Emergence of Fire Page 9

  But I had them, too.

  I balanced the bike and rolled it closer to where the Machers now stood at the press entrance. "What kind of magic will Dirk have?"

  Mrs. Macher went to work loading the bicycle basket with newspapers. She was strong, handling them with ease. "Dirk likely can amplify other dragons' magic, if he's like me and our decline hasn't leeched that from him. Given he's bronze rather than a dull green or brown, it's a good sign."

  I wanted to ask how old Mr. and Mrs. Macher were, but I felt like that was rude. I was guessing they were on the older side of the dragon spectrum if they had a son like that. This couple had to be at least a thousand years old if dragon eggs took that long to hatch. They must not be as old as my birth parents had been though.

  "Dragons can amplify each other's magic?" I asked.

  "Some can. We're all different."

  I wanted to know more now that I had spent time around one in full form. A new curiosity stole over me rather than horror. Adler had been my first impression of dragons. Had she given me the wrong impression? One dragon must not represent all. Dirk hadn't become a monster just by maturing. He was still Dirk and would be after he regained the ability to walk around in human form.

  And another question burned in my mind.

  Sven.

  "Adler said she can erase memories. Is that true?" It was an easy way to turn the conversation toward helping him.

  "Yes. Her magic is mind magic," Mr. Macher said, hitting buttons on a mounted touch pad. The printing press hummed as it powered down.

  "That's like the Men in Black," I said. "I saw that movie when I was a kid. She can, like, just suck the memories out of someone?"

  "That's not how she explained it to us," Mrs. Macher said. "It's more that she can block a non-dragon's memories. She puts a barrier up. Did she tell you the story of your birth parents?"

  "Sort of." A barrier. Maybe Sven's memories weren't gone, then. There was just a block preventing him from accessing who he was now. Crazy hope rose inside of me. There could be a way to bring them back.

  "Your parents were together, off and on, for hundreds of years," Mrs. Macher said. "Your parents were among the first dragons to gain the ability to take a human form.

  Your father could control the weather, which is something mostly seen in Eastern dragons. It's a rare ability in the West. I never met him, but Adler told me he had crystal scales. And your mother was silver and had the ability to heal. In the most ancient days, Normals would go to her for help. They worshipped her in some societies. Even other Abnormals would pay her visits. She could fix physical maladies of all sorts, destroy infections, greatly extend lives, cure insanity, and even bring clarity back to the minds of those suffering from dementia." She stuffed a few more newspapers into my basket.

  I hung on that last line. "She could bring people's memories back?"

  "Yes. It's been a long time. It was a shame to lose your parents. Your mother could cure diseases that modern scientists are just starting to unravel." Mrs. Macher put her hand on my back. "You would have loved them, Felicia. But a Slayer who made your mother think he was a friend of the dragons turned on them. He wanted their hoard. And he got it. Adler barely rescued you from your mother's cave when that happened, and we've guarded you ever since."

  Gloom settled over the room as Mr. Macher dimmed the lights. The printing press looked like a sleeping, mechanical monster. "Isn't this a dark conversation to be having this early?" he asked his wife.

  "Felicia deserves to know of her past," Mrs. Macher said. "We can furnish the details over breakfast."

  My stomach turned as I thought of a Slayer killing my parents. To distract myself, I rolled the bike through the doorway and into the early morning coolness.

  My mother could cure dementia.

  Did that mean I could bring back Sven's memories or fix the block she'd put in his mind? I'd gotten the weather-controlling ability from my father who I'd never get to meet.

  I knew Adler had blocked the memories of the Slayer my mother was in love with long ago to chase him away—and that my mother had continued to pursue him. Had she removed Adler's block to get him back? After what Mrs. Macher told me, it seemed plausible.

  "Felicia, be careful out there. Avoid anyone who wears a red gem anywhere on their person," Mrs. Macher said, lingering in the doorway of the press building. "No one is likely out at this hour, but still. Slayers will try to kill you even if you haven't matured yet."

