Pillage

  Our lack of lighting didn’t stop the dragons from being interested though. Pip was the first to arrive. Drawn to the gold bricks, she dropped into the courtyard with her talons wide open. The thick, wet paint came as a surprise to her, causing her to slip and fall almost directly in front of me. I didn’t waste a moment. I tried to shove the staff into her neck, but missed and fell onto my face. My teeth knocked together with a thick click. Pip looked at me, then wrapped her right talon around one of the lights, lifting it into the air and taking it with her as she flew away.

  Wyatt looked on open-mouthed.

  “I missed,” I said lamely.

  “I noticed that.” Wyatt smiled uneasily.

  Myth entered the air space above the courtyard. She began to claw at the worthless bricks like a tractor with blades. The moment Aeron had informed me that we would have to pierce the neck of every dragon, I instantly thought of how difficult it would be to kill Myth. She had the shortest neck of all the dragons and a spiny collar covered the little bit that showed. I knew it would take precision and a whole lot of luck. To make matters worse, I think she had seen me try to kill Pip.

  Myth lifted her head, looking at me, confused.

  “Hey,” I complained. “It’s not personal.”

  Myth replied by blowing fire at me, singeing the front of my shirt. I dropped to the ground and rolled around to her back side. I climbed to my feet, but I couldn’t reach as high as her neck. So I threw the staff like a javelin.

  I missed and the staff pierced Myth’s right shoulder.

  In fairness to me, my mother—or rather my aunt who had raised me—had never let me join any sports teams. I was not half-bad at basketball, but throwing things straight was a talent I hadn’t yet perfected.

  Myth was confused and angry by what I had done. She lowered her head to take a bite out of me, but I was able to twist away, grab hold of the staff, and swing onto her spiky back. She bucked wildly, sending me flying through the air. The black staff flew into the corner of the courtyard.

  By the time I was on my feet, Wyatt had already grabbed the staff and, standing on a wall, he jammed it in the exact right spot on Myth’s neck.

  Myth looked at me and closed her eyes. Her four legs curled into themselves and she shriveled into a pile of dragon bits that scattered around the courtyard. There was no stone.

  “Wow,” Wyatt said, out of breath. “She was distracted by looking at you so I took a chance.”

  “Thanks,” I said, wiping sweat off my forehead. “Only two more.”

  We waited in the courtyard, listening to other parts of the town being ripped apart by Ishmael and Pip.

  Clouds were moving in, blocking the lowering sun from beating down on the torn-up pile of gold-painted bricks.

  “Wait here,” I said to Wyatt.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to see where they are.”

  “I’m coming with you,” he insisted. “There’s nothing I can do if they show up.”

  The streets were filled with tipped-over cars and small chunks of roof and wood. Ishmael was ripping the metal siding from the water tower. Once enough bolts were pulled free, the tower burst and water fell like a flood from above, rushing through the archway of the railway station.

  Ishmael stood beneath the waterfall as it cascaded down on him. He was at least five hundred feet away from me. I couldn’t believe how huge he was. He looked bigger than the entire conservatory.

  I glanced at the staff in my hand and wondered how something so little could stop something so huge. There was no way I could do it alone.

  “Are you game for taking down another?” I asked, holding the staff out to Wyatt.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll get him to come near me and then you put him out.”

  “That’s crazy,” Wyatt insisted.

  “I know.”

  Wyatt reluctantly grabbed the staff and I took off running toward Ishmael. He was tearing apart the waterlogged railway station, looking for something of value to take. His large claws tore the roof off in long, wide swaths.

  Two policemen were in the street, pointlessly firing pistols at him. Ishmael found the railway station’s safe and picked it up with his mouth.

  “Ishmael!” I screamed.

  He didn’t hear me. I picked up a good-sized rock and threw it at his knee. I wasn’t too sure if he would even feel it, seeing as how the police were still shooting at him, but I took a chance.

  “Hey, Whitey!”

