Raising Dragons (18 page)
The two high-stepped through the snow-covered grass to the patrolman’s car. They found the officer sitting behind the steering wheel, talking on the radio. “Yes, Special Agent Albert Devin. He says he’s FBI.” The officer twisted his neck to see who had approached. “Yes?”
Mr. Hamilton cleared his throat and tried to sound confident. “We know who the agent is. He is not who he claims to be.”
The patrolman squinted, a curtain of doubt crossing his face. “Who is he, then?”
Mr. Hamilton raised his eyebrows with a knowing sort of air. “Have you heard the name, ‘Whittier,’ in your investigation?”
“Of course. The missing principal, the guy who tried to kill the girl back in Castlewood.”
Walter tugged on Mr. Hamilton’s coat again.
The teacher waved him off. “Just a moment, Mr. Foley.”
Mr. Hamilton went on. “Albert Devin
is
Dr. Edward Whittier.”
The patrolman’s eyes shot wide open. “What?”
Walter tried to speak up. “Mr. Hamilton?”
“Just a moment, Mr. Foley.”
The officer got out of the car and glanced briefly over at the supposed FBI agent. “And he’s the one who tried to kill the mystery girl?”
Mr. Hamilton crossed his arms and nodded. “The very same.”
The squad car radio crackled back to life, and the patrolman listened to the static-filled transmission. Walter couldn’t decipher the words, but when the patrolman came out again, the look on his face told him something was wrong. His shoulders had slumped, and his eyebrows bent down toward his nose. “Devin checks out. I’m supposed to do whatever he says.”
Mr. Hamilton jerked his head fully upright. “What? Impossible!”
“Mr. Hamilton?”
The teacher turned sharply to Walter. “Yes, Mr. Foley! What is it?”
“The plane. Were there survivors?”
Mr. Hamilton stared at Walter for a second and then slapped himself on the forehead. “Yes, of course!” He turned back toward the patrol car. “Officer, what of the crash site? What was found?”
The patrolman slammed the car door shut and gazed up toward the hills. “Good news and bad news I suppose. The good news is that the plane didn’t explode, and there were no bodies around anywhere.” He then looked back at Mr. Hamilton. “The bad news is that they found a lot of blood and signs of something being dragged away. There are bears in the area, you know.”
Walter gulped. “Bears?”
The patrolman continued. “But the snow’s making the search for footprints very difficult. Aviation is consulting by phone, and they said the plane could have had parachutes. Maybe the passengers jumped.”
“You mentioned the mystery girl,” Mr. Hamilton said. “Her name is Bonnie Silver, and we have reason to believe she was on the plane.”
“Bonnie Silver?” He rolled his eyes upward in thought. “I’ll call that in and see what Missing Persons says.” He opened the car door again and slid into the seat. “We did assume that the mystery girl was on the plane.” He looked back at Mr. Hamilton. “And you’re sure that Agent Devin couldn’t be FBI?”
He sighed. “I’m not sure what to think anymore.” He then pointed discreetly toward Agent Devin. “But that man is the Castlewood Middle School principal who calls himself Whittier. There’s no doubt about that. I’m a teacher there, and I know him personally.”
The patrolman nodded and grabbed the radio. “I’ll try to get a photo faxed over here. If that really is Whittier, we’ll find a way to keep him off that mountain.”
Walter stepped forward to address the officer. “If they jumped, any idea where?”
“They’re mapping the possibilities now. Get back with your search unit and you’ll find out.”
Walter took another step closer to the open car door and bent over to look the patrolman in the eye. “I’m sure Bonnie was on the plane. I bet it’ll help if everyone’s calling out her name, just in case.”
The patrolman gripped Walter’s shoulder. “You can count on it, son.”
Walter and Mr. Hamilton reunited with their team, which had been joined by new search groups. The number of people was growing dramatically as the morning progressed. Walter guessed that the locals had already heard about the finding of the plane. A lot of people probably listened to police scanners or something, and now with the news reporters and their TV cameras showing up, the whole world would soon know about it.
The search leader spread a map out over a car hood and began explaining the color-coded highlights painted on it. “The red area is the most likely jump zone,” he said, pointing at the map. “We’ll start there and work our way back to the orange zone and then to the yellow.”
