Kay’s mother took the man—the regional bureau director, her boss—aside and spoke in a low voice. Kay waited, feeling like she was going to be sick. Maybe this situation—the jets, the news, the fire—wasn’t inevitable after all; maybe she had caused it. After she and Artegal met, the world started falling apart. It was still falling. The more Kay thought about it, the dizzier she felt. She kept thinking that she should have told Dad about her and Artegal. She shouldn’t have kept secrets from him. If she’d told, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
The temporary bureau had commandeered a classroom and turned it into a conference room, pushing desks together in the middle and lining chairs around them. The director guided Kay and her mother there and told them to sit, which they did, side by side in the cold, silent room. He kept giving Kay odd, sideways glances, as if he were trying to believe the story her mother had told him. Trying to imagine her with a dragon.
None of these people knew anything about dragons.
“It’s better this way,” Mom was saying. She’d been talking for a while, but Kay hadn’t been listening. The sound of her mother’s voice startled her. “You’ll only have to explain everything once. I’ll be with you the whole time. Just tell them the truth. Don’t leave anything out.”
Now Kay understood. The director had sent them there to wait. He needed to contact others, a whole group of people who had a stake in this. Kay didn’t know who else or how many. The police, probably. They’d lock her up, and she’d never see the outside of a jail again.
Somehow, she was as numb to this thought as she had been to everything since the fire. Nothing mattered. She’d done something amazing, done the impossible, and now she was paying for it. And none of it mattered. She imagined her father, remembered the look on his face when he’d pulled her over for speeding. That wry look. Why did she even think he’d be wearing that expression now, when this was so much worse? Because maybe he’d have understood. Quickly, she wiped her eyes to keep from crying.
Mom was studying her. Both of them had the same glassy stare, Kay thought. Surely no one would be mean to them, after what had happened. Her stomach clenched.
“Your dad was worried about you,” Mom said softly. “We talked about it. You were spending so much time by yourself, going off to do who knew what. But he wouldn’t let me search your room. He said, ‘Give her a little more time. I bet she’ll come clean about whatever it is. She’s a good kid.’ That’s what he said.”
Kay wanted to tell her mother to stop. Just stop talking. This was going to make her cry and she didn’t want to cry, not when she was going to have to talk to the police.
Mom smiled a grieved, wincing smile. “He was right. He was always right. I’m just trying to figure out what he’d say about this.” She wiped tears away with the heel of her hand.
Kay bit her lips and looked away. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was a whisper.
Then they didn’t say anything.
When the door to the classroom opened again, Kay flinched, startled. She didn’t think she could get any more scared, but her heart raced. A half dozen people in air force and army uniforms filed in, along with another half dozen in suits. One of them brought in an armload of stuff, a stack of poster board, and a dozen file folders. Mom stood and put her hand on Kay’s shoulder.
Kay recognized two of the military men: the air force general from TV, General Branigan, and Captain Conner.
One of the guys in a suit arranged the sheets of poster board on the table. They showed blown-up copies of the photos of Kay riding Artegal, the ones taken by the jet that had seen them. Maybe they won’t believe me, Kay thought. She’d tell them it was her, and they wouldn’t believe a kid could do that. Then she could go home.
Wearing a stern, serious expression, the general took his hat off and approached Kay’s mother. He radiated authority and demanded respect. But Kay felt herself growing angry. He was probably the one who ordered those fighters over the border, and that was the reason the dragons attacked. So was it the dragons’ fault? Was it the general’s?
Was it hers?
“Mrs. Wyatt, I’m extremely sorry for your loss.” He spared Kay a quick glance.
“Thank you,” Mom said. Kay marveled at how calm her mother was.
Between them, the general and Mom’s boss introduced everyone, but the names went right past Kay. She couldn’t process. They all nodded respectfully and murmured words of sympathy. But the blood was rushing in Kay’s ears. They were going to ask why she did it, why she and Artegal were even friends. And she didn’t have a good answer.
General Branigan started by saying, “Miss Wyatt, is this you in these photographs?”
Kay wanted to laugh because she didn’t think of herself as Miss Wyatt. She didn’t know how to be formal back at him. She was wearing jeans and a thick wool sweater, not a suit or skirt.
Her voice scratched when she answered, “Yes.”
He stared at her for a long moment, and the other men—they were all men—followed his lead, letting the silence grow heavy, weighing on her.
Conner shifted then, clearing his throat and throwing a look at Branigan, who scowled. The spell broke. Conner was the only person there who didn’t seem as if he were studying an insect when he looked at her.
“Would you like to tell us how this happened?” General Branigan nodded at the picture.
“It was an accident,” she said, her voice small. Mom squeezed her hand. “We weren’t hurting anything.”
The general put on a fake easygoing smile and spoke in a condescending voice. “Now, nobody says you were. We just want to understand what you’ve been doing.”
Kay decided she hated the guy. That gave her confidence. She sat up a little straighter. “We just talked—”
“You talked to it? It talks?” Branigan said.
Mom spoke up. “General, we know from the Silver River Treaty negotiations sixty years ago that some of the dragons will talk to people.”
