Dragon Coast (34 page)

Authors: Greg Van Eekhout

BOOK: Dragon Coast

5.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

He kept the empty frame.

He held it before him now and looked through it at the last house he'd lived in with his parents before they separated. His dad's salary at the Hierarch's Ministry of Osteomancy netted a two-story white colonial in the hills of Westwood. For some reason, Daniel had expected to find it gone. Maybe just a charred foundation on a hard-baked lot. But it looked exactly as he remembered it, shaded by maple trees and nestled in a cozy blanket of ivy.

His mother was dead.

Cassandra told him what she'd done as soon as he joined her and Moth on the other side of San Francisco Bay. Maybe she figured if he killed her on the spot, then she wouldn't have to go through the trouble of hauling her ass all the way back home to Los Angeles.

Daniel didn't kill her. He didn't do anything to her. He didn't speak to her. The job wasn't finished yet.

But now Sam was alive, and all his crew were accounted for, and Jo Alverado had restored his face so he didn't have to see Paul in the mirror every time he shaved.

There was nothing left to be done.

“Can I help you?”

A man came out of the house and down the porch steps, glaring at Daniel from across the lawn. He had the build and the iron-gray buzz cut of a football coach, and if he decided he wanted to pummel Daniel, Daniel figured he might just let him. He didn't have the stomach for electrocuting anyone today.

“I used to live here.”

“Must have been a long time ago.”

“It was. I was just a little kid then.”

The man's demeanor softened. “Do things look much different?”

“No. They pretty much look exactly the same.” It seemed like an impossibility, but it was true.

“Would you like to come in? Have a look around? We've done some remodeling in the kitchen and bathrooms, but we haven't changed things all that much.”

Daniel thought about it. It might be good to wander the old rooms and halls. There used to be a piano in the big living room, and elite osteomancers and their families would come over for Victory Day parties. There was a backyard pool and a barbecue pit. Maybe Daniel would find something there to fill the empty picture frame.

“That's kind of you,” Daniel said. “But I should go home.”

*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *

The party was Em's idea, and she had to shame Daniel into coming. Moth threatened him with physical harm unless he showed up. The venue was Cassandra's house.

Daniel arrived with a bottle of tequila in a paper bag, and four bars of really good chocolate for Em. It wasn't from San Francisco, but she forgave him for that.

He found things in full swing. It was a small gatheringâjust Sam and Em and Jo and Moth and Cassandraâbut it was loud, with Moth generating the boisterousness of a soccer team celebrating a World Cup victory.

“Jerk face!” Moth hollered, bear-hugging Daniel and carrying him from the threshold to the middle of the living room. “You're late. I was about to go looking for you with my party fist.”

Daniel handed him the bottle. “This is booze. Drink this and calm down.”

“I will,” Moth bellowed. “I will drink this and calm down.”

Sitting on the couch, protectively close to Sam, Em laughed, not at Moth, but at Daniel's wince.

“She's in the kitchen,” Sam said. He alone knew how uncomfortable Daniel was coming here. Sam was the only one Daniel had told about Cassandra killing his mother.

“Right,” Daniel said, steeling himself. It was only eight steps to the kitchen, but it was a long eight steps.

Cassandra was pulling a tray of tamales from the oven. Her shoulders stiffened when Daniel entered.

She set the tray down on the stovetop and turned around.

Over the years, Daniel had seen almost every kind of expression on her face when she looked at him. Anger. Exasperation. Hurt. Love. This was the first time he'd seen fear. She knew he wouldn't harm her physically, but there were worse kinds of harm.

“I didn't plan a speech,” he said. “Because you know how it is. You can map out a job to every last detail, but in the end, things always go to shit and you just have to improvise.”

“Well, I did plan a speech. Do you want to hear it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She prodded some tamales with a spatula.

“I don't know what to say. I can't say thank you for killing my mother.”

“No. I don't suppose anyone could.”

“But Cassandra?”

“Yeah?”

“It's a pretty fucked-up world, isn't it?”

