Even the dragons who’d been coming to the border didn’t come to this section, the tumbling stream, the climbing rocks, the narrow glen. So, she was going to leave him a note. She’d already written it out and would tack it to a tree in the place where they’d first met, setting a meeting date for the weekend. She assumed he would come here, if he could. Just to check. She was guessing—hoping—that his people hadn’t drafted him for their war or had restricted him or started watching him so he couldn’t travel. Any of a million things could happen that would keep him from coming here. Part of her hoped he did stay away.
When the news carried footage of dragons soaring over other cities, racing away like rockets after they’d started fires, she studied them, searching for the lithe, slate gray and silver form of Artegal. She hadn’t seen him yet.
She came to the creek and followed it upstream to the place where Artegal had fished her out that first day. The creek was rimed with melting ice, and the log bridge was still there.
So was Artegal, a gray mound settled among the trees, wings tucked to his side, tail wrapped around him. He faced the creek, his neck raised, so he could watch the forest on the other side with those deep onyx eyes.
She stopped and stared for what seemed like a long time.
He lowered his head and blew a steaming breath.
“I’ve been waiting,” he said.
18
She almost hated to cross the border again, now that they knew about her and were watching. But she did, running straight across the log before she could change her mind. Artegal lowered his head so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck back to see him. It felt as if years had passed, and she didn’t know what to say. She’d wanted just to leave the note, like calling someone specifically to leave a message rather than talk to them. But she was so relieved to see him. She had so much to tell him—so much to ask about what had happened, what the dragons were doing. Her throat closed; she could hardly breathe.
“Are you well?” he asked. The first thing he’d ever said to her, months ago. What a strange question now.
“No,” she said, and started crying. Stumbling almost, she sat on the ground and buried her face in her arms. All this week, she hadn’t cried. It came out now, all at once. Each time she tried to stop, to pull herself together, to talk to him, she choked, and the crying started all over again.
She felt a warm breeze, air smelling of iron and embers. Artegal hovered over her, a worried purr sounding deep in his throat.
“So much has happened,” she said, blubbering the words.
“Yes.”
She scrubbed her face. They had to talk, and they didn’t have much time before her mother started worrying.
“They know about us,” she said. “They—the military—got pictures, and they were looking, and I finally just came out and told them because, because…”
“Because of the attack. The fire,” he said calmly. Not that he was ever anything but calm.
“Are you okay?” she said. She realized she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t keep secrets anymore, and she couldn’t be a spy. The only way she could get the information was to come out and ask him what Branigan wanted to know, and then tell Artegal that the military wanted the information.
He didn’t answer right away. Kay’s heart sped up. She wondered if things would ever be the same after all this, if they would ever fly again. Already the few times they’d flown together seemed like a memory from another life.
“Some elders say this was inevitable. That people and dragons could never live together. That war is inevitable.” The words sounded like an avalanche in his throat. “Some want to talk. But they are afraid.”
“I can’t imagine you ever being afraid of us,” she said, looking up at him, as large as a bus, so powerful. “That’s why the military’s doing what it’s doing, because it’s afraid of you. They think they have to do this, before you do.”
Artegal sighed. “I wish dragons had remained in hiding.”
For a fierce, angry moment, so did she. Everything would be normal. She’d be talking with Jon and Tam about prom, college applications, and only one more year ’til graduation, and her father would still be here, and everything would be normal if the dragons hadn’t come back. She wouldn’t miss the flying because she wouldn’t know that she should.
She started crying again.
“You’re angry. At me,” he said. This time, she couldn’t read the curl on his lip, the arc to his brow. She’d been able to read curious, amused, confused, glad. But not this.
“The fire—my dad.” Don’t say the words, something in her cried. Don’t say it, don’t make it true. Find a different way to tell him. “I lost my dad.”
He tilted his head—the confused look. After a long silence, though, he lowered his head nearly to the ground. Almost, she was looking down on him.
“Tragedy?” he said, as if confused, seeking confirmation for the vague way she’d told him.
She hid her face again. He waited for her to collect herself and reemerge.
“It was a warning,” he said. “To show that we are not afraid. The elders did not think your people would be so quick to reply.”
“So you knew about it,” she said. “You knew it was going to happen.” And you didn’t stop it, you didn’t warn me, you didn’t say anything.
“Not before. After. I almost told them about you. To persuade them not to do it again, if I could.”
“Could you? Would they have listened?” The human military finding out about her and Artegal hadn’t stopped the bombings. Branigan was driven; he had plans, or else he wouldn’t have wanted to her to spy.
Artegal didn’t say anything, so she knew the answer was no. “Now it’s too big to stop,” she said.
“And yet, you risked coming here. I hoped you might. I did not think you would.” He tilted his head—glancing up, she realized. He’d been glancing up every minute or so, looking for aircraft or dragons.
She told him, “They want me to spy. They keep bombing, but they don’t know where to go. They don’t know exactly where you live, and they want me to find out. I’m supposed to spy.”
