Fire Song (City of Dragons) (14 page)

“So that no one hears us,” said Connor. “Right, Penny?”

“Right,” I said.

“What happens if someone does?” said Felicity. “What happens if we get caught doing this?”

“Well, when I left Alastair, my grandparents told me that I was dead to them and that they never wanted to see my face again,” I said. “So, I imagine they wouldn’t be pleased I was looting our ancestors remains,” I said. “They’d probably have us arrested and press charges.”

“Seriously?” said Felicity.

“Well, that’s why we’re not going to get caught,” I said.

Ahead of us, the woods were already starting to thin out, and the cemetery was coming into view between the tree trunks. Rows of head stones gleamed in the moonlight, dotting rolling hills.

“Whoa,” breathed Connor. “That’s a big cemetery.”

“Where’s your family’s vault?” said Felicity.

I pointed. “It’s just over that hill. You can see the spire sticking out of the top.”

“The one shaped like a cross?” said Connor.

“I think it’s the one in the shape of a dragon,” said Felicity.

“Yeah,” I said.

Between us and the vault, there were a lot of graves and two stately oak trees, their bare branches dark against the night sky.

We all paused at the edge of the woods.

I looked at both of them. “Okay, this place closes at dusk, so there shouldn’t be anyone here, except maybe a night watchman. So, we’re just going to walk quickly and quietly over to that tree there.” I pointed. “Got it?”

They both nodded.

I took a deep breath, the air chilly in my lungs. It was different here, away from the heaviness of the ocean air. It used to be home, but I couldn’t say that I missed it.

I went first, and they flanked me.

I went in between the graves, doing my best not to trample on too many of them. But it was inevitable at some point.

The grass was blue-black in the darkness. It was springy under my feet, freshly cut, even though it was early enough in the year that it couldn’t have been that tall in the first place.

We reached the oak tree, a thick, shadowy hulking shape in the darkness. Its trunk was at least three feet across, and we could all stand in its shadow.

We stopped there together, and I peered around the trunk out at the rest of the cemetery.

I could see the vault better now. The doors were surrounded by stone bas relief sculpture of flames and flying dragons. The doors themselves were tall and metal, and they came to a point in the center where they would open.

The path there led us through more graves. Some had rounded headstones, others rectangular. A few scattered stone crosses were mixed in as well.

There was a gleaming white stone path winding through them, but the path wouldn’t take us anywhere near the vault. It was flanked by a few white stone benches here and there, the backs made of wrought iron painted white. The iron twisted and twirled, cast into the images of roses and leaves.

“Okay,” I said. “Do you guys see it?”

“It’s pretty big,” said Connor.

“It’s been in use since the 1700s,” I said. “Ever since the Caspian family came to America.”

“Cool,” said Connor. He started forward.

“Connor, wait.” I said.

He turned to look at me.

And that was when he tripped over a root—one of those big, gnarly roots that sometimes sticks up from the ground surrounding an old, big tree. It was half-covered in grass and difficult to see.

He tripped, and he went tumbling over a gray, square headstone that said
Beloved Mother and Sister
on it in carved script.

And his foot caught the headstone, and it toppled over.

And landed on his other foot.

And he howled in shock and pain.

The sound echoed through the entire graveyard, bouncing off the tree limbs, the other gravestones, the moon in the sky.

It was as if everything shook with the sound of it.

And then was still.

Felicity and I rushed over to Connor.

He was trying to push the headstone off himself. “Sorry,” he said. “It hurt.”

I drew up a bit of magic and forced it out, lifting the headstone and putting it back in place.

Connor clutched his foot, groaning softly.

I knelt down next to him. “Are you okay?”

“Mmmph,” he said.

Damn it.

Felicity stood over us, looking around.

“Can you stand?” I said to Connor.

“Yeah, give me a second, I’ll be fine,” he said.

“It didn’t sound like you were fine,” said Felicity.

“I’m a gargoyle,” he said. “I’m
made
of stone.” He turned to me. “Help me up.”

I got to my feet and offered him a hand.

He clutched it.

I hauled him to his feet.

He planted his hurt foot on the ground and stood still for a minute. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” I said.

He took a step. He winced.

“Connor, maybe you should wait for us in the woods,” I said.

“Um, Penny?” said Felicity.

“What?” I said.

She pointed. “We’ve got company.”

The night watchman was hurrying down the white stone path, his flashlight bobbing.

“Damn it,” I muttered. I grabbed Connor by the arm and dove back behind the big oak tree.

Felicity came with us.

For several minutes, we didn’t say anything. We just sat there, huddled behind the tree, kneeling there and trying not to breathe too loud.

“You think he saw us?” Connor whispered.

“Shh!” said Felicity and I together.

We waited.

I looked up at the sky, watched a cloud passing over the moon, and thought about what shape it was. Thing was, it didn’t much resemble anything except a cloud. The moon wasn’t full, but it was on its way there, at least I was pretty sure it was.