Walter tuned out the rest of the explanation while trying to move closer to Devin. Keeping his head turned so the principal wouldn’t recognize him, he tried to listen in on what he was saying to his cronies. His usual gruff voice was unmistakable.
“ . . . with the team closest to the crash site. If you find Clefspeare, radio me. I have a good idea where the witch is, so I’m going after her.”
Walter’s eavesdropping was interrupted by the sounds of shouts from far away. “They found someone on the mountain!”
Cheers went up all around, and the buzz grew so intense Walter could no longer hear the announcer’s voice. Walter stood on tiptoes and saw a big man raising his hands to quiet the swelling crowd, his panting breaths blowing clouds into the breeze.
“A woman,” he said, still panting. “The chopper spotted a woman near the very top of the ridge, and they were able to pick her up a few minutes later. She’s fine. Very cold, but she’ll be fine.”
“Who is it?” about a dozen voices shouted out. Several microphones pushed through the tight throng to catch the rescuer’s answer.
“The pilot’s wife. And, man, what a story she told! Anyway, a boy and girl are still out there somewhere, and the pilot went down with the plane. The boy’s trying to find his way back, and some maniac named Whittier has the girl. Parachuted out of the plane with her in his arms. Whittier caused the crash and wants to kill the girl.”
Walter looked for the patrolman to see his reaction, but he wasn’t at his car. Then he looked back toward Devin, but he was gone, too. Walter’s eyes darted in every direction, trying to find the principal while listening for more news.
“The woman refused medical help,” the messenger continued. “They’re taking her to the crash site to join the search parties.”
There was no time to lose, but could Walter convince the patrolman that Devin had gone out to try to kill Bonnie? The police already knew that Whittier tried to kill her back at Castlewood, but would they believe this FBI agent was really a maniac who was now hunting for her again?
Wait! There he is! And he’s alone.
Walter spotted Devin slowly easing away in a large, black pickup truck. Walter didn’t have time to plan or go back to find Mr. Hamilton. He sprinted to the truck just as it turned out of the parking area and onto the field, and he leaped into the payload bed. He hoped Devin didn’t feel the bounce he made. Maybe he would think it was just one of the many rough bumps from the trail’s parking area. Walter slid toward the front of the bed and into a corner, out of the rearview mirror’s line of sight.
So far, so good. He’s still driving.
Walter rode out the bumps, struggling to maintain a hold on the metal frame. The truck must have been a four-wheel drive. It pulled through the snow without much trouble, but Devin ran it like a tank, ignoring run-off ditches and any other obstacle. It was full speed ahead, it seemed, and Walter felt every painful bounce.
After a few minutes, the truck started climbing, and when it would go no farther, slipping in the melting snow, the driver turned off the engine. Walter curled up in the corner and listened for the sound of the door closing. He then waited a minute or so before poking his head up to try to find Devin.
Walter spotted him trudging up the side of the mountain on a narrow, snow-covered foot trail, and he scrambled out of the truck to follow. Devin had a good lead, but that was okay. Walter knew he could follow Devin’s footprints, and he didn’t want to alert him with the sound of crunching leaves that each of his own footsteps would bring as he pushed through the snow.
Walter dashed from tree to tree, hiding himself and then watching for a few seconds until Devin moved out of view behind a rock or over a rise. After stopping behind a massive oak in a dense part of the forest, Walter was unable to find him again. He rushed ahead, searching the snow for the principal’s trail. At least eight lines of footprints scattered in every direction, and none looked any fresher than the others. Walter kicked at the snow and hundreds of glittering specks rained all around. He couldn’t wait. He had to guess.
Wake up, Bonnie. It’s morning.”
“Huh? What?” Bonnie yawned and turned toward the voice. “Oh. Good morning, Billy.” It was still pretty dark under Bonnie’s homemade canopy, but she could see Billy’s face, tired and dirty, yet more rested than the night before. She smiled sweetly. “Are you ready to face the weather?”
“Yeah. I’m itching to find Mom and Dad.”
Bonnie spread her wings out, opening the shell and exposing them to the glistening morning sun. Her eyes drank in the sparkling glitters on the blanket of snow. “It’s a beautiful day!”
