The Last Dragon Chronicles: Dark Fire (24 page)

“What?” said Tam.

She pointed through the window. “Thatcat I saw. It’s staring at me.”

He came to her shoulder to see. But

just like before, the animal had slunk away before he could catch sight of it.

“It’s somewhere near that tree,” Lucy tutted, annoyed that she’d lost it again.

“Well, it’s just a cat,” said Tam. Looking back at Hannah he asked, “Is it

dead? The tree, I mean?”

“Since the sixteenth century,” Hannah replied. “There’s a rather grisly story attached to it. A woman was hanged there.”

“A woman?” Tam was shocked.

“Was she a witch?” gulped Lucy.

Hannah’s face became serious. “That

depends on your  definition of ‘witch’. The woman lived by the laws of the natural world. She would certainly have believed in dragons.” She swung her gaze to the window. “People say we ought to have the tree cut down, but it adds a kind of mystique to the place. It hasn’t rotted in all this time. And who am I to uproot history?” She stepped forward, stared at the tree for a moment then half-closed the

shutters.

Tam returned to the rock on the mantel.

“What’s this?”

“Part of the Glissington cairn,” said Hannah. “Clive will tell you—”

“Yeah, we…know about it,” Lucy cut in, smiling kindly to hide her irritation. She just wanted to be alone now to crash out for a while. The countryside was tiring (and scary), she’d decided.

But Hannah could read Lucy better than she thought. “People say it never existed,” she said, as if she felt the need to defend her private heritage. “But if you find the right stone – and this is one of them – you can feel the ancient vibrations from it. We

encourage our guests to put it under their bed at night. It keeps you in touch with the

spirit of the dragon.”

“Cool,” said Lucy.

Tam raised a warning eyebrow at her. “So, it’s just  fifteen minutes from here, then, Hannah?”

“To the top of the Tor, yes.”

Tam slid his mobile open and shut. “Excellent. Nothing like a brisk walk to sharpen the appetite.”

“I’m not going up there
 
now
,” said Lucy. “Anyway, I need to phone home.”

“You’ll get a better signal outside,” said Hannah.

Touché. Lucy’s resistance failed.

“I’ll go and change my shoes,” said

Tam.

Out of the back door, through a strangely

untidy garden (rabbit hutches, ferrets, sacks of potatoes, an incongruous manmade water feature) and they were on Glissington Tor, just as Hannah had said. Nothing above them but a hump of grass. What had looked reasonably smooth from the road turned out to be the worst walk

Lucy had ever experienced. It was likeclimbing a hill of golfer’s divots.

“Oh, I hate this!” she exclaimed thefifth time she stumbled, narrowly missingyet another cowpat. “Some uncle you are! You’d better carry me, Farrell, if I turn anankle!”

He roared with laughter. “That’sactually quite witty.”

And perhaps it was the auma of the icebear within him, but as he helped her up

he tugged a little too hard  and she fell in so close that he had to put an arm around her waist to steady her. For a moment, their eyes met in something other than sparring mode.

“Do I look windswept?” she said.

He cleared a few strands of hair off her

nose, loosened his hold and backed away.

“It’s safer if you stick to the path.”

So it was that some ten minutes later

they were standing on the summit where Lucy got her second look at the horse. It was on her eye line now, ready to gallop across Scuffenbury Hill. It seemed a lot closer than it actually was and made her think that if her step was large enough, she could probably mount it. That made her glance down, wary of what she might be

standing on, disappointed that she didn’t really
feel
 
anything. No beating heart. No rumbling breath. No auma of dragon at all. The ground here was bare, scorched by bonfires. In those places where the odd rock jutted from the soil, visitors – pilgrims – had carved their names. How many times had people come here trying to raise the spirit of the dragon? she wondered. Maybe her time would be just one more. Perhaps there was no dragon here at all.

As if he shared her disillusion, Tamchecked his watch, grimaced into the windand said, “Come on. We’ll come backtomorrow, at dawn.”

Dawn?
  
she   mouthed   to   his

disappearing back. She spread her hands

and appealed to the horse.
 
Take me away

from here
.

Great ‘vacation’.

Thanks to her grumpiness, Lucy hadforgotten to take her phone onto the Tor. But back at the guesthouse, she found aweak signal and managed to call home. She spoke for a few crackly minutes to Zanna, feeling for once that they weresharing the crisis like proper sisters. There was no change in Liz’s condition. Stable, but sleeping. Everything was calm.

After she’d showered, Tam took herout for something to eat. They spent theevening in a small country pub. Lucycouldn’t finish her ‘Hunter’s Pie’ and was

ready to go long before Tam was ordering

profiteroles. They drove back to The Old Grey Dragon in silence.

Before bidding her good night, Tam reminded her exactly where he was.

“I
 
know
,” she said, chewing her lip, stopping him from having to say he’d hear her calls if anything was wrong or she could rap the wall if she needed him. She stepped into her room unable to look at him. Didn’t dare think about kissing his cheek. She pressed back against the closing door, felt for the key and turned it.

She thought about another shower – maybe a bath. There were plenty of rosescented oils to choose from. She thought about TV. She thought about cocoa. Most of all, she thought about her mum. Before she got into bed, she settled on her knees

and tried to pray. She had got as far as

‘deliver us from evil’
 
before she broke down and sobbed, burying her face chin deep into the duvet so that Tam would not hear her; she knew he’d be listening.

And then, from across the room, came the most comforting sound ever.

Hrrr
.

Lucy gasped and hurried to her bag.

Gwendolen! Poor Gwendolen! Stuck in

there all day.

