Secret of the Storm, page 16
Albert preens in the stiff breeze blowing off the ocean. I guess if you make bad weather, you eventually grow to like it. At least it’s not raining. Joe hands me his phone, flashlight on. “Hold that!” he yells. As I do, he fumbles around for Edward’s sketches crammed in his pockets. One of them is immediately snatched up by the wind and blown away.
“Not good,” Joe growls. “Bring the phone closer.” The pool of light illuminates delicate drawings of a cluster of trees, with nothing to indicate where these particular trees might be. But I recognize them. It feels like a gift from my father.
“Mercy Grove!” I shout.
Mercy Grove is deep in the Arcata wilderness, a cluster of ancient redwood trees that form a perfect circle as if purposefully planted. My father loved it there and we visited often. Dad said it was a magical place. He said it had an energy he couldn’t fully understand. I never heard him say that about any other patch of forest, so it stuck with me.
The hike to the grove is up a narrow creek bed snaking through a fifty-foot-deep vertical-walled canyon. The canyon walls are completely covered in a dazzling display of primal ferns, showing off with every shade of green the eye can absorb. The sounds of civilization are replaced with birds and insects, and the breeze in the trees. The water in the creek is icy cold as the sun will sometimes poke through the fog, creating a fan of perforated light. Had fairies or pixies appeared in the air on any of our visits, I would not have been at all surprised. Magical.
“Are you sure?” Joe shouts.
I nod. I can see Dad’s face in my memory and hear his words. Mercy Grove is where we need to go. We hold on tight to Albert and once again lift off into the sky. Keeping the coastline on our left, we surge northward. Mercy Grove is about ten miles from the lighthouse and inland. If we turn in at the mouth of the Lewiston Creek, it should lead us directly there.
“Albert!” I yell. “That way!”
I point northeast, and Albert banks hard, and of course Joe and I scream, but it’s the good kind of scream, like we are on a roller coaster.
There are miles of nothing north of Lewiston, just the ocean giving way to thickly forested hills. As we swoop and roll like birds riding the air current, I notice small lakes surrounded by cliffs of pale limestone, hidden from humanity. Nature goes on, whether we see it or not. Joe taps me on the shoulder.
“This is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me,” he shouts. “Thank you, Cassie.”
“And you thought he was a lemon,” I chide.
Joe grins, and despite everything, I grin back. And it occurs to me that I will miss Joe terribly when I go with Albert back to the dimension of the dragons.
Chapter 32 MERCY GROVE
AS THE SUN DROPS LOWER, I catch sight of the Lewiston Creek leading through the fern canyon and onto Mercy Grove, a ribbon of glassy water cutting through the forest. “Follow that stream,” I instruct Albert, who banks wildly at my new directions. I think he’s doing it on purpose. I think he thinks it’s funny when we scream.
Down below, I sense animal eyes peering up at us and wondering what sort of weirdo bird we are. Definitely too big to be an eagle or a hawk. And way too many heads! How hideous! We drop, moving off from the creek and cruising right above the magnificent ancient trees.
Albert sets us down gently right in the middle of the circle of towering giants. The fading light filters through the canopy above, casting long shadows. The massive trees seem to lock arms, guardians against oncoming intruders. The energy within the circle is different, just as my dad recognized. It’s charged somehow, expectant. The world around us hums with nocturnal animal life, squeaking and whistling and small feet crunching leaves.
Joe steps closer to me. “I’m not a big outdoorsy person,” he says. “I mean, four people were killed by bears last year in North America. I know that puts the likely percentage of me being attacked by a bear at, like, basically zero. But still, I have to ask. Do you think there is anything here that, you know, might eat us?”
“You’re with a dragon,” I remind him. “What could possibly happen to you?”
“Remember, this dragon is afraid of stray cats,” Joe replies.
“You will not be eaten,” I clarify. There is nothing to fear here, at least not from the natural world. But eventually Dana and Fox will find us. After all, we flew here on a dragon. There is bound to be chatter. We have to find the rip, and soon.