The general settled back, but his expression was sour.
“Go on,” Mom prompted her.
“We got this idea about flying.” Kay was a little vague on that. She wasn’t ready to give up the book. “I do a lot of rock climbing. I used some of the gear. It worked.” She shrugged. Maybe if she played out the sullen teenager thing they’d leave her alone.
“But what was it doing that close to the border?” Branigan asked.
It took her a moment to realize he was talking about Artegal. “He was curious. He wanted to find someone to talk to.” She made sure to emphasize the he.
“So it was spying?”
“No—” But she realized she didn’t know that for sure. Maybe Artegal had been sent to spy. “If he was spying, I’m pretty sure he didn’t find out a whole lot from me. I don’t know anything.”
Then they started talking as if she weren’t there.
“Maybe it thought it could use her to gather information—”
“Or it misjudged how much access she had—”
“If it could trick her into flying away with it, they’d have a hostage—”
“So did they think she was a source of information or a hostage?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. She knew she was right; they were wrong. “He was just curious. He just wanted to talk. We’re just friends.”
The group of men stared, disbelieving and speechless.
If she told them about the book, would they believe her? Would they believe a girl and a dragon could be friends then? Or would they take it away and keep ignoring her? She thought of Dracopolis as hers, and she didn’t want anyone to find it.
She especially didn’t want them to find the page with the map and coordinates slipped inside it. They’d go looking for whatever was there, and she wanted to keep that secret safe. She wanted to be the one to find it. She and Artegal should be the ones to look for it.
Her mother squeezed her hand again. She hadn’t let go all this time.
> “We just talked. Really. He isn’t a spy,” Kay said.
Branigan smiled that awful fake smile again. “We know you’d like to think that. Tell me, Miss Wyatt—why did you cross the border in the first place?”
“I told you, it was an accident. I fell in the creek and he—the dragon—pulled me out. He saved my life.”
“I hate to start making accusations,” Branigan said, but Kay got the feeling he was all too happy to make them. “But it sounds like if you managed to get close enough to the border to fall over it, the local Federal Bureau of Border Enforcement may have gotten a little sloppy.”
“Now wait just a minute,” Mom said, straightening and glaring across the table.
“General, if I may,” Captain Conner said, hand raised. “I’ve been in those woods, and if someone determined enough wanted to get across the border, they could. Especially someone who grew up around here and knew the area and FBBE procedures. Am I right?”
“Nothing bad happened,” Kay said again, pleading. “We weren’t hurting anything.”
“Young lady, we’re at war here,” Branigan said.
“That’s your fault,” she replied. She continued, before he could yell at her. “What’s going to happen to me? I broke the law by crossing the border, I know. I knew it then. I’m the one who crossed, not him. So what’s going to happen to me?” Whatever it was, she just wanted to get it over with. She wanted it all to be over.
Mom’s boss, the regional bureau director, should have been the one to answer that question. There were no cops in the room. It was his jurisdiction. But he, her mother, everyone, in fact, looked at General Branigan. Kay didn’t want him to decide what happened to her.
“None of us is out to get you, Miss Wyatt. The situation we’re in right now is a little too unusual to be worrying about something like that. But I think what you’ve given us here is an opportunity. I think you may be able to help us, if you’re willing. If not—well, you’re right. You’ve broken the law. Pretty spectacularly.”
Mom’s hand clenched even more tightly around hers. Branigan’s meaning was clear. She’d help, or she was screwed. Kay didn’t see how that was any choice at all. She had to play their game. She had a bad feeling she knew what he wanted.
The general said, “If we asked you to, do you think you could get in touch with this dragon again? You see, Miss Wyatt, you probably know more about the dragons than anyone else in this room. And we need to find out as much as we can about them. I think you can help us do that. Miss Wyatt—Kay—think about your father. Think about what they did to him. This is your chance to do something about that. Do you understand?”
Except that her father worked to keep the peace, that was how he saw himself. He wouldn’t have wanted her to take revenge. He’d wanted to keep the peace. He’d always said keeping the peace was easier when you made friends rather than made threats.
“Well?” Branigan said. “Will you help us?”
“It’s just talking,” Conner said. “We just want you to talk.” Although the glare Branigan threw him said that maybe the general didn’t quite agree.
That was it, then. Artegal may not have been a spy, but Branigan wanted to turn her into one. She didn’t know more about dragons. She just knew Artegal.
Kay’s head really started swimming, but her response was mechanical. It wasn’t much of a choice at all. She nodded, agreeing, because she would have done nearly anything to get out of that room just then.
17
Kay and her mother drove home from the meeting in silence. Kay didn’t know whether to be terrified or furious. The general’s threat had been obvious—spying was the only way she’d stay out of jail. At seventeen, she could be tried as an adult and sent to prison. But they were using her. She hated that.
When her mother spoke, she did so softly. “It’s almost funny. All that bombing isn’t having an effect because they don’t know what their targets are. Those bombing runs have been random. They have satellite and infrared photos that show where their dragons may live, but they also think the dragons may be making decoys, setting fires to make some areas look hotter. So they need information. They need you, Kay. I can’t believe they’re basing their strategy on what a teenager can tell them,” she muttered.
