The Seventh Door

  Lauren regripped Roxil’s spine and shouted, “Do you need to stop and rest?”

  “Not yet, but soon.” A gust knocked Roxil to the side, but she quickly adjusted. “My weariness might be affecting my judgment, but I am beginning to wonder if the blogger’s report might be inaccurate. Perhaps she was frightened by the sight of the mugger.”

  “Maybe so.” Lauren brushed water from her eyes and continued scanning the ground. The cocoon did sound kind of crazy, but they had to follow the lead. Besides this one, sightings of a winged woman had dried up.

  After a few more moments of dips and swerves, Roxil called out, “I think I see something white, or perhaps off-white.”

  “Does it look like a church?”

  “A steeple is evident, as is a parking lot. Since it is nearly filled with vehicles, perhaps a service is under way.”

  “Let’s land and take a look.” Water spewed from Lauren’s lips as she spoke. “At least we’ll get out of this storm for a while.”

  Roxil shouted, “Hang on!”

  Lauren wrapped both arms around the spine. Roxil bent her wings and angled into a dive. As needlelike droplets stung Lauren’s cheeks, she squinted to protect her eyes.

  After a few seconds, Roxil leveled out and skidded on a grassy area between a parking lot and what appeared to be a grayish-white cocoon with a protruding porch and steeple.

  The moment they came to a stop, Lauren slid down Roxil’s wet flank and ran toward the porch, water dripping from her hair and hands. When she reached shelter, her feet slipped on stone tiles. Still on her feet, she slid through the edge of the cocoon, slammed her hands into a door, and fell to her bottom.

  Lauren rubbed her wrist—sore but probably not sprained. At eye level, a phone with a pink-and-purple cover swung from a fibrous rope attached to the doorknob. She grabbed the phone and stretched the rope until it broke. “Now this is strange.”

  Roxil pushed as far as she could under the porch and shook her wings. Water scattered everywhere. “What did you find?”

  Lauren showed her the phone. “It was hanging from the knob.”

  “Are you proficient at searching the device for messages?”

  “Most likely, but I might not have time. I banged the door pretty hard. Someone’s bound to come and check it out.”

  “I hear nothing from within the church,” Roxil said, “so it seems that your noisy arrival went unheeded.”

  “Then I can probably take a minute.” Lauren unlocked the screen. The app icons appeared. One flashed to indicate a new message. She brought the message up and read it out loud. “This church is address number one. Check the address book and follow us. We are supposed to go to each place but not sure of the schedule. Maybe one each morning. Bonnie, Matt, and Darcy.”

  Lauren leaned her head against the door and whispered, “Thank you, God.”

  “Clearly the Maker is guiding our way,” Roxil said.

  “There’s no other explanation.” Lauren thumbed through the contact list. “Any idea who Darcy is?”

  “I am not familiar with that name.”

  “And I don’t recognize any of the names on this list.”

  “Perhaps this is a borrowed phone,” Roxil said. “It would not have familiar entries.”

  “But Matt or Mom could have entered their number. I could just call them.”

  “We can only speculate. We do not even know if they have their own phone.”

  “True. I jumped to conclusions.” Lauren eyed the signal meter. Nothing. “We can’t call anyway. There’s no signal.” She switched to the address list. “If the list is in order, their next destination is a town called Mobley. If we fly straight to it instead of following the roads, maybe we can catch up.”

  “Does the message indicate a time it was written?”

  Lauren flipped back to the note and nodded. “About a half hour ago.”

  “And what direction is the address?”

  “Can’t tell. The GPS won’t work without a signal, so we’ll have to ask Lois.” She touched her jaw. “Lois, have you been listening? Can you tell us where Mobley is in relation to where we are now?”

  “I have been listening.” Low static buzzed through her reply. “I have not been able to get the GPS function in either of your transmitters to work, so I have to base my estimations on your latest reports of roads in your area.”

  “Sure. That should be close enough.”

  “The town of Mobley is nearly due east, approximately two hundred ten miles by the route most likely taken by Matt.”

