Seraph of Sorrow (26 page)
Skip took his aunt’s trembling hand off his shoulder and squeezed it. “He’s sacrificing for me.”
And so are you, for losing him. No one’s ever done that for me before. I was always the sacrifice. Not the reason.
“Please forgive him for not saying good-bye, Skip. He so wanted to. He knew you never had the chance with your mother or your father. Can you forgive him?”
He squeezed her hand in reassurance. He would not doubt the man. The logic of his position was irrefutable. Skip knew that had Slider brought Skip into his confidence and told him the plan for this evening, he would have tried to stop his mentor. He may have succeeded. And it would have been the wrong thing to do.
So Skip breathed out, relaxed, and watched the only true father he had ever known die.
“Of course, Your Honor.” Each word came from the teacher more slowly and peacefully than the last. “I would not ask you to make a sacrifice, were I unwilling to make it myself. I leave . . . these negotiations in . . . capable hands . . .”
He could get out no more. The chair rolled back a few inches, and his blond head slumped to one side. Then his shape changed, one last time, in defiance of his injury, shifting to a stunning blond spider with red and white facial markings. All eight eyes were dimmed.
“Edmund!” Tavia couldn’t help herself. She leapt out of the bushes and ran to her lover’s side. Skip didn’t try to stop her.
“Skip, listen to me!”
Pulled by the ear until he couldn’t ignore Andi, Skip hissed into her face, “What
is
it?”
“I’ve been holding something back from you.”
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything here?”
“Because I can’t—I mean, look at Seabright!
Look
at her, Skip!”
“Who cares about Seabright? She can’t do a damn thing! Slider’s just died; my aunt’s beside herself . . . Andi, I can’t think of anyone I want to look at less.”
She reached out and softly touched his mind.
There’s something you’ve never asked about me.
Then she showed him, projecting images into his thoughts like an unwelcome movie.
At first, he could not process what his mind was seeing. As he began to piece it together, he fell to the ground, stunned.
“Skip, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought—”
I can’t deal with what she just showed me. Not now. Not with Slider dying in that chair.
He pushed the wretched girl away and walked out onto the bridge. They were in no danger. Glorianna Seabright, the unquestioned ruler of the beaststalkers, scourge of arachnid and dragon alike, immune to poison, untouchable by fire, was within striking distance. Yet they had nothing to fear from her anymore. Because of Slider’s sacrifice.
That was all he cared about now—Edmund Slider. He preferred to be in the company of a dead and honest man than a live liar like . . .
“Mayor Seabright!”
The familiar voice made him stand up straight. The winged, indigo form of Jonathan Scales cruised through the air over the bridge on the western side, Glorianna’s side. He landed with a thump a few yards from the mayor, causing her to raise her sword in readiness. Right behind him landed the bright blue shape of Jennifer Scales. Skip let out an involuntary hiss.
“Mayor, put that down!” Jonathan shook his horned head. “We have no time for fighting. If you ever trusted Elizabeth, trust me now.”
Glorianna didn’t lower the sword, but she didn’t swing either.
“Your enemies are coming, Glorianna. They mean to kill you.”
“My enemies are already here, on both sides of this barrier.”
Jonathan Scales glanced at the translucent blue wall, caught sight of Skip, Tavia, and Edmund Slider, and turned back to Glorianna. “Whatever these people have done, it is not an immediate threat. What’s coming your way
is
. You must prepare your defense!”
“Our defense appears already to be in place,” Glorianna pointed out. “I can take advantage of this barrier, if I must. As long as they are outside—”
“They are already inside!”
From the distance, the air sirens of Winoka began to whine.
As if in answer, there was a roar in the distant skies over Winoka, followed by a chorus of bellows, each a clap of thunder across the clear nighttime sky. Small plumes of fire appeared.
Despite his despair, Skip felt a smile spread over his face.
Mr. Slider, you won’t believe what you did!
After all, how could the man have known that at the moment he was trapping beaststalkers in their own town, another enemy force would be flying over that very same town?
You’ve trapped them in there together!
“The Blaze is here,” Jonathan Scales affirmed, “to burn Winoka to the ground.”
