The Dragon Guard (34 page)

He never wanted to go back to Haven, but he knew he had to, if only long enough to drop off what supplies he could. The Squibb family believed in being prepared and the garage had boxes of powdered and freeze-dried foodstuffs against earthquakes or whatever other disasters might hit. His mom would go through once a year and donate the older stuff to the homeless shelter and restock, so he'd just be saving her that job. Not that freeze-dried beef stroganoff was the best stuff in the world, but it was better than stir-fried grass and onions. At least, he thought that's what Ting's grandmother had been cooking when he'd left.

He scrubbed away a tear with the heel of his hand. He couldn't be around any of them for long, he was too dangerous to them. He didn't know how or what was happening to him, but he feared that anything he could and did do might betray them. Henry vowed he'd never let that happen, even if he had to give up Magick again. Where he would go or what he would do, he didn't know. He had no idea what he wanted to tell his mom. So he'd get the supplies together, and while he did that, he'd think of something. Surely.

Gathering himself, he made his way out to the garage, fumbling here and there a bit, not wanting to snap on a light or even use his crystal. He found the mesh booty bags they used in camping and the cardboard boxes of supplies. The stainless steel storage unit held the newer cartons to the left, so all he had to do was go down to the right and pull a carton open. He gave up and cast a small Lantern spell on his crystal and set it on the top shelf where it glowed like a tiny harvest moon so that he could see what he was doing. He shoveled the packets into the bag as his eyes adjusted and nearly had the sack full when the side door creaked open farther.

He froze, spotlighted by the glow from his gemstone, as someone hesitated in the doorway.

“Henry?”

“Mom!” Caught, but he almost didn't care.

She rushed to him and gave him a great hug, her comfortable chenille robe surrounding him. She made one of those noises that mothers make when they're very very happy and trying not to cry and scare you because of it, and held him tightly.

“I'm sorry, Mom, I'm sorry, I didn't want you to worry.”

She kissed the top of his head. “I wasn't too worried.” She took a deep breath and made a little sniffling noise. “Joanna McIntire called me. I don't understand what's going on.”

“Me neither,” he said with heartfelt truthfulness. “And even if I did, I'm not sure how much I could tell you.”

She held him away then, and searched his face. “But it's nothing bad?”

“I don't think it is. I mean, we don't mean it to be. It's not gangs or drugs or anything like that.”

She glanced at the bulging mesh bag lying on the floor. “Are you leaving again?”

“I think so.”

“Come into the kitchen and talk with me a moment or two.” Her gaze rested then on the glowing crystal. She didn't say anything but led the way back into the house. He had to grab his crystal and drag the heavy bag back behind him.

“Is Dad awake?” he asked, as she fixed him an English muffin with peanut butter and jam.

“Your father could sleep through anything.” She sat down on a breakfast chair and folded her hands on her lap. “I want you to know we love and trust you.”

That made his eyes smart. He didn't deserve it, especially not with the battle he was having with himself. Henry shook his head. “I'm just trying my best, Mom.”

She nodded. “But you can't tell me what's happening?”

“Can't. I want to, but . . .”

She put her hand out, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. “Does this have anything to do with summer camp, Henry?” She took his crystal from his hand gently, examining it. “And your powers?”

“Mom!”

She gave the crystal back. “Unlike your father, you are a restless sleeper. And you talk in your sleep.” She touched his cheek lightly. “I couldn't help but listen, you were so sick with poison oak when you came home, but more than that, you were so unhappy. You'd lost your abilities, your talents, that you'd been so proud of.”

“You never said anything to me!” He stared at her.

“And you never said anything to me.”

“I couldn't! There's this Vow of Silence, you see, and it just locks you up, keeps everything bottled in, and then I had this drink to make me forget everything cause they had to send me away, but it didn't work right, and then I started remembering, and then the Magick came back and—” He plowed to an astonished halt. “And I shouldn't be able to tell you now.”