“Surely they’re watching now.”
Scrambling, she stood and looked around, through all the trees, upward to the crisp blue sky. The forest was very quiet. She only heard Artegal breathing, like a whisper of air through the trees.
They could be anywhere. Soldiers hiding in the trees, waiting to strike. They wouldn’t kill him, she quickly thought. They wanted to talk, they wanted contact with them, that was what they’d told her. But they might try to capture him.
And what if they did? Wouldn’t everyone say that she was supposed to want revenge? Shouldn’t she be feeling angry?
Her father used to say that his job wasn’t about catching the bad guys so much as keeping the peace, that he got further by being friends with people than by being a hard-ass, that if the people in his jurisdiction felt like he was their friend, they wouldn’t want to break the law. They wouldn’t want to disappoint him, not because he was the sheriff, but because he was their friend.
Her mind moved quickly, turning over everything her father had said, any advice he may have given her about this. Also, what her mother said, about taking care of herself rather than worrying about the rest of the world. And what the military said, about staying out of jail and doing her duty. But she kept going back to what her father said about keeping the peace.
And she realized that the military wanted to keep her a secret. They hadn’t released the photos or news that Kay and Artegal had flown together because they didn’t want anyone to know that a person and a dragon could work together, could be friends. But if people knew, if they saw—
“What are you thinking?” Artegal watched her. She’d frozen, standing still, staring at nothing as she pondered.
“Can you come back tomorrow?” she asked.
“If I am careful, yes.”
“We need to fly again,” she said.
br /> He snorted. His eyes widened, and he raised his head—a gesture of surprise. “It won’t stay secret.”
“We don’t want it to. We want everyone to see. That means the military can’t keep it secret, either. We want everyone to see it. Your people, my people, everyone.”
He thought for a moment. A back claw scratched a furrow in the earth. “Dangerous for us.”
It was. She couldn’t pretend that it wouldn’t be. She’d get in trouble with her people, he’d get in trouble with his. They may never see each other again. But it seemed worth it, just to show people what they could do.
She felt insane when she grinned and said, “Yeah, but if we don’t, we’ll always wonder if we could have made a difference.”
He made the curl in his lip that meant he was smiling. “For all their long years, dragons are not so daring.”
“Then you think we shouldn’t—”
“I will be here tomorrow. Take care.”
“You too.” He was already backing up, turning his bulk through the trees as he slipped away. She waited until she couldn’t see him before she ran back.
When she reached the clearing where her mother had parked, Kay stopped at the edge of the trees and stared. Her mother was outside the car, leaning on the hood, a strained look in her eyes.
Two more cars—dark sedans with monochrome government plates—had pulled into the space behind her, and a group of men in uniform were milling around. General Branigan was there, leaning on one of the sedans, an echo of her mother. A couple of guys in olive green fatigues carried machine guns and seemed to be patrolling, moving around the fringes of the clearing and looking into the trees.
Artegal was right. They’d followed her. They were keeping track of her.
This was going to be hard. What she should have done was make herself look disappointed. She should have buried all her anticipation, excitement—and fear. She should have trudged back slowly and used the time to think of a story, either that she hadn’t seen Artegal at all or that she had, but she couldn’t convince him to tell her anything. But she hadn’t thought of it, because her mind was racing with a plan. She considered lying to them, telling them that Artegal hadn’t been there, she hadn’t talked to him, and she would have to try again another time. But she didn’t know how far they’d followed her or how much they’d seen and heard. She assumed they’d been too far away to hear, but she couldn’t be sure. If they’d heard the conversation, they’d know they couldn’t trust her.
Kay’s mother straightened, and her face suddenly shone with relief. “Kay?”
Kay met her and let herself be embraced. But she looked over Mom’s shoulder at the military people, who studied her warily.
“Are you okay? Is everything okay?” Mom said.
“It’s fine.”
A moment later, Branigan was standing next to them. “Well?”
Her mother stiffened, frowning with a spark of anger. Kay knew she’d protect her if she could. Kay didn’t need anyone looking out for her; just the same, it made her feel stronger.
“‘Well’ what?” Kay said.
“What happened?” Branigan said, enunciating, clearly frustrated. Good, Kay thought.
After a moment, Kay said, “Nothing.”
“Was it there? Did you talk to it?”
“Yeah.”
“Well?” Branigan demanded again. Kay thought that he probably didn’t have kids.
She shrugged. “It’s going to take time. I can’t come out and ask how many dragons there are and where they live. I have to be sneaky about it, right? That’s what spying’s all about, isn’t it?”
He glared. “I thought you said it was your friend.”
“He, not it,” she said softly. “I just need more time.”
“You don’t have more time!” He was done being the nice, benevolent father-figure, which was okay, because Kay had been done with him a while ago. “I’m not going to sit by and let a kid like you play games when the fate of humanity is at stake.”
Was that at stake? The whole fate of humanity? Branigan was wrong, it didn’t all depend on her, but the general had lost control of the big picture. All he could do now was harass her. Like her mother’s anger, that knowledge made her feel stronger.