PART 4
Winona Brandfire
Children begin by loving their parents. After a time they judge them. Rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.
—OSCAR WILDE
CHAPTER 13
Following Rules
At the age of fifteen, Winona Brandfire believed everything her mother told her. So did many others: Patricia Brandfire was a natural leader, who had with her husband, Lamar, established a farm refuge for dragons in the upper Midwest. Lamar had died years ago along with several other Brandfires in a careless boating accident in the remote Boundary Waters, leaving Patricia in charge of their two school-aged children—and elder of the Brandfire clan. Rumor had it that alcohol had been involved in her husband’s accident.
After that, the young Winona learned that ignoring rules was a surefire path to disaster.
Don’t drink alcohol,
her mother had told her with proud tears during the funeral . . . and so Winona never tried to sneak a beer or glass of wine.
Homework before anything else,
her mother had told her . . . and so Winona was a star student.
Don’t date boys that are trouble,
her mother had told her. Winona brought every boy she liked home, so her mother could vet her choices.
Her older brother, Forrester, had drawn his own conclusion from his father’s death: Adults were screwups. Three years Winona’s senior, he took a more liberal view toward rules.
“Forrester, those friends of yours are trouble! You stay away from them!”
“Aw, Ma, they’re all right. We do our own thing.”
“Forrester! What did I tell you about smoking cigarettes!”
“Aw, Ma, we breathe fire! What’s the difference?!”
“
Forrester Astin Brandfire!
Your pet tarantula stays
out
of your sister’s room!”
“Aw, Ma, I was just showing her how small real spiders are compared to—”
“And go tell her you’re sorry for making her bawl like that!”
Despite these incidents, Forrester Brandfire was fiercely protective of family. Once when Winona was twelve, a bully pushed her off her bike and took it. Forrester got it back. And the next crescent moon, the bully awoke to find his own bicycle had mysteriously melted in his backyard.
Maybe,
Winona told herself,
he’s a little dangerous.
She had that thought again not long before she experienced her first morph. Her brother and mother, in dragon form, had gotten into a fight about Forrester’s most recent transgression, which had involved all-purpose grass killer, the high school football field, and a creative spelling for the name of one of his teachers.
“Forrester, I told you you’re going nowhere! We discussed this when you insulted Mr. Pennis and vandalized school property. You’re grounded for the rest of the school year.”
“Ma, I’m eighteen! I graduate high school in three months! You can’t ground me!”
“Hardly. My house, my rules. You want different rules, find a different house.”
He tried to shove past her. “I’m going with you tonight . . . oomph!”
Patricia easily outmaneuvered him, slamming his dark reptilian head against the floor with a hindclaw. “You are not.”
“Ma, let me up!”
She didn’t move. In fact, her massive leg may have pressed down more firmly. “Forrester, you will stay here with your sister.”
“Winona’s fifteen! She doesn’t need me to—ow! Okay! Geez, Ma!”
She let him up. Winona hid a smile. The family’s dragon shapes had never made her fearful—Patricia had taught her children from birth what they would all grow to be. Winona knew these two wouldn’t really hurt each other. Dragons couldn’t, or wouldn’t, hurt anything.
Forrester’s crimson eyes burned with humiliation. “I can’t believe you’re making me miss tonight, Ma! You’re such a bitch!”
Without waiting for her mother to react, Winona stepped up and slapped her brother across his scaled jaw. “Don’t you talk like that to Ma!”
He didn’t say anything. The two of them stared at each other, and then he averted his gaze. “Sorry, Win. Sorry, Ma. I’m going upstairs.”
The two of them listened to his despondent clawsteps up the stairs. Patricia slipped a gentle wing around her daughter’s shoulders.
“That’s my girl, Win. Your grammie would’ve been proud.”
“Really?” Winona hoped so. She was sure Forrester wouldn’t talk to her for days.
“You know she was a judge on the circuit bench. Always stood up for what was right. Made sure people followed the rules. You remind me of her.”
“I do?” Winona watched law dramas with her mother all the time. The lawyers were morally compromised manipulators and the criminals were, well, criminals—but the judges were always reasonable. Always proper. Always correct.