  I swallowed. It hurt me to lie to someone who didn't deserve it. "I'll be careful."

  She had no clue that my route included a house of Slayers.

  Dirk never discovered the identity of the new Water Company owners, or had never told his parents about the story. He kept to himself. Maybe he even wanted to get to it first. It was his ambition to rise to the top of the local news scene.

  Delivering the papers as fast as I could, I made my way closer to the Water Company. The place had no sign of Adler or anything flying over the place. My heart raced when I thought of Sven and the possibility I could get him back and that I wouldn't have to tell him what I was while he had a hatred of dragons. My skin ached for his touch. My heart craved his innocent charm and the way he looked at me when he spoke.

  Machinery hummed inside the Water Company as the night shift continued to work. The Manager's House stood untouched in the gloom, but there was a single light on inside—the kitchen—as if someone were awake at this super early hour. Cars choked the paved driveway of the house as if there were a party going on, but on closer inspection, I realized that all the cars were black Mercedes, BMW's, and Jaguars. This was a gathering of the wealthy and powerful.

  A chill swept through me as I stopped my bike. I realized I had grabbed a paper from the now half-empty basket.

  Slayers had gathered overnight.

  The news that Sven had encountered a dangerous purple dragon had spread through the Wiglaf Society.

  Terror shook my limbs. An instinct to run from so many Slayers swept over me, but it died only to get replaced by the ever-familiar internal fire. Sven was with them. He agreed with whatever they were planning. I had given him information they were passing around to each other. Sven had betrayed me without even realizing it. He'd forgotten his promise not to tell his father he knew of dragons in Olivia.

  And now they must be ready to raid the hoard under our feet.

  The war would begin.

  Choking on emotion, I dropped the bike, letting it fall to the grass, and bolted to the house.

  I needed Sven's help. He could get inside all of this and help me stop it.

  The light was coming from the kitchen rather than the living room, so I knocked on the front door and waited. The worst that would happen was that Sven's father would open the door and tell me to leave them alone, that I had nothing to do with all this. Maybe he'd tell me that this wasn't for girls. That was if he wasn't wearing a Gem and ready to go hunt dragons. If he was—

  It was a risk I'd take.

  The door opened, and it was Sven who stood there. He had bags under his eyes as if he'd been awake all night.

  "Felicia," he said.

  He stood in the dark, but there was light emanating from deeper in the house. Low voices emerged from the kitchen, men's voices, forming a low rumble. The meeting didn't realize I was here. Sven must have been at the sidelines the whole time, trying to listen in.

  "How many Slayers are in there?" I asked.

  He glanced around a corner, towards the large kitchen, to make sure no one had spotted us. "A dozen," he said. "My father called every Wiglaf Society member on the continent last night. They flew in and just gathered."

  "They're planning an attack," I said.

  Sven stepped onto the porch. I waited for him to take my arms, but he didn't. Warmth crept into his eyes as he studied me. I met his gaze, focusing on removing the mental block that Adler had put on him. Could I get rid of it this way? My mother could, but had I inherited the ability to do the
same? Having your memory blocked was an ailment, right?

  But no real recognition came over Sven's face. "Yes. Once they find the den, they will search for your parents. It's a rescue operation. Don't worry, Felicia. The Society will do its best to get them out of there."

  The block was still active. Tears welled into my vision.

  Sven had told his father everything I'd told him.

  I had given information to the enemy without knowing.

  And worst of all, Sven had no idea he'd betrayed me.

  "What's wrong? I know you're worried about them." He took my arms, but his touch was different now. While warm, it was more like Dirk's now. Friendly. Without passion and need.

  I wanted to hit him with the newspaper in my hand. Instead, I dropped it. "You don't understand," I said. If I had healing powers why wouldn't they work? None of my magic was reliable yet. It might not be until I hit maturity.

  "Look, I thought about it the entire night. While my memories with Tasha feel real why else would you have been brave enough to kiss me if you aren't my girlfriend?"