  He turned and looked down at me. He cocked his head, his mouth full of safe. He took two steps in my direction. The ground shook and the windows of a nearby red car shattered.

  I turned and ran as Ishmael began to chase me. It was not easy to run through the mess. Kingsplot looked like a town that had been chewed up and then spit out. Which, I reflected, wasn’t that far from the truth.

  I jumped over fallen telephone poles and large holes. I couldn’t see Wyatt, but I had no choice but to put my faith in him. I stumbled and fell to my knees. Gravity spun me and I ended up on my back, looking skyward as Ishmael approached. He appeared even more massive than before.

  The sky darkened with clouds and a light rain began to fall. I held my arm up as if it would help protect me from Ishmael. He landed, standing directly over me. He spit the safe out and it crashed against the road in a shower of sparks. He raised his head and blew fire straight up like a fountain.

  Ishmael swung his large, white head toward me. He flared his nostrils and I could feel the pull of air as he breathed in. His mouth was a few feet away from me. He pulled back his lips, showing me all of his teeth. Hot saliva dripped on my forehead.

  “Wyatt!” I hissed out of the side of my mouth, not even knowing if he was still around.

  Ishmael opened his mouth and his long, thin tongue lolloped out. He retracted it slowly, running it over his lips.

  “You can’t eat me,” I reasoned. “I planted you.”

  Ishmael opened his mouth even wider and a second row of teeth emerged behind his front row. His head dropped in closer, and his mouth began to close around me. I could feel tips of his teeth pushing against the sides of my head.

  I suppose, all things considered, there are much less impressive ways to die.

  Chapter 22

  Death at One’s Side

  My life flashed before my eyes. I could see Francine holding me tight after I had fallen out of our second-story apartment window when I was nine. I could see her funeral, and Mr. Claude telling me I was being shipped off to Kingsplot. I could see Millie pretending to care, and my father, who I’d believed was my uncle, telling me how he had been wrong to only watch the skies when so much was happening all around him. I could see Kate’s face as she realized I thought she was one of the bad guys.

  Most important, out of the corner of my right eye I could see Pip dropping debris onto Ishmael and Ishmael jerking his head up to roar at Pip. The portable light Pip had taken from the courtyard bounced off Ishmael and crashed on the ground. Ishmael flexed his legs and rocketed into the sky toward Pip. The two huge dragons collided in midair. It sounded like two wet stones scraping against one another.

  Ishmael began to tear at Pip with his back talons. The great white dragon blew flames from his mouth. The wet gray sky came alive in a shower of fireworks.

  In the sky, Ishmael flapped his wings and bit at Pip’s neck. Pip wailed as Ishmael threw her toward the ground. Pip dropped like a stone, but she opened her wings and caught herself before hitting the ground.

  With a final roar, Ishmael flew away to continue doing what he was destined to do.

  I looked at Wyatt, standing directly above me. He was breathing hard and his face was whiter than Ishmael.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to help me up.

  I wiped dragon drool from my eyes and nodded my head.

  We both looked at Pip.

  “Why did it save you?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “I think t
he dragons are more confused than they should be.”

  The poor dragon was twenty feet away from us, shaking her head. She flapped her wings and blew a weak stream of smoke from her nostrils. She looked fearsome but tired. She looked at me and blinked.

  “Is it going to eat us?” Wyatt whispered, handing me the black staff.

  “I don’t think so,” I whispered back, but holding the stick in front of me just in case.

  Pip looked away. She raised her head and stepped sideways over to a metal bench. With one talon, she pulled the bench out of the ground and then turned to reach for more worthless spoil. Her wide hairy back was facing us.

  “I’m going to need a ride to the manor,” I said to Wyatt.

  “What does that mean?” he asked, concerned.

  “I’ve got to find Aeron and end this. Get the police up to the manor as fast as possible,” I ordered.

  “But how are—”

  I didn’t wait around to hear the rest of his question. I ran toward Pip and climbed up her back, still holding onto the staff.

