Chapter 16

Dalia breaks out laughing so hard she goes red in the face. “Is this an April Fools? It isn’t April yet.”

My face heats up, and I stare at the table. Dalia’s reaction is just what I feared. She thinks I’m a nut job.

“I don’t think she’s joking, Dalia,” Haji says.

“Dragons? We don’t live in a fantasy world, Haji. I know you want to, but we don’t.”

I look up. Haji is frowning, and Dalia is fighting back giggles.

“I’m serious,” I say in a soft voice.

“You can’t be.” Dalia leans back in her chair and starts chewing on the tip of her right thumb.

“Maybe you should go see Dr. Woolworth,” Haji says. “Is she working today?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I take another sip of coffee. “I’m not going to see her.”

“You need to go see her,” Dalia says. Her voice is strident, and she leans forward to rest her elbows against the table. “You need to tell her that you’re hallucinating. Dragons. That’s crazy.”

“Not dragons,” I say. “A dragon. Only one.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dalia sits up and drops her arms to her sides. “Dragons don’t exist. Seeing dragons is not normal. It’s like my grandma claiming she sees angels. Grandma is schizo.”

“I’m schizo now?” My face grows warmer, and my voice is shrill.

“That’s not what I mean. You need to go see Dr. Woolworth.”

“Maybe we should all calm down,” Haji says. He makes a pushing down motion with his hands.

I look around the café, afraid we’re creating a scene. People might hear us. Decide that I’m a schizophrenic nut. Thank God. No one is paying attention to us.

“Nobody is saying anyone is crazy,” Haji continues. “We’re just concerned. I have a feeling there is more to this tale. Maybe, Allison, you can share the rest with us?”

Dalia crosses her arms in front of her chest. She nods. “Okay. This is a judgment-free zone. Let’s hear the whole story.”

I take a gulp of coffee, followed by a deep breath. I’m on the edge of a yowling chasm of madness. Either my friends can pull me back, or they can let me fall. I stare into my nearly empty cup as I speak, admiring the air bubbles floating on top of the black brew. I tell them everything, from seeing Dr. Radcliffe and his draconic companion in the library to emailing and then unsuccessfully stalking the professor and finally his response to meet tonight at the Chapel Library.

The tale told, a weight is lifted from my shoulders, the vise crushing me in its iron grip loosened. I look up at my friends, a ghost of a smile on my lips. Dalia and Haji stare at me. My BFF’s mouth hangs open, and her eyes are scrunched up in a puzzled squint. Haji, his usually smooth forehead furrowed, leans back in his chair.

“Have you talked to anyone else about this?” Dalia asks. “Like your dad?”

I sink in my chair like a lead balloon. I shake my head.

“Maybe you should. Talk to your dad,” Dalia says and glances at Haji as if searching for support.

“I’m sure Mr. Lee will want to know about this, Allison,” Haji says.

“It’s not normal to see dragons,” Dalia says.

“You don’t think I know that.”

I don’t remember the last time I felt so judged by my supposed best friends. Telling them was a mistake. Beneath the tabletop my hands form into fists.

“Allison, we’re just trying to help,” Dalia says.

“You said, I’m schizo.”

“I did not. Allison…”

I stand up and finish the lukewarm coffee in one enormous gulp and slam the mug against the table.

“Allison, don’t leave,” Haji says. “I believe you. What do you want us to do?”

I glare at Dalia. “She doesn’t believe me.”

“I didn’t mean you’re crazy.” Dalia’s eyes are moist. “Maybe…maybe it’s the prosthetics or having been hit on the head. I don’t know. The point is you need help.”

Tears stream down Dalia’s cheeks. She wipes at the moisture with her hands. I chew on my lower lip. I hate seeing my friend cry. She only has my best interest in mind. Perhaps, I owe her and Haji a second chance.

“Maybe I hallucinated the dragon, but Dr. Radcliffe still wants to meet,” I whisper and sit down. “I don’t want to meet him alone. Will you guys come with me?”

“Of course,” Haji says. “I want to see this dragon.”

Dalia shoots him a withering look.

“Not so loud, Haji.” I glance around the café. “I don’t want people thinking I’m crazy.”

Dalia sighs. “I’ll come. Who knows what kind of weirdo Dr. Radcliffe is? Just promise me, when we don’t see a dragon, you’ll seek help. You’ll tell your dad or Dr. Woolworth or someone.”

I nod and make the promise, although I fear that I will see the dragon, and they won’t.

“When does he want to meet?” Haji asks.

“Ten p.m.”

“Creepy. The library will be long closed by then,” Dalia says.

I nod and begin telling them my half-baked plan.

****

The wind picked up in the late afternoon, blowing away the rain clouds. So as Dalia, Haji, and I cluster in the shadows cast by a building on the outskirts of the university quad, a bright quarter moon and stars fill the night sky. There is a chill in the air that makes me shiver and huddle closer to my friends. We fidget to help stay warm. Not that it works.

We’ve been standing here for nearly an hour, since nine p.m., hoping to spot Dr. Radcliffe entering the library. No such luck. All we’ve managed to do is freeze our asses off, and I mean that quite literally.

“It’s almost time,” I say. “Phones charged? Cell signals.”

My friends pull their hands out of their pockets. Dalia takes off a glove so she can manipulate her phone. They both give me an affirmative. I sling my shoulder pack around to my chest and take out my camera. Battery is good. SD cards are in place and formatted. I pop off the lens cap and stuff it into a pocket. Finally, I spin the ISO up to 3200. If I get a chance to take a picture of the dragon, I want the image sharp. I slip the camera back inside the shoulder pack and zip it shut. I keep the pack positioned across my chest for easy access.

