Chapter 29

The familiar scent of Manscape Bodywhiskey transports me back to the university’s lawn. The banshee howl of the wind fills my ears. From overhead a tree branch cracks and thuds to the grass. I spin to face a silhouette.

My breathing is shallow and ragged, my body shuddery as I pull my lips away from the water cascading from the faucet. I’m about to call for help, but I hear a twig snap behind me and to my left. Maybe ten, fifteen feet away. I remember the lead pipe whistling through the air. Never again.

Nonchalantly, I turn off the faucet and remain kneeling. Beneath the scent of body spray is a distinctly male odor of sweat and testosterone. Shoes crunch against gravel, so soft no ordinary human would hear it. He’s no more than five feet away now.

I surge to my feet, twirling to face my assailant. He gasps, eyes widening, pupils dilated. He is tall and cadaverously gaunt. Greasy blond hair covers his crown, and a few stray wisps fall across his brow. His long black trench coat hangs on him like the Grim Reaper’s cloak. He doesn’t hold a scythe or lead pipe—he grips a cleaver.

Leering, he dances forward, slicing the cleaver through the air. His preternatural speed shocks me. My heel catches against the piping for the faucet. I stumble and involuntarily scream but stay on my feet. The blade slashes mere centimeters from my throat.

Dr. Radcliffe shouts, and I hear feet stomping from the trees. In my peripheral vision is the glow of the oncoming dragon. Cadaver man raises the cleaver overhead. Before he can hammer it down, I grab his bony wrist. He snarls and hisses, and his mouth opens wide to reveal brown, chipped teeth. He lunges toward me, his mouth clacking shut short of my nose. A stinking mixture of alcohol and cigarettes from his maw washes over me.

“I can’t fail twice,” he says, spraying spittle that splatters against my face.

He swings his free hand against the side of my head. The blow rings my bell as if I’ve been hit with a sledgehammer. My vision goes red, then black, then clears. I don’t let go of his cleaver arm. Cadaver man swings his cleaver arm up and down with a force that belies his skeletal build. He’s more like a linebacker or silverback gorilla, lifting me bodily off the ground and slamming me back down onto my feet. I almost lose my grip on his wrist, but then the sleeper’s power surges through me like an electrical current. My fingers buzz with unbridled strength, and my hands tighten with bone-crushing intensity.

Cadaver man keens and scrambles backward, pulling me along. Gravel crackles beneath our feet. The cleaver clatters to the dirt. He swings his free hand like a wrecking ball against my forearms, once, then twice. I pull my arms away before the third blow lands. I lose my balance and, arms flapping, thump onto my butt.

Cadaver man spins away and runs into the woods, cradling his injured wrist. I snatch the cleaver and vault to my feet and hurl the blade. The knife spins through the air. My aim is true. It’s about to strike him between the shoulder blades, then he disappears. The blade carves into a tree trunk, quivering.

I scan the surrounding forest, but even with my prosthetics, I can’t see him. All that is left of the cadaver man is the cleaver and a hint of eucalyptus in the air. Panting, I pace back and forth, hyped up on so much adrenaline I want to punch something or scream or…

“What happened?” Dr. Radcliffe asks.

I face him and scream, the sound coming out more like the roar of a dragon. I collapse to the ground and start crying, glad to still be alive and scared half to death by what I just survived and terrified by the knowledge I would’ve ripped cadaver man limb from limb given half a chance.

Dr. Radcliffe kneels beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders and wipes the tears and spittle from my face. Being enveloped by his glowing draconic form makes me feel like the finale of a fireworks display is going off in my head. I clench my eyes shut, which stops the explosions and makes it hard to keep crying for long. I manage to blather my account of what happened.

“I think it’s the same man who attacked me on the university campus,” I say.

“He disappeared?” Dr. Radcliffe asks.

“He ran into the woods. I threw the cleaver at him and…” I shake my head. “He vanished.”

Dr. Radcliffe stands up. “Stay here.”

He walks away, and I open my eyes. He’s beside the tree with the cleaver in it.

