Broken Dragon (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 3) (28 page)

Mara choked on her soup. Laughing, her mother tried to hand her a napkin but had trouble holding it steady enough for Mara to grasp.

Sam’s face reddened, but he laughed. “
You
are the stinker at the table, bean.”

Just as they were settling back into their meal, a loud noise came from the living room, an odd crackling sound. Mara paused midbite, her spoonful of soup held just inches from her lips. She cocked her head toward the door leading from the kitchen to the living room.

“Cam, are you okay in there?” she said, raising her voice slightly.

A electrical snap followed by a sizzle came from the front of the house.

“Mara!” Cam screamed.

She jumped up from the table, knocking her chair to the floor, and dashed from the kitchen. Seconds later she ran past the stairs leading upstairs and through the entryway into the living room. She nearly slammed into the edge of the blue translucent sphere expanding to fill the room. Staggering backward, she reestablished her balance by grabbing the frame of the entryway.

“Mar-ree?” Hannah said, standing directly behind Mara.

Mara turned to see Diana and Sam trailing directly behind the little girl. Looking at Sam, Mara said, “Get her out of here. Hurry.”

Sam scooped Hannah up in his arms and took her back to the kitchen. Diana walked up behind Mara and looked over her shoulder into the living room.

The static edges of the bubble now filled the room. Directly in front of the fireplace, centered over the round throw rug, a large black opening floated in the air, its edges sending out erratic jags of blue light, as if it were tearing at the structure of the sphere. A storm in the middle of the bubble, rending at its very fabric.

“Mara!” Diana said, pointing to the nearby chair.

Next to the throw pillow where Cam’s head had been was a shimmering cloud from which sprouted a stream of mist that formed a florescent trail toward the jagged blackness suspended nearby. The hazy mass above the seat dissipated as the mist flowed toward the darkness.

Mara turned to her mother. “It’s trying to take Cam. It might be safer if you stood back a bit. As a matter of fact, it might be best for you to go back to the kitchen.”

Stepping back, Diana stopped at the foot of the stairs. “This is as far as I go.”

“No time to argue,” Mara said.

Facing the living room, she raised her hands. She leaned toward the blue bubble, pressing her palms against its static edge. She ignored the tingling of electricity making the hair stand up on her arms and pushed. Invisible resistance kept her from piercing the blue boundary or entering the room. Stepping back, she watched, as the trail of mist from the chair seeped away, and the gaping hole grew larger, lengthened into a more vertical tear. Splaying her hands before her, Mara shot bolts of lightning into the barrier. The energy exploded into a sunburst of craggy lines that shot around the sphere’s circumference, reuniting at a single point directly in front of her, where it arced into the air, striking her in the chest. Mara slammed into the side of the staircase and crumpled to the floor.

Before stars overwhelmed her vision, she saw a silhouette, standing in the dark opening at the center of the blue sphere. She could have sworn it was Abby. Then everything went black.

A few minutes later Mara felt someone lightly patting her cheek. While she felt consciousness returning, she still couldn’t seem to operate her eyelids, like there was some disconnect between her brain and the muscles that operated them. Someone had her by the shoulders, shaking her. That seemed to help, and her eyes fluttered open.

“Mara?” Diana looked down at her. Apparently she was on the floor just outside the living room.

“Mom? What happened?” Mara said.

“I think you shocked yourself trying to help Cam,” her mother said.

Mara bolted upright. “Cam! Is he all right?”

Crouched next to Mara, Diana squeezed the hand that rested on her shoulder. “It looks like he’s gone. Whatever that was took him, at least his head.”

Mara tried to stand, but Diana didn’t move back, and Mara didn’t seem to have the energy to push her out of the way. Diana held up a hand. “Just sit there for a second and make sure you’re okay.”

Mara glanced into the living room. The bubble was gone. The black hole was gone. Cam was gone.

Wide-eyed, Mara turned to her mother. “It was the bubble, the Chronicle. She’s using the Chronicle to take the passengers.”

“What are you talking about, sweetie?”

“Didn’t you see it? The electric blue transparent sphere?” Mara asked.