There was some trick to figure out whether it was waxing or waning, and it involved drawing a line on one side of the moon. If it made a small B, then it was being “born,” and if it made a small D, it was “dying.”

But the small B looked like a capital D, and that was why I always got confused.

The moon itself seemed a silvery color, like spun, shining metal hung in the sky.

My legs were getting cramped up from kneeling like this.

I wanted to look around the tree, see if I could see the night watchman. But what if he saw us that way?

On the other hand, if he was coming for us, we should know. That way, we could head for the woods.

But even then, I wasn’t sure we could do that without being seen.

Damn it. Damn it all to hell. I didn’t know what we were going to do.

I shot a glance at Connor, who was making a face.

Geez, I really hoped he hadn’t badly hurt himself.

I wasn’t even sure why I’d dragged them both into this, anyway. I could have probably done this on my own, without their help. True, it would be helpful to have them near the artifacts, because the bone and scale would speak to me and tell me which would be a better fit for each of them. But I could have gotten something that would have worked.

All this risk wasn’t worth it.

Man, my legs hurt.

I looked back up at the moon.

I should look to see if the watchman was around.

No. No, that was a bad idea.

I looked down at the ground.

There were a string of tiny black ants crawling over a blade of grass. Their small, segmented bodies glistened, almost as if they were made from drops of black water.

Ants? At night?

Had I ever seen ants at night?

Weren’t ants daytime creatures?

Maybe they were odd, nocturnal, gargoyle ants. Maybe in the day, they turned to stone.

Gah. This was ridiculous.

My legs were screaming at me. I had to shift position.

I didn’t. I shut my eyes and tried to distract myself from it.

I needed to look around the damned tree.

Next to me, Felicity moved a little, settling her weight around the tree trunk.

The noise of her movement sounded deafening.

I glared at her.

She made an apologetic face, pointing to her legs.

My own legs felt as if they were being poked with ten thousand hot needles.

I moved too, sitting down on the ground.

I looked around the tree.

The night watchman was no more than five feet away, but his back was to us. He was moving the bright circle of his flashlight over one headstone and then another, moving in a tight circle.

He illuminated a gravestone with quartz embedded in the outline. It shimmered under the flashlight.

Next, his flashlight stopped on a fresh bouquet of flowers. There was a brilliant yellow daffodil and a pink lily. Some carnations. All set in a spray of baby’s breath.

He turned, moving the flashlight.

I could see his profile now.

Gulping, I pulled back behind the tree.

My heart had started to pound now, as if I’d been running a marathon.

Felicity looked at me with wide, questioning eyes.

I put my finger to my lips.

Connor shut his eyes.

I leaned my head against the tree.

The flashlight beam was coming for us.

I could see it traveling slowly over the grass. When it touched the blades, they glowed golden-green.

It came closer.

And closer.

We all pressed close, trying to meld ourselves into the tree trunk.

I could hear the sound of my breath, and it was far too loud.

The watchman
must
be able to hear us.

The beam of light skated over my hand.

I yanked it away, realizing too late that I shouldn’t have moved, that movement was conspicuous, that it draws the eye.

The watchman was going to march back here and shine that light in our eyes and bark at us and call the police and—
The light went past us.

I heard the watchman start to walk again, and the light was retreating.

I let out a sigh of relief.

But we couldn’t say anything yet.

No, we had to stay still and quiet until he had gone completely.

I peered around the tree again.

I watched his back as he headed down toward the path, watching the circle of light grow smaller and smaller.

I pulled back behind the tree.

He was still too close.

I looked down at the ants again. They were still crawling over the blade of grass. There must be thousands of ants in that little line, and they were all so very identical and perfect.

And we waited.

Only when the watchman started whistling to himself did I allow myself to relax.

I slumped against the tree trunk.

“Sorry,” said Connor in a tiny voice.

“It’s okay,” I said. “It was an accident. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “No, I feel okay, now.”

“Are you sure?” said Felicity. “That thing looked heavy.”

“I’m fine.” Connor stood up to show us.

I yanked him back down. “Not yet. He could still see us.”

“No, he’s on the other side of the hill,” said Connor, squinting.

Felicity and I looked around either side of the tree trunk.

Sure enough, all we could see of the night watchman was the faint glow of the flashlight in the distance.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s go.” I got to my feet.

Felicity and Connor did too.

Carefully, slowly, we came out from behind the oak tree.

I started forward, walking between the headstones. I took small, even steps, trying to move like a cat in the darkness, liquid and soft. I wasn’t sure if I was succeeding, and, anyway, I wondered if it was pointless because I couldn’t imagine Connor doing anything gracefully. He was probably going to trip over another headstone.

We went down the hill, through the gravestones.

Then we crossed the white stone path to the next portion of the cemetery.

Here, the gravestones were larger, made of nicer stone, with elaborately carved decorations.

This was the dragon portion of the cemetery.

There were no real rules segregating dragons from everyone else, not even back in the 1700s when the cemetery had first been made. But it seemed that it happened somehow anyway.

Most of the graves here in the center portion of the cemetery were dragon graves.