Billy got up and stretched his legs, kicking away the nest of leaves. “Beautiful, but still cold.” He reached his hand down to help Bonnie up. “C’mon. We’d better get moving.”
Bonnie took his hand and pulled, but her right knee gave way again. “Ouch!” She had to balance on her left leg and hold tightly to Billy’s hand to keep from falling, and Billy lowered her to a sitting position. “My knee’s stiff as a board. There’s no way I can get down the mountain, especially in the snow.”
Billy clenched one fist and let out a frustrated sigh while cocking his head upward. “Can you fly?”
“Good thought.” She held out her hand. “Help me up again.”
Billy pulled Bonnie to her feet, and, standing on one leg, she began flapping her wings. She grimaced as she flapped, and she started rising, an inch or two at first, then almost a foot, but she dropped back down to her good leg and reached out for Billy’s hand again. He was quick to catch her.
“My left wing’s a lot better, but it’s still too weak. I think I could get off the ground, but it would be impossible to steer or stay up for more than a minute or so.” Bonnie eased her right foot down and let go of Billy’s hand. She was able to stand, but painfully.
Billy raised his hands to his hips and frowned. “Look at you. You can barely stand. I can’t leave you here by yourself.”
“Why not? I’ve got my wings. I’ll stay warm enough until you come back with help.”
“I don’t know. I think—” Billy turned his head suddenly. “What was that?”
Bonnie craned her neck to listen. “It’s an engine of some kind.”
Billy ran to a fallen tree and stood on tiptoes on its horizontal trunk, trying to see over the treetops. “I think it’s a helicopter! Maybe someone’s looking for us!”
Bonnie turned her head one way and then the other. Because of her lame knee, she didn’t dare try to turn around. “Which way is the sound coming from?”
Billy pointed toward a dense cluster of tall oaks. “Upslope.” He jumped off his perch and helped Bonnie sit back down at the tree they had used for their overnight stay. “Okay. Wait here, and I’ll try to find the helicopter.” He stood and scanned the entire area. “There,” he said, pointing to a tall, rotting tree about thirty feet away. “I’ll use that old snag as a marker to find you again. I think it’s tall enough to see from anywhere around here. If I don’t come back pretty soon, do you think your wings are strong enough to get you up in a tree to try to flag down a helicopter?”
Bonnie sighed. “I’ll just have to do what I have to do.”
Billy walked backward a couple of steps, holding his hand out as if he were telling a small child to stay. “Okay. I’ll be back. I promise.” He hustled away, slipping against the snowy incline. Within seconds he disappeared into the forest.
Bonnie folded her knees up to her chest and listened for a moment to the faint chopping sound of the distant helicopter.
Yes, it’s definitely quite a bit higher up the mountain, but Billy’s bound to find it.
Although the snow had stopped falling, the fresh breeze from the north persisted. Bonnie remade her shell and closed herself in again, listening intently for a while but then wandering off in her thoughts. The searing pain still burned through her knee, but warm comfort flowed gently into her thoughts. She finally had a good friend she could count on, someone who really cared and could identify with what she was going through. Yes, he was a guy, but she didn’t feel like he was a boyfriend. He was what she imagined a brother would be. No, not like the mean brothers that a lot of the girls talked about; he was a real brother who cared. She knew he would do anything to help her.
With those thoughts waltzing through her mind, she dozed for a minute or two before being aroused by the sound of footsteps.
Billy’s back!
She unwrapped her shell and opened her eyes. A large, bony hand slapped tightly over her mouth, and strong arms clasped against hers, wrapping her up like a crushing straightjacket. She grunted and tried to struggle, but it only brought a tighter hold and a brutal threat.
“Quiet, Demon Witch! One scream and you’re dead!”
Chapter 14
Devin slowly relaxed his grip on Bonnie, making shushing sounds as he let go. She stared at him with firm brow and lips, still seated with her knees drawn up. He unfastened his heavy coat and drew out a long, shining sword.
“And what do you plan to do with that sword?” Bonnie asked, trying to sound stern. She didn’t want to give away any hint of fear.