  “You’re crazy!” Wyatt yelled.

  “You’re probably right,” I yelled back.

  And with that, Pip and I were off.

  Chapter 23

  I Know It’s Ending

  We raced through the gray air, hugging the slopes of the mountain and flying just above the height of the trees. We popped into the clouds and skimmed over the smaller mountains. Pip flew through the short tunnel. The darkness made my thoughts less jumbled and made the whole day feel like a dream.

  I shook my head.

  As we popped out of the tunnel, I could see the manor through the clouds. We flew past the manor and back toward the conservatory.

  Pip screamed as she descended through the mist and into the conservatory. The entire conservatory was filled with all kinds of torn-up pieces of buildings and objects. Pip dropped everything she had pillaged and then settled onto a large heap of twisted metal and broken wood.

  I slid off Pip’s back, holding the black staff tightly in my right hand. I climbed down a bronze statue of a small child that had once stood in front of the hospital.

  Pip moaned and I turned to look at her. She wobbled, leaning over as she tried to step forward. She fell to the ground in a cloud of debris and dirt.

  “Pip,” I whispered.

  The dragon had been through enough. The fight with Ishmael had made her even weaker. I stepped up to the poor beast and stretched my left hand out to touch Pip above her right eye.

  She snorted weakly.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling as if my throat was filled with mud. I thought about everyone in my family history who had selfishly used these amazing creatures to get gain and felt the mud turn to stone in my throat.

  Pip exhaled and small streams of fire dripped from her mouth like lava.

  I patted Pip again and could feel her head dissolving beneath my touch. As Pip disappeared, the wind lifted the bits up, making it look like the corners of her mouth were smiling.

  “Sorry,” I said again.

  A strong fist of wind punched through the conservatory and finished Pip off. I wanted to take a minute to mourn, but I could hear my name being called.

  “Hello?” I asked, looking around.

  I could barely see past the stuff the dragons had pillaged and dropped off. I stepped over another pile of junk and listened.

  Someone was calling my name.

  I looked around for a few seconds before I realized the sound was coming from below me. I looked down, but couldn’t see anything but junk.

  “Down here,” Kate’s muffled voice yelled.

  The fading light made it hard to see. I climbed carefully over a small car, a trampoline, and another metal statue. I was able to slide down the back of a metal street sign, landing next to the shack. The door to the shack was permanently pinned open by a couple dozen sets of golf clubs.

  The metal grate was gone, so I easily hopped down the hole. Before my feet had even hit the floor I could hear Kate yelling.

  “Beck! Over here.”

  I ran down the tunnel to the metal gate and bars. The cage was dark, covered with all the pillaged items in the conservatory above. As my eyes adjusted I could see Kate and Scott. I was really only happy to see Kate. She looked pretty worried though—emphasis on pretty.

  “Who locked you up?” I asked. “Why did Thomas lock Scott in there with you?”

  “It wasn’t Thomas,” Kate said. “It was Milo. Thomas and the others are locked up in the stables.”

  “Why?” I asked, confused.

  “Milo’s been impersonating everyone,” Scott said. “After Thomas and Millie locked you in your room for safety that night, Milo took your form and lured all of them into the

  stables. They didn’t know how you got out, but Milo was so adamant that they follow.”

  “So it wasn’t Thomas who boarded up my windows?” I said, looking at Scott.

  He shook his head.

  “They didn’t bring me to Kingsplot just to wake the dragons?”

  “Nonsense,” Scott insisted. “Millie and Wane? Come now. They were so happy to hear you were coming. We didn’t even tell Aeron because we knew he’d say no. Of course, our one reservation was about the stories we’ve heard forever. And look what happened.”

  I still didn’t completely trust Scott.

  “I was told Thomas and Millie sent for me.”

  “They got a call from a gentleman telling us who to contact,” Scott said.

  “Must have been Milo,” Kate deduced.