  I looked up at him. A hiccup escaped my throat. The meeting continued inside the house.

  "I am your girlfriend," I insisted. "And we need to be together."

  But confusion still ruled. Sven's features softened, turning to that innocence I loved. "I'm still confused. You understand that. I say we should see how things turn out in time. You might be my girlfriend, but I'm still uncertain, so maybe we should date? I must see if it feels right."

  "So I'm on a trial period?" I asked. At least he was thinking about it. "For thirty days?" But what else could Sven do?

  Sven shook his head. "This is awkward. I'm sorry."

  My understanding of body language didn't extend to Slayers, or I'd be able to read how much his mind was drifting to Tasha. He had realistic memories of making out with her and on Monday, he might go to school and see her throwing herself at him. The thought made tears well in my vision again. "There has to be a way to fix your lost memories," I said. It would hurt Sven to bring them back once he realized what he'd done and the things he'd said. And worst of all, he wouldn't forgive himself for mobilizing this war. "It'll make you understand everything."

  I held him in my gaze, imagining a barrier in his mind, a dam holding back the truth. As if sensing I was up to something, he held me with his beautiful blue gaze.

  "This feels familiar," Sven said.

  "Yes," I said, heart racing.

  "It's something about you delivering papers," he said. "For a second, I felt like you've delivered them here before."

  "I have. Keep it coming," I said.

  But then Sven shook his head. "The feeling's gone. Déjà vu. Have you ever had that?"

  "Do you remember anything else?" I asked. "Try. Look at me." He did. I took my sword pendant out from under my tank top and held it up to him. "One week ago, when I delivered your paper, you gave this to me. Remember it. Please."

  Sven studied the pendant for a long time, screwing up his face. "The familiar feeling's gone now," he said. "I'm trying to recall something, but I only felt that for a second. This is frustrating, Felicia."

  "You're telling me?" A dark figure walked out from the kitchen and I froze until I realized it was Sofia. She watched us. "Ask your sister. She knows we're dating each other."

  "I already have. She agrees with you." Sven lowered his voice. "But she is trying to sabotage me. I have to take that into account. Sofia wants to become a full member of the Society, and if I get it, then she won't even if she passes her test. Only one child in an immediate family can have the honor."

  "Sven, please. Before your memory got erased, you said you didn't even want to join the Society. You thought it was just about greed and gathering more wealth."

  Holding my breath, I waited for his reaction.

  And I got it.

  Sven narrowed his eyebrows at me. "You're not working with the dragons are you?"

  My words tangled in my throat but I found the strength to speak. "No," I lied. "That's what you said. I don't know why, but I know you don't like your father and you'd decided you didn't want much to do with him anymore. And your sister told me you wanted to try out acting instead."

  "True," he said, softening again. "But you don't understand what it's like to have the expectations on me that I do."

  I held him in my gaze again. No sense of a mental barrier swept over me. His almost-memory had resulted from déjà vu and not my magic. My magic was still spontaneous and out of my control. It might remain so for a while. During that time, Sven would help hunt for the den in that twisting network of caves. Dirk would get pulled into this. The Slayers would go after the Machers and Steve and everyone else who was a dragon shifter, whoever they were. We'd have no choice but to fight.

  Sven and I might even battle.

  Kill each other.

  "Do you want to come in and eavesdrop?" Sven asked with a smile. "My father will kill me if I let an outsider listen, but since your parents are captives, you should be able to see what they're planning. There's a hidden door above the kitchen we can use. Father doesn't even know about it."

  I stood there and thought of the papers and of Dirk who was waiting for me in the barn.

  "Yes," I said. "I need to see what they're planning."

  "But be quiet," Sven said. "You too, Sofia. I know you'll want to rat on me."

  He stood aside to let me into the dark entryway. My heart raced. If anything, I needed to gather intelligence to help protect Dirk and the others. I hated that I was taking a side, but our survival depended on it.

