A Shade of Dragon Read online

  Chapter 8: Nell

  The cave seemed like something from another life. I remembered it as terrifying and frigid. Now that the water had receded, it was cluttered with rocks but otherwise harmless.

  “Allow me,” Theon requested, stretching out his hand for me to take. I hesitated, but accepted, and he led me through the stalagmites until we were safely deposited back on the beach. It was no longer snowing. I expected Theon to lead me to the dark house crowded up against the cliffside, but he ignored it and advanced along the beach. I tried not to be offended. After all, I had made it clear to him that I needed to get home. That my family would be worried.

  “Do you live in one of these houses?” he asked me.

  “The one at the very end of the strip,” I answered. “Hey. Theon?”

  We paused and he turned to face me. “Yes?”

  I swallowed. “Thank you,” I whispered. “You saved my life.”

  “Don’t say your goodbyes.” Theon chucked his index finger lightly beneath my chin. “It’s not over yet.”

  I sucked in a breath and smiled uncertainly up at him. We began walking again. “Oh? Can’t get my number… My phone is somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean right now.”

  “I’ll come to you when you’re ready,” he assured me.

  At this, my lip quirked. I had to admit, as strange as Theon was, he had an offbeat charm I couldn’t deny. He was no Andrew Hardy, who never said anything surprising… or moving. “Where did you say you were from?”

  Theon smiled. “You wouldn’t believe me.” There was a hint of melancholy to his tone. “Will you be visiting Maine long?” He said the word ‘Maine’ like it was some unknown object for him to shift back and forth in his hands, examining it before a purchase.

  “I’ll be here for about ten days,” I said. “I’m staying through Christmas and New Year’s.” We were getting closer to the beach house. I felt a tug in my chest. I didn’t want to say goodnight quite yet. There was something so otherworldly about him… and I knew he’d disappear as soon as the front door shut behind me. “It makes me sad to think that you would spend Christmas all by yourself,” I volunteered.

  At this, Theon hesitated. The night breeze fretted his dark curls, but I didn’t feel the cold. I felt warmed from the inside somehow. “Will you wear my pendant?” He lifted his hand into the air and a chain dangled from his fingers. A sliver of crystal, no larger than his thumb, twisted and spun in mid-air. The moonlight sparked off its surface.

  “I…” I was at a complete loss for words. No boy—or man—had ever insisted that I wear anything of his. “I guess it would be all right.”

  He looped his arms around my neck and laid the pendant down across my sternum; he swept my hair out from beneath its chain and clasped it at the nape of my neck. My cheeks flamed again. “This is a special stone,” he explained. He took a step back, but plucked the shard of crystal off my chest and held it gently between us. “It’s a shard from a very old, and very magical, mirror. The mirror belonged to my father before it belonged to me. And—when I have an heir—it will belong to him.”

  An heir? That’s such a weird way to think of children. “How is it ‘magic’?” I asked him doubtfully.

  “When you find yourself in need of me, you may use your body to ignite its surface and see me reflected there. I will warn you that it doesn’t always function properly. I will also warn you that I, too, will be able to see through the shard.”

  “You’ll be able to see me?” This was a little ridiculous. But it was cute. “All right, Theon; sure.” I grinned and rolled my eyes, turning from him to begin our trek toward the beach house again. It wasn’t far now; we passed the home of the pregnant couple. Their lights were out now. “It’s a very pretty necklace. I’d be honored to wear it.”

  “You don’t believe me. Why?”

  “It just seems a bit fantastical, that’s all.” I hesitated, realizing that such fantastical devices already existed. “I suppose I’d have found it more palatable if you had described the pendant as possessing two-way video technology, instead of ‘very magical.’” I plucked the crystal shard from my chest and examined it more closely. It appeared to be nothing but a flat, opaque shard of crystal. I couldn’t see anything in it. Frowning, I swiped my finger across the surface of the pendant—just in case. The device didn’t chirp or flicker, and I grimaced. Feeling stupid, I dropped the necklace into my sweater and shrugged. “You kind of remind me of those guys. The ones with the ‘canned routines’ and ‘peacocking’ and blah, blah, blah.”

