Dragon Moon (34 page)
Authors: Alan F. Troop
Silence.
“Derek, it is you, isn't it?”
“Bloody hell! Where's Rita?” he barks.
“We have her,” I say.
“And the boy?”
“He's fine. He's sitting on my lap right now.”
Derek doesn't answer. He muffles the receiver with his hand, but still I can make out enough of his conversation to know he's telling his father what's transpired.
Rather than take over the phone, Charles Blood mindspeaks,
“DAMN YOU, BOY, I THOUGHT WE HAD AN AGREEMENT!”
“DAMN YOU, BOY, I THOUGHT WE HAD AN AGREEMENT!”
“You were never going to keep your word, Pa. We both know that,”
Chloe says.
Chloe says.
“I regret your mother and I ever had you.”
My bride's eyes water over.
“Me too,”
she says.
“Me too,”
she says.
“Listen,”
I say, and I make the offer Chloe and I had discussed â to send Charles and his family an annual allowance if he and Derek go back to Jamaica.
I say, and I make the offer Chloe and I had discussed â to send Charles and his family an annual allowance if he and Derek go back to Jamaica.
Derek says,
“It's not a bad idea, Pa. We can't count on Ian Tindall, and without Rita's help, it's going to be sticky making the merger work. ...”
“It's not a bad idea, Pa. We can't count on Ian Tindall, and without Rita's help, it's going to be sticky making the merger work. ...”
“No!”
Charles says.
“Quiet, you fool. Don't you have any pride? You could learn from Peter. He knows better than to give up. Besides, he knows Tindall will go with whoever wins. Don't you, Peter?”
Charles says.
“Quiet, you fool. Don't you have any pride? You could learn from Peter. He knows better than to give up. Besides, he knows Tindall will go with whoever wins. Don't you, Peter?”
“Yes.”
“So, Peter, are you and my ungrateful daughter prepared to face us?”
“We will be,”
I say.
I say.
“Bloody good. Spoken like one of us. Where can we expect to find you? You're not going into hiding are you?”
“No,”
I say.
“We'll be waiting for you at the house my father, Don Henri DelaSangre, built on the island that bears his name.”
I say.
“We'll be waiting for you at the house my father, Don Henri DelaSangre, built on the island that bears his name.”
31
At the dock, Claudia offers to let us keep her Desert Eagle, but I shake my head. “I just need to borrow your boat. I'd rather you keep the gun, in case any of those others come after Henri.”
“They'll never be able to find us,” the Latin girl says.
“Good,” I say. “Still, this way my son has some extra protection. Besides, I have guns of my own on my island. If I decide to use them.”
“Okay,” Claudia says as we leave the car. “Don't worry about Henri. We'll keep him in hiding with us as long as it takes.”
I pause by the car door, leaning against the wind, rain stinging my face as I look at Chloe. How could I live if any harm came to her or to my daughter growing within her? “You could go with Claudia too, you know,” I say.
Chloe pushes the car door closed. “Don't be silly,” she says. She stands by my side, the wind buffeting both of us as we watch the Hummer drive away, even its brake lights obscured by the rain long before it should have been out of sight.
We bow our heads against the wind, tighten our foul-weather gear as we make our way to the boat. Still, rain manages to find its way through all the protection we wear and trickle onto our clothes, soaking us before we reach the SeaRay.
Even inside the marina, the water never ceases jumping. Waves crash into pilings. In every slip, boats pitch and yaw, tugging, jerking on their lines. The SeaRay is no exception and we wait for a lull in the wind, when the boat's movements are a little less violent, before we leap on board.
Chloe jumps alongside me, slips as soon as her feet hit the deck. I catch her, pull her upright and rush to the helm. My bride follows. “Don't you want to go below and change?” she shouts against the storm.
I shake my head. “It wouldn't help â too much wind.” For the same reason, I don't bother putting up the dodger. The wind would probably tear it away before we had it in place. I hit the switch to lower the boat's drives into position, then put the key in the ignition, turn it and nod when both motors cough to life.
“Good thing we're backed into the slip,” I say, going to the stern, casting off lines. “I'd hate to back out in this weather.”
Giving Chloe a knife, I tell her to cut the bowlines when I signal. “We have more lines on board,” I say. “There's too much strain on those to risk undoing them.”
As soon as I motion, Chloe cuts both lines and I gun the motors, trying to get enough forward momentum to overcome the resistance of the wind and the waves. My bride rushes back off the bow and joins me, watching me turn the helm, sharp, as I jam down the throttles.
Just before we make it all the way out of the slip, the boat shudders as we crunch into a piling. I motion for Chloe to look over the side while I continue taking the boat out of the marina. “The side is cracked just below the deck,” she says.
“Too high to threaten us,” I say, give Chloe a thumbs-up and steer the boat toward the channel.
Once outside the marina, into the open bay, we feel the full strength of the storm. Rain blinds us. Winds push us off course. Waves toss us as they wish.
