Backyard Dragons (18 page)

“We moved to the nicest neighborhood he could get us into. Even though we had a lot of money, in those days being black meant we couldn’t buy houses in certain places. The people of the neighborhood he finally bought a house in didn’t want us there. The white kids, whose parents had less money than us, weren’t allowed to play with us.

“At our school, my siblings and I were the only black children. The teachers didn’t like us and didn’t want to help us learn. They couldn’t understand our accents and refused to make the effort to try. We had big dreams. These women tried to crush them. We refused to let them. With the help of a nice black woman at the library, we found our own paths.

“My older sister eventually became a nurse. My younger brother became a teacher and served the town he’d grown up in. I didn’t have quite the same ambitions as my brother and sister, but as I got older and bigger, I protected them.”

Rondy gazed at the far wall, his hands clasped in his lap. Claire waited for a while, thinking he’d say more.

“And the moral of the story is…? What does that have to do with me killing you?”

He chuckled. “It’s amazing how similar you are to Justin while also being so different. You didn’t kill me, Claire, but this has little to do with that.”

Frowning, Claire shook her head. “I saw your body. You’re dead.”

“Yes. I’m definitely dead. How I’m here, specifically, is a mystery to me. My Phasm should be roaming the suburbs of Cleveland now. Instead, my actual soul seems to have been caught in Portland. I have no explanation for that. I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

Claire covered her face and leaned against him. “This is my fault. I’m not supposed to be a Knight. I’m supposed to be dead.”

“If you’re going to blame anyone for that, blame your father. He loved you enough to find a way to save your life.”

“He didn’t kill you.”

“Neither did you. It was my own fault. I didn’t prepare you enough. I pressured you to go through with it before you were ready.” Rondy sighed. “In retrospect, I killed myself.”

Hot tears dripped down Claire’s face. “It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t. I still had things to do. My daughter has no idea anything happened to me yet. When she finds out, she’ll be wracked with guilt because our last conversation ended with a fight. I’d intended to go home and talk it out when we finished with the locket. I’m not even sure how she will find out. Most Knights die well before old age, in battle. Normal people find the bodies and authorities are notified. Some of us go to the Palace after setting our affairs in order and never leave again. What happened to me is so unusual I can’t recall it happening in my time as a Knight.”

Seeing something she could do to make amends, Claire lifted her face and wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. “If you give me her address, I can send her a letter or something.”

Rondy smiled again. “I’d appreciate that. Thank you. Your stop is coming up, so I need to leave you for now. Think about what I said.” He touched her chin gently and kissed her forehead.

“Skidmore Fountain Station, next stop,” announced the MAX’s recorded female voice.

Claire jerked away from the window and rubbed her eyes. She sat in the packed rail car again, the knitter still beside her, tying off the yarn. “Excuse me,” she said to the woman. “This is my stop.”

The elderly woman’s face crinkled in a sympathetic smile and turned her knees into the aisle so Claire could get out. “Take this, dear.” She held up the blanket she’d been working on.

“What?”

“I think you need it more than my grandson. He’s got all the things he could possibly want. You, though, you seem…I think you need it.” She shoved the blanket into Claire’s hands.

The rail car slowed. “I can’t take this. You deserve to be paid for this work.”

“Psh. Go before you miss your stop, child.” The woman shooed her away.

Claire stumbled as the car stopped. The man with the dreadlocks pushed her in front of him as he made his way out the door. Suddenly on the brick sidewalk beside the tracks, she blinked. The car trundled up the tracks. The dreadlock man walked away from her. She stood alone in a puddle of yellow light, holding a knitted green blanket.

When the weird rained in Portland, it poured.

Chapter 28

Justin

“She’s at Anne’s?”

Tariel stopped yet again in Anne’s yard. Anne had to be up to something to have so many things converge on her. Enion flew to the front door and landed on the screen, digging his claws into the mesh. He whistled for Justin’s attention.

“I don’t like this,” Tariel said, flicking her tail restively.

“Neither do I.” Justin slid down from the saddle, wincing as he landed on the ground. After riding for a little while, the rigors of climbing in that park seemed to have caught up with him, though Tariel should have healed it. He ached more than before. “I’m going to talk to Kurt first. Come into the woods with me.”