  Lauren winced. “Roxil, did you hear that?”

  “I heard.” Her wings wilted.

  “Lois,” Lauren said, “what about a direct flight?”

  “Two hundred three miles, give or take a mile depending on how closely you follow the line.”

  Roxil settled to her belly. “I am already nearly exhausted. I could not fly three more miles, much less two hundred, especially in this storm.”

  “It’s already pretty late,” Lauren said. “Maybe they’ll stop somewhere for the night.”

  Smoke rose from Roxil’s nostrils. “If they are ahead of the storm, they will probably drive as far as they can. With multiple drivers available, tiredness will not be a factor.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Rest.” Roxil touched the church door with a wing tip. “After I dry you off, you could go inside and see if anyone is there. Perhaps they will provide a place to sleep. I will be fine under this roof. Just call if you need help. When I am rested, I will awaken you.”

  Lauren nodded. “That sounds good.”

  “Stand, spread out your limbs, and close your eyes.”

  Lauren peeled her wet shirt away from her skin and spread her arms. A jet of warmth blew across her body, shifting from head to chest to legs, then from hand to hand. After Roxil inhaled and repeated the process several times, Lauren ran her fingers along her warm, dry clothes. “Thank you. That felt wonderful.”

  Roxil dipped her head. “You are welcome. Now go inside before you become wet and cold again.”

  “And I’ll see if they have a food pantry for the needy. I’m sure we qualify.”

  Roxil settled to her belly. “If not, I will try to find a stream and capture fish for roasting, but not until morning.”

  “Fish for breakfast would be great.” Lauren set her hand on the knob. What might be inside a church-like structure that had been wrapped in a giant cocoon? Her back scales tingled. No wonder. This felt like stepping into a bizarre nightmare.

  She opened the door. A foul stench drifted by, something rotten blended with mildew. Darkness shrouded the massive room, and with the storm allowing only a dim glow through a window on each side, the sanctuary’s pews appeared as shadows aligned in rows that faded into darkness toward the front.

  Since her scales had activated, her own glow had probably turned on as well. Standing in the dimness, she would look like a beacon, an easy target.

  She found a wall switch and flipped it up. Lights flickered, illuminating a huge hole near the apex of the domed ceiling. Raindrops fell through, though not as heavily as outside. Maybe cocoon fibers sheltered the opening.

  A bulb popped, then another, then dozens more. Glass rained over the pews, and the chamber fell dark. She shuddered. Her uncontrollable ability to interfere with electrical equipment had probably disrupted the circuits.

  Trying to ignore the stench, she left the door open and tiptoed along the carpeted floor to the back pews, one on each side. Someone sat in the aisle seat to the right, motionless and quiet. A homeless person who found refuge from the storm? Maybe.

  Lauren leaned close and touched the person’s shoulder. “Excuse me. Are you awake?”

  The person stayed silent. As Lauren’s eyes adjusted, the form took shape. A skull protruded from a suit coat’s collar, and bony hands extended beyond the sleeves.

  Lauren gasped. She staggered backwards and
propped herself on the pew across the aisle. She grasped an armrest, but a skeletal hand was already there. She jumped away and called, stretching out her words, “Roxil, there are dead people in here.”

  Roxil’s head and long neck appeared through the door. She spewed a low flame from both nostrils and lit up the sanctuary. A few hundred skeletons wearing suits and dresses occupied the seats. They all faced the front, their ivory-white jaws hanging open and their vacant sockets staring.

  When Roxil’s flame fizzled, she blinked her fiery eyes. “Obviously these skeletons will not endanger you, but whatever force caused their deaths might still be lurking. You should rest under the porch roof with me.”

  “No argument here.” Lauren exited with Roxil and closed the door, and the two settled on the portico’s concrete floor, Lauren with her back against Roxil’s flank. Rain pounded the roof. Wind howled and tossed a cool spray over Lauren’s body. She crossed her arms and shivered. “It’s getting colder.”