“It’s time. Everyone ready?”

My squad nods and wishes me good luck. I start off across the square, but Dalia heads me off and throws her arms around me.

“Be careful,” she whispers. “This guy is a weirdo.”

“I will be,” I say and return her embrace.

We release each other, and I continue across the slushy bricks. In places, compact snow and ice make me slide like an ice-skating elephant, but I manage to stay on my feet. I mount the stairs to the library, being extra careful not to slip. I glance to my left and right along the columns that form the façade before the entrance. It is an excellent location for an ambush.

I look overhead, scanning the gloomy surroundings. In a corner, I spot a camera. I bite my lower lip, wondering if I’m being recorded. We all know and discussed the risks. If we’re caught trespassing or whatever, at least we’re underage. I reach my hand for the door and grasp the cold metal handle. I pull, half expecting to find the door locked. It slides open with a loud squeal that sets my pulse racing. I pause in the doorway, taking a deep breath to help calm my nerves. Despite the warm air rushing out, I’m as chilled as a shrimp on ice.

I enter and pull the door shut behind me that closes with a loud click. My friends will follow after one minute now that I’m inside in case the entrance is being watched. I start to count down from sixty. I won’t enter the reading room until I reach zero.

I look around the interior of the library. The entrance hall is dark, only illuminated by the faint light of the moon streaming in from high windows and the green glow of an exit sign. To my right are the dark stacks. To the left across a marble floor is the doorway to the cathedral-like reading room.

I tread toward the reading room.

“Ten,” I whisper.

I stop about fifteen feet from the doorway, staring into the interior. On the far side of the room are rustic shelving and colorful books. Without my prosthetics, I’d probably have to strain to see them. With my prosthetics, the reading room appears more of a twilight than nearly pitch black.

“Nine.”

I take a handful of steps, coming within ten feet of the entrance.

“Eight.”

My mouth is dry.

“Seven.”

My heart thunders in my chest so hard I imagine it makes audible thuds.

“Six.”

I stride forward and stop just outside the high vaulted chamber.

“Five. Four.”

I step into the doorway.

“Three.”

My hands are clammy. I look around the room, my view cut off by the doorframe. I swear I see a faint golden glimmer on the floor. I gasp and blink, and the light is gone.

“Two.”

My breathing is fast like I just ran up a flight of stairs.

“One.”

Biting my lower lip, I cross the threshold into the room. To my left, I see the glittering scales of a gargantuan golden dragon with its leathery green wings pressed tight against its sides. The beast shimmers and fades in and out of existence. One second the serpentine neck looms overhead to nearly touch the vaulted ceiling and in the next second fades away. The same is true for the rest of the serpent’s body.

There is a click, and a desk lamp flares to life. I breathe in sharply and hop in place. Sitting in a chair at the table, bathed in the lamplight, is Dr. Radcliffe. His elbows are propped up on the table, and his hands are steepled.

“Ah, Allison Lee,” Dr. Radcliffe says and checks a golden wristwatch. “You, young lady, have an impeccable sense of time, so unlike most of your generation.”

I gulp, only barely registering what he just said to me. I gawp at his draconic companion.

“Well, Allison, you want to talk to me. Here I am.”

“Why…why is there a translucent dragon looming over you?” I stutter and fumble with my sling bag’s zipper.

“Hmmm,” he says and, placing his fingertips against the table, stands. “A fascinating question. Do I take that to mean that you do not know what I am?”

“How would I know what you are?”

I get hold of the zipper and start opening the bag. Dr. Radcliffe, lips forming a hard, grim line, marches around from behind the table and approaches me. The dragon that almost seems to project from him follows, a forefoot that should crush the table passing through the wood as though insubstantial.

My hand wraps around the barrel of my camera lens. I hear a door slam from outside in the atrium. Good. My friends have arrived. Even if I can’t get a shot off, they will. Dr. Radcliffe stops in front of me and places a hand that feels very human against my hand that holds the camera lens.

“Now, now, Allison. I think it is best if you come with me, my dear. Your friends in the hall. They will come also.” He sniffs me, like a predator scenting prey. “Odd. I do not recognize your scent.”

“You’re sniffing me? You sicko! I’m not going anywhere with you.”

I pull away, but he clenches my wrist. His grip is shockingly strong for a spindly old man.

“Let go of me!” I scream and thrash.

“Please, please, my dear. It would be a shame to break your camera. Ah, your friends.”

“Let go of her,” Dalia says.

I look over my shoulder. Dalia rushes across the room toward us with her gaze fixed on me. In the doorway, Haji takes images with his phone. I realize by where they focus their attention that they don’t see the dragon.

“Run,” I yell. “Run. Call the police. It’s the dragon.”

“Dragon?” Dalia says. “It’s just that creepy old prof. Let go of her, you freak!”

Dr. Radcliffe tuts like a scolding schoolmarm. “Calm down, children. I will hurt you if I must. Do not bother making phone calls. Cell signals are so easy to block.”

Another voice, one I don’t recognize, rings through the chamber. “No one move. You’re all trespassing.”

Dalia stops midstride and spins toward the voice. Standing inside the doorway behind Haji is a woman wearing a police uniform. He faces the officer and retreats from her. A shimmering silver dragon, half inside the room and half-hidden in the wall, looms above the police officer.

Dr. Radcliffe releases my wrist. “As I said, my dear, you and your friends are coming.”