Soul of the Dragon (16 page)

“We’re here already?”
 

“Here” was a tiny clearing in the woods about two miles from her family home. Alexa feared someone would see them descend, but he did it so swiftly and the light was so dim from the drizzle and heavy rain clouds she doubted anyone had.
 

Cyrgyn landed with barely a thump and furled his wings. Alexa grabbed the handles of her bag and slid down his flanks, then had to lean on him so she wouldn’t collapse.
 

“We made it faster than I expected,” she commented, shaking her legs to get the feeling back into them. “How fast do you fly?”
 

Cyrgyn seemed to shrug. “I have no method of measurement. But I do not bear the weight of a passenger airplane and do not have a specified flight path, which balances my lack of jet engine. Hence, it is simple to determine that I fly with greater speed.”
 

“Hence.” Alexa looked at her watch. “I need to get to the hospital. Visiting hours should just be starting.” She opened the bag to change her shirt, which had grown damp in the clouds, and fix her windblown hair.
 

“I will remain here.”
 

She looked around. “Is it safe?”
 

“Do not worry about me, Alexa. I have taken care of myself for several hundred years, remember.”
 

She smiled. “Right.”
 

She started to walk away, but Cyrgyn stopped her.
 

“Dreugan may arrive at some point. I wanted to warn you.”
 

“You making him my full-time protector?”
 

“In my absence, yes, something like that.”
 

Alexa felt warmth that wasn’t anger at the notion, and wondered at the unexpectedness of it. “Okay. Thanks.” She frowned then. “Wait, how would you let him know where we are?”
 

“I do not need to. He will know.”
 

“How?”
 

He didn’t answer. Alexa rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll find out eventually.” She wanted to tell Cyrgyn to just leave Ryc out of it. She hated the mystery, was jealous—jealous!—of the intimate relationship the dragon had with him, of the help he’d apparently given her soulmate during all those years she wasn’t even sure he existed. His presence seemed to cause as much problem as it
solved.
 

And she was afraid to be near him. That final fact kept her quiet. She didn’t want Cyrgyn to know how attracted she was to the mysterious man. She nodded at the dragon and started across the clearing.
 

“Be careful,” he rumbled, and she nodded without looking back.
 

Alexa followed a well-worn path through the sparse woods, still worried about the dragon’s lack of concealment. Even if it was dark enough to cloak somewhat, the woods were heavily traveled by kids and teens crossing from the development on one side to the town park on the other. He’d have nowhere to go if someone came near. But, like he said, he’d taken care of himself for a long time.
 

She wanted to go straight to the hospital, but it wasn’t much of a detour to her father’s house and maybe she could pick up a car. She allowed a tug of nostalgia to bring a half-smile to her lips when she turned down her old street. The trees seemed taller, the houses smaller, even though she’d been an adult when she left. There was Tommy Steen’s house, and the treehouse was still in the side yard. She and Tommy had spent hours in that treehouse, reading comic books, planning spy games, and experimenting. He was the first boy she’d ever kissed, though she was sure Tommy would say he’d kissed her.
 

The old house on the corner had been renovated, and a couple of others had add-ons or new siding. The old neighborhood looked good.
 

Until she rounded the bend and saw the smoking black hole where her house used to stand.
 

Shocked, she simply stood and stared. Peter had said it was all gone, but she’d imagined the house gutted. Maybe roofless, the contents charred and unrecognizable.
 

Not…gone.
 

She hefted her duffle higher on her shoulder and moved closer. Even this long after the fire she could feel heat emanating from the core. It was probably her imagination, she decided as she surveyed the scene. The firefighters would never have left if there was a chance of a flare-up.
 

Not a stick of wood remained. The cinderblock basement was full of black char and gray ash. Except for the center, which was clear but for the distinctive markings of a blast.
 

