The Dragon Heir (8 page)

Seph had collected a pile of
objects in front of him. Some were dull black rocks, totally unimpressive,
others were crafted in precious metals, engraved with mysterious designs. Some
were mounted on chains or set into jewelry. He sorted through them with his
long fingers, turning them to catch the light so he could read the inscriptions
on them, murmuring magical words under his breath.

Jack tried on a pair of
gauntlets in a lightweight silver metal, extending his arms to check out the
effect.

“And these all came from
the same cave, I assume?” Snowbeard said.

Jason nodded. “This
wasn't even half of it, but I tried to take the best, as far as I could choose.
Hastings told me to bring all this stuff back here and hide it, and not to let
anyone know it's here. That's why I'm back.” He half-mumbled the last
part, like he didn't want to say it out loud.

Madison sat down in the pew
next to the backpack. It was illuminated, pulsing with magic, and she realized
that the power that had seemed to emanate from Jason was really coming from it.
Before she knew what she was doing, she'd lifted it onto her lap, cradling it
in her arms.

“Hey!” Jason jerked
the backpack out of her hands. “Careful.”

Madison was mortified. She
wasn't usually a grabby person. “I—I'm
sorry. But, you know what? Something's still in there,” she said.
“It's like … I don't know…important!”

Suddenly, it was like
everybody in the church had stopped talking and focused on them.

“Is there something else, Jason?” Nick asked into the
silence.

Jason's face hardened, and
his  eyes narrowed, like he might refuse to answer. He looked from Nick to
Madison, then sighed and groped in the front pocket of his backpack. He brought
out a velvet bag embroidered over with symbols in a darker thread. “It's
some kind of sefa,” he said, shrugging. “I … ah … picked it
out for myself.” He handed it to Nick.

The old man weighed the parcel
in his two hands, as if he could discern its essence by touch alone. “This
is very old,” he said thoughtfully. “And yet, somehow new. Familiar,
yet strange. It has a potential for power that is truly amazing, yet not quite
manifest. Something I've never encountered before.”

He opened the bag and drew out
a large, slightly ovoid stone. They all gathered around it, like planets around
a new sun.

“Mere de Dieu,” Seph muttered. He always lapsed into French when he
got excited. “What is it?”

“I think it's called the
Dragonheart,” Jason replied, his eyes on the stone." Then he shut his
mouth, as if he'd said too much.

Nick's head came up. “The
Dragonheart? Really? What makes you think so?”

“There was a book in the
cave. I read some of it. It talked about a stone like this. Called the
Dragonheart.”

“Do you have the
book?” Nick asked, his black eyes glittering with interest.

Jason shook his head.
“No, I—ah—lost it on the way
out.”

“What else did it say
about the stone?” Nick's voice had sharpened considerably.

“I don't remember
exactly,” Jason said sullenly. “Something about taking control of the
magical guilds or destroying them. Like it was a weapon or something. I
was kind of in a hurry.”

“That's a pity.”
Nick stroked the surface of the stone with a wrinkled finger. “Even here
in church, you can feel it.” The glow from the stone lit the wizard's
face, accentuating the lines of age so that he looked like the oldest of
prophets. “Madison is right. This is important.”

“I don't know about important,”
Jason said, clearly worried that his prize might be confiscated. “But
I thought it looked cool.” He pulled out a dangerous-looking metal stand,
all sharp edges and sinuous monsters. “This came with it.”

Madison was fascinated by the
stone in Nick's hands. Broad flashes of blue and green surfaced as he turned
it, like the scales of some brilliantly colored fish surfacing in an exotic
tropical sea.

Not that she'd ever seen an
exotic tropical sea.

It was more than her usual
fascination with shiny things. She was always conscious of the presence of
power, drawn to it, in fact, but this beat against her senses and clamored in
her ears, impossible to ignore.

Ambushed by a rush of desire,
Madison reached out a finger toward the stone. The stone kindled, illuminating
the entire church, and a small tongue of flame erupted from the center to lick
the surface, as if seeking a connection. She jerked back her hand without
making contact and retreated a step, gripping the side of the pew to steady
herself.

