The dragon put his nose right next to his son’s, and Billy felt hot, dry gasses surround his neck. The rumbling dragon voice settled into a soft purr. “But that is not all, is it?”
Clefspeare’s gentle, warm breath settled Billy’s trembling body. “No. When my father—I mean, when you were on the plane, you knew the prophecy had to be fulfilled. You weren’t afraid to be shot.”
The dragon drew back his head, but only a little. “And you were not afraid?”
Billy took another deep breath. “I was scared stiff, but I thought, well, I was really guessing, that I still had a part in the prophecy. If I
am
part of the prophecy, I guessed it would all be okay. If I wasn’t, and everything was a lie, well . . . then I guess I really didn’t care what happened to me.”
“And what is your part?”
Billy scraped his shoes on the cave floor again. “I think I know, but . . .” His voice trailed away.
Clefspeare pulled back and raised his head high. “I think you know, too.” The dragon paused. His cherry-red eyes seemed to burst into flames, and his voice growled. “The slayer will be back, and I must do battle with him. I do not know when that will happen.”
Billy cringed at the sudden growl, and the flaming eyes made his bones feel like rubber. Clefspeare’s words brought a new question to his mind, but he wasn’t sure how to ask it. He sat down and spoke quietly, almost hoping no one would hear. “Will you win?”
Clefspeare dropped his head back to Billy’s level. “The prophecy says that faith will win the war. That is all I know.”
Billy noticed that his cold hand rested on the dragon’s scales. The skin on scale contact reflected his feelings, warm and cold at the same time.
He looked back at Hambone, who seemed to be resting comfortably, and wondered what to do about him. “I guess I have to take Hambone back to Mr. Hatfield. He won’t be happy about his champion dog getting shot.”
The dragon looked the hound over again as if appraising his value. “Offer to buy him.”
“Buy him?” Billy shuffled his feet to where Hambone rested, and he scratched behind the dog’s ear. “He must be worth a lot, and Mom says we’ll be tight for money. Besides, I don’t think he’ll want to part with a champion hound.”
Clefspeare moved his head toward the back wall. “Come and see what I have over here.”
Billy followed the dragon’s lead, but the light grew dimmer where the floor met the wall, so he tiptoed until he reached the back of the cave. He knelt and bent over to get a look at the floor. “I see two piles of stones.”
“They are all gems. I will polish some to start my regeneracy dome, and others I will give to you. For now, pick out the largest stone from the smaller pile and offer to buy the dog with it. If he won’t sell the dog, at least he will be able to pay the medical bills. I have seen Mr. Hatfield, and he is a lot smarter than you might think. I know his skill; I had to hide from him. He knows these mountains, and I think he will recognize a ruby when he sees one, even in the rough.”
Billy picked up a large stone from near the bottom of the pile, spilling the others from the top. “Mr. Hamilton said rubies aren’t easy to find in West Virginia.” He looked back at the dragon. “How did you find so many?”
“I am a dragon. Finding gems is in my nature.” Clefspeare swept his pile of stones closer together with his wing. “I have already flown south to mine a richer territory. Just tell Mr. Hatfield what the stone is. He will believe you.”
Billy’s head jerked up. His voice and legs trembled. “I feel . . . something.”
Clefspeare raised his head, and his ears perked. “Yes, son. Danger. I feel it, too. It is not very close, but too close for you to stay. Take the ruby with you, redeem the dog, and go home. I will watch over you until you are off the mountain.” He winked at Billy and added, “Count on it.”
Billy remained silent, staring at Clefspeare’s strangely familiar eyes. The winking dragon made him shudder deep within, and hearing his father’s signal phrase made him feel cold and bitter once more, like an imposter had appeared and posed as his missing dad.
His mother stood and caressed her husband’s neck. “Jared, when will we see you again? Can I come—”
The dragon pushed her away with his head and touched her shoulder lightly with the tip of his wing. “There is no time. Go. I will erase the tracks you make near the cave, and I will contact you later.”
Billy put the ruby in his pocket. He then slid both arms under Hambone and lifted him to chest level. Clefspeare reignited the torch, allowing the two to see their way back to the cave entrance. As they stepped out into the frigid wind, Billy tried to shield Hambone by sliding him under his coat while allowing the dog’s head and front legs to poke through at the top. It was very uncomfortable for Billy, but Hambone cooperated.
“Billy, do you still sense danger?”
“No, not really. Not anymore.”
