Ferocious Flea Market Dragons, page 12
Wow. I shook my head. She knew right where to hit me.
Another message arrived and I about chucked the phone out the window.
The message from Aggie read: Your mom said you’re back in town and there’s a family meeting about the hellhounds. You better show up or I’m gonna kick your ass.
Five additional messages showed up from cousins and my aunts and uncle. I put it on silent. I knew everyone meant well, but I didn’t feel like dealing with them.
I just wanted that damn plant to sprout.
Was that too much to ask?
The day crept on while Thorn and I setup camp in Double Trouble State Park. When the time came for the meeting, it was Thorn who reminded me.
“You ready to go?”
“No.”
I grabbed the flowerpot and we made our way back to the car. The trip to my parents’ place didn’t take long. Cars lined the whole street. Thorn and I had to park on the next block.
I expected to find my parents’ Colonial quiet with folks waiting for me, but the house quaked from the roars of my uncles watching a survival show called Naked & Afraid. I’d seen an episode before and didn’t understand why folks wanted to challenge themselves hunting and foraging while butt naked. Getting up was enough of a challenge.
I veered around my younger cousins who watched the TV in awe. Perhaps they hoped for something dramatic to happen, but these shows never revealed the good stuff.
I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to be a serious meeting if everyone was groaning and yelling at the TV. As Thorn and I passed through the living room, three uncles watched some guy nurse his wounds. There were countless insect bites all over the contestants’ legs and torsos.
One uncle cringed. “Who would do this for money? His little soldier will be itching for days.”
I couldn’t resist smiling as another uncle added, “Humans, I tell you. Fools.”
Thorn and I finally made it into the kitchen where it was a standing only affair. Grandma, Mom, Aunt Vera, and Dad took up the seats at the kitchen table.
Mom motioned for me to come forward. “There she is.”
My friends and family filled the room. I smiled at Aggie, Erica, and Karey. My friends from group therapy, Abby, Tyler, and Raj waved from the corner near the fridge while Alex leaned against the counter and held Sveta. Even Thorn’s brother Will, the Dawson family from the butchers, Jocelyn the manager at Kramkar’s place, and Esmerelda from the brownie bakery came. Still no Brenna and she had yet to answer my text message. I was starting to worry that something was wrong with her.
Like any other family meeting, I spied bowls of dishes sprinkled here and there, along with a sizeable rack of lamb on the stove. Several empty plates on the table meant folks had helped themselves long before I arrived.
“You’re late,” Aunt Vera said.
“By twenty minutes,” I replied.
“Don’t worry,” Grandma said. “They’re just used to you always being on time.” She chuckled a bit.
“Want me to make you a plate?” Erica offered.
“I’m not hungry.” Everything smelled great, but I had far too much on my mind—even for food as amazing as Mom’s.
“Make her a plate anyway to take home,” Aunt Vera said to Erica. “Double the lamb portion. Will be good for her. She needs her strength.”
Erica strode over to the stove and Aggie followed to help—or should I say help herself to another serving.
“Now that everyone is here,” Dad said, “we can form a plan. We need a united front when those hellhounds return.”
My hand rose. “There will be no united front,” I said firmly. “We don’t have the champion yet and those creatures are very dangerous. I will leave again if the heavy guns don’t materialize.”
Dad flashed me a sour look. “You’re done running, daughter.”
“Thorn and I have seen them firsthand,” Aggie said carefully. “They’re very dangerous; I will give you that.” She tapped the counter to emphasize her point. “But they aren’t immortal, and if they’re solely focused on you, then as a pack, we can work together to kill them.”
“How?” The word came out of my mouth and lacked any conviction.
“When you fought the hellhound in Central Park,” Dad asked Aggie and Thorn, “did any of you get through its hide?”
“Barely,” Thorn said. “The Yule Cat did get in a couple scratches on its face.”
“Yule Cat?” Aunt Vera’s face scrunched up in confusion.