As much as I would rather be in my Grady White, the SeaRay surprises me with its ability to plow through the churning water. Between the darkening day and the thick rain and salt spray, we have no visibility. I steer by compass and instinct, reacting to waves as they rise up before us, speeding and slowing as the conditions dictate.
“At least we know that Derek wouldn't dare bring his boat out in this,” I say.
Chloe hugs my arm, looks at me with her brown, rain-dampened face. “True,” she says. “But what guarantee do we have that they'll come by boat?”
Near Caya DelaSangre, the wind lessens, blocked by the island's mass. Still, the bay leaps all around us; so much so that I give up all hope of following the channel. I can only pray the storm surge is high enough to let us pass safely over the rocks.
We hit bottom at least a half dozen times, each crunch and scrape loud enough to convince me that we'll sink any moment. But the boat continues to amaze me with its resilience, finally delivering us into the island's small, relatively calm harbor.
“My father built four arms rooms when he constructed our house,” I say as I pull up to the dock and tie the boat off. “He stocked them with pistols, rifles, large guns and cannons â with lead and shot and powder. Some of the guns are large enough to stop your father and your brother.”
Helping Chloe off the boat onto the dock, I take her hand and pull her toward the house. “They're called rail guns. Elizabeth was almost killed by one. We can open one of the arms rooms and load two or three for each of us. Then let Derek and your father come attack us.”
My bride stops walking, tugs back on my hand. “What?” I say, look at her face.
But she looks past me. I turn, follow her gaze, see the two large dragons waiting in the rain, at the top of the veranda's steps. Chloe says, “I don't think that plan's going to work anymore.”
“Change!” I say, ripping off my clothes. Chloe nods, does the same with hers.
“We've been waiting for you.”
Charles Blood laughs.
“It's a pity the weather's so bloody awful. It would be so much more fun if the sky were clear. Wouldn't you agree?”
Charles Blood laughs.
“It's a pity the weather's so bloody awful. It would be so much more fun if the sky were clear. Wouldn't you agree?”
“No. This way, in this weather, we can do what we need to do without any humans noticing us,”
I mindspeak, willing my body to change, regretting that Chloe and I have nothing to feed upon.
I mindspeak, willing my body to change, regretting that Chloe and I have nothing to feed upon.
“So you've no intention of running?”
I flex my shoulders as my wings form behind me. I curl and uncurl my taloned fists.
“Why would I? This is my home, my wife. Why would I let you take that from me?”
“Why would I? This is my home, my wife. Why would I let you take that from me?”
“Well said.”
Charles Blood begins to walk down the steps, Derek just behind him.
“Chloe, I may have underestimated your man.”
Charles Blood begins to walk down the steps, Derek just behind him.
“Chloe, I may have underestimated your man.”
My bride, now fully in her dragon form, says,
“You did, Pa.”
“You did, Pa.”
The large dragon pauses on the staircase's middle step.
“Jolly good. Then we'll have a proper row today, won't we?”
“Jolly good. Then we'll have a proper row today, won't we?”
{
Fly, Peter!
} Chloe mindspeaks me, masked, and takes to the air. I follow her just as Charles and Derek both launch themselves toward us.
Fly, Peter!
} Chloe mindspeaks me, masked, and takes to the air. I follow her just as Charles and Derek both launch themselves toward us.
“WAIT!”
Charles mindspeaks.
“I thought you wanted to fight.”
Charles mindspeaks.
“I thought you wanted to fight.”
“Follow me,”
I say.
“You'll find me soon enough.”
But I don't feel half as brave as my words. Both Charles and Derek are larger, heavier and more powerful than me. Only Chloe and I, working together, have any chance of victory and that's only if we can find a way to separate Charles and Derek and engage them one at a time.
I say.
“You'll find me soon enough.”
But I don't feel half as brave as my words. Both Charles and Derek are larger, heavier and more powerful than me. Only Chloe and I, working together, have any chance of victory and that's only if we can find a way to separate Charles and Derek and engage them one at a time.
{
Higher,
} I mindspeak to my bride. {
We have to get far above them.
} But the rain blinds us, the wind tumbles us across the sky as we try to climb.
Higher,
} I mindspeak to my bride. {
We have to get far above them.
} But the rain blinds us, the wind tumbles us across the sky as we try to climb.
{
At least, they have to fight the weather too,
} Chloe says, beating her wings, straining skyward.
At least, they have to fight the weather too,
} Chloe says, beating her wings, straining skyward.
The storm surges around us, dark clouds racing by, lightning crackling across the sky, thunder shaking the sea beneath us. One flash reveals a scaled creature flying at least five thousand feet below us. {
Derek!
} Chloe says.
Derek!
} Chloe says.
We both fold our wings and fall toward him, our speed increasing as we dive, our talons ready to rip through him. He roars as we appear, as if out of nowhere, and bellows when Chloe rips through his right wing and I tear through his left.