Fortunately, the little dragon didn’t seem put out. After investigating every aspect of the room (she liked the cairn rock; it did have a faint dragon auma, she said) she fluttered to the bedside table where she always sat at home and settled down under the pretty lace lampshade.

Lucy leaned over and kissed her. Nowshe could sleep in peace.

In bed, she did as she always did:checked her mobile for messages. Therewere none, but it occurred to her she’dforgotten to email Melanie before she lefthome. No problem. She could send amessage through the phone instead.

Mel
, she tapped in.
 
Good 2 hear frm u. Soz 4 delay. Got tied up. Won’t believewhere I am.
 
She paused to think. If shewas going to pretend that she’d been ‘tiedup’, she might as well tell the whole whitelie. She rubbed out ‘I am’.
 
I’ve been
 
she

wrote.
 
B&B on the side of a dragon hill!! Hrrr! Can’t blab now. Will tell all soon.

Miss u. Stay cool. Luv2Glade. Lucy xxx

She   pressed   ‘send’.   Almost

immediately a ‘failed’ message came up. Tch. One more thing to hate about the countryside: signal-blocking hills. “Can you boost this?” she said to Gwendolen.

The little IT dragon thought about it.
 
Hrrr-r-rr
, she chattered.

“Plug in and bounce it off the listener at home?”

Hrrr!

Lucy shrugged. “If you say so.” Sheopened up one of the IT ports so that Gwendolen could push her isoscele intoit. On a nod from the dragon, Lucy pressedsend again. There was a flash of blue lightand the scales around Gwendolen’s tail

began to rattle. Streams of green data poured down the screen, but to Lucy’s satisfaction it came back with a ‘sent’

response.

“Smart,” she exclaimed, and tossed the phone aside. “You’re a genius. Nightnight.” She blew Gwendolen a kiss and slipped under the covers. Gwendolen, looking  proud of her achievement, rose up and flicked off the light, plunging the room into near darkness.

Despite the unfamiliar shadows and thesounds of snoring (Tam, she guessed, notthe dragon) Lucy dropped off to sleepvery quickly. As her waking thoughtspassed into fantasy and dreams, she sawherself on Glissington Tor again. Acrossthe Vale, the white horse rippled like asail, but still it did not rise from thehillside.
 
What do I have to do to wake

you?
 
Lucy asked it.
 
Tell me what I have

to do.

As her dream state played withmethods   of  communication,   so   sheimagined the old grey dragon rising fromthe hill and plugging
 
its
 
isoscele into theearth in the same way that Gwendolen hadworked the phone. Swathes of energyfizzed across the Vale, lighting the leylines electric blue. Storm clouds gathered. Rain hammered down over Scuffenbury Hill. The white horse woke up and rearedinto the storm, neighing at twelve dragonscircling   overhead.   Then,   bizarrely, Gwillan appeared, sitting in the branchesof the hanging tree like some kind ofhaunted owl. Lucy felt herself twitch. Helooked different. Undead. Like some kind

of zombie. He was grey-scaled, hollow-

eyed and struggling to move, as though he was controlled by some outside force. Frightened, she tried to blank him out. But he   peered  deep inside her, into her dreams. To her horror he pricked his ears like a bat. No, not a bat. Like Grace. Like

a
 
listener
.

Her hands clutched the duvet and drew

it around her. Suddenly, something landed with a thud on the bed. Its presence was enough to force her eyes open.

Next to where she’d left her phone, the smoky grey cat was holding something dark and limp in its mouth. It took a pace forward and dropped the kill on her chest.

A mutant raven – with Gwillan’s face.

At that point, Lucy screamed.

An encounter with Ms Gee

“Lucy!” Tam was outside her door in seconds. The aged oak panels shuddered as he beat them. She saw the handle rattle.

He called her name again.

“What is it? What’s the matter? I

thought I heard a scream?” Hannah’s wiry voice joined in.

“Stand back!” Tam shouted. “I’m going to break it down.”

“What? No! We have spare keys for all

the rooms. Mr Farrell? N— !”

At that moment, Lucy opened the door.

Tam, dressed only in a T-shirt andshorts, rushed in and gathered her into hisarms. “You all right? What happened?” His eyes scanned the room. Nothing. Just

the duvet trailed like a bridal dress across

the floor.

Clive came up the stairs, tying adressing gown. “What is it? What’shappened?”

“It would appear that Lucy’s had anightmare,” Hannah said, looking rathercoldly at Tam. She almost pinched Lucy’sarm. “Is that right?”

“Um,”   Lucy  grunted,   into   Tam’sshoulder.

Hannah folded her arms. “A little

extreme, your reaction, don’t you think?” She drew Tam’s eye line back  towards the door. “I do understand that bad dreams are

very frightening, but they’re hardly worth damaging hinges for. And please be aware that we do have another guest in the house.

Ms Gee is in the room right above this.” She pointed to the ceiling. “Drama over, Ithink. We’ll leave you to comfort Lucy inpeace.” She turned and marched out,dragging a meek-looking Clive away withher.

Tam closed the door, guided Lucy to achair and sat her down. He found a robe in

the bathroom and encouraged her to put it on over her knee-length cotton nightdress. She was still quivering as he took her hand.

“I want to call home,” she said.

He nodded, but didn’t reach for his

phone. “What did you see?”

“It wasn’t a dream.”

She waited for his gaze to scour the

room.

“The cat came,” she said. “With a dead raven. It was horrible. It dropped it on top of me.”

“On the duvet?”

“Um.”

He examined it for bloodstains or

feathers or cat hairs.

“It was
 
here
 
,” she said, suspecting he

would find no trace. “And there’s