But he admitted I’d had no way of knowing what Dean had done and that this wasn’t my fault. He was pissed someone else’s cavalry had hogged the limelight, but at least he understood he couldn’t take it out on me. Currently, he was hellbent on figuring out how to keep his network going through any and all types of jammers. I guess that meant we were even.
Vince had really enjoyed getting to use his top speed and asked if he could be my personal taxi for the rest of the year. I politely turned him down; riding a roller coaster with no seat or safety bar across the New York skyline was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Instead, he offered half the usual rate on express parcels and his messenger service. This was far more useful.
Roderick was delighted, too. His descendant had had a change of heart, refurbished the theater, and brought in staff and customers for Roderick to look after. Given the chance to be the power behind the scenes again, he was positively giddy.
“I may be getting on in years, but you’re never too old for the arts!” he’d declared when I stopped by to thank him.
His theater had been beautifully renovated, polished up, and given a sign that proclaimed Byrne’s Family Theater.
“I’m over 200, you know! Yet I’m as fit as a fiddle! My descendant certainly has a great deal to learn about the arts, but…”
He glanced over at Diefenbaker, who was clumsily practicing his juggling.
“That’s life for you, my boy! Welcome to the stage! I salute you!”
Parts of it had turned out well. The rest…not so much.
Lindel sat across from me in my office. I wanted to run for it.
“Hmm.” Technically, he was a projection. The real Lindel was back in the dragon aerie in Iceland. “Oh, dear,” he sighed.
The source of Lindel’s consternation was happily sitting on my head, his wings spread, his belly flat against me, his head raised—a favorite pose.
The joints on his wings boasted small claws, which allowed him to get a firm grip on my hair. His neck and tail were long and supple, tracing graceful arcs. His tiny head had golden horns and a beak like a songbird’s. In the midst of all this glittering gold, platinum, and rainbows were two incredibly deep, black eyes, always looking around with innocent curiosity.
“I’m sorry, Lindel,” I said, feeling like a kid brought before the principal. “Um, I never thought this would happen. I can’t believe the egg actually hatched. And the hatchling, um…saw me as…”
“Oh, that’s fine, don’t worry. I’m well aware you’re not to blame,” Lindel said, rubbing his temples. “If someone like Dean had hatched the egg, it would have been far worse. One reason this type of dragon is so rare, Jack, is that they have a particular quirk.”
He pointed his wand at the top of my head.
“They’re heavily influenced by the source of magic closest to them during incubation and are born with a very strong connection to it. Most of the time the mother dragon would be in that position, of course. And, obviously, dragons are usually untamable by any mage, alchemist, or even faerie. But that hatchling…”
The purring hatchling stared at the tip of Lindel’s staff, his head tilted to one side like he was puzzled.
“As an egg, it spent a long time pressed against your skin, incubated by the magic you give off. That hatchling is now closely linked to you. I’m guessing Dean was hoping to do just that, which would have given him access to incredible magical power. But because he pissed you off, you ended up forming a bond with that dragon first.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, thoroughly cowed.
“So, little one.” Lindel held out his hand to it. “Could I ask that you come stay with me? There are many of your kind here, including your brothers and sisters. Your current home isn’t the safest place for a dragon. I know you don’t want to leave Jack’s side, but I’ll do what I can to help. What do you say? Any interest in a peaceful, quiet life, somewhere safe with others of your kind?”
The hatchling lifted his long neck. Six hatchlings—his siblings—gathered around the projection, sitting with Lindel.
They were each much bigger than this hatchling. Compared to the large-ish, pigeon-sized creature on my head, they were already the size of calves. Their bodies were more bronze than platinum, and the rainbows on their wings less vivid as well. The dragons seemed to recognize their youngest sibling and called out to us like a chorus of low-pitched bells echoing in a distant valley. It brought tears to my eyes.
The hatchling seemed like he wanted to answer their call. He opened his mouth, raised his head, widened his eyes, and took a deep breath.
But no voice emerged. He shut his mouth, blinked, and buried his head in my hair again. His little claws clutched me tight.
“Jakku.”
“Sounds like a no,” Lindel said, lowering the staff with a sigh.
“Lindel, um…”
“This is a first,” he said, shaking his head. “Perhaps I might have found a means of handling this in the information lost during the great war, but… Jack, I have no idea how to wean that hatchling off you or how it would affect him if I tried forcing you two apart.”
“Right.”
“But as the one charged with protecting the dragon aerie, all matters related to dragons are my responsibility.”
“Right.”