“I wish I could come into his demesne with you.”

“So do I.” Justin gritted his teeth and used the trees for support. The dragons woke as he passed them and chirped shrilly.

Enion darted in and squawked at them as he landed on Justin’s shoulder, quieting his family. He patted Justin’s cheek and pointed at the house.

“I get it, Enion.” Justin swiped the dragon off his shoulder and tossed him to the side. “She can’t be in danger here. Go find her and let her know you’re back. I’ll only be a little while.”

Enion hit a branch and scrambled to climb onto it. He chirped forcefully at Justin. Tariel snapped her mouth over the dragon, then spat him out. Tumbling through the air, he whistled in distress until he hit a tree and dropped to the ground in a tiny heap.

“Shut up,” Tariel snapped at him.

“Settle down.” Justin laid a hand on the sycamore. “No fighting. You two need to learn to get along.”

“He started it.”

Clenching his jaw, Justin counted to five in his head. “I don’t care.” He shoved with his will and shifted into Kurt’s demesne. Finally able to relax for a minute, he sat on the sand under diffuse, dim light and tossed his gloves aside.

“You look like hell, boy.”

“Thanks. This day just won’t end.”

Kurt squatted beside him. “How’d you do on the graves?”

Too tired to care about anything, Justin lay on the sand. “The only thing left is the fountain. I’ll need some help if I have to find a way to knock that thing over to stab under it.”

“Found the stone in Goose Hollow, eh?” Kurt patted Justin’s bent knee. “Good job. Try climbing on top of the fountain and stabbing through there. I don’t think you have to get under it like you did with the stones.”

Scowling, Justin propped himself up on his elbows. “You don’t know?”

Kurt waved him off without looking at him. “It’s not like I ever used the power. If I had, it wouldn’t be there for you. Always figured I’d do whatever it took when I needed to.”

Justin harrumphed and struggled to keep his eyes open.

“If you don’t need my help with the map, why’re you here, boy?”

“Those shadows bit me. The wounds won’t stop hurting. Thought some rest might fix it.”

“So you came here. Because you knew that if your bond with Tariel couldn’t fix it, the Palace won’t either.”

Though he hadn’t had that specific, coherent thought, Justin nodded. He must have realized it subconsciously. “Something like that.”

“If you want, I can give a shot at it. Rules seem a little different here.”

A twinge in the back of Justin’s mind wanted him to refuse. He ignored it. Any help dealing with this problem was, in his opinion, good help. “Go for it. Can’t make things worse, right?”

“Nope.” Kurt laid a hand on Justin’s leg.

Justin closed his eyes, cringing at the light touch. A warm, pleasant breeze blew over him, chasing away all his aches and weariness. He sighed in contentment and didn’t move for a long time.

“How’s your apprentice?”

“She’s a teenager.”

“So dumb, hotheaded, and convinced she knows everything.”

Justin snorted. “That about covers it.”

“Strange thing, a girl Knight. Wonder if she’s got witch blood in her.”

“Her father saved her life with power from the Palace. It’s an unintended side effect. When I looked her over, I didn’t see any inherent power in her. If she’s a witch, I’ll eat my boot.”

“Huh. Dragon sprite, though. That’s plain weird. Wonder if she’s more susceptible to tainting than a regular Knight.”

Justin hadn’t considered the possibility until now. Everything about her was different from every other Knight. She had a different build, a different weapon, a different sprite, and different challenges. Enion had wanted him to go into Anne’s house, though. “I’m more worried about Anne. Can a witch taint a Knight like a corrupted Phasm can?”

“Not sure. You think Anne is part of this?”

“I still say she’s not powerful enough, but damn if there isn’t practically a neon sign flashing over her house, pointing at her. She’s got a bunch of new crystals and the dragons just happen to live behind her house. I have no idea why she put a spell on them, though, or what she thinks she can do with them.”

“Eh. They’re like flying cats. A flock of them could cause a lot of trouble. Interesting that Claire bonded to one.”

“Yes, it is.” Justin sat up, feeling refreshed enough to deal with the fountain and handle a witch. “She’s hardly a challenge to me, but I’d rather have her safe and sound than trying to stab me in the back. Do you think you could hold onto her while I deal with Anne?”