Joe, as if reading my thoughts, asks me if I happen to have a manual handy on how to promote interdimensional travel by finding and opening a rip to the dragon world. I snort. “I wish.”
We study the Edward drawings for additional clues, but there is nothing helpful there. Great. We get all the way to the right spot but can’t find the on/off switch. On the other hand, I have not allowed myself to think about what going through a rip will feel like. Will it be like falling into an active volcano? Or being tossed into space without a suit? Will it hurt? Will I, you know, disintegrate?
None of that matters, Cassie, if you can’t find the rip!
Right. First things first. Find the rip and then worry about disintegrating. I turn in a slow circle, taking note of the trees. There are lots and lots of trees. My palms start to sweat. “We don’t even know what we were looking for,” I say. My voice is too loud in the silence.
“I know,” Joe replies. “It’s not like we’ve ever seen a rip before or anything.”
But Albert has. That’s how he got here in the first place. He must remember something. “I have an idea,” I say.
“Good. Because I’m fresh out.”
And that’s when I notice Albert is hunched down, sagging against a massive tree trunk. His skin is dull and his breathing labored. I panic, rushing to him, and drop to my knees. His glazed eyes meet mine. Why doesn’t he turn back into a cat?
“Albert!” I cry. “Change back!”
Can’t, Cassie.
All I can think is he put out so much energy getting us here and now has none left to manage the shift back to his cat form. And as a dragon, he just grows weaker. We have to find that rip, and we have to do it now.
Joe is beside me, resting an open palm on Albert. “His heart is racing.”
I take Albert’s head in my hands, startled by how cool he is. It’s not right. “We need to get you home. But we don’t know how to find the rip, you know, the door to your world.”
I can’t say aloud that I intend to go with him. If Joe catches wind of my plan, it won’t go over well. I try to push away the idea of Joe being alone after I’m gone and think only about the message I want Albert to receive.
Tell me how to find the rip. We will go through together. We will go home, where you will be okay.
With great effort, Albert pushes his leathery head into my chest, and as I scratch his ears, he wheezes. Does he hear me? Does he know I’m coming with him? Desperation sends my pulse sky high. It’s a long moment before Albert pulls back. He closes his eyes, his long dark lashes resting on his cheeks. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes deep breaths of the forest air. Nothing happens
“What’s he doing?” Joe whispers.
“I don’t know,” I reply.
Albert shudders, a flare of fire bursting from his snout. I leap to the side to avoid getting scorched. And suddenly a glittery mist rises from the golden blaze on his chest.
“Whoa,” sputters Joe. He’s right about that. We don’t dare move as the mist begins to bend and morph, throwing off sparks and angling out and away from Albert. It stretches into a lopsided oval. The very trees themselves, the sturdy ancient giants, appear to bow down to the oval.
“I think it’s the rip,” Joe says quietly. “I think we could have looked for it forever and not found anything, because only Albert can open it with his super glitter.”
The edges of the oval glow bright red. Through the oval I can see another forest. It’s brighter and the tree bark is iridescent like soap bubbles. The colors are so vivid, they hurt my eyes. It’s the forest from my dream. But in our forest the weather abruptly changes. Heavy rain starts to fall, undeterred by the protective canopy above. It’s icy cold. Lightning cracks and shatters the quiet night. The oval glows and sparks. The trees bend lower.
“Definitely the rip!” Joe yells.
As the rain pelts down and the rip hovers, Albert opens his eyes. His gaze settles on me, beckoning, as he tries to stand. It is time to go.
And why wouldn’t I? Dad is gone. Mom doesn’t care about me. My best friend hates me. My classmates laugh at me. The best thing in my life is Albert. My head spins. There really is no good reason for me to stay.
“We need to help him!” I yell. Positioning ourselves so Albert can lean on us, we move him closer to the rip. It’s not as bright as before, and the edges are ragged.
“It’s losing integrity!” Joe shouts. “Hurry!”