Alexa looked around. The houses near her father’s had some soot but no signs of burning or heat damage. She circled the wreckage, scanning the ground and edges of the disintegrated house. She didn’t know what she was looking for; the fire inspector was better equipped and experienced to figure out this scene. Except he didn’t know about Tarsuinn.
 

She rounded what should have been the rear corner of the house and surveyed the back yard. The giant Oregon white oak spread green, rain-soaked leaves over the equally green grass. The tree was unharmed except for a black mark at shoulder height. She walked over and touched it. The trunk had been seared. She looked toward the back fence, a good ten feet away. It wasn’t hard to imagine Tarsuinn standing near the back gate, flinging his fireball past this tree to the house. In fact, it was more than easy to imagine. Her vision blurred a little and she saw the fireball flash past her, hitting the patio and causing a flash fire that mangled the iron outdoor furniture sitting there. She screamed and raced at Tarsuinn. Only she was still standing next to the tree, and Tarsuinn looked about twelve.
 

A loud bang ended the vision as effectively as an off switch. Alexa whirled and saw her father’s best friend coming through the back gate.
 

“Alexa. Saw you wandering around back here. Thought you might want some company.”
 

“Thanks, Bing.” She gestured toward the house with her chin. “Did you see it?” Bing lived behind her father and his second-floor office faced the rear.
 

“I was on the phone with the supervisor at the SCORE office. I heard a whoosh and a bang, and looked out the window to see fire engulfing the back of the house.”
 

“Did you see anyone out there?”
 

He shook his head and patted his thick silver hair. He never ran his fingers through it, a vanity Alexa usually teased him about. “Nope. Sorry. I called 911 and ran out to help. Your father was helping Ethel out the front door when I got there. Before I could stop him, he ran back in. Luckily, he got out before the second blast.”
 

“Second blast?”
 

When he looked at her, his pale blue eyes looked confused and skeptical, yet convicted as well. “Alexa, I swear, a ball of fire came down on top of the house. It musta gone straight through.” He pointed to the blast pattern on the floor of the basement. “The fire chief thinks meteorites, but how could the first one have hit the back of the house?”
 

Alexa knew, but she didn’t enlighten Bing. “Thanks for coming over. I’d better get to the hospital.”
 

“I’ll give you a ride.”
 

“That’s okay. You have work.” Bing was the volunteer coordinator for SCORE, the retired businessperson organization. And he was notorious for letting his tires go bald.
 

His eyes crinkled with new lines when he grinned at her. “I just put new tires on, love. I’ll drive you over.”
 

She relented. “I’d appreciate it.”
 

“I’ll just run in and get my keys, lock up.”
 

Alexa stayed in her back yard while she waited. Something ate at her, some sense of déja vû or awareness. A breeze kicked up, strengthening the stench of wet char, but Alexa caught a whiff of perfume, a distinctive fragrance. Chantilly. The kind her mother wore.
 

It faded quickly and she attributed it to her imagination.
Memory
, her mind whispered back, and she admitted it could be that. To this day she couldn’t walk by the perfume counter in the department store or be near someone wearing the scent without feeling pangs of loss.
 

Bing reappeared and slung his arm over her shoulder. “Ready?”
 

Alexa walked with him to his 1956 Chevy. She’d never seen such an immaculately maintained car, which made his tire habit that much more confusing.
 

“Have you seen Aunt Ethel?” she asked once they were on their way.
 

“Sure have. I was there last night. She’s fine. They just want to keep an eye on her because of her age. She’s healthy as a horse, but I think she’s enjoying the pampering.”
 

Alexa smiled. “It’s not in Aunt Ethel’s nature to deny herself.” The woman had helped raise Alexa and Peter after their mother’s death, and though she was tough, she’d taught them that there was a balance to life. Take the good with the bad, she said. Alexa had learned later that the phrase meant you had to take the bad if you wanted the good. She liked Aunt Ethel’s anti-Puritan approach, herself. She had a hundred variations on the saying. “Don’t pass up an ice cream sundae just ’cause the special of the day is tuna fish” was one of Alexa’s favorites.
 

