The professor rose abruptly and began pulling off his robe. “Get dressed! Hurry!”
Billy leaped toward the dresser and popped open a suitcase that sat on top. “How are we going to get out of here?”
The professor, now dressed only in long, thermal underwear, pushed an arm into the sleeve of the intruder’s cloak. “By stealth, William.”
Billy dug into his suitcase and tossed out a pair of calf-length socks, his off-white cargo pants, and a brown long-sleeved shirt. While he threw on his clothes, the professor peered into the suitcase. “May I borrow a pair of socks?”
Billy balanced on one foot, reaching down to tie a shoe. “Sure, Prof.”
The professor fished out a wadded pair of socks, then picked something else out of the suitcase and slipped it into his pocket.
Billy grabbed his jacket and gloves. “What did you take from my—?”
“Aaaiieee!” A scream rifled through the room, freezing Billy in place.
The professor’s eyes blazed. “The master of the house!” He threw the black hood over his head and pushed the dresser out of the way. “We must go! Now!”
Billy thrust Excalibur into its scabbard and fastened the belt to his waist. “That cloak may get you out of here, Prof, but I’ll stick out like a mouse at a cat party.”
The professor snatched up the intruder’s fallen sword, then raised a finger to his lips. “Wait here while I fetch my keys.” He slipped out the door and disappeared into the hallway shadows.
Billy waited in darkness, the ticking clock providing the only sound in the room. A dead body lay near his feet. Was he an advance scout of some kind? How many more of them were searching through the house?
A door slammed. Footsteps pounded in the hallway, louder and louder.
Billy shivered. They were getting closer. Would they catch the professor? He slid Excalibur from its scabbard. The sword trembled in his hand. Should he try to make a run for it? Should he obey the professor and wait? He took a deep breath and pulled the door open a crack.
A new voice sounded from the hallway, barely audible. “Did you find the boy?”
“Yes,” another voice replied, whispering. “All is in hand.”
Billy tried to peer through the crack.
That sounds like Prof!
“Is Foraker dead?” the first voice asked. “Do they have his cloak?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Good. Exactly as planned.” The first man’s voice lowered to an even quieter whisper. “Let them out of the room, then chase them to the front door. We’ll kill the old man and dump the kid at Patrick’s doorstep. Remember, just scare them out. Morgan wants the Bannister boy deposited unharmed with the cloak.”
The conversation ended. Billy moved away from the door and waited. Seconds later, the door swung open. A black-cloaked figure stepped inside and jerked his hood off, revealing the professor’s familiar face. His skin had turned ashen, and his wild white hair stood almost on end.
The professor closed the door and pressed his back against it, holding his hand on his chest and breathing heavily. “I fooled him . . . for now . . . but we must escape . . . by a way other than the front door.”
“Yeah. I heard.” Billy returned the sword to its sheath. “How long till we’re supposed to meet Bonnie and the dragons?”
The professor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “About two hours. Five-thirty to be precise. We have plenty of time.”
“Maybe, but if my dad’s still like he was before he turned back into a dragon, he’ll be early.” Billy pointed at the window on the opposite side of the room. “Feel up to walking on the roof?”
The professor lifted his foot, displaying a mid-top hiking boot. “I managed to get my trousers and shoes on, and I collected my gloves, so I suppose I’m properly equipped.” He squatted and began tying the laces. “But I have a splitting headache, which may indicate a concussion. I’m not sure what will happen if I exert myself.”
Billy opened the window and leaned out into the misty darkness, turning his head from side to side. He left the window up and hustled back to the professor, a cool breeze following in his wake. “Looks like it’s all clear in the backyard.”
The professor stood up, holding his hand on his head. “Then perhaps we’ll make it if I can move slowly enough.”
Billy zipped up his jacket and stuffed his gloves into one of the pockets. “It’s a cinch. I’ve done it at my house a hundred times.” He bounded to the window and vaulted onto the sill. “Come on,” he said, waving his arm. “The roof’s flat enough.” He crawled onto the shingles and helped the professor squeeze through the window.
“Now to find a downspout or a trellis.” Billy bent over and skulked to the edge of the roof, careful to keep Excalibur from dragging. He dropped to his knees, planted his palms on the gritty surface, then leaned over the side. The professor scooted on his knees, nearing the edge while Billy scanned the ground level. Directly underneath, two black-hooded figures stood next to a car, one with his hand on the hood.
Billy whispered. “Two more goons right below us.”
“Two that we can see,” the professor whispered back. “There may be more.”
“Is that your rental car?”
“Yes. Don’t you remember it?”
“No.” Billy lowered his voice even further. “I was tired when I got in, and I slept all the way from the airport.”
The professor’s tone matched Billy’s. “It’s a Vauxhall Vectra Elite, a fine British motor car.”