“Yes, I saw it. It certainly looked like the same phenomenon that we experienced with the Chronicle.”

“Did you see her? Did you see Abby?”

Diana looked confused. “Abby? No, I didn’t see Abby. What are you talking about?”

“Inside that black hole. I’m sure I saw Abby in there.”

“Why on earth would Abby want to take Cam’s head?” Diana asked.

“I don’t know. That’s what I have to find out.”

Even though it was after seven in the morning, it looked like night outside. While it wasn’t raining yet, thick dark clouds loomed over everything, threatening all kinds of weather. Mara adjusted the heat blowing onto her windshield, so it would hit her feet, while Sam loaded his books and things into the backseat. When he hopped into the passenger seat, she put the Outback into gear and backed out of the driveway. The day looked to be the same color as their slate-colored Craftsman house.

“You look terrible,” Sam said.

Mara took a sip of coffee from her travel mug and didn’t reply. She decided to use her energies to concentrate on navigating.

“I think it might be a good idea for you to stay home for a few days. You’ve really been going nonstop for weeks now, and the wear and tear is starting to show,” he said.

“Do tell.”

“I’m serious. Battling dragons, dealing with weird things popping up in the living room,
apothoseses
, zombies …” He reached up and turned the rearview mirror directly at her pale face. Dark circles hung below her puffy eyes.

She smacked his hand off the mirror, readjusted it and said, “The word is
Aphotis
.” She spelled it out and added, “Prado merged his consciousness with Abby’s and became the Aphotis. Don’t ask me what the plural form is. Maybe
Aphoti
or
Aphotises
? Who knows? Anyway the zombies were like weeks ago. All cast out—old news, Sam.”

“That was last week, sis. Your big fight with Prado on the roof of the shop was nine days ago, two days before Thanksgiving, which was just a week ago. Hannah’s been here nine days now.”

“Nine days. It seems like she has been here forever. I guess a lot has happened in the last couple weeks.”

“Only because you are running from crisis to crisis, trying to fix everything. And now I bet you are sitting there figuring out how to fix what happened to Cam last night.”

“Cam would not have been there, if I had not taken his head away from the hospital. Of course I want to help him.”

“And Abby and Ping.”

“What about them?”

“You’re trying to figure out how to help them as well, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m not going to abandon Abby’s soul, or whatever you want to call it, to go traipsing around the cosmos sucking people into that big blue bubble. And Ping is stuck with the dragon because of me. What am I supposed to do? Just tell him to deal with it? Let it continue to snarl traffic whenever the mood strikes its fancy?”

“I’m not telling you not to help them, but you aren’t doing them any good if you turn into a zombie yourself,” Sam said.

“I appreciate your concern, but I need less useless advice on having a balanced life and more practical ideas about what to do.”

Sam slumped in his seat dramatically, deflated. “Fine. What practical ideas are you in need of this morning?”

She ignored his sarcasm, as she said, “I find it incredibly frustrating that these haikus, the only hints I have about what to do, don’t answer any of my questions.”

“Like what?”

“For example, let’s say that I need the Chronicle that Ned has made. From my perspective, if I had a working Chronicle, the first thing I would do is yank that dragon out of Ping and send it back where it came from. But the book says to ignore the dragon’s folly.”

“Obviously your future self knows you well enough to know that’s what you would do, and, if that’s the wrong thing, she would try to warn you off.”

“So why do I need
to prepare like a pastor with this realm’s Chronicle
, if it’s not to deal with the dragon? It makes absolutely no sense.”

“The dragon isn’t the only thing that is going on at the moment. Maybe it has something to do with Abby or one of the passengers you are supposed to be seeking out. Or it might be connected to that other haiku about forgetting your fears and exchanging memories.” He paused and sighed. “You know, I really think, if you would cut yourself a break, these things will eventually fall in place. I don’t believe your future self would just leave you hanging, if she thought she could help. And clearly she thought she was helping by sending Hannah back with the book.”

“I think you have a more trusting nature than I do, which is odd considering the life you’ve led before coming here.”