I told them about my task from Seamus the leprechaun to collect used clothes from the Christmas Cat in Central Park. After we’d arrived, we’d encountered a shapeshifting creature that ate children during the holidays unless they wore new clothes. The poor Yule Cat was barely a match for the hellhound, which was much stronger, but less agile.
“The Christmas Cat sounds like a vile creature,” Mom said.
“Since the cat harmed it, then we know the hellhounds have a vulnerability,” Dad said. “We have a shot if we go for the head then. Maybe use arms if we must.”
“We got a cannon then?” I asked drily. “There are five of them coming for me now and those things can become invisible at will. They can shrink and expand in size.”
Alex appeared pensive. “Those aren’t impossible odds though. Even with those abilities, they are still like us.”
Will stepped forward. “If they’re pack animals,” he said between chews, “then we should be able to drive them into a trap.”
Jocelyn nodded in agreement. “The trolls would be great at helping you steer them in the right direction. ’Cause even a ten-foot monster ain’t gonna plow through a boulder weighing several tons.”
The mood in the room lifted as more ideas spilled forth. Aunt Vera suggested drowning them in the nearby river, while Jocelyn threw out burying them so deep, they couldn’t resurface. Raj even offered to teleport them to a shrine in the middle of nowhere in northern Asia. All these ideas sounded good. So why did I doubt them?
“Looks like we have many great ideas,” Dad said. “But we must first separate them, and this must be done away from the human population. We don’t need the warlocks sniffing around here when things go down.”
I rather wished we had some spellcasters to offer a hand.
“There are many of us here. We should form teams,” Tyler said, clearly eager to fight. “If the goal is the separate them, then engage, then the fastest runners can keep them busy.”
“But they’re after me,” I interjected.
“So why did the hellhound chase the cat then?” Thorn’s eyebrows rose. “They’re hunters like Diana. They’re like bloodhounds that seek weaker prey.”
He had a good point there. “Tyler’s idea might work then.”
“Yes, yes.” Dad nodded. “Do they follow an alpha?”
“Diana is their alpha,” I explained, briefly feeling the collar she’d made me wear when I was captured.
“Will she come to fight too?” Aunt Vera asked.
No one else wanted to answer that question. Even Abby, who was more familiar with the world of mythical creatures, inclined her head.
“I hope not,” I finally said.
Chapter Twenty
The July night was surprisingly warm, the air thick with the scent of pine and earth. The half-moon hung high in the sky and cast a silvery glow through the treetops. This particular spot in Jack Branch County Park was perfect for the magical seed. Thorn and I had run through here during the full moon countless times. Just touching the circle of trees around this glen brought back fond memories. Now all we had to do was wait.
Thorn and I sat on folding chairs, our fingers intertwined as we gazed at the small mound of dirt in front of us. We’d planted the seed by our tent four hours ago. So far nothing had happened. Even the ancient Celtic antiquities book in my lap had more action in it.
I sighed. “Do you think it’s supposed to take this long?” I tried to read the entries on Celtic crosses, but my attention kept getting yanked away.
Thorn chuckled, his hand squeezing mine reassuringly. “Doesn’t your mom say a watched pot doesn’t boil? Patience is key here.”
Easy for him to say. Thorn had always been the patient one, the calm in my storm. While he could find solace in the gentle hum of nature, I couldn’t shake the anticipation gnawing at me. I’d tried everything to distract myself—reading, napping, a partially filled-in Sudoku booklet—but nothing could divert my attention from that unyielding mound of earth.
A gentle breeze danced through the leaves, carrying the distant melodic trill of two whip-poor-wills. I shifted in my chair.
“You know,” Thorn mused, breaking the silence, “I read somewhere that this would all be easier if we surrendered to the unknown.”
“Surrender to the unknown, huh?” I gave him the side-eye.
“It’s a valuable lesson in patience.”