“For now, just get some of your hair.” He pulled several strands of Bonnie’s blonde-streaked locks, stretched them out, and with a deft stroke sliced them off right at her scalp and tucked them into a pale blue envelope. “I pulled out your hair once before, but I didn’t get to keep it.”
Bonnie scowled at him. “What kind of weirdo are you, anyway? You’ve been trying to kill me; now you just want my hair?”
The slayer slipped the envelope into his coat pocket and pulled out a glass test tube and a hypodermic needle. “Your hair, and some blood.”
Bonnie slid away on her backside, but when the slayer raised his sword again, she stopped. “Hair and blood?” She tried to appear confident. “I suppose you’ll want my autograph next?”
His voice kept its nasty edge. “I’m not getting samples for my scrapbook, Witch. The good doctor needs your blood for his research.” The slayer methodically went through the routine of drawing blood, sliding Bonnie’s sleeve up her forearm and pressing the needle into the soft crook of flesh. She watched the tube slowly fill with blood, and the slayer’s eyes seemed to sparkle with desire. “I see you’ve had blood drawn before,” he said, pulling out the needle. He tucked the vial into a velvet-lined case before sliding it into an inner coat pocket. “Many times, perhaps?”
He was right. There had been many times, many blood-sucking needles. But that was a painful story she didn’t want to dredge up. She just pulled her arm back and examined the mark. “What doctor are you talking about? What kind of research?”
“If Doc never told you, then I’m not going to, either. I will tell you that I need DNA markings so I can find any more dragon mongrels that might be out there. I’ve never had access to that kind of technology before I met Doc. Who knows how many mongrels may have slipped through my grasp over the years?”
Bonnie had no time to ponder the slayer’s mysterious words since his next step would probably be to kill her, so she tried to stall, faking curiosity. “Mongrels? What do you mean by that?”
The slayer smiled, this time without his usual menacing sneer. He sat on his heels in the snow and held his sword in his lap. “A mongrel is a mix between two breeds, in your case, dragon and human.”
Bonnie rubbed the wound on her arm. “I know you hate dragons, but why do you hate me? I’m not really a dragon, and neither is Mr. Bannister.”
“No, you’re not. Technically, you’re both anthrozils, fully human and fully dragon. Clefspeare, or Bannister as you call him, was a real dragon who now happens to be in human form, but it’s not so much his presence I seek to destroy; it’s his potential.”
“His potential?”
“Yes, to bring a fulfillment to the prophecy and thereby the restoration of the accursed dragon race. If I eliminate him and any dragon offspring, the prophecy cannot be fulfilled.”
A tinny voice sounded from the slayer’s coat. “Devin. Agent Devin, are you out there?”
The slayer pulled a walkie-talkie from his pocket and answered. “Devin here.”
“This is Officer Caruthers. You asked for an update. They found the pilot. He’s alive and he’s with me at base camp. Do you want to talk to him?”
A big smile crossed Bonnie’s face.
He’s alive! Praise the Lord!
The slayer glowered. “Yes. Hold him there. I’ll be right down.” He put the radio away and turned back to Bonnie. “Looks like I have more work to do.”
Bonnie knew she had to keep stalling. Would Billy never show up? She put on an innocent expression and spoke in the most childlike voice she thought she could get away with. “But why do you hate the dragons so much, Dr. Whittier?”
He coughed and cleared his throat. “You might as well call me by my real name—Devin.” His tone softened, and he didn’t seem to be in any hurry. “Haven’t you ever read the Bible?”
Bonnie drew in the snow with her finger, and she continued in her innocent voice. “Yes. I know it pretty well. We had lots of Bible stories in Sunday school.” Her simple lines in the snow created a fire-breathing dragon.
Devin ignored Bonnie’s markings; he seemed absorbed in his explanation. “Then you may remember in Genesis about the demons taking human women as wives and creating a super race called the Nephilim. God hated them because they were pure evil, and he destroyed the world with a flood.”
Bonnie began drawing a boat in the snow. “Noah’s flood? The one with the ark?”
“Exactly. But the spirits of these mongrel creatures survived and had to choose a body to inhabit when the flood subsided. As you know, the serpent is the manifestation of the devil on the earth, so these evil spirits chose the dragons and possessed them.”
