The Dragon Heir

Page 43

Seph put his hand on the firefighter's shoulder and the Commander flinched. “Nothing happened, Commander,” Seph said softly, looking him in the eye. “Her necklace melted from the heat and burned her neck. That's all.”
The commander blinked at him and nodded, slowly. “Right. Well. We'll want to get your names. As witnesses.”
“You won't need that,” Seph said, his hand still on the man's arm. “It'll be fine.”
“Okay,” the commander said.
“Commander!” Another firefighter loped up the alley. “I think we can cancel the third hook and ladder.” He hesitated. “I … I can't explain it, but it looks like the fire is out.”
“What?”
The other man shrugged. “There's still lots of smoke and a few hot spots, but the fire is basically…out.”
The fire was contained within the skin of the building, so they couldn't see for themselves, but the heat seemed to be diminishing rather than growing.
“Come on,” the battalion leader said. “Let's go take a closer look.” He turned back to Ellen and the others. “You three—get out of here. We'll transport the girl to the burn unit at Metro Hospital.”
But Leesha was already fighting off the oxygen and struggling to sit up. “I'm fine,” she hissed. “What are you all making such a fuss about?” She put several firefighters down on their butts and struggled to her feet. “Leave me alone, will you?”
Wizards were resilient, Ellen had to admit. And stubborn.
The paramedic tried to reason with his uncooperative patient. “Uh, miss, you have second and third degree burns that need treatment,” he said.
“They'll be okay. I'll just use a concealer for a while.” She also declined pain medication and a tranquilizer. “I'm leaving with my friends, understand? I'll sign any form you want.” She looked up at Ellen and the rest. “Let's go.”
Despite her bravado, Ellen could tell that Leesha was shaken. She staggered along beside them until Jack and Ellen ignored her protests and each took an arm, supporting her. She kept touching her neck as if to convince herself the torc was gone, then peered over at Seph like he was some newly discovered wonder of the world.
“Why didn't you tell us about the torc?” Ellen asked, catching Leesha for about the fourteenth time when she stumbled.
Leesha's voice was low and raspy, and it sounded like it hurt to speak. “I knew…there was nothing you could do … to take it off.” She took a deep breath, as if she were still short on air. “As long as I was in the sanctuary, he couldn't use it against me. But I knew once you knew about it, I'd be too high risk. You'd kick me out.”
“How did he ever get it on you, anyway?” Ellen asked.
Leesha rolled her eyes. “Don't ask.”
“What did you think was going to happen tonight?” Jack asked. “Why did you agree to meet him outside the sanctuary? He almost killed you.”
“I just hoped somebody would kill him,” Leesha said, brushing her fingertips over the ring of blistered flesh where the tore had been. “Me or you, it didn't matter. I couldn't stand it anymore.”
“Well, the torc is off, but he's still out there somewhere,” Jack said. “Unfortunately, we don't know any more than we did before about what happened to Jason and where the Covenant is.”
Leesha shrugged and stared at the ground, her lower lip trembling. Ellen found herself actually feeling sorry for her.
Seph spoke for the first time. “I don't think you should go back to your aunt's.” He left it at that, but everyone knew what he meant. Barber was still at large and the wall wasn't up yet.
Leesha swallowed, wincing. “But, if I can't stay at Aunt Milh's…”
“We'll ask Nick,” Jack said. “He'll find a place. And somebody should look at your neck, anyway.”
Seph said nothing more. He just strode along, head down, hands thrust into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, lost in his own thoughts. But Ellen had her own questions that needed answering.
“So what'd you do?” she asked Seph as they threaded their way past emergency vehicles on their way back to the car.
“What do you mean?”
“With the fire. Wizard fire is impossible to put out.”
He shrugged slightly, still looking straight ahead.
“How'd you get the torc off?” she persisted.
Still he said nothing. Refused to look at her.
“Seph.”
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and ragged. “I didn't want the whole neighborhood to burn because of us, okay? I didn't want anyone else…anyone to be caught in it.” His voice broke and he swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.
Ellen put her hand on his arm, and almost yanked it away. He was still totally hot with power. “Seph. Look at me.”
Seph finally looked up and met her stare. “What?” he demanded. When she said nothing, Seph added, “Look, there was a fire—in Toronto. A friend of mine died.” His green eyes were unnaturally bright, his pupils pinpricks, his face deathly pale. He looked away.