“Then let’s go back the way we came. Your father said he’d watch over us, so I guess we’ll count on that even if we can’t see him.”
The two retraced their steps. Sometimes that was easy, especially in the unexposed ground where the snow preserved their tracks, but in the more open areas, they had to guess.
After several minutes they came upon the shooting scene. The path of burnt leaves that Billy’s breath had made was still there, but the dead body of the gunman was gone. “Not another missing body!” Billy complained, his head swiveling to search the area.
“We can’t stop to look around. Whoever took it might still be nearby.”
Billy shook his head. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m still not very good at this danger-sensing business.”
Chapter 18
With the morning’s light filtering into the schoolroom, Billy sat at the table, busily drawing a picture of Arlo Hatfield for Walter and occasionally taking a sip from his root beer. Billy knew that Walter expected a wild, Thursday morning story. Although his pencil sketch caricature was quite exaggerated, anyone who knew the mountain man would have recognized him right away. Billy slid the page across the table, and Walter laughed out loud.
“So that’s the old hillbilly?” Walter asked, admiring the art. “And this isn’t one of those Thursday morning tall tales?”
“I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t been there. He has a real outhouse, and the dogs have a better home than he does.”
Walter slid the drawing back to Billy. “That’s a great picture. Maybe you ought to sign it and hang it up somewhere.”
Billy drew a symbol at the bottom of the portrait with a swirling flair. It was a simple design, the letters “BB” with the first B reversed to sit back-to-back with the second one, the same symbol he used to sign all his artwork. With an impish grin, he held the drawing next to his own face.
Walter peered at the symbol and then again at the caricature. “I think it’s really a self-portrait.”
Billy held up a fist and playfully swung at his friend, and when Walter tried to snatch the drawing, Billy pulled it back. After a short tussle, Billy sat back with his picture and thought about Mr. Hatfield and the day’s events. “So what did you do yesterday while I was up on the mountain?”
Walter had a piece of paper, too, and he looked down at it while making it into an airplane. “Professor Hamilton came over to teach.”
“He did? I thought we agreed to cancel school yesterday since I had to be gone.”
“We did, but I called to tell him that he left his elephant gun here. He said as long as he was coming over, seeing that I was so interested, he would teach me about a few other exotic weapons. He brought a crossbow, a dart blowgun with real darts, a boomerang, and a big rock.”
Billy stared at his friend. “A big rock?”
“Yeah. He said he couldn’t fit the catapult in his station wagon.” Walter couldn’t hold his straight face any longer, and he burst out laughing.
Billy held up his root beer can. “You’re kidding, right?”
Walter shook his head and got up to act out his story. “No. For real. He really brought a rock. And we tried to build a little catapult out in the back yard. When we launched the rock—”
“Don’t tell me. You broke a window.”
“No. The rock went about ten inches to the side and landed on my foot.” Walter lifted his knee and hopped around for a few seconds. “It really hurt, but we had a blast.”
Billy laughed long and hard, his spirits feeling higher than they had in several days. When he settled down, his thoughts drifted from one delight to another. “Did you hear from Bonnie? What’d she do yesterday?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t call. I don’t think her foster parents let her use the phone. Why don’t you ask her when she gets here?”
Billy got up and looked out the window at the new kennel in the yard, a large covered cage, complete with a modern space heater. “So did you get a look at Hambone? I get to keep him until his wound heals. Arlo said, ‘he ain’t no good for huntin’ with that thar bullet hole innim.’”
Walter laughed. “Yeah. He’s a cool dog. Too bad you’ll have to give him back. Dad’s always wanted an excuse to take up hunting again.”
Billy came back to the table and gave Walter a proud smile. “He did a great job trying to find the cave for us yesterday. He’d be a good tracking dog for your dad.”
“Yeah. But if Hambone’s going to be a hunter again, he has to lose that ugly doggy sweater you got for him.” Walter snickered. “Did you get it off a dead basset hound or something?”
Billy raised his fist again but dropped it when he heard a noise.
The front door opened and closed, and Professor Hamilton strode hurriedly into the room. His eyes darted around, and his trembling hands fumbled to pull off his gloves. “Walter, is your father still here?”
“I think so. What’s wrong?”
The professor shook his head. “Oh, it’s terrible, just terrible. Please, summon your father at once.”
Walter left in a hurry, and the professor paced from one side of the room to another. Billy stood and grabbed one of his teacher’s upper arms. “Professor Hamilton, what is it?”