“Pa!”
he mindspeaks as he falls toward the sea.
“They surprised me and tore my wings. I can't fly!”
he mindspeaks as he falls toward the sea.
“They surprised me and tore my wings. I can't fly!”
“You didn't even fight them?”
Charles says.
“You useless child.”
Charles says.
“You useless child.”
Derek sends up a white plume of water as he hits the angry sea.
“Pa! Help me!”
“Pa! Help me!”
“You bloody well know how to swim. Save yourself. Rejoin me when you're healed.”
Chloe and I beat our way skyward again.
“Peter, Chloe, good show that,”
Charles Blood calls.
“I must warn you. You won't find me so easy.”
Charles Blood calls.
“I must warn you. You won't find me so easy.”
Neither of us answer. We save our energy, concentrate on gaining altitude, ignore the constant driving rain, fight each gust of wind as if it were as much an opponent as Chloe's father. My muscles ache. My lungs struggle to take in enough air to renew my tired blood. I know if we don't win soon, exhaustion will defeat us before Charles can.
The air is too rough, the day too dark, the rain too thick for us to soar and examine the sky beneath us. We fly as high as we can, until the air grows too thin, then spiral down, looking for Chloe's father.
He strikes at three thousand feet, diving from above us, slashing open my back, from my shoulders to my midsection, as he passes. He catches Chloe too, ripping through her right wing, tearing a gash on the side of her throat, striking an artery, her blood spraying into the sky around us.
My bride roars from the pain, tumbles in the air as she falls.
“Peter! I'm sorry!”
she calls.
“Peter! I'm sorry!”
she calls.
I howl into the stormy night, circle once, looking for Charles, and, unable to locate him, I dive after my bride.
He swoops up from the dark sky beneath me, rushing toward me, his talons extended. I know my best course would be to turn away, evade him, but my injured bride lies in the sea beneath him. I fold my wings even more so I dive faster, shoot like a bullet toward the large dragon.
We collide in midair, both roaring, his claws tearing into me, his teeth ripping large chunks of my flesh. I tear into him too â not as deep, not as damaging as him, but enough to injure the older creature. He howls and breaks free before we hit the water.
“Not bad, Peter,”
he says as he flies away.
“I didn't think you could hold up so well.”
he says as he flies away.
“I didn't think you could hold up so well.”
I don't answer. As much as I injured Charles, he wounded me doubly. If the fight had continued, I know which dragon would have won. I wonder why he chose to break away without finishing it.
“Save your wife now,”
Charles Blood says.
“She's shown her bravery. There's no reason either she or my granddaughter should die. We've plenty of time for you and me to end this, after they're safe.”
Charles Blood says.
“She's shown her bravery. There's no reason either she or my granddaughter should die. We've plenty of time for you and me to end this, after they're safe.”
I hit the sea and writhe in agony as the salt water finds each cut, each tear, each scratch.
“Chloe!”
I mindspeak.
“Answer me!”
“Chloe!”
I mindspeak.
“Answer me!”
“Peter, I'm floating somewhere near you. I think. I mended my artery. I'm so tired I can't heal anything else.”
“Wait,”
I say. Other than stopping my bleeding, I heal nothing else. Chloe needs me to conserve whatever energy is left. Gathering my strength, I surge out of the water, take to the sky and skim low over the waves, fighting the storm as I search for my bride.
I say. Other than stopping my bleeding, I heal nothing else. Chloe needs me to conserve whatever energy is left. Gathering my strength, I surge out of the water, take to the sky and skim low over the waves, fighting the storm as I search for my bride.
“Chloe!”
I mindspeak.
“Can you see me?”
I mindspeak.
“Can you see me?”
“The waves are too high. I can't see anything!”
I circle and circle, my muscles protesting, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my wounds searing with pain.
“Chloe!”
I have lost one bride. I will not lose another and a daughter too.
“Chloe!”
“Chloe!”
I have lost one bride. I will not lose another and a daughter too.
“Chloe!”
“Peter? I think I see you â or something in the sky above me.”
Looking down, I see a dark object floating in the white froth of a broken wave. I dive toward it, scoop my bride from the water. She goes limp as soon as I have her in my grasp, the burden of her dead weight almost taking me from the sky. But I fight upward, away from the sea and let the winds rush me toward my island.
Landing alongside the dock, next to the steps to the veranda, I lower my near-comatose bride to the ground. I scan the sky above, find no sign of either Derek or Charles and rush up the steps. I nod my head when I find the veranda empty. But I know there's no guarantee either of them won't choose to avail themselves of the house's shelter at any time.
Going back to my bride, I pick her up and carry her into the bushes, to the secret entrance leading to the treasure room. The wind fights with me as I pull open the passageway's oak door but within moments, Chloe and I are inside, the storm's fury blocked and silenced by the thick oak door.
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