“Are we still in danger?” I call. “Should we go back to camp?”

“Tanis is in camp. Your friends are safe,” Dr. Radcliffe says and wrenches the cleaver out of the tree trunk. He examines the oversized knife. “I believe you encountered a magician.”

“Wait a minute,” I say, trying to wrap my mind around what Dr. Radcliffe said. “That guy is a magician? Is he human?”

“From your description, I believe so.”

“You’re telling me humans can use magic?”

“Yes,” Dr. Radcliffe says. “There is a small human magical community. Most, but not all, are beholden to Mark Cassidy.”

“The dude who almost permanently blinded me is a freaking wizard! It never occurred to you that might be something to tell me. What the hell, Dr. Radcliffe?”

“I never suspected the man who attacked you on campus was a magician. But…perhaps, you are right,” Dr. Radcliffe says. “You must forgive me. Forgive all of us. We masquerade as humans, but we are not humans. Our lives are lies, and we do not surrender our secrets easily. It is easy for us to forget that you are not part of our world as much as we are not truly part of yours.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised.” I sigh. “Dragons. Are there any other fairy tale creatures I need to know about?”

“Fairies died out a hundred years ago,” Dr. Radcliffe says seriously. “Habitat loss. Over logging.”

“Some things never change.”

We share a moment of thoughtful silence.

Dr. Radcliffe clears his throat. “The magician must be an agent for Mark Cassidy. Otherwise, he would never dare attack you, not while you are in our care.”

“Unless he didn’t know you’re a dragon,” I say.

“He knew. That is why he ran. That is why he used this.” Dr. Radcliffe hefts, then discards the cleaver.

“I think I broke his wrist. Maybe that’s why he ran,” I say.

Dr. Radcliffe shrugs. “Perhaps. He could have stunned you or killed you with offensive magic, yet he did not. Instead, he enchanted himself with a simple spell granting increased strength and speed. He could have cast that miles away, far outside the range of my magic detection ability. He wanted to remain inconspicuous. He only dared use magic here to escape. We must leave. If Mark Cassidy does not know our location, he will soon.”

****

“Do you have a cell signal?” Dr. Radcliffe asks.

The van sputters along, the engine sounding worse than it did yesterday. The roadway is dark in between the towering trees. Overhead, the moon backlights an ocean of spectral clouds.

“Not yet,” Tanis says. “You need to get back on the highway.”

In the back, I tell my squad about my encounter with the magician. They listen, occasionally yawning and wiping the grit from the corners of their eyes.

“Humans can use magic?” Haji asks.

“I guess so,” I say.

“That is so cool,” he says. “Do you think I can learn?”

I shrug.

“Most human magicians are born into a coven and begin training as children,” Tanis says.

“Bummer. My parents aren’t witches,” Haji says.

“If you saw the magician, you’d think differently.” I shudder. “He was scruffy––”

“I can do scruffy,” Haji says.

“In a cadaverous sort of way,” I add.

“About that magician, it’s too bad you didn’t break his neck,” Dalia says.

“Dalia,” Haji chides. “How can you wish someone dead?”

Dalia scoffs. “Like you’ve never wished anyone dead. He attacked Allison. Twice. He almost killed her the first time. She was in the hospital for weeks.”

I wish I possess more of Dalia’s fierceness, although I suspect wanting someone dead is far different than carrying out the deed. Yet I had thrown the cleaver at cadaver man’s back. If it had struck him, he might’ve died. I’m woozy, and my stomach tightens. Maybe killing isn’t so hard. Perhaps it’s far easier than I ever dared imagine.

“Pull over,” Tanis says. “I have a signal.”

The van swerves onto the shoulder, crunching the loose gravel, then coming to a stop with a squeal of wet brakes.

Tanis dials. “What should I tell her?”

“We are compromised and need to switch vehicles.” Dr. Radcliffe takes out his phone and pulls up a map. “We are heading to Forks for gas, and the humans need food.”

“Thank goodness.” Haji rubs his stomach.