“Forewarned is forearmed.” I abandoned the book to take in the sky. “And have you mastered the art of surrender?”
He chuckled again. “Maybe not entirely, but I’m learning.”
We fell into a comfortable silence, but what happened back at the cranberry farm flicked at me until I said, “Hey, Thorn. Care to talk about how you lied to Ernest about killing Calliope?”
“I didn’t lie.” My mate didn’t so much as flinch.
“How? Did you use old magic?”
He shook his head. “At the time, all I could think about was you and your family. You looked like your usual calm self on the outside, but I knew you were cornered. I did what I had to do.” He turned to face me and I couldn’t look away. “I love you more than anything.”
We stared at each other for a bit, and I considered all the times I’d been willing to shift the heavens for Thorn.
“What about Calliope?” I whispered.
“Killing her would’ve been very wrong, but I had no choice. I was hoping the fairies’ plan kicked in before I had to do it.” His chest rose and fell in a long sigh. “Would you believe your dad kept blinking at me to not do it?”
“Good luck facing my family after pulling something like that.”
He shuddered. “I’m not sure what’s worst. Shaming yourself or winning Trivial Pursuit against the Stravinskys.”
I laughed. The feeling felt good. Practically normal.
“You know,” he began, his voice soft, “after all this settles down, what do you say we plan something special for the fall? Something to look forward to?”
My gaze flicked to the dirt pile. “I can’t think of anything fun right now. I just want things to be quiet for a while.”
He nodded. “We don’t have to go far. Maybe a cozy cabin in the woods away from the chaos. Or we could go to a quiet bed and breakfast somewhere.”
I shook my head. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m done traveling. I just want to be normal. Whatever that is. No more fearing for our lives or our family’s.” My voice rose. “I want that damn seed to grow and end this shit.”
Thorn got up and pulled me into a tight embrace. I sagged against him, trying to relax, but unable to. A single tear traced a path down my cheek.
“We’ll get through this, babe,” he whispered. “And when it’s over, we’ll have our peace.”
An hour later, we settled down for the night and left the flap open to let in the gentle breeze. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the pile of dirt, watching it as if my gaze alone could coax the seed to sprout.
As the night wore on, I stared out into the darkness, contemplating the uncertain future. Before sleep claimed me, I could’ve sworn I felt a subtle change in the air, a whisper of magic. Or perhaps it was wishful thinking, a desperate hope that the seed would grow. With that thought lingering in my mind, I closed my eyes to rest for the challenges ahead.
Not long after eight in the morning, my phone rang. I shuffled in the tangle of sleeping bags until I found my phone. Thorn’s eyes opened, but he didn’t move.
“Hello?” I said.
“Nat, I got some news,” Karey began to say.
At the sound of my sister-in-law’s voice, Thorn’s head rose.
Karey continued. “The trees near the cabins in Maine finally reached out to me. There was a great fight when the hellhounds came sniffing around.”
I nearly dropped the phone. “Uncle Boris…”
“I don’t know what happened to him. Only that many trees burned, and it took some time for the news to be passed along.” Her voice sounded detached. “The hellhounds have been heading south for a while now. I’m guessing they could be three hours away. Maybe less. Prepare yourself, sister. I’m gonna call Mom and Dad so they can get everyone in position.”
A headache formed on the back of my head, and I squeezed my eyes shut to work through the pain. The grim reaper was closing in.
And the seed had yet to sprout.
I got up.
“Anything happen?” Thorn asked.
“Nope.”
Thorn cursed. “I don’t like this. We should go. Now.”
“She said we had at least three hours.”
“Three hours or less, Natalya.”
The pain deepened, spreading until I cringed as if hit. “I know. I know. I want to try one more thing. One more.” I slipped on my shoes. If I stopped moving, I wouldn’t move anymore. The pain retreated when I grabbed my keys.
“Get up,” I told Thorn as I dug up the seed and tossed it back in the flowerpot. “I need to check on an idea from Farley.”