No. No more. She was done with
that. She drew a shaky breath and looked up to see Jason watching her.

“You okay?” he
asked, laying a proprietary hand on the stone. Madison nodded mutely.

“I would like to study
these objects,” Nick said, frowning. “It would help if Mercedes
Foster could take a look at them, as well, since they're the work of sorcerers,
for the most part. Though the more people who know about this, the more
difficult it will be to keep it a secret.”

Jason nodded. “Hastings
said to hide this stuff somewhere secure. So I thought of the church, because—you know— churches suppress magic. Maybe these things
wouldn't be so obvious to someone who's looking for them. Seph belongs here,
and has a key, so he could go in and out pretty easy.”

“Why? Is someone after
you?” Madison asked, trying to shake off the influence of the stone.
“Does anyone know about this?”

Jason looked away from her.
“As far as I know, I got away clean.” Something told Madison he was
lying.

“But there are people in
here all the time,” Ellen objected. “What if we need to get to … get
to these things, and a Mass is going on? Besides, where would we hide it? We
can't just shove it under a pew.”

“There's the mourner's
chapel,” Seph suggested. “People don't go in there unless there's a
funeral, and not a lot for that, since it's tiny. It's downstairs, next to the
crypt. And there's a secret entrance.”

“There's dead people in
this church?” Madison shivered. She preferred that bodies be buried out in
the churchyard, so their spirits could roam free if they liked.

Seph nodded. “It was
built by the Presbyterians, but it was taken over by European Catholics more
than a hundred and fifty years ago. They liked to be buried out of the weather,
I guess. Come on. Bring the stuff. I'll show you.”

Seph led them through a doorway
at the front of the sanctuary and down a narrow, dimly lit flight of
stairs.

The crypt lay on one side of
the stairs, the chapel on the other. The chapel was just big enough for a
family to gather privately. At one end a stone was set into the wall, engraved
with the name and dates for one JAMES MCALISTER 1795 TO 1860.

“Seems like a strange
resting place for a Presbyterian, but McAlister was also one of the region's
leading abolitionists,” Seph said. “Watch.”

He pushed the stone and it
pivoted silently on an invisible hinge, revealing a rough opening the width of
a man's shoulders. Air whistled through, bringing with it the scent of water
and stone.

“This was a station on
the Underground Railway. There's a tunnel that runs all the way to the lake.
Escaped slaves would hide in the church basement, then meet boats on the shore
and travel across to Canada. Not fun to crawl through, these days. If
ever.”

The crypt housed several rooms
lined with vaults, most of them occupied for more than a century. Jack walked
down the row, scanning the names on the vaults in a businesslike fashion until
he came to the one he was looking for. “Here we go,” he murmured,
pointing at an inscription. “Perfect.”

Madison peered around him to
read, J. THOMAS SWIFT, ESQ. There were no dates.

“Who's that?” she
asked.

“That's my dad,”
Jack replied. “Or, it will be. This was my dad's church, on Christmas and
Easter, anyway. He bought this vault when he lived in Trinity. Before the
divorce.”

Madison eyed it doubtfully.
“You're saying it's empty?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah. I
mean, he's still alive, right? So, unless you think it's too obvious because he's related
to me, we can stash the stuff in there.”

“And we can get at it
pretty much whenever we want, without going through the main church,” Seph
added. “People never come down here. Most of the people buried here died a
hundred years ago.”

“I'll keep the
Dragonheart with me,” Jason suggested. “Seph's house is totally
warded, so it should be safe.”

He wants the stone, Madison
thought jealously, recognizing the same strange lust in herself. Was this like
one of those magical objects in stories that people fought and died over?

“All of the items will be safer here, in the sanctuary,
with the proper warding,” Nick said, frowning at Jason. “Harder to
find, and easier for us all to examine. Once we know more, we can make a
decision about their final disposition.”

Jason dropped the subject,
though Madison noticed his eyes straying to the Dragonheart as they opened the
vault and concealed the jewelry and artifacts inside. Jason, Seph, and
Snowbeard made arrangements to meet regularly and examine and experiment with
the talismans and amulets in the vault. They seemed almost giddy in their
optimism that Jason's treasure would offer them an advantage in the war that
everyone seemed to think was inevitable.