“Ion, we’re compromised,” Tanis says into the phone.

“I’d kill for a cup of coffee,” Dalia whispers, and I nod in agreement.

Tanis relays Dr. Radcliffe’s instructions to Ion. I can hear the officer’s voice shouting from the receiver.

“She’s not happy,” Tanis says.

“Just tell her to meet us at Forks,” Dr. Radcliffe says, glancing at the map on his phone. “We will be there in forty minutes. About 4:20 a.m.”

“No wonder I feel like crap,” Dalia says.

****

Dr. Radcliffe pulls up to the pump at the first gas station he finds in Forks, a community slowly fading into the oceanic fog. Two vehicles are parked in front of the minimart, a sedan with peeling paint and a mud-splattered pickup. Dr. Radcliffe swivels in his seat to face us.

“Go get some food in the minimart,” he says and hands me two crisp twenty-dollar bills.

My squad and I pile out of the back of the van and make a beeline for the minimart. The clerk, half-asleep and bored, glances at us when we enter, then goes back to playing on his phone.

“Bathrooms?” Dalia asks.

“Head to the beer fridge, then hang a left.”

We march to the beer fridge then turn down the hallway, stopping at the one unisex bathroom, which is occupied. The recessed light fixture in the ceiling buzzes. After five minutes, the toilet flushes. Five minutes later, no one has emerged.

“Give me the money. I’ll go buy some munchies,” Haji says, holding out his hand. I slap the twenties onto his palm. “You guys want coffee?”

“You kidding me? The coffee here is going to be horrible,” Dalia says. “Get me a soda. Something diet.”

“Same,” I say.

Haji saunters off.

“Get candy too,” Dalia calls after him.

“Got it.”

The toilet flushes for a second time.

“Thank God,” I say.

“I hope it’s not much longer,” Dalia says and starts squirming. “I’m going to pee my pants any minute.”

The sound of running water comes from the bathroom. Dalia’s squirming has become a tap dance. It’s painful to watch and makes me more aware of my urge to empty my bladder. I start squirming too. A hand dryer starts up.

Ten seconds pass.

“Come on,” Dalia grumbles.

The hand dryer turns off. There is a clank, then the dryer starts again.

“Still waiting?” Haji calls.

He stands by the beer fridge laden with bags of chips and candy in one arm and three diet sodas in the other.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Tanis is coming. I’ll pay and tell her you’re waiting on the bathroom,” Haji says and strides from view.

The hand dryer stops, and after a moment, there is the click of a deadbolt. The hinges squeak as the door opens. I tense, catching a whiff of menthol and eucalyptus beneath the strong stench of human defecation.

“You?” cadaver man whines in the bathroom doorway, still cradling his injured wrist.

I ball a fist and sock him on the jaw. All my half-breed power is surging through me. He crumples under the blow, his head smacking against the off-white tile floor with a juicy slap. Shaking out my aching hand, I stare at him. He doesn’t move.

“He attacked you?” Dalia asks.

“Yeah,” I say.

He’s still not moving, and I’m afraid I’ve killed him. Part of me doesn’t care that he is dead. He’s just a sack of meat and bone, something to feed on. That’s the sleeper. The rest of me is repulsed by the fact he might be dead.

Dalia steps forward and kicks him hard in the ribs. Cadaver man groans and curls into a ball. I let out a puff of air.

“What do we do now?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” I look toward the fridge. “Thank goodness.”

Tanis stands by the fridge, looking at us quizzically. I motion for her to come.

Tanis stares at the cadaverous man. “This is the magician?”

“Definitely,” I say. “What do we do now?”

“We take him with us and question him,” Tanis says.

“They have security cameras,” Dalia points out.

“We have magic,” Tanis says. “Don’t worry. Ion is almost here. She and Frederick know how to deal with security footage.”

“I really need to pee,” Dalia says.

I shrug, still feeling the sleeper’s power. I grab cadaver man and drag him into the hallway. He’s heavier than he looks, but I am more than up to the task.

I glance at Dalia. “You first.”