“Can I trust you, Jack?”
“Yes?” I said, surprised. “Um, you mean…I can keep him?”
“What choice do we have? Until we figure out a way to wean the hatchling off you without harming it, we have to leave it with you.”
Lindel put both hands on his staff, looking me right in the eyes.
“My desire is that the dragons remain safe and free. It’s been some time since they were safe in the world of man, but I have never once thought of the dragon aerie as the only place they could be happy. What’s important is that the hatchlings live in peace and harmony. If you can treat it right and protect it, then it doesn’t matter where it lives. That’s what I mean when I ask if I can trust you.”
“Of course. Um, I’ll do everything I can, but…it’s a big job.”
“Naturally, I’ll help in any way I can,” Lindel said, giving me an appraising look. “Are you not sure you’re up to it? Or is the responsibility getting to you? Well, perhaps the best plan is for you to move to the dragon aerie and remain trapped here until one of you dies. What do you say?”
A chill ran down my spine. He was smiling, but there was no mirth in those green eyes.
If he genuinely thought that was the best course of action, he would have already taken the hatchling and me without giving either of us a choice. Lindel was the dragons’ protector, their guardian; for all his talk of freedom, he could be incredibly stern, and he expected the same fortitude and responsibility from others. I had no idea how he’d become the aerie guardian, but, as a mage, he instinctively craved freedom. The decision to hole up at the ends of the earth must have taken more struggle and self-doubt than I could ever imagine, but he had persevered through that hardship and passed swift and decisive judgment on anyone who would interfere, be they human or faerie.
“I think I will trust you for now, Jack the Flash.” The Icelandic chill vanished from his tone, and he leaned back against the rock as if exhausted. “I’ll prepare a spell that will allow me to monitor the hatchling’s condition at all times. That way, I’ll know at once if anything occurs. Oh, and we’ll need a plan to deal with anyone unscrupulous who makes a play for him. And a way for the hatchling to escape human attention in such a crowded city.” He let out a long sigh, deflating. “My head hurts just thinking about it.”
“Sorry.”
I felt like that was becoming my sole response to anything. I glanced up at the creature on my head, and he looked back at me. I would love nothing more than to avoid shouldering a burden like this, would love to wash my hands of the whole thing. But once the dragon guardian made up his mind, I knew I couldn’t refuse.
“Are you listening, Jack?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Larry was still griping about the Chinese delivery. I put the rose quartz back on the desk, closed the window, rubbed the hatchling’s warm belly, and sat down in front of the steaming food. The hatchling flapped its wings and began wheeling through the air, waiting for his chance to swipe another sesame seed ball.
“No more!” Larry hugged the box of them to his chest, ready for war.
The hatchling thrashed his tail, annoyed. “Jakku.”
“No fighting, kids,” I said, getting a headache of my own. Was there anything we shouldn’t let dragons eat? Onions? Chocolate? Or was that dogs and cats? Clearly, sesame seeds and mochi seemed to be okay. If there was a problem, we’d hear from Lindel soon enough.
“All right! You can have my annin tofu and some of my egg tarts. But only two! Not three!” I said.
“You oughta give me three, you miser,” Larry sulked, glaring at me. “I’m the one who asked for sesame seed balls!”
“And I’m the one who paid!” I snapped, glaring back.
A silent war raged between us. I lost.
“All right! Three. But the cashew chicken and Sichuan crab are all mine!”
“Yes!” Larry yelled, his chopsticks already moving the food to his plate. The hatchling seized his chance and swooped, grabbing a sesame seed ball before flying away. He landed on my shoulder, nibbling on the ball like a squirrel with a walnut, and eyed Larry’s seafood chow mein.
Larry’s fluffy wolf ears twitched happily. Savoring the sweet and sour sauce on my chicken, I watched him eat his noodles. The hatchling lined up a new target now that he’d had his fill of sesame seed balls.
As I ate, a real feeling of warmth welled up. It was almost a ticklish sensation, like little bubbles rising up and popping inside of me. Larry used his chopsticks to keep the dragon away from his seafood and shot me a strange look.
“What, Jack?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
My family, where I belonged.
Everyone should have a place like that. I was a faerie cast adrift in the human world, unable to ever truly fit into either realm.
But at the very least, right here, in this room, with these two bickering kids, I was at peace. Both of them called my name, fought over scraps, argued over how to split the egg foo young, squabbled over nothing… This was where I belonged. This was my family.
I kept myself going so I could live here with them.
Jack the Flash moves like lightning.
Super cool.
The End