“So dragons weren’t always evil?”
“No, but they became nothing but evil. They may not have taught you this in your little Sunday school class, but the Bible says that the dragon is king over all the sons of pride.”
Bonnie jotted down “Job 41” next to the dragon while still gazing at the snow. “How do you know they’re all evil? Maybe some dragons were possessed and some weren’t.”
The slayer finally noticed Bonnie’s marks, and he wiped them away with a swipe of his hand, his hate-filled growl returning. “You think you’re smart, don’t you? Typical Demon Witch deception! You pretend to be young and innocent, but you’re no better than the full-blooded dragons. They lie out of their very nature, and Clefspeare probably lied to you about everything, too.”
Bonnie’s ire shot into her eyes, and she shouted back. “He did not! He’s not a liar like you!”
“Oh, really?” His voice changed to a mocking singsong. “He probably told you he was one of the good little dragons, didn’t he?” He gripped the sword hilt tightly and reverted to his normal voice. “I’ll bet he didn’t tell you how he killed a merchant just because he had no gold to give him.”
Bonnie felt the wind’s cold chill and a shiver crawl across her arms. “Killed him for gold?”
“As if you didn’t know! Dragons always lust after gold and jewels. They can’t get enough of them, and they go insane when they can’t satisfy their lust.”
She stared at the slayer, her brow now creasing with more defiance. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then let me tell you a story, Witch. The merchant’s name was Andrew, and Clefspeare knocked down a row of trees for him so he could build a wall. Andrew had no payment, so Clefspeare scorched him like a pile of old kindling, right in the village just outside Camelot.”
Bonnie felt her breath catch, and her heart beat wildly. Could Clefspeare have done something like that? She knew her own mother, the great Hartanna, was good and noble, but she had heard stories of evil dragons, too. Didn’t her mother have reservations about sending her to find Clefspeare? Could he possibly be one of the evil ones? It sounded impossible, but the slayer’s presence seemed to bring into doubt everything she ever believed.
She tried to keep her boldness from melting away. “Camelot? Wasn’t that way over a thousand years ago? How can you know what happened?”
“I have my ways.” He stood and extended the sword with both arms. “You have no idea how high my power extends.” He pointed the sword’s tip toward the sky and then slowly lowered it toward the ground. “Or how deep my influence goes.” As the slayer followed the sword’s descent, he looked at his shirt and cursed. “The stone’s underneath,” he muttered as he pulled the candlestone out from beneath his shirt and let it dangle from its glittering chain. “Can’t leave it hidden. If your boyfriend’s still alive, he might show up.”
The slayer’s theatrical sword display was obviously more than a threat; it somehow generated real power. Devin looked younger now, stronger, and the sword glowed with a streaming halo. The brightening candlestone seemed to drain Bonnie’s courage, absorbing strength from her muscles, even breath from her lungs. As she stared at its hypnotizing sparkle, she noticed a blemish on one facet, a dark red smear. Was it blood? Her blood?
She tightened her chin and clenched her fists, not wanting to reveal her weakness. Through half-closed eyes, she looked at the slayer with disdain. “Well, I must say you have a flair for the melodramatic, Devin, or whatever your real name is.” She gestured toward the woods with a nod of her head. “But if Billy’s hiding out there somewhere, he could blast you from behind a tree, and you’d be a smelly mound of soot before you could wave that flashy sword again.”
Devin glanced around and listened. Bonnie thought she heard something. A shuffling sound? Was someone coming? She knew this might be her only chance. “Billy!” she screamed. “Help!”
The slayer clapped his hand over her mouth and nervously scanned the woods, whispering, “If you want your boyfriend to show up, keep screaming. You can die side by side.” After a few seconds of silence, he uncovered her mouth, and Bonnie held her breath, paralyzed, yet shivering. He used the candlestone’s chain to dangle the gem in front of Bonnie’s eyes. “Bannister can’t fight me. This stone will absorb his power, just as I’m sure you feel it draining your strength right now.” Bonnie grimaced and turned her head, closing her eyes tightly. The stinging pain was too much to bear, like a million pricking needles slurping her life’s blood.