“Well, it might as well be a unicycle without pedals. It’s down there, and we’re up here.” Billy reached back and grabbed Excalibur’s hilt. “Getting to it would be easy if I could just transluminate them. I wonder what went wrong.”
The professor rubbed his fingers across his black cloak. “Very strange. It feels like a network of wires on the surface, as fine as silk thread, a metallic mesh of some fashion. And it’s warm to the touch.”
Billy passed his hand across one of the long sleeves. “Maybe the wires protected that guy. Excalibur’s beam didn’t faze him, and when I blasted him with fire it just made the wires light up like some kind of heating grid.”
The professor stroked the mesh again. “Remarkable. It seems to carry a faint residue.” He rubbed his finger and thumb together and brought them close to his eyes. After sniffing the fine powder, he brushed it away with his other hand. “I believe it could be rust.”
“Rust? You mean like from iron?”
“Yes. Hydrated ferrous oxide of some sort.”
Billy straightened his back, keeping his knees firmly on the shingles. “So if I can’t zap these guys, what’re we going to do? If we try to climb down, they’ll see us for sure.”
The professor sat up on his haunches with his hand on his chin. “Then we will conquer them with a tried and true, surreptitious approach.”
“Sir Who?”
The professor rose to his full height and helped Billy to his feet. “I’ll take the one on the left,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Ready? Ready for what?”
“Jump!” The professor leaped off the roof, pulling Billy with him, and they plummeted toward the two men in black.
Chapter 2
The ocean surface glittered in Bonnie’s eyes, reflecting the gibbous moon’s shining disk. She was accustomed to flying through dark skies, a necessary skill for a girl with dragon wings. Darkness had helped her avoid obvious dangers in the past. During flights around her neighborhood, her swooping profile had alerted dogs that barked and howled until she flew into the safety of the moonless shadows.
Although she yearned to fly boldly in the light, darkness had become her friend. It was a cloak of protection that hid her prominent features. But would tonight’s gloom provide enough of a shield? With two huge dragons accompanying her over the Atlantic Ocean, a Navy radar operator might spot them and scramble a jet to check out the strangest UFO he had ever seen. Their danger was real, so the three flew swiftly through the silent night sky, gliding so close to the sea’s undulating surface, the dragons’ wings would sometimes graze the crests of the waves.
Although Bonnie’s wings had been injured earlier in the year, it wasn’t long before she was flying again. The photo receptors in her blood, a genetic trait passed down from her mother, carried healing energy throughout her body. She had worked out strenuously over the past few months to get her wings, and herself, back in shape. Her longest flight to date topped three hundred miles, but this new journey stretched over an entire ocean and spanned several days. During daylight hours, one dragon submerged up to its neck while the other floated with only a mattress-sized portion of its back exposed, providing Bonnie a place to sleep while curled up in her wings. At night, they traveled as quickly as possible, still allowing breaks along the way and occasional back rides for Bonnie when she tired. As powerful as the dragons were, she didn’t want to burden them too much.
At times the cool, moist air brought a chill in spite of her layers of clothing, a sweatshirt over a long-sleeved, pullover shirt and a pair of blue jeans over thermal underwear. The wing holes she had sewn into her shirts had shifted in flight, allowing the breeze to find its way to her skin. Still, the leather gloves kept her hands warm, and the ski cap over her braided hair and ears helped a lot. Professor Hamilton had instructed her to wear cotton or wool clothing for a possible translumination, but she had decided the synthetics in the cap wouldn’t pose a problem.
She looked down at their shadows on the bumpy ocean. Barely visible in the meager light, the beating wings waved at her, each ghostly pulse reminding her again of her beastly appearance. For years she had tried to hide the deformity that had shrouded her in secrecy from school to school and foster home to foster home. A mere backpack had veiled a feature that would have made mothers scream, babies cry, and other kids run in fear or call her horrible names.
Bonnie shook her head hard. Her wings were a gift, not a curse! They had saved both her and Billy more than once, and they made her . . . well . . . unique. And every gift from God had a purpose, even strange, scaly gifts.
Clefspeare, the male dragon on her left, called out, “Do you need another rest?”
Bonnie clutched the front of her sweatshirt and let out a tired gasp. “How much longer to shore?”
“Probably a couple of hours.”
“I guess I’d better take a break. Whose turn is it?”
Hartanna, the female dragon, glided closer. “My turn. Hop on. We’ll take a rest, too.”
Bonnie rose a few feet and hovered over Hartanna’s back. With a graceful flutter of her wings, she settled gently on the base of the dragon’s neck, behind one protruding spine and in front of another.
Hartanna descended to the ocean surface, skimming across the waves like a seaplane. When her huge body splashed down, she paddled to keep her back well above water. Clefspeare copied Hartanna’s move and settled in next to her.