“Yep. Maybe you’ll be a judge yourself someday.”
Winona glowed. “So where’re you going tonight, anyway? It’s almost midnight.”
“Special night tonight, honey. Some of us are getting together to stop an invasion.”
“An invasion!”
“Dangerous people,” her mother confirmed. “Doing dangerous things. We can handle them, dear. You stay here with your brother. We’ll be back before dawn.”
“Um, okay.” She let her mother kiss her good-bye with a forked tongue.
“All right, sis, let’s go.”
“Wha—?” She glanced up from her
Seventeen
magazine. “Forrester, what are you doing? We can’t go anywhere. You’re grounded! You’re supposed to watch me!”
He gave her a look of condescending love. “Win, you’re a sweetheart. You’re gonna be something special when you grow up. And I’m going to cheer you on, all the way. But cripes, sometimes you’re dumb as a log. You honestly think you need me to stay here and watch you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Ma said you’re supposed to.”
“Unbelievable. You must be the only fifteen-year-old girl in creation who ever argued
for
a babysitter.”
“Ma set a rule.”
“I’ll make a deal with you: I’ll keep watching you . . . if you come.” He reached the door.
“Don’t you dare! I’m not coming with you! If you leave, you won’t be watching me and Ma will knock you back into last year!”
He turned. “If you don’t come, I’ll tell Ma about the D on your history midterm.”
She knew he had her. It was her secret shame, the only thing she had not revealed to her mother. Had she meant to? She had told herself that; but it had been three weeks already. At this point, she felt it better to bear down and average the disaster up to a B, or maybe an A-, for a final spring term grade. Ma would never know any better. Unless . . .
“Come on, sis.” His ample frame turned back to the door. “Hop on. I’ll get you there and back without a scratch. Ma will never know a thing.”
“You’re an ass,” she spat, climbing aboard.
“Speaking of asses, hold yours tight, sis. We’re whompin’ our way there!”
Forrester knew how to keep his distance and stay in the shadows. Whispering fiercely to his little sister to stay close and keep quiet, he peeked out from the alleyway and up the street. When he nodded at Winona, she dared to step in under his reptilian jaw and watch the show.
It was, in a word, sickening. The people huddled at the intersection two blocks north of them may have had a weapon or two—a bow and arrow here, a fireplace poker there—but they were huddling in fear, not executing military maneuvers. Winona’s jaw hung open. Where was the invasion her mother had talked about? Why did the dragons have to set the entire town on fire? Why were they roaring in the darkness above, striking fear into hapless people’s hearts?
Was this fair? Was this justice?
She turned to her brother after watching nearly a minute of this. He was grinning like a fool, baring sharp teeth. They barely noticed a truck come screeching to a halt next to the intersection. “Forrester, I wanna go home.”
He gave her an impatient glance. “We’re not leaving now. This is the fun part. Nearly all the townspeople are in one spot. Soon, we’ll—aw, look at that! Whooo!”
She saw what he was cheering: A flaming police car smashed into the corner hardware store. Some guns went off and the crowd began to scatter. Then one man jumped on top of his truck and began to speak to the crowd. Winona couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the more he talked, the more the crowd listened.
Is this one of them?
she wondered.
Is this a real warrior?
Before she could decide, a dasher—Winona recognized him as Jeffrey Swift, a family friend—swooped down.
He’s going to kill that man,
Winona realized with a dreadful shock.
Nice Mr. Swift, who bought me a lollipop at the general store, is going to
—
What happened next stunned both Winona and Forrester.
“Death is on our side tonight!”
the man cried over the corpse of lollipop broker Jeffrey Swift, sword raised high.
“Oh, you don’t
know
death yet . . .” Forrester began to walk out onto the street.
“Forrester, no!” Winona tried to hold her brother back. Their relative shapes and ages made this a fruitless battle. She resorted to clutching his tail as he dragged her into the street.
Suddenly, a massive form slammed into the street next to them. It was their mother. Her nostrils seethed with steam, and her teeth ground as she took in the sight of her two children’s flagrant disobedience.
“Winona Emma Brandfire. You disappoint me.”
“Me?! But Forrester—”
“I told you to stay home tonight. Didn’t I teach you a lick of sense?”