But just as we are about to push Albert through the rip, with me right behind him, we are interrupted by a commotion on the trail.
Emerging from the darkness is Sheldon Slack, rain-soaked and disheveled, his orange coat streaked with mud from a fall he must have taken running down the steep, slick trail. His eyes quiver in his head, taking in the scene before him. Gasping for air, Slack can barely get his words out.
“Not so fast!” he screeches. “I’ve been searching for you forever! And you are not going anywhere!”
And somehow I just know he’s not talking about me or Joe.
Chapter 33 DRAGON HUNTER
SHELDON SLACK, soggy and wild eyed, looks more like a vampire than ever. And the way he rubs his hands together, with clear delight and relish, he might actually be preparing to eat us.
“The pain and anguish you can alleviate with just your blood,” says Slack, gaze locked tight on Albert. “Such a small sacrifice for the greater good. No one will ever have to go through what I did again.”
As Slack steps closer to us, I notice something clutched in his hand, a silvery rectangular object. “A stun gun,” Joe whispers. “A taser.” This is getting completely out of hand. He intends to shock my weakened dragon into submission and kidnap him, just like Edward’s awful family did to Alvina. But sacrificing himself to save us humans from pain and anguish is not Albert’s responsibility. Nor any dragon’s.
Without thinking, I scream, “Go, Albert! Go now!” and push him hard. The rip snaps and pops. But Albert, sensing the danger, digs in.
The vampire moves fast. In a flash, he has me in his grip, his arm locked around my neck, the taser inches from my skin. “You’ll go nowhere unless you want to see harm come to your friend.”
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper, clawing at his arm. “Albert can’t bring back Cyrus.”
Slack balks at his twin’s name. “What do you know of Cyrus?” he asks, his hot breath on my neck.
“I know you lost him,” I say. “And I know it hurts really badly.”
“You know nothing,” he hisses. “You are just a kid.”
“My father died last year,” I reply. “I know. But hurting Albert won’t fix anything.”
“Nice try, kid. But this dragon needs to be studied. He needs to be used.”
“But Albert can’t stay here. It’s killing him.”
“I don’t care.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Joe, immobilized with fear, Albert leaning on him hard. I struggle, but it’s pointless. The vampire holds me fast.
“Please, Albert,” I gasp. “Please go. Joe, make him go.”
But Albert’s eyes burn, and I know he is not leaving me, certainly not to save himself. He hisses, low and angry, flames flickering from between his jagged teeth. The vampire quakes in his waterlogged shoes. He’s terrified. And he probably should be.
“Don’t you try to intimidate me, dragon!” Slack shouts, his voice cracking. “One false move and this girl is history. You’re mine now, no matter what, the hard way or the easy way.”
Albert moves forward as if he summoning new energy out of nothing, as if floating above the ground. Slack, still holding me, backs up into the massive trunk of a redwood tree. He shakes uncontrollably. Albert advances, his hiss turning into a guttural growl, his eyes narrowing to slits.
“I’ll do it!” Slack yells. “I will! Don’t test me!” Albert is so close now. His muscles ripple with tension, the heat coming off him in waves. Slack tightens his grip on my neck. Stars float in my field of vision, weaving and dodging. My legs wobble.
Albert focuses on Slack, a disorienting aura of calm settling in around him. Slowly, with pinpoint precision, as if he has done this a million times before, Albert exhales a stream of gas directly into the vampire’s pale face. And just like that, Slack collapses in a heap at my feet.
I stagger forward. Joe whoops and hollers. “Albert has more skills! Sleeping gas! That is awesome!”
His celebration is cut short by Albert crumpling to the ground. The edges of the rip are closing in. And there is noise on the trail, coming from the same direction as the sleeping Slack did.
This has to happen now. We hoist Albert up and shuffle toward the rip. The wind howls around us, a tight circle of me, Albert, and Joe, everything in the world that matters to me. I place both palms flat on the golden blaze in the middle of Albert’s chest. He leans his forehead to mine, rumbling, huffing. His wings pulse weakly, but I keep my hands pressed to the golden blaze. Albert’s eyes, the same mossy-green ones I first saw in that smoldering dumpster, close.
