Henchgirl (Dakota Kekoa Book 1) (15 page)

In the car now, my hands started to shake around the phone. I needed to stop freaking myself out.

Honua was probably just hiding out in some back room of the mansion. Or maybe she ran home, the bathroom lock could have been faulty, snapped into place when the window slammed. It made a lot more sense than the alternative that she vanished into thin air in a house that was a magical dead-zone.

I needed to get there and comb the house; if she wasn’t there I would find out where she lived and stake-out her house.

“Turn left here, north,” I said to Wyvern as I scrolled through my phone contacts. I know I tried to text Honua’s phone number in the directory once only to find out that the number I texted was a landline that did not accept texts. Why Honua’s mother would list a landline phone number for contacting her deaf daughter, I would never be able to figure out. But now I could search my old text messages hoping for the message that did not go through. But scrolling back further and further, ignoring the messages that kept overwhelming my phone from my uncles, I could not find the message.

“Did you even try to text your missing friend?” Wyvern asked, not glancing over. His expression looked like his soul felt, contained, controlled and guarded.

“I can’t find her phone number,” I mumbled as I turned back to my phone to delete yet another message from Glacier.

“Some friend you are,” Wyvern said, clearly meaning I wasn’t much of a friend. He veered into the oncoming traffic lane to pass some tourists driving five miles under the speed limit.

An almost full moon lit up the ocean below the cliff-side road we took from the Volcano Resort. The ocean was a bit too close and the car was speeding by it too fast for my liking.

“You are a guest of my grandfather, you are doing me a favor and you have my life in your hands,” I mumbled, still searching for the old text message.

“Your point?” he asked.

I grinned up at him. “I’m just trying to convince myself not to punch you.”

He smirked. “Charming,” he said.

Oh, boy, I guess I’ll have to give my ‘Miss Congeniality trophy’ back.

Then I found it, about two hundred messages back, a message that did not go through:
Hello Honua this is Dakota from school. Can we change our tutoring sessions to Friday?

Score! I called the number. It rang until we went through a tunnel and lost reception. I kept calling the number, but it just rang with no answer, not even an answering machine.

“Nothing,” I said, to myself.

After the third time, I disconnected and looked up to see headlights coming straight for us.

Wyvern dodged a head on collision with a quick turn of the wheel, almost side swiping the car beside us. 

"You purchased rental car insurance, right?" I asked when I could unclench my jaw.

"Why?" he asked.

"I’m just thinking that you will probably survive when we go off the cliff, but I have some serious doubts about whether I will or the car."

"I doubt the car has insurance," he said, not slowing down, "Whoever rented this spared every expense."

If his voice was not so serious, I would be suspicious that he just made a joke. Then the meaning of his words sunk in. "This isn't your rental car?" I asked.

He leveled a look on me like he thought I could count my IQ points on my fingers and toes. “My car was blocked in,” he said as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

I opened the glove-compartment to find the rental contract; but within the compartment was a solid wall of candy wrappers and fast food bags, as if someone tried to clean the car but had not discovered the wonders of a trash receptacle yet. I peeled the contract off the very bottom of the trash brick, it was covered in ketchup. "Figures. It's my aunt Milda's car,” I said. “And yeah, she did not get insurance. Ok, so, let me make sure I’m getting this right...you stole this car from my aunt Milda because you did not want to wait for the valet to get yours out?"

He did not answer.

“I wonder if they make drake-serpent-leather straitjackets,” I mumbled.

The big question surged up in my mind again, the question that I knew I should have learned the answer to before I even hopped the fence; it grew so heavy in my thoughts I could not ignore it for one more second. "Why are you helping me?"

"Maybe I enjoy your company," Wyvern said not looking over.

"Yeah, I'll believe that when we’re eating shaved ice in the dragon kingdoms."

"Funny," he said.

"I aim to please. Seriously, what's in it for you?"