  “I’m so sorry, Beck,” Scott said. “I know I’ve been harsh, but it was out of concern for you. We would never hurt you, you know that.”

  I knew Kate was trapped in a rusted, underground cage beneath piles of wreckage pillaged from Kingsplot. I knew Milo was out there somewhere. I didn’t know where Aeron was. Despite what I did or didn’t know, I felt a great sense of relief knowing that Millie and Thomas and Wane had not betrayed me.

  “Thomas said you needed money for taxes,” I argued.

  “That wasn’t Thomas,” Scott said. “We still have another whole floor of furniture to sell. Plus there’s plenty of land we could sell off. Milo was lying to you.”

  “So how’d you get in here?” I asked Kate.

  “Thanks to you,” she said. “Milo took your form. I thought I was following you down here. I should have been suspicious, considering some of the nice things you were saying.”

  It might have been my imagination, but it looked like Kate was blushing a little.

  “Wow, Milo’s good,” I said.

  “After he locked me up, he found Scott,” Kate said.

  “He wants the entire Pillage fortune,” Scott said. “He feels it belongs to him.”

  “It was his curse that started it,” I growled, trying to pop the door open on the cage. I shook my head. “It won’t budge.”

  “Just go,” Kate said, stepping as close to the bars as she could. “Stop him.”

  I knew what I needed to do, but there was something inside of me causing me to pause.

  “Go!” Kate insisted. “What are you waiting for?”

  I leaned in and kissed her. I had never kissed anyone before. In fact, I couldn’t remember if I had even ever kissed my mother. I don’t know what I was expecting, but what it felt like was a great surprise. I had fallen from vents, scaled buildings, and flown on the backs of dragons, yet somehow all of those things seemed a bit less amazing now. I banged the side of my head on the bars as I pulled back.

  “Ow,” I said.

  “What was that?” Kate said breathlessly.

  Scott politely turned away.

  “I figured if I could kill a dragon, I could kiss a girl.”

  “You are so strange,” she whispered kindly.

  “I feel the same about you,” I said, smiling. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  I made my way back up the hole and into the conservatory. The oncoming night cove
red the dragon’s junk in lumpy shadows. I climbed to the top of a pile and looked down, surprised to see Aeron moving toward me. He was working through a tangle of metal.

  I scrambled toward him.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t stop him,” Aeron admitted. “Milo’s going to the manor. He said you were hurt.”

  Aeron balanced himself on a large piece of roof. We were in the middle of the conservatory, surrounded by everything the dragons had brought back. Aeron looked around.

  “Kingsplot must be a mess,” he commented unnecessarily.

  “Half of it’s here,” I said. “Although I don’t really see anything of value.”

  “I think you’re wrong,” Aeron said. “This conservatory is fat with gain. Milo will make a fortune.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s fat with gain. There’s a fortune here.”

  I could hear Ishmael screaming in the distance as he made another approach. Something didn’t feel right.

  “How many dragons are left?” Aeron asked.

  “Two or three,” I lied, looking closely at him.

  “Good.” Aeron relaxed.

  “Do you know where everyone else is?” I questioned.

  “Hiding in the manor, I think.”

  “Excellent.”

  The mist-filled clouds stretched just a bit, exposing the early-night sky. I could see Ishmael’s dark shadow swoop over the side of the conservatory as he turned to come in for a landing. The sound of his wings flapping in the air matched the beating of my racing heart.

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “We should wait here,” he said, stepping closer.

  “Why?”

  “As the dragons return, we can pick them off,” he answered.

  I looked at the staff in my hand, knowing that it would be of no use on the last dragon. I hefted it in my hand.

  “Here you go, Aeron,” I said loudly. “You’ll need this.”

  Ishmael was behind Aeron, heading toward us. I tossed the staff to him just as Ishmael dropped into the conservatory. I could see his blue eyes recognize Aeron. In one smooth motion, Ishmael opened his jaws, releasing the metal trash bin he carried, and then, exposing a second and a third row of teeth, he turned his head sideways.