really dangerous.”
“No need for thanks,” the trucker replied. “I just wish we could have caught him.”
Billy didn’t know how to end the conversation, so he just waved clumsily and hurried back to the Volkswagen, which now had three or four people by the driver’s side, talking to his mother and to Bonnie. As he jogged back, he noticed the pain in his mouth lessening again.
Good thing! I don’t know how long I could’ve stood that heat without a drink! I wonder why the pain keeps changing?
Billy jumped into the front passenger seat and slammed the door. “The police guy’s got his back turned. We don’t have time to file a report, so let’s roll. The sirens are getting close. With all the commotion, maybe he won’t notice.”
His mother rolled up her window after saying a quick goodbye to her well-wishers. By this time, the cars in front had already pulled away. “Oh, please start this time,” Billy’s mom pleaded as she turned the key. A weak, grinding sound whined from the rear and then fell silent. Another grind, even weaker, cried like a sick puppy and died away.
Billy turned around and looked out the back window. “Try again! The cop’s still not watching, but the truck driver’s coming this way!” He grabbed his mother’s wrist before she could turn the key. “No. Wait a second!”
She glanced at the rearview mirror. “Why is the back hatch open?”
Slam! A loud thud of metal on metal startled the riders. “Try it now,” came a shout from the back. They turned to see the truck driver waving. Apparently he had done something to the engine and slammed the rear access closed.
She turned the key again, and this time the engine chugged twice and finally rumbled to life. She waved to the trucker as she pulled forward, careful to give the motor enough gas this time.
“Billy,” his mother said, “do you remember the airport’s main number?”
“Sure.”
“Call and alert Security there. Describe the car, and ask them to put a guard on your dad’s airplane.”
Billy took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. He looked back at Bonnie. She had curled to one side, resting her shoulder against the back of the seat with her eyes tightly shut. Seeing her in so much pain drove daggers through his heart.
After a quick look around, he found the cell phone on the floorboard. He snatched it up and punched in the number. “I’ll have them in a second, Mom. Let’s hope we get through in time.”
Chapter 9
When they arrived at the county airport, Billy scanned the access road and the parking lot for Whittier’s Cadillac. There was no sign of it. Besides the two police cars at the gate, the field of blacktop held only a few widely spaced vehicles. They parked the car near the terminal, and the trio made its way toward the door. Billy wanted to run—to dash ahead and look for his dad, to check on their airplane, and to make sure the coast was clear. But having to carry the box and book in his arms forced him to step with care. He couldn’t even see his own feet, much less the parking lot curb. And his mother and Bonnie hobbled along slowly. He couldn’t leave them behind; that wouldn’t be a manly thing to do. He contented himself with keeping their pace and watching for the slayer.
As soon as they entered the terminal building, Billy’s mom headed straight to the security desk. Her limp was less noticeable, more like she had a pebble in her shoe than a sprained ankle. At the desk sat Manny, head of the security department for as long as Billy could remember, a nice old guy, but Billy wondered if the challenges of airport security in this day and age had passed him by.
Manny rose to his feet as Billy’s mom approached. “Hello, Mrs. Bannister.”
“Manny, is Jared here?”
“No, Mrs. Bannister,” Manny replied, pulling his holster up as he walked around the desk to join her. “He logged out a while ago. As soon as your son called I sent a man to the hangar, and no one’s seen the car he talked about.”
“May we go to our plane now?”
“Sure. I’ll escort you myself. Let me call my man to see if everything’s clear.”
Manny picked up a phone and punched a couple of numbers. “Jerry? Any sign of trouble? . . . Good. Did you search the plane? . . . Perfect. I’m bringing Mrs. Bannister down.” He hung up the phone and pulled a cart from behind his desk. “Let’s go.”
Billy plopped his box and book on the cart and peered at the book’s title. The old leather carried tiny cracks throughout its worn gray skin, and the darker inscription barely stood out against its background. He could still make out the words, “Fama Regis.”
Hmmm. I didn’t see the title when Dad showed the book to me. I’ll have to remember to ask him what it means.
Manny grabbed the cart handle and led the party across the terminal waiting area and through an exit on the opposite side. Billy paused at the water fountain near the door to cool his breath once again before hurrying to catch up.
Once out in the breeze, the cool air flapped his thin short sleeves, and he crossed his arms, rubbing them briskly with his hands. Through all the excitement, his lack of a sweater hadn’t bothered him, but now he wished he had picked one up at home. It didn’t matter; his sweater was being put to good use.
Billy looked over at Bonnie. With her head down and her eyelids half-closed, he couldn’t read her expression, but her tense jaw and deep forehead lines revealed her agony. Billy clutched the front of his shirt and shivered again. Why did Bonnie’s pain keep sending those cold daggers through his heart? After all, he barely knew her. Their only connection was a vague, mysterious dragon ancestry, and yet he felt as though he had known her for centuries, like their encounter in the schoolyard had launched an adventure planted in ancient soil along with the roots of time itself.