He's using flame again, Ellen thought, even though he'd promised he wouldn't—except in extraordinary circumstances. She couldn't fault him—he'd put out the fire and saved Leesha's life.
But it seemed those extraordinary circumstances were coming along more and more often.
Chapter Twenty-one Life as Art
Two weeks went by, and Grace and J.R. didn't go riding at the Ropers again. Madison ran into Brice once or twice in town, and he pretended not to see her. She tried to look at the bright side: at least he wasn't trying to romance her any more.
Grace was hopeful of being invited back at first, and then angry, and that kind of petered down to being disappointed—her usual state. Madison took Grace and J.R. fishing at the reservoir. She helped them bake dog biscuits for Hamlet and Ophelia and played long games of Monopoly that slid over from one day to the next. But it was hard to compete with Arabian horses and miles of trails. And Madison hesitated to take them to town for fear she might run into Warren Barber. Was he still hanging around, looking for Jason, or had he climbed back into whatever hole he'd come from?
Jason was surprisingly patient with Grace and J.R. He taught them how to play blackjack and 5-card stud and Texas hold 'em. As he got to feeling better, he went down to Booker Creek with them to look for salamanders and tadpoles. He found an old fish tank in the cellar, set it up, and got the pump working. They populated it with striped shiners, rainbow darters, silverjaw minnows, and ones Madison didn't know that Jason made up names for, like slack-jawed sidewinders and malaclusive bottom feeders.
John Robert thought everything Jason said was hilarious and smart, and even Grace made excuses to go out to the barn to show him something or see if he needed a snack or a book to read.
Jason didn't risk going into town, either, but he walked all over the mountain with Maddie, hauling canvases and easels and supplies and taking photographs with the camera Madison had borrowed from Sara.
Madison knew it was wrong to keep his presence a secret from Carlene, but she was so in the habit of working around her mother that secrecy came naturally to her. She couldn't quite figure out why Jason was still there—whether he hoped he'd eventually convince her to come north, or if he was there as bodyguard or spy.
She'd expect him to be totally antsy, stuck up on the mountain with nothing to do, but he actually seemed content, more relaxed than she'd ever seen him. It was as if he'd managed to set down the armloads of pain he carried around all the time—temporarily, at least.
The Booker Mountain effect at work, no doubt.
Jason was a constant reminder of everything and everyone Madison had left behind in Trinity. She thought of going down into town and calling Seph, just to get the news and hear his voice. But then he'd ask about Jason and she didn't think she could pull it off, lying to him. Besides, she'd moved beyond the razor edge of grief into long-term mourning, and she was afraid any conversation between them would reopen those wounds. So she wrote long letters and sent e-mails and kept Jason's secret.
One afternoon, Madison came in from the barn to find Carlene sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette and tapping the ashes into an empty Pepsi can. Her mother had on her waitress uniform, a shirtwaist dress with CARLENE embroidered over the pocket that looked like one of those retro uniforms, but wasn't.
Madison hadn't said a word about Brice Roper or the shed. What good would it do? It wouldn't turn either one of them into different people, people who agreed on anything. Madison would own Booker Mountain in three months. It would be up to somebody else to make the next move.
Brice had told Carlene some of what had happened at the Ropers—Madison was sure of that. Carlene would sneak rabbity looks at her from the corners of her eyes as if expecting some kind of confrontation. Not that they saw much of each other, what with Carlene's work and sleep schedules and Madison's habit of spending her afternoons secluded in the barn. That kind of kept their encounters to a minimum.
Madison opened the refrigerator, scanning the meager offerings, wondering what to fix for supper.
And then Carlene asked, “Who's that boy you got stashed in the barn?”
Madison yanked her head out of the refrigerator and swung around, banging her elbow. “Ow! What?”
“He your boyfriend?”
“Ah…well, no,” Madison stuttered. “He's just a friend who needed a place to stay.”
“Well, tell your friend he can stay in the house if he wants. There's plenty of room. That's rude, making him stay out there.” Carlene gestured toward the other chair with her cigarette. “Sit down a minute, honey.”
Madison shut the refrigerator, came and sat down at the table. “Okay. I'll tell him, but I think he's leaving pretty soon.” She hesitated. “Please, Mama, don't tell anybody he's here.”