“Maybe it's one of those protective things, that only works when there's danger.” She laced her fingers together, watching him.

“Maybe.” He rubbed his citrine. “Something happened and we had to run.”

“Bailey? Jason? You? And the others?”

He nodded.

“Where can you go?”

“We're back at the camp, sorta. The trouble is . . .” He didn't quite know how to tell her. Henry stared down at the kitchen floor a moment.

“The world never understands people who are different.”

He looked up. “Did I ever tell you I think you're the best mom in the whole world?”

She smiled slightly. “Yes, you did!” She held her arms out. He hugged her again. Her voice fell to a near whisper. “I'm very proud of you, Henry Squibb, and don't you ever forget that! Take whatever you need, and come and go as often as you can.” She let go of him then. “Maybe someday you can tell everyone who and what you are.”

“I don't know if that will ever happen.”

“When it does, you be the first ambassador. Now, it looks like you have breakfast, lunch, and dinner to deliver!”

He rubbed his crystal. “Watch this,” he said with pride as he took hold of the booty bag and disappeared from her sight.

 

Through the
between
, Henry searched for Jason.
Please, please, please, let me back.
He had to tell them what he could, and help however he could. It was the only way he'd ever be proud of himself, no matter what they thought, or his mom thought. He held to the hope that the tiny swing in the Gate Jason had given for him might yet be there. He searched so intently, he never felt the tiny nibble at the back of his mind.

He never felt a thing as Jonnard sifted through his mind and then sat back with a gloating laugh as, for the first time, he saw all and knew all that Henry did. Henry, in his eagerness to Crystal, had left his mind totally open. Even the delicious moments of stealing his Magick had never peeled the boy's thoughts open like a ripe fruit. And now, Jon knew all he could ever wish. He let Henry slip through, felt him bursting through the Dragon Gate into Haven, even as he stood with a triumphant yell for his father.

T
RENT eyed Jason. “You're taller than I am.” “I'm what? When did that happen?” Jason looked himself over.

“I have no idea. I think it happened overnight . . . about the same time that tunic last fit you.” Trent jabbed a thumb at him.

Jason tugged on his tunic. It did, indeed, hang shorter and feel a lot tighter around the shoulders than he remembered which was sometime yesterday when he'd gotten it. His chin itched. He scratched it with one finger thoughtfully. He would have thought more of it if they had been anywhere but where they were. Rich and Trent were already tired of Haven, with little to do but try and set traps for Bailey's sight unseen trader friend: “Don't worry, it's capture and release,” they told her when she found out and got upset. They'd tied Stef's sneakers to the top of the highest tree they could find, but the bear cub had merely scaled it and knocked them down. They'd hidden Madame Qi's cane at least three times but given it up when she had placidly opened her hand and called it back to her each time. Jason was of the opinion they would have tried something on Rebecca Landau, too, but as she seemed to be doing most of the cooking, they'd changed their minds. It had only been a few days and they were itching to explore.

Still, idle hands and minds . . . Jason came to the conclusion that it was obviously his turn. “I'm not falling for this,” he said to Trent.

Trent widened his eyes innocently. “Falling for what?”

“Whatever.”

“Okay, we'll call Miss Bundle of Enthusiasm herself over. Bailey! C'mere.”

She looked up and wrinkled her nose before trotting over curiously. “What are you two up to?”

“Me, nothing. Trent here is trying to—” He never got a chance to finish.

“Jason!” Bailey let out a squeal. “You've got chin hairs.” She stared at his face in fascination.

“Okay, now I'm P.O.'d. Taller than me with chin hairs.” Trent squinted at him.

“Cut it out, you two!” Jason tried to yank his tunic into place about his body.

Trent put his hand on Jason's shoulder. “I'm not kidding, bud.” He looked at Jason closely.

Bailey crossed her heart. Well, actually, it was Lacey she crossed who grumbled sleepily in her pocket as the gesture disturbed her. The little pack rat kicked about and bumped around a bit before resettling. Bailey tilted her face to look up at him. She wrinkled her nose again. “And taller.”