  The beach house loomed uncomfortably close now. There were two windows alight: the den, and a bedroom.

  “Who are these men of which you speak?” Theon wondered.

  I almost giggled. His perfect grammar was riveting. Real people never spoke correctly. “Pick-up artists. They’re usually shy guys—or guys who aren’t very good-looking—and they invent strong, creative personas and even prepackaged stories in order to seduce beautiful women.” We began to ascend the wooden staircase which led to the beach house stoop. “There are a lot of ‘teachers’ out there who have different methods—”

  Theon jerked and glared at me. “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t say I supported it!” I said quickly, my words forming misty plumes. I was starting to feel the cold again and wound my arms around myself. “It’s just something that some men do in order to meet women.” I didn’t make eye contact with him as we plodded up the stairs. “And you… with that vest… and the cave, with the fire… the massage… and the necklace… the way you talk…” I shook my head. “But it doesn’t make any sense. You’re hot enough to not need any training wheels.” We crested the landing and climbed onto the porch.

  “I do exude heat, but I don’t see what that has to do with locomotion.”

  I whirled on Theon and pointed my finger. “Aha! Like that! That’s a perfect example. It’s just the kind of thing real guys don’t say.”

  Theon enveloped my finger in his large palm. I froze immediately. “I guess it works, though,” I whispered.

  He slid his rough thumb into my fist and spread my fingers apart, forming an open palm. I gaped at him, strands of my hair fluttering into my mouth. He stretched my arm forward and laid my hand flat across his chest, his own hand spread on top of mine; I could feel his heartbeat. It was like a steady fist punching lightly at the interior of his ribcage. I’d never felt a pulse more clearly or strongly.

  My eyes widened as he took his other hand and wove it through my hair, removing the errant strands from my face. Oh, my God. He’s going to kiss me. He’s really going to kiss me.

  “May I look into your eyes?” Theon whispered.

  The hand in my hair migrated down along my cheek and tilted my face up toward his.

  “Okay,” I whispered uncertainly.

  For a moment, his eyes shimmered in the moonlight. With my hand still planted on his steadily beating heart, he leaned closer, and closer, and closer. My mouth gaped open and I took a dizzy breath.

  Chapter 9: Nell

  Theon’s eyes grew and brightened; I couldn’t look away from them. He didn’t lower himself to my waiting lips. He was just leaning into me, only inches away from me. My heart hammered in my chest and my mouth went dry.

  I don’t want you to come any closer because I’m afraid of what might happen if I ever fall in love. I watched my parents destroy each other for years and I don’t want to do that to anyone else. And I don’t want it to happen to me, either. Just stay away. People are fine when they’re alone. They’re better that way.

  A twinge of pain sang through my chest as his eyes grew even bigger and penetrated even deeper into mine. The layers of defense were forced away.

  I care very much about doing the right thing. I want to try my best, though it has made me few friends in life. I believe in the goodness of people, even though I get disappointed so, so often—and I’ve been forced to build these walls to protect myself. I want to make a difference more than I want
to be happy. I pride myself on my self-control. Even though I really want to kiss you right now… you also terrify me, and I don’t know if I can handle it. People have always been so predictable. It made me feel secure—and bored. But you…

  I felt another twinge as his eyes plunged deeper still—deeper than I had realized that I could go.

  You make me believe in the goodness of people again. And if I’m wrong about all the things I’ve told myself a million times—then maybe I’m wrong about everything. If you’re for real, then my whole world is upside down. But if I open up these walls and I get burnt, I’ll have to rebuild them twice as thick. And I’m afraid of being that person, too.

  One final twinge. His eyes increased in size until I’d tumbled into the black pupils and seen nothing but the abyss reflected therein: my abyss. There were no words in this place; there was only an image, a dream.