“Let’s take a long break, Bonnie,” Hartanna said. “We’re way ahead of schedule.”
Clefspeare took a deep breath as his armored body rose and fell on the ocean’s restless surface. “Not too long. We don’t want to make the professor and Billy wait.” He used his teeth to lift a blue denim backpack off one of his spines and stretched his neck to give the bundle to Bonnie. She slid the pack over her shoulder, and he nodded toward it. “You should eat now. It’s been too many hours since your last meal, and you need your strength.”
Bonnie pulled a wrapped sandwich from her backpack, fumbling over the plastic Ziploc with her gloved hands. “It’s a good thing we’re almost there. I’m down to my last sandwich. What about you and Ma—I mean, Hartanna? I haven’t seen either of you eat since yesterday.”
Hartanna reached a wing over her back and caressed Bonnie’s arm. “It’s okay to call me Mama. I really don’t mind.”
Clefspeare’s eyes darted back and forth across the waves. “Yesterday’s catch was large enough to last for two days, but with so much uncertainty lying ahead, we should take another meal.” The dragon dipped his head in the water and pulled out a wriggling fish. He offered it to Hartanna, who shook her head. Clefspeare crunched the fish’s body with his powerful jaws, and it disappeared into his gullet. With a satisfied smack of his lips he turned back to Bonnie. “Ahhh! Raw fish is such a healthy snack, especially with fins and scales still attached.” He stretched his neck forward, and his maw widened in a toothy grin. “I could get one for you. I think I see a fat, juicy pollack up ahead.”
Bonnie grimaced, then laughed. “Uh, no thanks.” She finished half of her sandwich and rewrapped the other half. She pulled a water bottle from her pack and took a long drink. “I’ve had enough,” she said, fastening the cap on the bottle.
“Would you like to ride on my back the rest of the way?” Hartanna asked. “You’ve already flown farther than anyone could expect.”
“I guess so.” Bonnie stretched her arms and yawned. “I’m getting pretty tired.”
The two dragons unfurled their massive wings and lifted into the air as one. Bonnie used her own wings to help herself balance on Hartanna’s scaly back. As their flying forms again painted shadows on the ocean surface, Bonnie wondered what would greet her on the other side of this massive sea. Even the dragons had not seen the British coast in many years. Would they know how to avoid detection and how to find shelter? Their caves had likely been searched out dozens of times since they last flew these skies. Would they have homes at all?
Bonnie hugged Hartanna’s protruding spine, keeping her head low to duck under the jet stream of cold, wet air. With her gloved fingers gripping the plate-like skin, she wondered what it must be like to be a full-fledged dragon. Surely her mother must have longed to return to her dragon’s domain. It wouldn’t be the same, though. The days of Arthur were long gone. The night Merlin changed her into the lovely Irene would stand as the last night she would know as a dragon princess. Her future as the chosen Queen of all dragons had been shaken by the slayers of old as they hunted dragons to near extinction. But in a single moment, a miraculous transformation from dragon to human had ended her plans, and those of the dragon race, forever.
Bonnie had only recently learned that Hartanna was once betrothed to Clefspeare. They had begun a period of separation from each other to prepare for their eventual union. The transformation ended their dreams. They gave up a kingdom—one they realized would be short-lived—to become human. When they began sailing once again over familiar lands, would sad memories or regret come to mind? As they lay alone in separate caves, would they lament, wondering what might have been? Or would lying on a bejeweled bed in the splendor of a regeneracy dome heal their spiritual wounds as the bouncing light massaged away their regrets?
After daydreaming for a while, Bonnie lifted her head into a stiff breeze. Now, instead of endless ocean, lights appeared in the distance. “Is that England?” she asked.
“Yes,” Clefspeare replied. “If the stars have not changed significantly, that is the southwest peninsula. We will be at the rendezvous point soon.”
The dim coastline slowly took shape, moving closer with each flap of Hartanna’s wings. The dragons were flying faster than before. Bonnie knew they had slowed their pace for her when she was flying solo, and now they seemed to rocket through the air like scaly eagles, rising in altitude as they approached the misty shore.
A bank of clouds greeted them a few miles inland, and the dragons skimmed just above the puffy gray tops. Every once in a while Clefspeare dove below the bank to get a look at what lay below, searching for landmarks that would guide their way.
“I can barely see the great tor on the horizon,” he finally announced, “so the hill underneath us is likely to be Camelot’s resting place. But there is a problem. I sense danger when I fly at the lower levels.”
“I felt something, too,” Hartanna said. “Just a faint impression.” The scales on the she-dragon’s long neck caught the moon’s glowing disk, reflecting a dozen, fiery replicas. “Clefspeare,” she said, “Bonnie must fly with you to the meeting place. I will stay out of sight. If danger presents itself, I will be able to attack with stealth.”