We go now, Cassie?
But it is Joe who speaks next. “I know you want to go with him, but please stay here,” he says, clutching my arm. “I have this feeling when I wake up every day, it’s like dread, because I know I have to go through another day, and it will be like the day before, and the day before was awful, and kids will mock me or pretend I don’t exist, and both are really bad. But since our adventures started, that feeling is gone. I like who I am around you. You’re my best friend. You can’t leave.”
His words stop me fast. I like who I am around Joe too. It’s as if he has given me permission to be myself, to say out loud the words that usually are stuck in my head. It is nothing like being friends with Mia, which mostly doesn’t feel good. This is different. A sharp pain in my heart takes my breath away. It’s almost as if I am splitting in two. I think about the video of Joe talking to himself, how Mia and her friends laughed. Can I leave him to that, after all he has done for me and Albert? How can I choose between my best friend and my dragon? What sort of universe would make a girl do that? But I do have to choose.
Sensing my sudden reluctance, Albert nudges me, a plume of fire erupting from his flared nostrils. I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling his heat.
We go now, Cassie?
I can’t, Albert. There are people here who need me.
Albert’s shoulders heave, and a ragged breath escapes him. Our eyes hold each other fast.
With great effort, he places a clawed foot on my heart and taps ever so gently.
Cassie is good.
I wrap my arms around him as best I can. “I love you more than anything,” I whisper. “And I will love you forever, every single day. We will be okay. You and me. I promise.”
“Cassie, the rip,” Joe says urgently. It is barely there now.
Reluctantly, I untangle myself. Albert presses his forehead into mine one last time. And then my sweet kitten, my brave dragon, turns and disappears through the rip. It sparks one last time and vanishes into thin air.
On cue, the rain ceases, the wind dies, and the clouds make way to reveal a bright full moon rising in a night sky. It is as if Albert was never here.
Joe catches me when my knees finally buckle.
Chapter 34 AND JUST LIKE THAT
A YOUNG COUPLE, shoes muddy, college sweatshirts soaked through, emerges from the shadows to find me propped up against a tree, Joe keeping me upright, and a man who looks suspiciously like a vampire crumpled in a heap at our feet. To their credit, they don’t freak out.
“We were night hiking,” the woman says, pushing a clump of dark wet hair back off her forehead. “There’s nothing like the fern canyon on a night with a full moon.”
“And we thought we saw… something in the sky,” the guy adds, brows furrowed.
“We thought we saw a… well, never mind. Then that storm kicked up. Crazy weather we are having. Are you two okay?”
The guy stares at Slack. “Is he dead?” he asks calmly, like this is just another normal walk in the woods in the dark of night during a storm, which maybe it is for these two.
Joe nudges Slack with his toe. “No,” he says casually. “Just unconscious.” We have no idea how long the sleeping gas lasts or what its long-term effects are, and we can’t ask Albert because he’s gone.
Albert. I sniffle. But I don’t want to have to tell anything to these people even though they seem perfectly nice. The less known about Albert the better. Slack isn’t the first person to come up with the idea of using dragons for his own ends, and he won’t be the last. I steel myself to be tough.
Sensing their confusion about the whole scene, Joe launches into a story about how we were working on a project for school, something about forest ecology and various fern species, when we got hopelessly lost and ended up here. And no, we don’t know the fainted guy.
“He just showed up and then kind of fell over and passed out,” Joe says with a shrug. “Too much fresh air, maybe?”
The woman kneels beside Slack, wondering aloud if he might be diabetic or have some other medical condition. She checks his wrist for a medical alert bracelet but, finding none, commences to dig through his pockets.
“Sheldon Slack,” she says, pointing her flashlight at the man’s driver’s license. “He’s thirty years old and lives in Lewiston.”