My phone vibrated with another text message. This one I did not ignore or delete. Glacier sent:
You know how important you are to your grandfather; he would take drastic measures if you were hurt.
Tell Wyvern to pull over at Olabalu, Bobby is waiting for you there. You don’t want there to be a misunderstanding between your grandfather and his guests. There is no other contingency.

The message had so many meanings, and only the last line was for me. Glacier not only thought that Wyvern had kidnapped me; he thought he had taken my phone. Olabalu was the next stop, they not only tracked our location, Bobby must have already teleported there. The message to Wyvern was clear: return me to my family, or my grandfather would take some sort of drastic measure, it was probably a financial measure as most of his power stemmed from his wealth.

But, the last line to me meant: pull a gun on Wyvern if he won’t stop.

Fear had easily recognizable reactions if you knew how to look, eyebrows lifted and pulled together, eyes widened, lips parted into straight lines. Even when I wore my dampener I only needed to read facial expressions to recognize fear; I studied how to recognize emotions so I could have impeccable control of my expressions when I needed to. I needed to now, and I did not so much as flutter my eyelashes.

So when Wyvern asked in a serious tone, “What was that text?” I knew he had some extra sensory way to pick up fear. My phone had been going off with constant messages; he knew this one was different. He must have either smelled fear like a werewolf or sensed it, like my grandfather.

I turned to the road. My uncle Bobby could technically teleport to any place he could see or has ever been to before, but it was hazardous if he did not have an exact set location. He burned a brand into different out of the way sites that had no access to cars and little foot traffic at strategic points on the island. He said that the brand worked like a road map while he was stepping through space. If he teleported to Olabalu and we did not pull over, I was not sure if he had a teleportation site closer.

Olabalu was the next exit, but before I could decide whether or not I wanted him to stop, we sped past. We drove so fast I was not sure whether or not the shadow I saw was Bobby.

I had accepted the ride, Wyvern was driving me in the right direction; it wasn’t a kidnapping. But every instinct I had in me shouted for me not to send the ‘it’s me, I’m fine’ message to my uncles.

Even someone without my training would discern that this situation was all wrong. I knew it from the moment I accepted the ride, but I went anyway. If this was an assignment, I would have aborted before it even started.

Wyvern had complete control…and he probably viewed me as disposable, the lowest relation in a lesser half-dragon’s domain. His soul flared, I could not read it, but it was like it had filled that invisible sack until the seams were bursting, a barely contained mass of energy.

For some reason, I really did not want that energy to burst its seams.

His voice was low, quiet and controlled when he repeated, “What was that text?”

“My uncle’s figured out we ran off, they’re really upset.” I said watching his face. “They want you to let me out so they can pick me up.”

Like me, his expression showed nothing. He did not slow or respond, which I guess was a response in its self.

I touched the metal pin that attached my little portal-gun-purse to the inside hem of my dress. Pretending I was itching my ankle I rubbed my fingers along the little purse’s hem. I asked, again, “Why are you helping me?” My voice came out without any inflection; my control was slipping which did not really matter since he already sensed how afraid I was.

When my grandfather gave me Contingency on my thirteenth birthday, he told me a piece of advice I’ve lived by: never point your gun unless you’re ready and willing to shoot at what you’re aiming at. To most creatures a gun means death, and if you bring death into the equation and are not willing to commit, you’ll likely be the one to die.

So far, Wyvern had only helped me, I could not draw on him for that; even though that was what the logical side of my brain said I had to do. I squeezed my fingers into a fist, my nails biting into my palm.

A high pitched ringing made me jump. It was my own phone.

“Are you going to answer that?” Wyvern said before it even rang a second time.

Without taking my hand from my leg, I glanced at the screen of my phone; it was Honua’s home number. Hunching over, so as to look natural holding my leg, I answered, “Hello?”

“Who is this?” a woman’ said, scratchy as if she was sick or bleary with sleep. “I have three missed calls from this number. My phone was on silent, I was sleeping.”

As I responded I made my voice calm, “Hello, my name is Dakota, I go to school with your daughter—”

“Dakota, yeah, my daughter’s friend. She’s told me about you,” she said, her voice which had been groggy and annoyed before seemed to soften a bit. Honua talked about me, for some reason the thought that I was important enough for Honua to tell her mother about me almost made my calm break, almost.