  It was me, and it was not me. This woman was older than I was, and she had thick, wild black hair lifted by some phantom wind. She was taller than I, and held herself with a noticeable confidence: shoulders squared, chin up, eyes even. Although she was slender, like I was, her body still wasn’t quite the same. Her cheeks were pink, and her tan skin bore a smattering of freckles, as well as scars. Her face bore the exact same structure as mine. It bore not one single crease, and somehow, I knew that this was because of her effort to appear strong, and not because she was never bothered by anything. She wore a blue gown and an armored breastplate: a warrior and royalty in one.

  In the next moment, as suddenly as a plug ripped from a drain, I funneled backwards out of Theon’s eyes—I had forgotten I’d even been there—and was back on my Dad’s stoop again: December, Maine, hyperventilating, vertigo, and everything else.

  I shook my head and staggered away from him. I’d never taken drugs or even gotten drunk before in my life. So how could I explain how I’d just been led into Theon’s eyes, drawn down into absolute darkness, and shown a vision of myself so realistic I’d forgotten I was standing on a porch?

  “What… was that? What did you do to me?”

  “It was just a test for confirmation.” Theon’s brow creased with concern at my reaction. “I meant no harm.”

  I placed my hand over my chest, as if to protect my heart. “Well, you did harm,” I snapped. That was invasive! And—and wrong! And what did you do? Did you hypnotize me? “How did you do that?”

  “It’s a gift,” Theon said. His eyes shone with remorse.

  I jabbed my finger in the air at him. “A gift is…” I began hotly before reining myself in at the last minute. I would not become my mother, standing outside with my father, yelling hurtful things which hardly made sense to outsiders. “A gift is finally meeting a guy who is willing to take the time to unravel you.” I lifted my eyes to his. Augh, I hated how sad he looked. You can’t make me feel guilty for being mad that you just… sucked my soul into your eyes! “A gift is respect for boundaries.” I pursed my lips. “You can’t just do that to people. It’s not right.”

  Theon reached for me again, as if to touch my hair, but I took a step back and glared at him. “Believe me when I say that I would never intentionally hurt you,” he said. “I will never do that again. You may keep your secrets—and I’ll wait for you to reveal them to me in your own time.”

  “Yeah, I think that would be fair.” I grasped the doorknob behind my back. I dared glance up at him one final time. “Considering you’ve got secrets of your own you feel free to keep.” With that, I twisted the doorknob and let myself inside, closing the door firmly and leaning my back against it. Maybe I was crazy to think that I could feel the heat from his body emanating through this wood… and maybe he was right on the other side of the door, feeling me too.

  I shook my head. No, no, ridiculous. The heat ventilation was just angled toward the front door, that was all. I tore myself away and traipsed to collect my luggage, still piled on the floor where it had been left a lifetime ago.

  Chapter 10: Nell

  I was moving toward the staircase with my bags when Dad came thundering out of his bedroom, wild-eyed. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “And who was that?”

  “Who was who?” I asked, attempting to move past him on the stairs. I wasn’t about to try to have this conversation with him, of all people.

  “Who was that on the porch with you?” Dad followed me up the stairs.

  “I don’t know, he lives on the strip.” My poker face had never been tighter.

  “I tried to call you.”

  “Well, my phone is in the ocean. Which room is mine?”

  Dad blinked at me for a second. “Uh…” He cleared his throat. “The second door on the left here.”

  I dragged down the hall with my bags and shuffled into my bedroom, hitting the light with my elbow. It was mostly barren, but there was a vague pink theme running throughout. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. At least it had a stellar view: a bay window with cream-colored drapes faced the open ocean and crystalline night sky. I rested my bags against the bed and tugged the curtains closed, just in case anyone—like Theon—might have been watching from below. I turned after having caught Dad’s reflection in the dark glass. His arms were crossed and his eyes were flashing.

  “I think we need to talk,” he snapped.

  I nodded. “Sure.” Didn’t even ask me if I was okay. I almost drowned; I could have frozen to death; I just went missing for an hour in the freezing cold with nowhere to go but the beach, and he doesn’t even wonder why my sweater is ruined. Why my pant leg is torn.