Madison was less enthusiastic.
The Dragonheart still glittered enticingly in a corner of her mind, one more
thing she'd have to try and ignore. The presence of this treasure in Trinity
did not make her feel safer. In fact, she felt like Trinity had become a target
that would be noticed, sooner or later, by those who would destroy everything
she cared about.

Well, thought Jason. Jack is
the talk of the town. I'm glad it's not me.

Jack's dad, Thomas Swift, had
returned to Trinity for Christmas, determined to show off to the locals by
throwing the party of the year.

Word on the street was that
Daddy had hired a party planner, who'd been working on the thing for months. He
called it a Midwinter Solstice party, but it was more of a debutante party for
Jack, if they had that kind of thing for guys. Thomas had brought a small
contingent of business associates and social climbers and preppy kids from
Boston, so Jack could “network,” he said.

The local guest list had
started out to be just as exclusive, but Jack had turned it into an open house
by passing out invitations at school. In fact, he'd begged all his friends to
come, so he wouldn't be marooned with a crowd of old people and East Coast
lawyers.

The Lakeside Club was totally
fancy—a huge Victorian palace with a
ballroom set next to the lake. Tiny lights embroidered the dock and gazebo,
glittered on the snow, and flickered in the winter-stripped trees. There were
huge wreaths over the fireplaces, and bells and greenery on all the tables.

It would have been even nicer
in the summer, when the party could spill out onto the terrace by the lake and
they might have been a little less fussy about the dress code.

Even Hastings had returned
from Britain for the party. Jason spotted the wizard several times over the
course of the evening, cruising the room with a glittering Linda Downey at his
side. Jason had hoped to take him aside and get some news from Britain, but the
wizard and enchanter were always the center of a crowd.

Jason felt sorry for Jack.
Thomas worked the room like a life insurance salesman at a funeral, towing his
reluctant son along. Jack towered over the big shots in his custom-tailored
suit, since nothing off the rack would have fit him. His hair was tied back
neatly because he'd refused to chop it off for the occasion.

The place was packed, of
course—Jack was the hometown Mr. Popular.
And the food was incredible—shrimp and little crabmeat pies, fruit towers, and
platters of desserts.

Jason thrust his fingers into
his neckline, loosening the tie Linda had inflicted on him. He guessed the
spectacle was worth putting on a jacket—temporarily,
at least.

He drifted into the bar,
thinking he might find it unattended, and found Becka Downey and Thomas Swift,
Jack's parents, nose to nose, arguing.

Battle of the litigators.
Jason withdrew into the shadows, but he could still hear everything.

“I have to say, I'm
worried about Jack,” Thomas said.

“Really? You've hardly
spoken to him since Christmas.”

“Well, I assumed you were
handling things. With his grades, he shouldn't have any trouble getting into an
Ivy League school. I offered to pull some strings if there's an issue. And yet,
he's seriously considering going to Trinity?”

“Trinity is one of the
best liberal-arts schools in the country. And he can go there for free.”

Thomas waved his hand,
dismissing free. “I told you I would finance his education. Maybe
his undergraduate school doesn't matter. But, frankly, he seems totally
clueless about what he wants to do. He has to start strong, you know, or he'll
never get into a good law school.”

Becka lifted her chin.
“Did he tell you he wants to go to law school?”

Thomas ignored this. “I
found him a summer job with a firm in Boston, but he says he'd rather stay
around here. Working at the docks is all well and good while you're in high
school. Now it's time he thought about his future. I mean, he looks like a
bodybuilder, for God's sake.”

At least no one's fighting
over my future, Jason thought. He drifted back out into the main hall,
which was packed with Jack's family and friends, people he didn't know. He
hadn't been born and raised in Trinity. Although he was (reluctantly) back in
school, he tended to hang out with Seph and Jack and Ellen and Madison.
Otherwise, he felt like a total outsider.

There were some girls he'd
gotten to know, though. Maybe he could make some plans for later on. He passed
along the buffet table, loading a small plate with desserts.