“Yes. Is Honua there?”

“Isn’t she out with you at a party?” Honua’s mother sounded very confused.

“I couldn’t go,” I said.

“Oh,” she said, “Well, she must still be at that party…”

I could not tell her, I just could not do it. I had no training in giving bad news, but too much experience in receiving it.

“Is there any way to contact her? It’s important,” I said making my voice soothing.

“She gave me a boy’s phone number, or you could text her cell phone… But you know Dakota, she should be home any minute; I could give her a message from you.”

“Could she have maybe snuck into your house while you were sleeping?” It was an awkward question to ask, but I had to know.

I heard her inhale a long breath over the line. Her voice was strained when she answered, “Dakota, what is going on?”

In my periphery I saw Wyvern reach for me. Instinctively I knew I did not have enough time to draw out Contingency. In one move, I sat up, dropped the phone and elbowed to hit his face. The move was executed perfectly, arms aligned for maximum thrust aimed directly for his nose. It was a shock move, meant to confuse him so I could take control of the vehicle; it took maybe an instant.

I did not even see him move, I just connected with the headrest and then my arm was pinned to my side by Wyvern’s hand on my elbow. It was like I blinked and had moved without knowing it. He was either faster than my brain could comprehend or he could mess with my head.

It had not hurt when he pinned me, but for some reason my arm started feeling strange and tingly, probably from the adrenaline.

I doubted I could be fast enough, but I used my free hand to reach for my gun bag anyway, when Wyvern said, “Phone, Dakota. I just want the phone.”

I turned to meet his gaze. His nostrils flared slightly, his chiseled features showed only a mild annoyance. There was nothing I could do to stop the blush that spread up my cheeks. His hand did not release my arm, it was scratchy, rough and calloused, which surprised me until I remembered Wyvern was a musician.

I tested his grip by flexing; there was little chance of breaking his hold. Attacking someone that much stronger than me would be stupid, tempting, but stupid. I let a nervous laugh escape me and said with a smile, “Sorry, I guess I’m a little tense. Can I have my arm back?”

He wasn’t squeezing that hard, but it was giving me a tingling feeling and I was afraid my arm might be falling asleep. His fingers squeezed on my arm and just before it would start to really hurt he released me. His grip could shatter my bones, okay, I received the threat loud and clear.

I kept my gaze on him as I fished the phone from where it had fallen near my feet. I used both hands to press my phone into Wyvern’s right hand, knowing that if he was planning to attack the right hand was the most important to keep occupied, but he deftly switched the phone to his left, steering with his knees and leaving his right arm open.

Wyvern flicked on the turn signal and turned off the main road.

I tensed, getting ready, knowing that if he pulled off, then this was the moment he would make whatever play he was planning; but when I examined the road he turned off on, I realized it was the road leading up to the Hale’s mansion.

“Hey, it’s Vern,” Wyvern said into the phone.

I heard Honua’s mother’s voice on the other line, no words just a high pitched buzz.

“I don’t know, no one knows. It’s been about two hours since I’ve received a text back.” Wyvern said.

Loud indiscernible sounds erupted from the other phone speaker, to which Wyvern closed his eyes, inhaled, then responded, “Please calm down. If you don’t get a hold of yourself, I won’t be able to hold it for much longer.” His soul pulsed, like his restraint was slipping from him, and somehow, this was the scariest thing of all. He continued with, “I’m heading there now. Double check every room in the house, especially the attic; then call me.” He ended the call and handed it over.

The pieces that I would never have thought to connect started to fit together. I should have seen it, but I just would never have smashed my two worlds together that way.

When I reexamined the scene at the beach it made perfect sense, what Wyvern was doing was common custom; if you looked at the situation from a dracon perspective. I had just automatically looked at Wyvern’s actions from a human perspective, a bully picking on someone weaker than him, fulfilling some sadistic purpose.