Thorn’s eyes formed slits. “Where we are we going?”
“To get some fertilizer.”
Chapter Twenty-One
With the clock ticking far too loudly, Thorn and I jumped in the car to go see the zmee. Briefly, I stopped at a gas station for garbage bags and some antiseptic spray. If I was gonna be collecting dragon feces, I wouldn’t be touching it. Period.
The last visit to the three-headed dragon to learn the whereabouts of the Basilisk King had gone awry, but this time I planned to get in there and get back out quickly.
It didn’t take us long to race about five miles south of town to Jake Branch Park. From there, I spotted a familiar path next to a snowplow shed. We hurried through the woods until the path ended at a toolshed surround by haphazard piles of scrap metal, televisions, and other bits of decades-old junk. Not a single pile of shit to be seen.
I didn’t bother trying to sneak in. The zmee probably heard us approaching from a mile away. We strolled out of the sun and up to the shed, sidestepping a bicycle with no wheels and a pile of car stereos. Everything stank from exposure, but at least we were cooler once we stood under the shade of an oak tree jutting out of the back the shed.
“Hey, Zmee. I’m back again,” I shouted in Russian.
That dirty dragon shifted inside the house and I caught the sounds of bits and baubles tumbling about.
“We need to talk,” I added in English.
“We’ve talked enough,” one of the dragon’s heads grunted.
“And I’m not gonna fall for any tricks,” a different voice added. Likely another head. “There’s nothing we want.”
Thorn folded his arms, clearly annoyed.
I had a feeling the zmee would pull this. “I honestly need help. Nothing underhanded.”
I hefted the pot in one hand and stirred the dirt with the other until the seed surfaced. “I need to summon a champion—a dragon. Do you know about a Seed of the Fates and would your…droppings help it grow?”
Something inside the house jostled. The door handle rattled before a voice—the third one—said, “Don’t you open that door! She’s marked by a goddess.”
The second one moaned, “But she has a seed from the Fates! The Fates!” It squealed with delight. “Those are rare. And so beautiful. They have so much potential.”
“You’re an idiot,” the first voice said. “Her pursuers would rip our house, and us, apart.”
Seeing an opportunity I said, “If you can help me in any way, I’ll leave peacefully. I promise.”
The door opened inward with a yawn. A scaly hand with a four-fingered claw appeared. The zmee wiggled and jerked with its tiny arms and legs and pulled its body out. After a bit of time, the three heads emerged. Its rear end remained inside.
“Can you see it now?” the first head snapped at the second. “It’s just a seed.”
The second head stretched until it loomed above me. Its amber eyes glowed with adoration. “Where did you get it?”
I told them how I’d bartered with the dryad at The Gray Glen for the prize. “Now, I’m trying to get it to grow. Do you know anything about it?”
“What makes you think we know about it?” the first head asked.
The third head laughed. “Guess we missed that info at the last international dragon meeting.”
I sighed. “Fellas, I’m serious.”
The second head lowered until we faced each other. This was the closest I’d ever gotten to them. Thorn edged toward us, ready to pounce if the zmee made trouble. The dragon exhaled and I expected its breath to be rotten, but it was sickeningly sweet.
“So beautiful,” it murmured. “Have you been keeping it warm?”
“Warm?” I glanced down at the pot. “It’s a seed, not an egg.”
All three heads busted out laughing and my mouth dropped open. Was it serious? Good God, was my uncle right this whole time? Boris suggested setting the seed on fire right after I’d gotten it.
“You shouldn’t have told her,” the first head said.
“Do you see the look on her face?” the third added. “Get the camera!”
“I’m too tired to scoot back inside,” the first head replied. “Go get it yourself.”
I picked up the seed and found it quite cold—even with the humidity out here. “Do I still need to plant it?”
“Probably,” the second head said. “If you leave it here with me, I can protect it.”
I leaned away from the head to get out of striking distance. “No need.”