“I can't believe how cold
it is,” someone behind him said.

He swung around. It was a
girl, small and shapely, with full red lips and masses of dark curls spilling
down her back. She carried herself like a rich person. Or a wizard. Or both. He
didn't remember seeing her before.

He studied her with interest.
“It tends to be cold here in the winter. So I hear.”

“Well, duh. How could I
forget?” She shivered, despite the high-necked sweater she was wearing.
Jason was no fashion expert, but it seemed like an odd choice for such a glitzy
party.

“I used to go to high
school at Trinity,” the girl said. “But I don't remember you.”

Jason leaned back against the
wall. “I've only been here a year.”

“I'm Alicia
Middleton,” she said, sticking out her hand. “Leesha, I guess.”

“Jason Haley.” Jason
took her hand, feeling the power in the grip. A wizard, and she was juiced,
compared to him. Her and everybody else.

There was an awkward pause as
Leesha no doubt made her own comparisons, and then Jason said, “So you
know Jack from school?”

“Actually, I used to go
out with him.”

“Really?” Huh, Jason
thought. Jack went out with a wizard? She must be pre-Ellen. Nobody with any
sense would try and get between those two. “So you moved away or
what?”

“We broke up,” she
replied, answering his unspoken question. “And then I moved away.”

“Well,” Jason said.
“Cool that you're still friends. I mean, that Jack invited you and
all.”

“Oh, he didn't really
invite me,” Leesha said. “I just
moved back to town, and I saw the party
was an open house, so I came. I figured I'd see a lot of people I know.”
She paused, then rushed on. “But I guess the people I hung out with aren't
here.”

“That always
happens,” Jason said.

She opened her mouth as if to
say more, but then her eyes fixed on something behind him. She went pale to the
hairline, her eyes widened and she took a step back, one hand at her throat.

“Leesha! What the hell
are you doing here?”

Jason swung around. Jack Swift
was bearing down on them like a thunderstorm over the lake. Ellen, Will, and
Fitch were right behind him.

“H-hey, Jack.” Leesha
continued to backpedal until she bumped up against the wall. “What's up? I
mean—well— look, chill out, will you? I
only wanted to say happy birthday.” Her voice rose into a kind of
frightened squeak as Jack invaded her space.

“Now, why is it I don't believe
you?” Jack said. “You've got a hell of a lot of nerve.”

“The girl must be looking
for another hot-fudge shower,” Ellen said. Then she, too, advanced on
Leesha.

“Hey,” Jason said,
thrusting himself in front of Leesha. “Take it easy.”

Jack glared at him as if he'd
taken leave of his senses. “I guess you two haven't been properly
introduced,” he growled.

“This is Alicia
Middleton, trader and renegade wizard,” Ellen put in. “She used to go
to school here, until she and some traders kidnapped Jack, so they could sell
him to the highest bidder. So wizards could play him in a tournament.”

“Then she snatched me and
Fitch from a train station in Carlisle so Dr. Longbranch could use us as hostages to
make Jack fight,” Will added, a frown clouding his usually friendly face.

“The only nice thing she
ever did was break up with Jack,” Fitch said. “That was awesome,
really.”

Leesha looked around the
circle of scowling faces, yanking at the neck of her sweater as if she were
suffocating. “We've all done things we'd rather forget about. I mean,
Ellen came to Trinity to kill Jack.”

“It's not like I had a choice,”
Ellen muttered.

Leesha was definitely playing
to a hostile audience. “Look, I know I've made some bad decisions.”

Ellen rolled her eyes and
mimicked Leesha, fluffing her hair and mouthing I know I've made some
bad decisions. “So why are you here?”

Leesha hesitated, biting at
her lip. “Well, I've got both Wizard Houses pissed at me now. A sanctuary
seemed like a good idea.”

“Well, maybe you
should've thought of that before you made so many enemies,” Jack said,
looking totally unsympathetic.

“I thought we could—you know—help each other,” Leesha persisted.
“I know something about the Roses and D'Orsay and…”

“Like we could trust
you,” Ellen muttered. “How do we know you're not here as a spy? Like
before?”