“He is, isn't he? Am I right, or am I right?”

“You're right. The question is: why?”

“We're guys. We have these spurts of growth.”

She shook her head. “Not in just a few days. And if we were all doing that, well, we'd all be taller or something. But we're not. Just you, Jason.” She looked a bit worried.

“You're aging.” Trent glanced at him.

“I don't feel older.”

“I don't think Eleanora does either,” said Trent quietly.

The impact of his words hit both Jason and Bailey. She paled. “From . . . the Magick?”

“Probably. His aging doesn't seem to be as drastic as Eleanora's, but still.” Trent swallowed. “This can't be good.”

He didn't feel different. His shoes were cramped and his tunic too small, and his chin scratchy, but he really didn't feel different. He walked over to the pond and looked down at its glassy surface. He didn't look more mature to his eyes, but the water didn't give him that clear a picture back. “It is what it is,” he said, finally. He touched the image as if reassuring himself of what he saw.

Something rippled across the water as he touched it. Looking into it, he saw a pack of wolfjackals in the sky, circling, coming closer, riding a storm of black chaos as they always did. He looked back over his shoulder. Nothing behind him. The sky seemed a clear blue and undisturbed. Yet, as he stared back into the water, the vision became more and more distinct. To his surprise, the wolfjackals bore riders. At first, he saw Tomaz and Gavan. Then, as the water rippled, he saw Jonnard and Brennard and others. He rubbed his eyes. Who came? What was he seeing?

“What is it?”

“The water,” he murmured, thinking.

Bailey leaned over. “Water mirrors are for prophecies.”

“So?” Trent nudged her.

“So, Jason is a Gatekeeper.”

They jostled each other, Jason barely aware of their bantering.

“You've got a peephole in your apartment door, right?”

Bailey eyed him suspiciously before nodding.

“All right then. This is Jason's peephole through the Gates.” Trent jabbed his thumb at the deep blue water.

“You think so?”

Jason heard that last. He wondered himself. But a pounding inside his ears like the rolling thunder of a faraway storm told him he wouldn't have long to think about it.

“Get ready,” he warned.

“What's wrong?”

He didn't have time to explain. He stood and yelled, his voice ringing over the small valley. “Get ready!” His crystal flared.

If they were going to attack, it would be on his terms. The vision of Tomaz and Gavan shimmered across the lake again. They looked caught, trapped within the maelstrom of chaos. The wolfjackals ran raggedly, their jaws dripping with foam from exhaustion. Did the creatures bear Tomaz and Gavan willingly? Possibly. If so, from what did they run? And why did the storm hold them against their will? If he blinked, he saw the Dark Hand commanding wolfjackals. They rode as warriors, bearing down on him, teeth bared. Who came after them? He wanted the true Seeing, and knew he would have to make a decision. He reached into the water and shook an image free. Power raged up his arm as he did.

They burst out of the lake. Water spewed up in great, foamy waves carrying the intruders on them. Wolfjackals heaved themselves onto the bank, their heated bodies steaming off the water, Tomaz clinging to the massive leader and Gavan trying in vain to hold to the second with one arm. He fell to the shore at the beast's second leap onto solid ground, three or four pack-mates on its heels.

“Thank the gods,” Gavan said weakly, and closed his eyes.

Tomaz threw his leg over and landed lightly. Before anyone but Jason could react, he had Gavan up on his feet and one arm over his shoulder.

Wearily, Jason lowered his crystal to watch the wolfjackals circle. He waited for the familiar throb from his scar, but it stayed flat and cool. No menace came from them, this time.

“Good instincts, Jason,” Tomaz said to him. “Let them go. They were as trapped in that burst of Chaos as we were.”

In the wink of an eye, he opened a Gate and tossed them through, their howls of joy echoing back before the sound cut off abruptly, and it was as if the wolfjackals had never come to Haven.