It only took five minutes for them to get to the hospital. Bing parked in the visitor’s lot and helped Alexa out of the car. “Mind if I come in? I was intending to visit today, anyway.”
 

“Of course I don’t mind.”
 

One of Alexa’s phones rang and she stopped outside the entrance, mindful of hospital regulations against using them inside the building as well as the fact that it was the Anell Breathwater line. “Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”
 

Bing nodded and she moved away a few yards before snapping open the phone. “Hello?”
 

“Alexa.”
 

She didn’t recognize the voice. “Who is this?” She’d only given the number to Tars’ HR manager. The caller had to be connected to him. She looked around, as if he could be watching her.
 

“My name is Mark Heiling. I work for Tars Suinn.”
 

“Of course you do. What happened to my house?”
 

“I don’t know. What do you think?”
 

“I think your boss is a stinking coward.” She kept her voice devoid of heat, and Mark laughed.
 

“I have a message for you from the stinking coward.”
 

Alexa didn’t respond, but the man didn’t seem fazed.
 

“Mr. Suinn wishes you to meet him tomorrow at noon. He is certain you will understand the seriousness of his request. No doubt you wish your family to be safe. They may be safe in The Hills. Then again…”
 

She got the message. But she’d be damned if she’d let Tars call the shots.
 

“You tell your boss to call me on this line at noon tomorrow. I’m not meeting him anywhere. If he thinks destroying inanimate objects and threatening my family is going to make me cave, he’d better reconsider.”
 

“What will, Alexa?” Mark’s tone was curious now. “What will make you cave?”
 

She stayed silent a minute. Tars wanted to know her price. She had a feeling he would give it to her if he was certain she’d give herself to him, but there was only one thing that would buy her.
 

“Nothing less than watching Cyrgyn transform before my eyes—in the flesh—from dragon to man, permanently. If he gives me that, he can have me.” Before Mark could respond, Alexa hung up.
 

“What was that about?” Bing had come up behind her and she’d been so intent on the call she hadn’t known it. He patted her shoulder. “Are you in some television program, now?”
 

Alexa gave him a brief, relaxed smile. “No, not TV. A game.” She shut the phone off and tucked it into her rear pocket. “You’re back quick.”
 

“Your aunt’s room is pretty crowded. I didn’t want to linger. If you don’t need me, I’ll head home.”
 

Alexa stretched to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for the ride,” she said, and waved before heading into the hospital. She stopped in the gift shop and picked up a pack of Mentos and her aunt’s second-favorite entertainment magazine, the one she didn’t have a subscription to. She checked at the desk for her room number, then headed up to the second floor via the stairwell. She passed a couple of nurses she recognized from high school and exchanged brief greetings before reaching her aunt’s room. Preparing for the onslaught, she took a deep breath and pushed through the door.
 

“Hey, hey! I hear there’s an invalid in here.”
 

“Alexa!” Peter leaped to his feet and wrapped her in a hug. He’d been her little brother for so long she always remembered him smaller, but he topped her by nearly four inches and carried a wide receiver’s broad shoulders. He’d matured in the year or two since she’d seen him, too. He’d actually become a man.
 

She wrapped her arms around him as best as she could and held tight. “You look good, little bro.”
 

“Hey, that’s younger bro.” He pulled back and grinned. “No one can call me little anymore.”
 

“I can.” She punched his arm and moved to give her father a kiss on the cheek. He hated that kind of affection, so she lavished it on him. “Hi, Dad. How’s your hand?”
 

Paul waved the bandaged appendage and scoffed. “Barely a blister.”
 

“Yeah, sure.” Since the bandage engulfed his entire hand, she doubted that assessment, but he had to be the stoic, so she turned her attention to her aunt.
 

“Hi, lady.” She kissed her, then hovered as Ethel stroked her papery hand over her cheek.