The professor stopped and stared at Billy, but his lips failed to move. Billy looked around the room. Something was missing. “Where’s Bonnie? Didn’t you give her a ride this morning?”
The professor mumbled something and then turned to greet Walter’s father as he hustled in. Billy’s mother followed, along with Walter and his mother. “Professor, what is it?” Mr. Foley asked.
“It’s Miss Silver,” the professor said, his face anguished and pale. “She’s gone. Someone accused her foster parents of neglect, and the authorities have shipped her back to Montana.”
Billy clenched his fists and shouted. “To Montana?!”
Mr. Foley’s face turned sunburn red. “Who ordered this?”
“You’re an attorney,” the professor replied. “I assumed you would be able to find out. When I went to her house, nobody was home. A neighbor told me what happened.”
“What did the police say? They were supposed to be there.”
“There was a policeman there,” the professor explained, “but he refused to tell me anything.”
“Could Devin be behind this?” Billy’s mother asked.
“If he can pull off being an FBI agent,” Mr. Foley said, “then he might have been able to stick his nose into this, too.”
Billy wadded up his drawing and hurled it across the room. “But he doesn’t want her in Montana. He wants her dead.”
The professor ran his hand through his scattered hair. “And we have no idea who’s transporting her.”
Mr. Foley checked his belt clip for his cell phone and kissed his wife on the cheek. “I’d better get over to Bonnie’s house and see what’s going on.” He put his hand on Walter’s shoulder. “Son, get the brown folder on my desk and meet me at the car.” He grasped Professor Hamilton’s elbow and led him toward the hallway. “Walk with me. I have a couple of questions to ask you.”
The professor nodded, and the two hurried from the room. Within seconds the front door slammed shut. Walter raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders at Billy before hustling toward the office.
Billy began pacing the floor in front of his mother. “Now what?” he said, punching his palm with his fist. “We can’t just sit here and wait!”
“What else can we do?” his mother asked. “Where can we go to look?”
“Make some calls! Find out where they took her.”
“If I know Carl,” Mrs. Foley interjected, “he’ll make calls while he’s driving. If he needs our help, he’ll let us know what to do.” She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot. “I’d better go see if Walter found that folder.”
When Mrs. Foley left the room, Billy pressed his hands on the windowsill and watched the professor close the car door for Mr. Foley. Walter handed a folder to his dad through the window, and Mr. Foley reached out and pulled Walter into a manly embrace, ending with a firm pat on the back. As he watched the car roll back on the driveway, Walter’s smile grew into a wide grin, and when the car disappeared around the corner, he and the professor walked toward a side door that led to the home office.
Billy leaned over and whispered in his mother’s ear. “Mom, let’s go see the dragon. Maybe he’ll know what to do.”
She brushed a piece of lint from Billy’s shirt, and her hand lingered on his shoulder. Her voice stayed low, just above a whisper. “He said he would contact us. I don’t think we should.”
Billy shook his head. “The dragon said he’d seen Devin’s men around the mountain. Maybe he heard them say something. Maybe if he tells us what he’s heard, we’ll figure out a clue. It’s not like he can pick up a phone and tell us what he knows.”
She put her hand to her chin. “Do you think we can find the cave again without Hambone?”
“In a heartbeat.”
A knock at the front door made them stop and turn, and Walter’s tennis shoes squeaked down the hall until he reached the doorway. Billy and his mom kept quiet, trying to listen.
“Adam! What are you doing here?”
“I have a message for Dragon Breath.”
Billy rushed out of the schoolroom just as Walter closed the door, turning a pale blue envelope over and over in his hand. He held it out. “It’s for you.”
Billy snatched it and ripped it open. A creased piece of paper fell out along with a neatly clipped lock of light brown hair. He quickly scanned the words and looked up at Walter. “Um, sorry Walter. I’d better keep this private.”
Walter shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever.” But when Billy turned, Walter tapped him on the back. “Can I look at the envelope?”
Billy dropped the lock of hair back into the envelope and handed it to Walter. The professor walked in from the office, his head nodding as though he were counting the people in the room. “I thought I heard Mr. Lark’s voice. Is there a new mystery at hand?”
Walter showed his teacher the envelope and lock of hair, and the two buzzed about it while Billy and his mother bent over to read the note.
I’m sure you’ve heard by now that your girlfriend is supposedly Montana bound. I know you killed one of my host; I saw your work. If you ever want to see Bonnie again, meet me at the scene of your crime this afternoon at two. Come alone!