She put down the spatula, and they embraced in front of the stove, where the food she'd prepared to celebrate the recovery of the Hierarch's golem and Daniel's son gave off delicious aromas.

Later, Daniel stood out on the lawn, watching the reflected moon dance in the canal waters. Laughter leaked from the house, mostly Moth's, but also Sam's and Em's and Jo's, and even Cassandra's. His boat bumped against the curb of the canal.

“Hey.” Sam came out of the house and joined Daniel. “Moth is making margaritas. You better claim one before they're gone.”

Daniel tried to inspect Sam without revealing he was doing so. The new golem body was still thin and pale, and Sam moved in it uncertainly, as if he were walking on ice.

“How are you feeling?”

“Everything feels weird,” Sam said. “Then again, everything
is
weird, so I guess that's to be expected. So stop looking at me like I'm a bomb about to go off. I'm okay.”

“Okay.” There was a fresh burst of laughter from the house. “You should go back inside. I'll be there in a bit.”

“Yeah? Then why's your suitcase in the trunk of your boat?”

“How'd you know it's back there?”

Sam shook his head, as if Daniel should have known better. Which he should have. “Cassandra lifted your keys and snuck out to check.”

Daniel dug into his jacket pocket.

“They're there,” Sam said. “She snuck them back, of course.”

“Of course.”

“So, where are you going?”

“Don't know.”

Daniel had run away from his father's house when the Hierarch came to feed on magic. He'd run away with Sam to keep him from hungry osteomancers. Those had been the right decisions. And it was the right decision now, not to escape anything, but to lure away anyone who would come after him. To keep the Northern Hierarch and Cynara away from his friends. To make sure when she was grown, Ethelinda wouldn't seek revenge on the people Daniel loved.

“I have an idea for you, Daniel.” Sam held out his hand for the keys. “Leave tomorrow if you want. But tonight, stay here. Stay here, not as the mastermind of a criminal band. Not directing things. Not leading us all into dark places. Just stay here. Enjoy some light and laughter. Have some margaritas.”

Sam kept his hand out. Daniel gave him the keys, and Sam retrieved Daniel's suitcase from the trunk.

As they went back to the house, a trace of light streaked across the sky.

Sam saw it, too.

“I've spotted a lot of those the last few nights,” he said. “I've decided it's Annabel Stokes.”

Daniel smiled. “A firedrake powered by healing magic. That's magic too good to believe in.”

“Maybe,” said Sam, holding the front door open for him. “But if it's true? Then what a world this could be.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My thanks go first to my wife and best friend, Lisa Will, for making my life possible and fun. And a great heaping pile of thanks to the team at Tor Books, an incomplete roster of which includes Patrick Nielsen Hayden, Miriam Weinberg, Patty Garcia, Leah Withers, Theresa DeLucci, Irene Gallo, and so many other people who did the thousands of things it takes to turn a manuscript into a book that you can find on store bookshelves.

Thank you, booksellers of all types, for practicing your profession with love and dedication to books and reading. And particular thanks to Mysterious Galaxy, my home store.

I'm grateful to Cliff Nielsen for his wonderful cover art, and to Caitlin Blasdell for her expert agenting.

Thanks to Joe Skilton and Terry Tyson, real magicians who generously gave me advice on sleight of hand. If I got things wrong, it's my fault, not theirs.

I owe a lot of gratitude to bloggers, reviewers, fellow authors, and folks on social media for showing interest in my work. The encouragement is very much appreciated. So, too, is the support I receive from so many awesome friends, including Deb Coates, Sarah Prineas, and Jenn Reese. And a special thanks to Elise Matthiesen, who sent me a pendant with a piece of stegodon bone.

And finally, a shout out to my officemates Dozer and Amelia. I love them, but they are a little bit horrible. They are dogs.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

GREG VAN EEKHOUT
is the author of
California Bones, Pacific Fire,
and several other novels, including
Norse Code
and two middle-grade SF novels,
Kid vs. Squid
and
The Boy at the End of the World
(a finalist for the Andre Norton Award). He lives in San Diego, California. You can sign up for email updates
here
.