Bonnie glanced in Billy’s direction. She gave him a brief, tortured smile, and in her wet, weary eyes he read an uninvited darkness. Was it mourning? Loneliness? He felt she was finally willing to expose her deep, crushing burden, but not just to anyone; it had to be someone she could trust, someone who would understand. Before today she had no one to tell—no mother, no father, and, it seemed, no friends at school.
Billy wanted to put his arm around her just to say, “I’m with you. Don’t worry,” but he had no idea how she would take it. He knew it would be innocent, like it was when they held hands in the car, but would she know that? She had also hugged him a little while ago to keep her balance, but did her warm embrace signal anything else? What was really in the mind of this dragon girl? Could he trust her? Who was she, anyway?
Billy’s own dragon revelations gnawed away at his sanity. He couldn’t even trust his own feelings; how could he possibly know hers? But if she felt the same suffocating gloom he was feeling, she probably could use a comforting hug. Then again, with all the cuts on her shoulders, she might not like to be hugged or even touched there.
Yes, that’s it, too many cuts. Of course she wouldn’t like it, right?
He saw a pebble in his path and kicked it hard across the pavement.
After walking about a hundred yards on a series of wide concrete pads and grassy medians, they reached a large hangar, a very familiar structure to Billy. Although it was nothing more than a big, elongated garage, the plain, gray metal barn was a welcome sight, his dad’s workplace, a haven of safety and comfort. He had spent many summer hours there, flown with his dad dozens of times, and even helped work on the Cessna. Normally, he and his mother would have just walked right to it, but because of the danger, an escort seemed necessary.
The airport security team had definitely taken the warnings seriously. The first hangar door was the only one open, and a uniformed guard, Jerry, Manny had called him, stood watch right outside. Although Billy didn’t know Jerry personally, he thought he had seen him at least once or twice.
Just as they were about to enter the hangar, they heard a loud yell coming from behind them. The whole group spun around to see a tall, athletic man sprinting in their direction.
“Marilyn! Billy!”
“Dad!” Billy ran to meet him, relief flooding his mind. For the moment, he forgot all the mysteries; the dragon inside hid itself once again, and the little boy emerged to drink in his daddy’s warm embrace. The chill of autumn fled as his father’s strong arms wrapped him up, generating the holy heat of pure love.
But when the warmth radiated into Billy’s face, the blood-swelled sting returned to his mouth, and with it the sting of betrayal. This was the same man, with these same arms, who had hugged him good night a thousand times and chased away all the monsters from under the bed. With every bedtime story he had opportunities to explain the truth, to prepare his son for what he would surely learn some day on his own. But he wasted them.
And was this man really a monster himself? Was he really one of the good dragons? As far-fetched as it might have seemed just a few days ago, every word this dragon spoke, every emotion he portrayed, was now suspect, perhaps a hidden lie. And worse, the dragon specter that lurked within Billy’s own frame came out to haunt him once again.
Billy pulled away and turned his head, trying to find something else to look at, anything but his father’s eyes. He knew he still loved his father, but he felt detached, like this man just wasn’t quite Dad anymore. He felt awful even thinking this way, but he just couldn’t help it. It seemed that claws of anguish threatened to rip his heart in two. He had enjoyed the manly embrace, but somehow it brought the cruel, stinging fire of a dragon.
Manny spoke up from the hangar door. “I guess you won’t be needing me.” He turned and walked slowly back to the terminal building, leaving the cart just inside the door. He nodded toward Jerry, and the guard began walking toward another hangar.
Billy’s mother and father locked both hands into one another’s and kissed tenderly, a hint of passion hovering in their touch. His mother sighed. “You won’t believe what we just went through.”
“I’ll give you the chance to tell me all about it in just a minute,” Billy’s father replied. He turned to greet the unfamiliar face. “You must be Bonnie.”
Bonnie managed a weak smile and looked up at him curiously. “How did you know?” Her hair flew around in disarray, and dried tears painted faint trails on her flushed cheeks, making her look less presentable than she probably would have liked.
“I saw Walter back at home. He told me.”
Billy jumped toward his dad, but he kept his voice low. “Then did he tell you about Dr. Whittier, that he’s a dragon slayer?”
His father answered the question absentmindedly. “I figured that out.” His thoughts were obviously elsewhere. For some reason his gaze lingered on Bonnie’s face. He looked into her eyes, staring at her as if trying to read her mind.
“What’s wrong?” Bonnie asked. Her face turned a brighter red, and she put a hand through her messy hair, pulling a few stray wisps out of her face.
“Hartanna!” he whispered. “You must be Hartanna’s daughter!”
Bonnie’s eyes lit up, and the joy of hearing that name broke through in a wide smile. “You could tell by looking at me?”