Billy folded up the note, and he and his mother stared at each other with their hands on their hips. Billy spoke first, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Devin says he has Bonnie and he wants me to meet him back at the mountain by two or he’ll kill her. So much for the police protection; it didn’t help—”
“I don’t think he has Bonnie,” Walter interrupted.
Billy turned to see Walter holding the envelope and the professor still studying the lock. “Isn’t that her hair?” Billy asked.
The professor held up the tawny strands. “I took careful note of Miss Silver’s hair some time ago. When we had our class on origins, she was quite reticent, so I tried to make an estimate of her heritage. Her hair gave away a strong English tie with a healthy mixture of Scandinavian highlights. This lock has the same characteristics. A counterfeit is highly unlikely.”
“And besides that,” Walter added. “Do you remember that Bonnie told us he cut off some of her hair and put it in an envelope?”
“You’re right,” Billy agreed. “She did.”
“Well, when I whacked him,” Walter went on, holding the envelope at eye level, “I remember seeing a blue envelope sticking out of his coat pocket. That’s not a new lock of hair. He already had it.”
Billy gazed at the note again and spoke slowly. “Then if Devin doesn’t have her, why would she be going to Montana all of a sudden, and how does Devin know about it?”
The professor reached for the envelope and tucked the hair inside. “I assume, William, that Devin learned of Miss Silver’s fate the same way I did. When he could not find Miss Silver, he simply asked one of the neighbors.”
“But if she really did go to Montana,” Billy said, “it would be easy to find that out. It would prove he doesn’t really have her.”
Walter gave Billy a cynical glance. “And still get to the mountain by two? I doubt it. If she really is on the road to Montana, there’s no way you could find out for quite a while. Devin’s counting on you to believe his lie because you don’t have time to find the truth.”
The professor pulled out his pocket watch. “Mr. Foley is correct, William. Mr. Lark’s visit was timed precisely. If you wish to reach the mountain by two o’clock, you will have to leave right away.”
“So Devin doesn’t think I’ll even try to check the story because he sent the hair.”
Walter pointed a finger at Billy. “Exactly.”
“But what if you’re wrong? What if he kidnapped her and just decided to send the hair he already had? Maybe he planted the story about Montana.”
“That is possible, William,” the professor said. “However, it would mean that the police allowed someone to enter and forcibly remove the child without checking on his credentials. That doesn’t seem likely. And I think Devin would have attempted the kidnapping earlier, if he were able.”
Billy nodded and let out a sigh. “You may be right, but Devin’s pulled off some big maneuvers, so it’s possible the police are on his side, too.” He ran his fingers through his hair and bit his lip. “But how can I take a chance either way? And what could I do against Devin? Even if he does have her, if I go up there, he’ll just kill both Bonnie and me.”
Billy’s mother put a hand on his shoulder. “There is a way.” She looked at Walter and the professor apologetically. “Please excuse us,” she said before leaning over and whispering in Billy’s ear. “You wouldn’t be alone. If Devin gets that close to the cave, your father will sense him. And since he’ll feel your presence, too, he’d be out there in a heartbeat if there’s any danger. Maybe this will be your father’s chance to get rid of Devin once and for all. We can’t keep on living in fear.”
Billy whispered back. “But if Devin has his host there to fight, would the dragon be afraid to come out because of the prophecy?”
His mother’s brow cast a shadow over her eyes, and she frowned. “Please excuse us again, Walter, Professor.” She led Billy out to the kitchen, and she spoke in a low, angry tone. “He’s not just ‘the dragon.’ He’s your father. And after all you’ve seen, do you think your father would be afraid? Remember the prophecy said that faith will win. You showed a lot of faith before; it’s about time you found it again.”
Billy felt a surge of heat radiate across his face. Her rebuke stabbed his soul. He gritted his teeth to hold back his rage. “And you want me to go up there to face him alone? You talk about faith, but you won’t even let me go out fishing at Hardin Pass unless Walter’s with me. You tell Dad that I’m not old enough to fly Merlin even though he’s with me in the cockpit. Where has your faith been?”
He felt a tear roll down his cheek, but he refused to wipe it. He just kept his angry glare, afraid he would break down and cry if he moved. When he could trust himself to continue, he said, “You’ve known about Dad being a dragon for years, but you never told me. And you want me to believe in you and Dad now?”