  “Indeed.” Roxil covered her with a wing. “Try to sleep. I will contact Lois so she can relay our news. Perhaps she has heard from Ashley and company by now. When the storm subsides, we will search for food together.”

  “That’s perfect.” Lauren closed her eyes and rested her head on Roxil’s scales. Although tough and slick, they were warmer than expected. A whirr deep inside the dragon’s body sounded like an electric fan with a blade tapping the frame. It resurrected memories of summer nights in Nashville, nights too early in the season to run the air conditioner but too warm to sleep without a fan. The fan would oscillate, first sending a cooling stream along her body that rippled across her thin nightgown, then angling away to tease her until the next arc through the cycle.

  She sighed. Those were good days, days when the only worries were school tests, volleyball drills, clothing choices, and girly gossip. Back then those worries felt like steep hills, but they were just bumps in the road, nothing compared to the unscalable mountains of recent days.

  But why would a girl her age have to climb these impossible peaks? There were plenty of strong men who would gladly step up and try to save the world. It didn’t make sense to send a high school volleyball player to do a trained soldier’s job.

  She submerged herself in her imagination. If only she could go back to those simple times. After a good-night kiss on the forehead from her foster mother, the soothing fan could blow the cares of the day into oblivion. They really didn’t matter. Morning would come, and all would be well. Her adoptive mother and father would be alive, breakfast on the table—oatmeal with cinnamon and raisins. They would eat, share news, laugh—a normal day, back when normal didn’t include constantly racing against time to defeat a scheming devil.

  “Roxil?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you ever have easy times, I mean, before all this crazy stuff broke loose?”

  Silence ensued. Even the inner rumble quieted. Finally, Roxil shifted her body, and the gentle fan blades restarted. “A very long time ago. Goliath and I became mates, and for some years we lived together in peace and contentment. I gave birth to Clefspeare, who later became your grandfather in his human form.”

  “So you’re my great-grandmother,” Lauren said.

  “On the dragon side of the genealogy, yes.”

  “Interesting.” Lauren gave Roxil a nod. “Sorry. Please go on.”

  “Very well.” Roxil took in a breath. “While Clefspeare was a youngling dragon, we lived in bliss. We played flying games, staged mock battles, and went on long journeys to hunt big game. He proved to be the most proficient hunter and warrior any of us had ever seen. I was as proud as I could be.”

  She exhaled loudly. “I had no inkling that Goliath would turn on me and allow the slayers to kill me. Bitterness poisoned my soul, and I became a tyrant queen in the dragon afterlife. I persecuted those who resembled the white-haired underborn who was prophesied to destroy my little kingdom, but that is a long story.

  “Although I obtained the blessing of resurrection and returned to sanity, nothing has been the same. Even after Elam appointed me as an ambassador between Earth and Second Eden, tension persisted at a high level. I could tell that most humans disdained dragons and the mere existence of Second Eden. The tenuous alliance crumbled, and I am sure you know the rest. Trouble and turmoil have been my constant companions, and a return to those days of bliss seems like an impossible dream.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” Lauren ran a finger along the mainstay of Roxil’s wing. “If you could bring back one part of those blissful days, what would it be?”

  A soft laugh shook her body. “It is funny that you should ask, because while you were quiet, I was pretending that one precious gift had been restored to me. I felt the happiness with such realism, it restarted my contentment flutter.”

  “I heard that. Is it like a cat purring?”

  “It is similar. It rather surprised me. That purring, as you call it, had been silent for centuries.”

  “What awakened it? What were you pretending?”

  Roxil patted her head with her other wing. “That you were my little Clefspeare sleeping at my side.”

  Tears welled in Lauren’s eyes. “That’s . . . that’s really nice, Roxil. I’m glad I could bring back the memory for you.”

  “And I am thankful for your precious gift.”

  Lauren pulled on Roxil’s wing and covered more of her body. After a few moments, the contentment flutter strengthened.

  “Lauren,” Roxil said, a hum in her voice. “I wish to ask you the same question. What part of your past days would you restore?”