  “Let’s go downstairs and have some coffee.” Like my mother, we both treated coffee with the same reverence others gave to fine wine. It would be the one spot of nutmeg-flavored comfort in this moment, my little Christmas-themed mug, crowned with fresh cream.

  Once our coffees were brewed and we had taken our opposing seats at the kitchen table, cleaned of the tabouli salad, I lapsed into silence and let him take the lead. I knew he was dying to get something off his chest, and he was the most important person in the room, wasn’t he?

  I raised an eyebrow, prompting the speech.

  “I’m just going to go ahead and say that the way you’ve been talking to me is completely unacceptable. I thought that moving would make it better, but somehow, it made it even worse. And here I thought nothing could be worse than a damn sixteen-year-old.”

  I nodded. This was true.

  “I don’t want to feel like I can’t even be a part of your life anymore. I was never a deadbeat dad, you know. So why are you so mad about something that happened so long ago, and not even to you, but to your mother?”

  “First of all, it did happen to me, too. I was eight years old when it finally ended. Second of all, I guess I’m so mad now because… because I am growing up. This is the age when I’m supposed to be throwing myself into whirlwind romances and believing in happily ever after. But I don’t.” I sighed and took a sip from my mug. “I just can’t even consider dating without picturing the inevitable end. And if you go into every relationship like that, you can’t even believe in the beginning. Dad, I’m nineteen years old, and I’ve never had a real boyfriend.”

  “What about Andy?” Dad wondered, warranting a glare.

  “Andrew and I were strictly unattached,” I informed him. “Neither of us really believe in long-distance relationships. He’s dating Michelle now.”

  “Shelly Michelle?” Dad gaped. “Aw, pumpkin, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” I snapped, refusing to meet his gaze. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I knew it would end before it started. That’s how I’m fine now. I just met this guy down on the beach, and—”

  “That guy who dropped you off? He’s twice my size, Nell!”

  I thought back to his unlined face. “He’s just a big guy.” I smiled in spite of the conversation. “He was really nice, and yet…” The smile died. “The thought of kissing him just… seems… so… stupid. Because I kno
w what will happen. Eventually. He’ll run off with someone else, or turn out to be crazy, or use me for my money. You and Mom are the reason I can’t even meet someone without assuming the worst about them.” I raised my eyes to meet his. “You taught me that people just do whatever they want, no matter what.”

  Dad blinked and then raised his cup of coffee to his lips, drinking deeply. I didn’t think he’d yet taken a drink throughout this entire speech. “I’m not going to say there aren’t risks,” he finally said. His voice was hushed. “That’s not all me. It’s not Patty, either. When you’re older, I hope you understand.”

  “Understand what? That people just leave? One day, I’ll leave too?” I sneered.

  Dad’s gaze was locked onto his own hands around the coffee cup. “That life isn’t as simple as kids think. People should keep their promises. So simple, right? But… we can’t predict the future. We just have to go on what we feel. There is no agreement on what ‘right’ is—we’re playing a game without rules. Outside of murder, rape, and theft—the general consensus is to do what you want. Nobody knows.”

  I rolled my eyes. Here I had been, waiting for some great explanation, and it was lawlessness, chaos. Predictable. “That’s the name of the Satanic Bible, you know,” I muttered, pushing up from the table. “Do What Thou Wilt.”

  “You sound just like your mother.”

  “You taught us the same lesson! Do you know how many men Mom has dated since 2004? Let me see; maybe, maybe ten? First, there was Parker the Dorkier, who was a coworker, in 2007—”

  “Parker Almquest, from the Sherman Group?”

  “Auuugh, this is exactly my point,” I moaned, covering my eyes. “Look at how selfish you’re being. By the time she was finally giving someone a chance—three years later—you had already been with three other women!”

  “That is not true,” Dad cried.

  “Yes, it is! Toni, then Natalie, and then Roberta.”