  Sofia looked at us both, expression unreadable. The kitchen door had been closed since Sofia exited the room. Apparently, Sven still wasn't good enough to listen in. The Slayers inside kept their voices low and secretive.

  "I won't tell," Sofia said. "How would that help me?"

  "I don't trust you. If you tell Father I'm spying, I'll tell him about the chores you skipped last night. The same goes if you tell him I'm still dating."

  Sofia backed away. But Sven's last sentence gave me hope again and eased the knot in my chest. We had made progress but still had a long way to go. I was still in a pit of lies and now it was lined with spikes at the top.

  Sven led me up the stairs. I stayed quiet. He must have known about my stuff still sitting in the guest room. It was evidence in my favor. Then he led me toward his father's office. The red light in front of it was blinking. He'd armed it, expecting an attack.

  Sven opened the door next to the office, the final one before the laser alarm. Inside was a small closet with new shelving, pipes, and a few cleaning supplies.

  And there was a small, waist-high door on the other end. Sven put a finger to his lips and pulled it open, revealing a screen. This was some old ventilation screen for the kitchen. I'd heard about them in old houses and forgotten that the Managers' House got built early last century. It had all kinds of quirks.

  But if we both got on our stomachs and crawled forward, we could see down into the large kitchen.

  Several men and one woman sat down below at a long table. Sven's father sat at the head of the table—he was the leader of this meeting and wanted everyone to know it. Even at five in the morning, he wore his black suit that betrayed his build. How did the guy stay in such good shape if he managed the Water Company all day? It didn't seem natural.

  The others in the meeting all donned chest plates, two which had blackened as if they had seen a fire in the past. Suits hung on hangers around the kitchen. The Slayers had swapped out their wealthy garb for war when they got here. Many wore quivers. Swords and crossbows covered the counters. They anticipated an attack. The sight of it all my stomach, but I breathed in, forcing the angry heat to stay down. It did. I was getting better at controlling it.

  I didn't feel sick, did I?

  These people would use these weapons on Dirk if they found him.

  They'd kill him.

  "Are you certain there is a den u
nder this town?" one Slayer, a middle-aged man, asked Mr. Olsen.

  "That will be on my son if there is not," Mr. Olsen said.

  "We've had too many false alarms. I believe there are no more large dragon hoards in the world," the lone woman, an angry blonde, said. "There may be a few more dragons, but we may have hunted them all. The Wiglaf Society will no longer be mankind's protectors in a generation or two. We'll have killed all the dragons."

  Mr. Olsen stood and glared at everyone. "There must be a den in the caves. I haven't found it yet, but if there is a dragon capable of mind magic in this one, then it is possible the monster has used said magic to divert us away from the den. There must be a large hoard somewhere under our feet. Why else would a dragon have risked exposure to erase my son's memory?"

  "That is if he's not lying."

  "He's not even a full member. His opinion means nothing."

  "He's a child. They make mistakes."

  I got the sense that the other Slayers were taking jabs at Mr. Olsen, not Sven. But next to me, Sven tensed. These people didn't regard him well, and Sofia not at all. She'd vanished.

  "Silence," Mr. Olsen ordered, his voice booming over the kitchen.

  "Why do you think dragons are here?" The questions continued, blending together.

  "This town is far from anywhere important."

  "The dragons chose this place to hide," Mr. Olsen said. "Where else to keep the treasure that belongs to us? Think about dragon history and how it played out again and again. Isolation promises a large hoard, and with it, we can expand our business operations and drive profits through the roof. Each member of the Society will receive an equal portion of the haul."

  Even from up here, I detected a gleam in Mr. Olsen's eyes.

  He was doing this for one main reason: greed.

  A part of me had suspected it for a while, but here was the confirmation. While the Society said they were trying to protect the Normal world from dragons, Mr. Olsen's words proved otherwise. The Wiglaf Society might have fought to save people in the past, but in the modern world, money meant everything. These were nothing but a bunch of thieves disguised as knights in shining armor.