The slayer stood up again. “You can’t hide it, Demon Witch. You testify against yourself that you possess the spirit of evil. The virgin bride now meets her doom.”
As he raised the sword, his coat sleeve slid on his arm to reveal the club-shaped mark on his skin, and his voice deepened into a growling rumble. “And since you think you know so much about the Bible, try this one, ‘This sword is sharpened, and it is furbished, to give it into the hand of the slayer.’” With a maniacal grin, he pulled the sword back, ready to swing.
A loud cry of “No!” bellowed from a thicket, and a lightning stream of fire burst out of nowhere and encircled Devin’s arm. The flames engulfed his coat, and he flung the sword to the ground.
Devin buried his arm in the snow and screamed. “Not again, you cursed pye-dog!”
Billy dashed out of the woods, snatched Bonnie by the hand, nearly lifting her off the ground, and half carried her down the slope. They alternately stumbled and got back up again, and between sliding and running, they scrambled away. But how long could they stay ahead?
Walter’s ears perked up. That was Bonnie screaming! He sprinted across the snowy mountainside, found a trail of footprints, and followed them, running with all his might. With a burst of energy, he leaped over a boulder and landed with a sliding stop. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He felt his heart skip two beats when he saw Billy’s stream of fire blast Devin’s arm.
Billy really does have dragon breath!
He then looked at Bonnie.
She has wings? She’s the bat creature? Wow!
Devin grabbed his sword and started after Billy and Bonnie. Walter snatched up the biggest, strongest limb he could handle and ran up behind the slayer. Devin stopped and glanced from side to side, apparently noticing the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere.
Walter pulled the limb back and smiled. “Good night, Sir Devin.” He swung with all his might. Devin turned, and the limb smacked him square in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. The wood in Walter’s hand cracked with the force of the jolt, but he didn’t wait to see how badly he had injured his foe. He rushed down the slope, trailing Billy and Bonnie, staying far enough behind to keep from being noticed. For now, it was better not to reveal that he had learned his friends’ secrets.
Walter watched Billy and Bonnie, keeping close behind and jumping from tree to tree, as they followed the long trails of footprints and tire tracks. When they approached an open, snow-covered field, Billy and Bonnie stopped and cocked their heads as though they heard something. Bonnie grabbed the lower hem of her sweatshirt, and Walter heard Billy’s voice protesting.
“Wait! Don’t take it off! We’ll just stuff your wings back inside.”
“I don’t have any choice. My wings won’t stay hidden with the holes back there. I have to turn my sweatshirt all the way around. Just close your eyes for two seconds.”
Walter turned his head, and after a short pause he heard Bonnie’s voice.
“Okay, I’m covered. Just help me straighten it all out in the back.”
Walter looked again, and Bonnie was clutching the sweatshirt in the front, keeping the holes tightly closed. When the two came in sight of the base camp, several members of the search team started a huge buzz and called out to them.
“Billy? Is that you? Bonnie?”
Billy shouted, “Yes!” and with one arm fully supporting Bonnie’s weight from her left side, the two lumbered down the rest of the trail. Walter finally decided it was safe to show himself. He rushed up behind them and pushed his left shoulder under Bonnie’s right arm, lifting to bear half the weight. Billy’s look of surprise was followed by a broad grin. “Walter! Thanks, Buddy!”
Walter had a hard time deciding where to hold on. He could feel the base of Bonnie’s wings, so he dodged them and slid his gloved left hand lower and around her waist, moving it under Billy’s supporting arm. With his other hand, he draped Bonnie’s right forearm over his shoulder and clutched her wrist.
At least a dozen men and women came out to meet the trio, and they offered to carry Bonnie the rest of the way.
“I’ve got her!” Billy assured them. He looked over at Walter hopefully. “You got her, Walter?”
“Absolutely!” he sang, smiling back at Billy.
Billy and Walter carried Bonnie down to a waiting ambulance and laid her faceup on a stretcher. An attendant covered her with several blankets and offered one to Billy. He gladly took it and wrapped himself in its warmth, and for the first time since the day before, he shivered, and shivered hard. The attendant distributed cups of hot cocoa, and Bonnie supported herself on an elbow to drink. Lying flat on her wings was obviously not the most comfortable position.