Hidden Things (33 page)

Epilogue

“THANK YOU FOR
TRAVELING WITH US A WHILE LONGER, CALLIOPE,”
Mahkah's voice rumbled.

“Thank you for taking me this far,” Calliope replied. She stood with Vikous a quarter mile outside the edge of an almost-familiar town.

“SHOULD YOU EVER COME TO THE HIDDEN LANDS AGAIN, DO NOT FEAR OUR AWESOME PRESENCE.”

She smiled. “I won't.” She glanced at the lightening sky. “You should go, though. It's almost dawn.”

“WE SHALL, BUT WE HAVE ONE MORE GIFT FOR YOU.”

“What's th—”

And suddenly, she could see the dragon.

“Long week.” Vikous walked alongside Calliope, who could only manage a small chuckle in reply. At the edge of the motel parking lot, they both stopped and turned to face the other.

“You did good, Calli,” Vikous said.

“Every generation needs a fairy tale.” She smiled, and it felt strange and familiar. “I got an amazing one.” She narrowed her eyes at Vikous. “You could have told me more.”

“Eh.” Vikous shrugged. “You knew all the important stuff.”

Calliope's eyebrow quirked downward. “Do I see you again?”

Vikous tilted his head, looking away. “If you like.”

“How do—”

“You'll know.”

Calliope nodded, then stepped forward and put her arms around Vikous as best she could; he grunted.

“Cripes, we've both been shot—”

“Shut up and give me a hug.”

They both squeezed as tight as they dared, then released their hold and stepped back. “Okay,” Vikous said. “Go on. Move.”

“Bossy.”

“Hey.” He raised a finger once more concealed by his glove. “Trust the guide.”

The key Vikous had given her worked in the motel door's lock. Her Jeep was, miraculously, still outside.

The room was normal. Empty. Calliope walked around the bed and sat down next to the phone. She stared at it for several minutes, then picked up the handset and dialed. Seconds passed before someone answered on the other end of the line.

Calliope straightened, brushing the hair out of her face. “Mom? Hi. It's me.” She listened for a second, nodding. “No, yeah, it's okay,” she said. “I'm all right.”

She turned, leaned against the head of the bed, and looked out of the window of the motel room. The sun was rising. She thought of the dragon. She remembered Josh.

“I'm all right.”

Acknowledgments

THERE IS AN
order to these things. I owe thanks . . .

. . . to Deanna Knippling, who issued the challenge that started everything.

. . . to Jackie Faulk, who asked that this story be a little different.

. . . to Chris Baty, who built the arena.

. . . to my first readers, Lori, Virg, and Stacy, who found
Hidden Things
in its hidden place, read it as I wrote it, and informed me that I must finish or Face Consequences.

. . . to David C. Hill, who rolled a similarly sized boulder up an equally steep hill and still managed to shout encouragement loudly enough for me to hear.

. . . to Kate Testerman, who asked if she could read it, told me I had to get an agent for it, helped me find one, and married me (in roughly that order).

. . . to Shana Cohen, best of agents, dispenser of unvarnished truth, and mildly amused voice of reason.

. . . to Kate Nintzel, my editor at Harper Voyager and POV Buddha, who said, “I love it, now give me seventy-five more pages,” and (eventually) made me glad I did.

. . . to Laurie McGee, my copyeditor and fellow expat Midwesterner, without whom I would look more than a bit silly.

. . . and to my mom, dad, and sister, who made it incredibly difficult to write believably about a dysfunctional, unsupportive family. I love you guys.