“What if I don’t do it?” Kay said. “I could just not do it.”
“Besides the fact they’ll send you to jail? Without specific targets, they’ll start using more destructive weapons. Branigan’s talking nukes, but he doesn’t have that authority. At least not yet.”
He would do that? Kay thought, disbelieving. Did he think it was okay to destroy that much land, to risk the radiation—to make such a large area unusable for everyone, just on the chance that it might harm the dragons? Did he hate the dragons that much? She didn’t understand. Even before she’d met Artegal, she wouldn’t have understood wanting to destroy the mountains and forest to get to the dragons, who just kept to themselves, after all.
Kay’s mother continued as if speaking were difficult. “I know you think of the dragon as your friend. I know you think of this as betraying him. But, Kay, he doesn’t need you to protect him. He can take care of himself. You have to think about you. And your family. I can’t lose you, Kay. I can’t lose you, too.” She shook her head in a slow denial, staring straight ahead over the steering wheel with wide eyes.
Kay and her mother had only each other now. Kay loved her mother, of course, but this felt like a burden. Kay could barely keep her own head on straight; she couldn’t keep her mother safe, too.
The next day, she dressed for winter hiking and packed a backpack of supplies. She was vaguely relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking around this time. She had official military sanction for what she was doing now.
She found her mother in the living room, curled up with a blanket around her, clutching a mug of steaming coffee. The whole house smelled like fresh coffee. It was a sign of normality—but a little normality made things seem even more surreal. On a usual morning, Mom would have been at work before dawn. Kay would have been getting ready for school, but she hadn’t been back since the fire. Her mother was watching TV, but not news. A shopping channel or an infomercial. Something completely neutral. Even more surreal.
Kay stood for a long time wondering what she should say. Maybe she should just leave her mother alone. But she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do that to her mother.
“I’m going,” she said.
Mom looked at her like she hadn’t understood.
“He probably won’t even be there, so I’ll be back in a couple of hours, I think,” Kay continued. “I won’t go far, I promise. Just to our usual spot across the border. I wouldn’t know where else to go anyway.”
Then Mom started to get up, setting aside coffee mug and blanket. “I should go with you. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”
Kay held up a hand to stop her. “No, Mom. It’s okay. I can do this.”
The look of anguish on Mom’s face was as bad as Kay had ever seen it. Like the world was falling apart all over again.
“Mom, I’ll be careful.”
“At least let me drive you there.” She went for her coat across the arm of the sofa and her purse on the dining room table.
Kay started to argue, then didn’t, because it would be easier just to let her mother drive her. And if it made Mom feel better, well, it didn’t cost Kay anything.
Kind of nice, Kay thought, not having to worry about hiding the Jeep.
During the drive, the silence between them was delicate, like handling well-packed explosives. As long as they took care, nothing would blow up.
They drove past the trailhead to the dirt service road, until the trees blocked them. Mom stopped the car, but kept her hands on the wheel and stared into the forest.
“I’m almost jealous,” she said, donning a tight smile. “I’ve always wanted to meet one of them. Your grandfather was part of the delegation that negotiated the Silver River Treaty.
Did you know that?”
Kay had, but didn’t know much more than that. Rough details, an old black-and-white photo in the family album. It was a group photo taken outside Silver River, with the northern mountains as a backdrop. Her grandfather was one of the young men in a suit standing to the side, in the crowd surrounding the generals and ambassadors who’d made up the core of the delegation. He’d died when she was too young to really remember him.
“He was just a junior assistant secretary of some sort. But he was there. He met them. And then they were just…gone. I think he’s part of why I got into this line of work, just to be close. As close as I could.”
Maybe, if this all worked out, Kay could bring her mother to meet Artegal. Kay hoped she didn’t ask for that now. Kay just wanted to get the car ride over with. She wanted to get out to the woods, to their spot, confirm that Artegal wasn’t there, and then tell Branigan this wouldn’t work.
“I’ll try to hurry up so you won’t have to wait long,” Kay said.
Mom leaned toward her—fell, almost—and caught Kay up in a tight hug. “Leave your phone on. Call me if you need anything, if anything happens. Though they’re probably listening in on our phones now,” she said with a short laugh.
“What?” Kay said in a panic.
“Never mind, don’t worry about it.” But Kay couldn’t not worry. She couldn’t say anything now without thinking about Branigan listening in. Spying on her. Mom said, “If you’re not back in an hour and you don’t call, I’m coming after you.”
Kay wanted to argue, but strangely, the idea comforted her. She couldn’t just vanish. “Okay.”
She slid out of the car and started into the woods without looking back. She could feel her mother watching her.
aBranigan and the others assumed she’d be able to contact Artegal as easily as calling him. That wouldn’t work, so she had to come up with another plan. Start a bonfire and send smoke signals? That would attract attention—but probably not Artegal. That was exactly what she needed, to explain herself to a horde of strange dragons.