“There wouldn’t be a problem if you had just left things the way they were,” Kay said.
“As long as those animals exist, humanity’s in danger,” he said.
So, he was a bigot. That made dealing with him easier.
“Sir,” she said, because it would appease him, “I’ll try again tomorrow. I’m coming back to talk to him then. I’ll try again.”
“You’re not telling it anything, are you?”
“I don’t know anything to tell him.”
Branigan seemed satisfied at that. She thought, What a small-minded man. He thought he knew what she was thinking.
“I look forward to seeing some progress,” the general said. Kay nodded.
Branigan and his soldiers waited until Kay and Mom had climbed in the car and began driving away before following them. They were probably being watched all the time now, which meant she’d have to be very careful when she brought the gear out next time.
After a few minutes, Mom said, “You are hiding something. What aren’t you telling him?”
The general may have been clueless, but not her mother. Kay started to talk, then swallowed and tried again. “Mom, do you think there should be a war? Even after what happened…do you think we should fight them?”
Mom didn’t speak right away. The tires hummed in the silence, trees rolled past the window, and Kay thought her mother wasn’t going to answer. “I don’t know, Kay. They were wrong to go after the town like that. It never should have happened. But then our side was wrong, too. I just don’t know. But a war is going to do a lot of damage and hurt a lot more people. I think that would have upset your father.”
It wasn’t the best answer Kay could have had. It wasn’t a yes or no. This whole situation was muddy gray, and she felt as if she were being selfish, wanting to fly again and trying to justify it.
“I think we can stop it,” Kay said softly. “We want to try.”
“I don’t like it,” Mom said, shaking her head. “I don’t like the idea of you going off by yourself. I don’t like thinking of you with dragons.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I couldn’t.”
Her mother’s eyes were red, like she’d been crying, the way they’d been for the last week, ever since the fire. “I’ll tell you, though. I like Branigan even less.”
“They’re watching us, aren’t they? They’re going to be watching the house. They’ll know every time we leave and wherever we go.”
“That’s what happens when you become interesting to them.” After a few more miles of driving, Mom continued, “They don’t want to hurt you, Kay. I know they’re jerks, and I know you don’t like them, but they’re following you to protect you. Think about it: If we know who your dragon is, then the dragons know who you are. What’s to stop them from coming and taking you? From using you? I don’t want you to go to jail, but at least I’d know where you were. The dragons, they could hold you hostage, they could—” The words stopped, and she covered her mouth.
Kay just couldn’t think of Artegal hurting her.
“What’s to stop Branigan and them from doing the same thing to Artegal? I’d be leading them right to him.”
“But, Kay, the dragons are so big and you’re not.”
Was that what it all came down to? That people were small next to the dragons, and it made them afraid, made them want to destroy the creatures? Or was the problem that dragons were also smart, like people?
Kay couldn’t tell her mother the plan. Her mother would try to stop her, for her own good, and Kay couldn’t let that happen.
After they got home, she called Jon. “Let’s go out,” she told him.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “What about the curfew?
” After the night of the fire, an eight P.M. curfew had been set. It was supposed to keep people safe.
“We’ll just go to the Alpine or something. We’ll be home before then.”
He knew her well enough to catch the urgency in her voice.
“Kay, what’s going on? I’ve been by your house, and there’s cop cars and people watching—”
“I’ll tell you later. Can I meet you at the Alpine at five?”
A pause. Then he said, “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
In the meantime, she had a ton of gear to get together.
19
The Alpine diner was more crowded than Kay thought it would be. Many people had left town entirely, other families were keeping their kids at home, and with the curfew and all the cops out, she wasn’t sure anyone would be around. But it was the usual crowd; Kay recognized most of the faces. It wasn’t like there were that many places to go in Silver River, and everyone was probably stir-crazy from worrying. From hearing the sirens, from watching for dragons, and from wondering when the rest of Silver River would burn.
She felt strange being around so many people after she’d been at home for so long. While it would have been nice to lose herself in the crowd, to be anonymous and not have anyone scrutinizing her, when she entered the diner, a momentary hush fell. Faces turned toward her, stared, and quickly looked away. A few people gave her tight-lipped, pitying smiles.
Scanning the booths, she found Jon when he raised his hand. Ignoring the lingering stares (That’s her, Sheriff Wyatt’s kid—she could almost hear the whispers), she rushed to join Jon, sliding in to the seat and falling against him for a heartfelt hug. He turned his face, searching for a kiss, and she gave him one, quick and fleeting. Like everyone else, he was walking on eggshells around her. He looked concerned.
“Are you okay?” He kept his hand on her arm, holding her.
No, of course she wasn’t, on so many levels. But she couldn’t explain it all right now. She glanced away and blinked to try to keep her eyes from watering. Jon rubbed her shoulder, awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. She wasn’t sure either. Part of her wanted to stay close to him, crying, letting him hold her. But she couldn’t afford to do that right now.