“No, what’s odd is that you are having trouble trusting someone when that someone is you—the future you—but still you.”

“Touché.”

“Honestly your problem isn’t trust. It’s that you want to have all the answers right now, and you can’t have that. Some answers you’re just going to have to wait for. I’d just take it one step at a time, and things will probably work out. Why don’t you start out by getting that Chronicle from Ned and seeing where that takes you?”

“Mom and I are running over to his place this afternoon to talk to him, since I’m only going to be at the shop for an hour or so this morning,” she said.

Mara pulled up alongside the curb in front of the row of businesses that included the Mason Fix-It Shop and Ping’s Bakery. She looked out the back window, as she parallel parked in three smooth maneuvers. Surprised that she did it so effortlessly, she turned back toward the steering wheel, turned off the ignition and glanced up to see all the lights come on inside the bakery.

“Who’s in the bakery?” She almost yelled, an alarmed look on her face.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Calm down. It’s Ping. He said he was coming in directly after he was released from the hospital this morning.”

“Who goes directly to work after being in the hospital for two days?” Mara said. “And who checks out of the hospital before seven in the morning?”

“He’s fine. He’s in better shape than you are right now,” Sam said, opening the passenger door. Standing up on the curb, he bent down to look into the car. “You really need to go home and get some sleep.”

“Do me a favor,” she said. “Don’t mention anything to Ping about Ned having made another Chronicle or that the haiku might be referring to it.”

“Why?”

“Just keep it to yourself,” she said.

He eyed her suspiciously and said, “I hope you aren’t thinking about doing anything stupid.”

“Just do it.”

He shrugged. “Fine, go and get some rest. Ping said he would drive me home at the end of the day.”

“You know, just because Mom tells you to nag me about looking haggard doesn’t mean you have to do it with such zeal. I’ll have a mellow hour or two here at the shop and then head home. Tell her that when you report back to her.”

“Whatever.” He shut the door with a solid slam and jogged to the front of the bakery.

Mara reached for her door handle, then her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket—the screen read
BOHANNON
.

“Please tell me that you’re not calling with an arrest warrant for my mother for stealing that patrol car,” Mara said.

“No, that’s all taken care of. The patrolman couldn’t figure out a way to explain what had happened with the dragon and all, so he hadn’t filed a report yet. When I told him that I’d get the car back to him, he was so relieved that he agreed to drop the whole thing. So your mom’s off the hook,” Bohannon said.

“Great. After all that’s happened, I’m not sure where we would be without you.”

“In jail most likely.”

“Yeah. So what’s up?” she asked.

“My lieutenant handed me a strange report this morning that he wants me to look into, and I think it might be related to our disappearing passengers. Interested in tagging along?”

“I don’t know. Everyone keeps telling me how I look like death warmed over. Maybe I should take a pass on this one. What makes you think it’s related to the disappearances?”

“Woman named Stella Reese, who was a passenger on Flight 559, filed a report day before yesterday that some kind of phenomenon appeared in her kitchen and attempted to kidnap her by evaporating her. That’s how she said it to the officer taking the report—
evaporating
her. Does that make sense to you?”

“Did she say anything about a blue bubble or a sphere of some kind?”

“No, that’s all the information the report has. I’m sure the officer thought she was a crackpot and didn’t ask a lot of follow-up questions. Just a phenomenon in the kitchen that tried to kidnap her by means of evaporation. The husband stopped it by using a mixer, I think it says.” He paused for a second, and Mara heard him shuffling papers. “Yeah, that’s what it says. What’s a blue bubble got to do with anything?”

“Long story. When are you going to see her?”

“I was heading out in about an hour. You in or not?”

“Yeah, I’m in. Can you pick me up at the shop?”

Detective Bohannon swung his blue pickup truck snuggly against the arc of the curb in the cul-de-sac of a nondescript subdivision in West Linn. Just behind the truck’s open bed, a concrete driveway sloped up to a dark wood-sided house that was all sharp angles and vertical windows, one of those modern designs from the ’70s that tried too hard and now just looked dated. Mara hopped from the passenger side and met him at the back of the truck.