Jeez, Jason thought. Give the
girl a break.

“Come on,” he said
to Leesha. “Let's get your coat and I'll walk you out.” He took her
elbow and steered her toward the door, feeling Jack's hot glare between his
shoulder blades.

Leesha handed her valet ticket
to the attendant and they sheltered in the entryway against the raw northwestern
wind. Close to shore, the lake was larded over with ice. Further out, the wind
raked it into a dark chop. Jason expended a bit of power to take the edge off
the cold.

“Well,” Leesha said.
“They didn't seem glad to see me.”

Jason snorted. “What'd
you expect?”

“You make a few teensy
mistakes…” Leesha said, pouting. “That's the thing about small
towns, they never forget a thing.”

Jason laughed. She had
attitude, he had to admit.

“Are you staying with
family, or what?” he asked.

“With my great
aunt,” she said. “She's like, half deaf and three-quarters blind.
That's how I ended up here before. My parents are wizards, but they're sort of
always on the move, you know? And really busy.” Her voice trailed off.
“So. Whenever they get busy or I get in trouble, I have to come live with
my Aunt Millisandra. It's like the worst punishment they can think of, sending
me to live in the Midwest.”

“And is it?”

She shivered. "There's
worse things. I didn't actually get kicked out of school this time. Jessamine
Longbranch—d'you know her? Warriormaster
for the White Rose? She was the one who planned to play Jack in the Game. That
thing with Jack at the high school—Longbranch had recruited me to spy on Jack,
but I kind of went out on my own.

“So. She has this big
grudge against me. It took her a while, she's been distracted, but anyway, I
came home one day to find two assassins waiting in the residence hall.”
Leesha stared glumly out at the frozen lake.

“And?” Jason
prompted, when he finally caught up and realized she hadn't finished the story.

“Well, they're—you know—dead, of course,” she said,
shrugging.

Okaayy Jason thought, studying
her with new respect and not a little apprehension.

“But it could happen
again, and I didn't want to be looking over my shoulder all the time. So I came
here.”

“So how long are you here
for?”

“Long as I can stand it,
I guess. This town's really changed. It's like a fortress. How does the
sanctuary work, anyway? Is there really some kind of rule against attack
magic?”

“More than a rule,”
Jason said, figuring Leesha wasn't into following rules. “It's
enforced with magic. Hexes, attack magic, curses, black magic sefas—anything stronger than Persuasion—they don't work in
here.”

Leesha stared at him in
disbelief. “Really?”

“Really.”

She smiled, pressing her
fingers into her neckline. “Cool.” She stepped close and looked up at
him with wide eyes. “Who enforces it, anyway? I mean, must be someone with
a lot of talent.”

He took a quick step back,
remembering who he was talking to. “Must be. Well, here's your ride, I
think.” It was just a guess. The valet had pulled up in an Audi TT. Jason
went to turn away.

She gripped his arm, sending a
current of Persuasion up into his shoulder. “I really need to stay here. I
know I've done some bad things in the past, but people change.” She
searched his eyes.

“I'm not the one you have
to convince,” Jason said. “Maybe you should start with Jack.”

She wrinkled her nose.
“Jack's been mad at me ever since I broke up with him. And after that
whole deal with the traders, I don't think that's going to change.”

“Then talk to
Hastings.”

She flinched. “He's so
scary, you know?”

He did know. Hastings gave the
impression he could see right through you. Which might be a good thing where
Leesha was concerned.

Jason figured she wouldn't
stay in the sanctuary long if Hastings didn't want her there. But would he
really make her leave? Especially since she couldn't use attack magic.

Still, Persuasion in her hands
might be weapon enough, he thought.

Leesha's hand was still on his
arm. “Maybe you could talk to him for me?” She gazed up at him. Her
eyes were a kind of violet gray, like smoke on the horizon.

Jason had his own petition to
deliver. He took back his arm. “Sorry. I can't help you. I just don't have
that much influence.” Jason backed away like a courtier from a queen, then
turned and headed inside.

He looked over his shoulder,
once, and saw Leesha still standing next to her car, her hair a cloud around
her head, looking small and vulnerable and very much alone.