  “That’s fair. Let me think.” Lauren blew a puff of white vapor. With cool air settling in and with Roxil’s gentle flutter, the soothing fan from those warmer evenings didn’t seem important enough to serve as her wish. No, not tonight. Yet one part of those blissful days was still missing, that tender kiss good night, a seal of love, a promise of protection. The beloved comforter who delivered that kiss would never forsake her, would carry her over the impossible peaks, would never let her fall. At least that was the kiss’s message, and she believed it. Never doubted it.

  Yet mentioning the kiss would likely cause Roxil to want to deliver one, and it wouldn’t be the same. Yes, she would provide protection, but dragon lips couldn’t communicate intimate touch or provide a vulnerable connection. Their scaly faces were incapable, no matter the sincerity of their love and compassion. Still, Roxil asked. It wouldn’t be right to withhold the answer.

  “What I really miss,” Lauren said, “is my adoptive mother’s kiss good night. I can still feel her brushing my hair back and her tender lips touching my forehead. Every time she did that, I knew I was loved. She would say good night and I would say, ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’ For some reason, my words were a promise, and they comforted me. I knew I would survive the night no matter the nightmares. I knew the sun would rise and I would awaken to a new dawn. The promise was like a shield, an oath spoken by a guardian angel. I could go to sleep without fear.”

  Again silence ensued, though Roxil’s flutter continued. After another moment, Roxil shifted her wing and covered Lauren up to her chin. “You have your mother’s gift of eloquence.” She then heaved a sigh. “I will be your shield tonight, but I cannot deliver the kiss. It would not generate the feeling you remember.”

  Lauren nodded. “That’s okay. I was thinking the same thing. And thank you for being my shield.”

  “Yet I will give you what I can. It is a dragon’s equivalent.” Roxil breathed across Lauren’s face. The warm air caressed her cheeks and brushed through her hair.

  Lauren closed her eyes and imagined her mother’s fingers pushing back her childhood bangs again and again, the warmth of her breath when her lips drew near, the whirr of the fan blades. Yes, this would do just fine.

  “Good night, Roxil.”

  “Good night, dear girl.”

  After taking a deep breath, La
uren whispered, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  * * *

  Tamiel sat on the church’s stage, his stare fixed on the entry door, a nearly invisible passage in the dimness. Lauren had just rushed outside to escape the morbid collection of skeletons, an amusing sight and perfectly orchestrated. Now she would stay out there with the mother of Clefspeare and not disturb this peaceful sanctuary. Fortunately, the hole in the ceiling and the exploding bulbs had kept her from noticing who sat on the stage, a benefit for her. Making eye contact with Arramos would probably have resulted in her death by dragon fire.

  Within arm’s reach, Arramos perched on his haunches. A scowl on his face, his head swayed at the end of his draconic neck. “The Listener is gone, but will she be able to hear us?”

  “It is unlikely,” Tamiel said. “The storm will overwhelm her senses and drown out any sounds we make in here.”

  “Then you may proceed.”

  “Very well.” Tamiel waved a hand toward the ceiling. “Vacule, begin the procession.”

  The huge spider descended by a silk string and landed on the first skeleton Lauren had touched at the back row. With his legs wrapped around the skeleton’s neck, Vacule sank his fangs into its skull. Seconds later, a reddish light began pulsing at its chest, barely visible through its clothes.

  When Vacule skittered over to the next skeleton, the first rose and walked slowly toward the stage on wobbly legs. As it proceeded, it stripped off its suit coat and shirt, revealing a throbbing heart behind its ribcage. The second skeleton followed and a third. Soon, a line of skeletons, both male and female, paraded toward the front, all removing shirts and blouses to expose ivory bones surrounding a beating heart. Pants and skirts dropped from their scant waists, along with shoes from their bony feet, and made a trail of clothing that the marching skeletons tromped over.

  The first skeleton stopped in front of the stage. It reached under its ribs and pulled its heart out. Cradling the still-pulsing heart in both hands, it extended its bony arms toward Arramos as if presenting an offering.