Clefspeare straightened his wings in a horizontal spread and slowly descended. “Very well. Keep watch and judge what you must do according to the Maker’s guidance.”
Hartanna nodded. “May His light guide you.”
Clefspeare’s body dipped below the cloud surface, his head still poking up. “Come child,” he said, before disappearing into the mist.
Bonnie lifted her wings into the passing flow, filling out her leather-like canopies as she elevated inch by inch over Hartanna’s back. Now flying freely, Bonnie forced a confident smile, and with a quick good-bye wave dove headfirst into the cloudbank. As soon as she dropped below the mist, she stretched her wings again and caught the air, slowing her descent. Between her and the ground, two scarlet orbs glided through the air in a lazy circle, Clefspeare’s eyes looking up at her. The veiled moon barely revealed his enormous silhouette trailing his ruby headlights.
Bonnie dropped quickly to join him, mimicking his circular pattern, and they approached a grass-domed hilltop. She landed near the edge of the field just a second or two after Clefspeare, running as her feet settled on the ground. Ankle-high grass covered the expansive summit, bordered by steep drop-offs and a dense forest.
The dragon turned his head in all directions, twisting his neck and sniffing the cool, damp air. His voice stayed low, a growling whisper. “Danger is near.” He lumbered to the trees, and Bonnie followed. “Stay in the forest while I keep watch. Although we are considerably ahead of schedule, Billy may arrive soon. He is quite aware of my habit of being early.”
Clefspeare continued sniffing the air. Bonnie tried to detect any unusual odors, but she noticed only a tinge of smoke from a distant wood fire. Maybe the dragon’s sense of smell was more acute than hers. She whispered her question. “Do you smell something?”
“Flowers,” he replied in a low rumble. “Yet I saw no gardens or wildflowers nearby. It is a familiar odor, but the memory is a distant one from centuries long past.”
Bonnie sniffed again. This time a slight aroma drifted by, the buttery sweetness of some kind of blossom, maybe gardenia.
A voice called from the opposite side of the clearing. “Hail, Clefspeare!”
Clefspeare’s neck straightened, and his ears twitched. “Who calls for Clefspeare? Friend or foe? Show yourself.”
A figure appeared in the clearing, striding quickly forward and offering a formal bow. “I am Markus, servant and apprentice to Sir Patrick, steward of the Circle of Knights. I have come as his herald to welcome you and conduct you and the initiate’s colleague to his side.”
Clefspeare snorted a plume of sparks. “The initiate was to greet us personally, along with his mentor.”
Bonnie kept her eye on the young man, but she couldn’t stifle the need to yawn. The aroma of gardenias filled the air—sweet, intoxicating. A shadow of sleepiness filtered into her mind, and her vision blurred as she tried to refocus on Markus. He bowed again. “We have detected a hole in our security, so I have come to warn you and escort the girl to safety.”
“But that was not the plan,” Clefspeare argued. “There is danger afoot, and Billy and his teacher must not face it without me.”
Markus turned his head from side to side. “There is no time to fret about plans gone awry, Great Dragon. If you sense danger, then I suggest we be off at once. Morgan would have the girl in her clutches, and we must keep the two of them apart at all costs.”
Clefspeare took in a deep breath. His voice slowed, growing labored. “Yes. . . . Danger is . . . very close. A s-s-sinister . . . presence.” The dragon’s head swayed, and his body tipped to one side. As he began to topple, he turned to Bonnie, his voice reviving in one desperate call. “Fly, lass! Find Hartanna!” With a tremendous thud, Clefspeare fell to the ground.
Bonnie unfurled her wings, but they drooped to the grass, heavy and limp. She could barely raise them above the level of her dizzied head. She tried to jump, but her legs collapsed. A curtain of black closed across her eyes, and she dropped to the grass. A strong hand gripped her wrist and pulled. She fluttered her eyes open and caught a glimpse of Markus’s face and two hooded figures running toward them with swords in hand. As she struggled to get up, a stream of fire blazed behind Markus, but her arms and legs fell numb, and her mind faded into darkness.
Billy dropped from the mansion roof like a sack of rocks, his arms and legs flailing. He steadied himself just in time to smash his heels into the hooded goon’s shoulder blades, crumpling the man’s body into a heap. Bending his knees to cushion the impact, Billy pushed off to the side, his momentum propelling him into a barrel roll. The professor lay on his back next to his rental car, while the second goon sprawled over the edge of the gravel driveway, his face half-buried in the mud. Billy’s victim writhed on his belly, clutching handfuls of pebbles and trying to push to his knees.
Billy jumped to his feet, planted his foot on the man’s back, and slammed him down. Grabbing his sword from its scabbard, he lifted his victim’s hood and pricked his neck. “Play dead, and I’ll let you live.”