Billy’s father glanced at the hangar security guard, who was standing by another door, and he leaned over to speak to Bonnie, smiling. “Anyone who’s been around dragons as much as I have can tell a dragon child when he sees one. I’ll explain later.” He then looked back at Billy. His smile dissolved, and his eyes darkened.
Billy had an idea of what his father was thinking. The secrets he had kept for so many years were coming back to haunt him; he had exposed his family to danger. These dragon slayers still hunted, still lurked in the shadows, ready to pounce on the unprepared. And Billy was unprepared, unaware of his peril. Both he and his father knew whose fault it was.
Billy didn’t know why, but he felt sorry for his dad. Yet, if only his father had shared the burden, they could have borne it together, man to man. He walked closer and forced himself to look imploringly into his father’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
His father’s frown melted, and he put his arm around Billy, looking deeply into his eyes. “I have no excuses. I know that now.” He then guided him toward the hangar door while the others followed. “I’ll explain more soon, but first let’s get in the Cessna and get out of here. If the slayer gathers his forces, we don’t want to be around. My guess is he knows about our plane, so he’s sure to try to get to it.” With a loving pull, Billy’s father drew him closer, and his charred sleeve smeared soot on Billy’s shirt.
Billy’s mom reached over and caressed her husband’s arm. “Your sleeve’s burned! What happened?”
He pulled his arm back and picked at the torn, dangling shreds that covered his reddened skin. “It’s not too bad, just superficial burns. The slayer’s goons torched our house.”
She pulled her hand up to her mouth and cried out. “Torched our house!” Billy put his arm around her shoulder, and he stared at his father with his jaw hanging slack.
His father grabbed the cart on his way through the hangar door and gestured for the others to follow. “Don’t worry. We’ve got insurance, but most importantly, we’re all safe.” He picked up the book from the cart. “You brought
Fama Regis
and our emergency box, so all our photo albums and papers are here, and we still have our livelihood.” He took his wife’s hand and gently pulled her along. “But we have to get to a safe place.”
“But what about our other keepsakes? What about our memories?”
He put the end of his finger on her lips and then removed it to kiss her again tenderly. “Everything else is just stuff. It can all be replaced, even memories. We’ll make new ones. We’ll rebuild.”
With tears flowing, Billy’s mom sniffed and squeezed her husband’s hand. “That’s not as easy as it sounds.”
He closed his eyes and nodded. “No . . . You’re right. It’s not easy. But we still have our business. We still have Merlin.”
Bonnie walked slowly into the darker interior of the hangar. “Merlin? Who’s Merlin?”
He released his wife’s hand and walked the few paces to the first airplane in the cavernous room, reaching up to slap it on the side of the cockpit. “Bonnie, meet Merlin.”
Bonnie folded her arms across her chest, her pain still apparent in her wrinkled forehead. A sweet smile graced her lips as she strolled around the nose of the plane, but her voice remained weak. “He’s a handsome one, all right.”
Billy’s father climbed the stairs to board the plane, holding the book under his arm. “Even though we don’t have to worry much about Dr. Whittier, or whatever he’s calling himself, we should get going. He won’t be able to battle me alone, and it’ll take him some time to prepare.”
The other three followed, with Billy trailing. He stepped carefully up the stairs, once again lugging the family box. With every step, a strange feeling grew, like someone was watching from a hidden corner, or the fear of being alone in the dark. The hairs on his neck stood on end, and his stomach burned. When he reached the top, he looked back at his surroundings. There was still no sign of Dr. Whittier, and the guard was nowhere in sight. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the feeling. Everything seemed in order.
His father slipped into the pilot’s seat, keeping the book at his side, and after depositing his load in the cargo area, Billy took the copilot’s place. Bonnie sat behind Billy in one of the two-seat benches that lined the right side of the plane. Billy’s mom slid into a single seat across the aisle, a first-aid kit already in her lap. She popped it open and began rummaging through it.
The plane’s motor chugged and then purred, sounding like a pride of satisfied lions digesting a recent kill. Seconds later they taxied out of the hangar, and Billy’s dad angled his head toward the passengers. “Bonnie, are you afraid of flying?”
“No, not at all,” she replied softly.
Billy and his mother laughed out loud, but his father just shrugged his shoulders. “What’s so funny?”
“You’ll see!” Billy’s mother replied. She turned to Bonnie. “I’ll help you pull the sweater off, honey.” She reached across the aisle and lifted the bottom hem. It wasn’t easy. The combination of dried sweat and blood made the process sticky and painful, and when the sweater finally came off, Billy grimaced at the dark purple splotches showing through her otherwise blue sweatshirt. Bonnie sighed in great relief, and Billy’s mom folded the sweater before turning to the cockpit. “Take a look at Bonnie now!”
Billy’s father turned. Bonnie’s wings seemed to fill the whole cabin. She had spread them out to flap a couple of times and then folded them back in to let Billy’s mom nurse her wounds.