“No problem. Bring her here and I’ll keep her safe.” Kurt patted Justin’s knee again. “Might even be able to clear that taint without killing the witch. Then you could take her down together. Or, even better, you could work together to bring that witch here and we could all three show her the straight and narrow path. Never know, boy. Witches can be valuable allies. Just gotta control them.”

Justin scratched his cheek, thinking that sounded wrong for some reason. The logic held up, though. “Sounds like a plan. With the power from the fountain and Claire at my side, it shouldn’t be a problem to subdue Anne and bring her here.”

“Good plan. See if you can haul along a handful of dragons and get to it, boy. Time’s wasting.”

Chapter 29

Claire

Old-fashioned street lamps filled the area with bright yellow light. Claire wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and walked under the Burnside Street overpass until it reached open ground. Cobblestones covered the ground instead of asphalt and concrete. On the other side of the MAX rails, no cars sat in the small commuter parking lot. The area itself seemed safe. Claire hunched her shoulders and suppressed a shiver at the emptiness.

Rushing water echoed off the brick buildings. She reached the wide cobblestone plaza with the fountain at its center and felt small. Wind funneled between the buildings, whipping her hair around and tossing dead leaves. Nothing and no one would protect her here. She’d have to protect herself.

At the fountain, three stone steps led to the low wall around the basin. A square column in the center held a wide bowl ten feet off the ground. From the top of the basin wall, Claire thought she could reach the edge of the bowl. Doing that would suck, though, because cold water splashed over the edge in a curtain of drops half obscuring the Greek or Roman woman on the column. The statue, echoed on the other side, appeared to be holding the bowl over her head.

Wondering at the coincidence of a Greco-Roman statue at a fountain where Justin would come to break a seal of some sort, Claire approached the fountain and climbed the short steps. The statue’s clothes resembled Iulia’s. So did its face.

“Calm down, Claire,” she murmured. “Lots of stuff modeled on that time period looks the same. It means nothing. Can’t freak every time you see something like that.” She stuck her hand in the thin waterfall and found it unexpectedly warm. This time of year, the water should be frigid. Now curious, she tossed the blanket aside and stripped off her fleece.

She jumped and caught the edge of the bowl, grunting as she pulled herself up. Though pullups had never been her forte in gym class, she had enough muscle to manage one. Her feet caught on some part of the statue, and she braced herself in place.

The warm water, streaming from a pipe in the center and flowing over the bowl’s rim, soaked her shirt. She saw nothing. If this fountain had some kind of mystical seal, she knew something had to be here. Wriggling and swinging her body got her one leg over the edge, then she rolled into the bowl. She crouched, soaking wet from head to toe, and ran her hands over the submerged stone. Near the center, her fingertips found a ring of carvings.

Shielding the spot from the central spray, she peered through the water and frowned at familiar whorls edged with dots. She couldn’t believe it and pulled her locket out to compare. The front face of her locket had exactly the same design as the one repeated in this bowl.

“What does that mean?” She climbed down and checked the basin and pillar, but found no more instances of the symbol. The moment she stepped out of the fountain, cold air hit her wet clothes and made her shiver so hard her teeth chattered. She peeled her shirt and miniskirt off, replacing both with her fleece and the blanket. Her purple leggings, boots, bra, and socks remained wet, but she couldn’t do anything about that right now.

With nothing else to hold her dagger, she kept it in hand, waiting for Justin to show up. The mystery of the symbol, something she had no basis to speculate about, faded away in favor of Rondy’s story. He’d told her about his past for a reason. Of course, she might have conjured all that herself, except she didn’t know anything about Jamaica or Ohio. She didn’t think she’d imagine a story where someone lost a foot and went on to become a teacher.

He wanted her to figure something out. It probably had nothing to do with mining, Jamaica, or segregation. Claire had moved a lot. She could relate to being the odd kid out at school, but not like Rondy. Even though someone inevitably seemed to figure out she was an orphan, she still looked a lot like the other kids. In fact, at her new school, she had no trouble at all with bullies. The teachers were all really nice and understanding, which still freaked her out a little.