“Ma, I was trying to—”
“Get her out of here. Before she gets hurt.”
Forrester’s scaled head dipped lower than his wings. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Mom, where are you going?” Now Winona was struggling against her brother going in the opposite direction, back toward the safety of the alley.
“I’m going to protect me and mine,” the answer came. Her gigantic head was already turning away. She leapt and landed more than a block away, just short of the intersection. The elder was so angry she flipped a sedan over on its side, knocking out the nearby streetlights and throwing both Winona and Forrester into darkness. Then she let loose with the longest, widest, most horrific blast of fire Winona had ever seen.
They have no chance,
she told herself as she watched the man in the intersection and a girl nearby succumb to the fire like waxed sawdust.
What kind of fight is this? What kind of people are we? Why are we attacking them?
Why are we laughing?
The cackling sound from above was unmistakable.
“Come on, Winona, let’s go.” Forrester was sulking now, making him easier to ignore.
She pushed his snout away. “Nuh-uh. I’m already in trouble, so I wanna see.”
Her mother shut down her throat’s incinerator and stomped through the intersection. That was when Winona noticed the other girl. Like the other two people, she would have been in the sweep of the flame. But her pink skin was unburnt, her black hair cascaded around a stern face, and she stood up with a ferocity that made Winona shiver. She was beautiful and terrible at once, an angel passing through hell’s forges. And the way she looked at Patricia Brandfire . . .
“Forrester! That girl! She’s not hurt! She’s going to—Get
off
me, Forrester!
Mom!
”
No one could hear her at this distance, with all of the burning and screaming and roaring. All Winona could do was watch from behind her brother’s wing as the vengeful angel picked up a pitchfork, ran at her mother, and jammed the sharp end into the dragon’s spine. Her mother reared, trying to dislodge the strange brunette, but that only helped the girl twist the pitchfork.
The sound Patricia Brandfire made stuck with her daughter. It was the sound of a thousand nightmares gathering, each one displaying its unique and horrifying features to the other nine hundred ninety-nine. Winona clutched her head as her sanity threw off its mask and showed her a wild animal: deadly, feral, livid.
Still straining at her brother’s wing, Winona watched her mother’s dragon features deteriorate. The wings, then the horn, then the tail, and then everything else shriveled until her mother was naked, shivering, and bleeding on the pavement.
“Forrester, we’ve got to help her! Look at—”
“I can see, Win.” His voice, more than anything else, convinced Winona to stay put. She had never heard him so scared. “I can see.”
“Dragons heal, right? We heal real fast. Ma said so. Right?”
He didn’t answer. The brunette jammed the pitchfork into her mother’s leg. Something churned like a greasy tapeworm in Winona’s gut.
Can’t you see she’s helpless?
she almost screamed. What stopped her was the fact her mother had just killed two people this girl probably knew. In fact, the burning man had been old enough to be her—
“Gnn . . . nngg . . .”
Patricia tried to pull herself up. Neither legs nor arms would cooperate.
“How do we get her out of there?” Winona asked Forrester. “We can’t leave her to—”
“Hold tight,” he told her, trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. “She’s talking to Ma. I think she’ll let her live.”
The young warrior, who had been whispering, finally stood up and spat in their mother’s face. Then she walked over to where the man had been.
“Let me up there, Forrester! I’m not a dragon. I could talk to that girl, and I could tell her
That’s my Ma and I want to take her home,
and maybe she would—”
“Hang on, Win! Why can’t you do what you’re told, and—”
His rant was interrupted by a flattening blast of light and noise. To Winona’s ears, it was sudden and frightening. To Forrester and the dragons perched on the rooftops around them, it was devastating. A couple of them fell forward into the intersection, their wings useless. The brunette flew into a rage and paralyzed them. As she finished, the sound and light faded away.
“Who else?” the girl screamed.
“Who else?”
Winona was about to turn around and agree with Forrester that he was right after all and there was no way in hell she could walk up to this berserker and ask for her mother back, when she saw the girl level her gaze directly at them.
She can see us,
Winona told herself as she felt the sweat trickle down her trembling body.
She can see right through us.