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Chapter Nine
Rowan
When I get back to the house, I feel anxious, like I’ve swallowed dozens of fireflies that are burning a hole in my stomach. The sheriff won’t tell me anything. Xander won’t tell me anything. It’s all a bunch of goddamn secrets that are going to drive me up the wall.
Ven’s at work again, so I blow some time doing yoga on the side porch, trying to relax. After an hour of that, I feel better, but I’m still antsy. I work on some stuff for Sybil’s estate for a few hours, insurance and such. After that I eat lunch and take a long nap. When I wake up, it’s late afternoon and my nerves are still buzzing. And then I realize a big part of the problem: I haven’t taken any photos in days.
I retrieve my camera from where I’d placed it on top of the dresser. It feels strange, like a part of my body that I haven’t touched in a while. A missing appendage. I live through this lens, and it’s been far too long since I saw the world in a different light.
First, I move through the house, letting inspiration guide me. A sunbeam shining on the clock mantel just so. The cats sitting all in a row with their bright eyes in front of the harp. The orchids in the library. The texture of the stone pillars of the veranda.
The yard calls to me next. Flowers. Mushrooms. A butterfly on a moss-covered hemlock. I completely lose myself to it. In my life in L.A., I shot mostly people, and some places or objects, but all cityscapes. This is fresh. And real. So full of life and vibrancy.
When a fox darts across the yard, I let out a squeal, both startle and delight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fox in the wild before. It’s a dusky orange with a white snout and paws. It trots weightlessly as if floating on clouds. Up the driveway, through the herb garden, and then finally into the woods on the north side of the yard. I shake myself from my surprise before it leaves and take a few pics, my camera shutter snapping rapidly. As it’s about to disappear, it turns and looks over its shoulder at me with big green eyes.
An invitation.
I follow, ducking around the thick branches of a pine tree. Glimpses of the flame-colored fur guide me as the fox moves deeper into the forest. It pauses here and there to sniff a bush, or the air. I crouch down and snap pic after pic, my heart racing. I haven’t been this exhilarated in my job for a long while. For the first time, I wonder if I truly could have a life here. Open a studio, display my work. The forest is an endless and ever-changing muse for my art.
When the fox trots into a small meadow, I realize that the sun is starting to set. How long have I been out here? I look around, breaking from the trance of my work. I’m not really sure how far I am from the house. I need to head back before it gets dark and I get lost out here.
My furry friend pauses to sniff a flower, and I get one final burst in the thick, golden light of the clearing. The air has a magical quality, sparkling in the last rays of the sun. It’s perfect.
As I rise and put my lens cover back on, letting the camera hang on its strap around my neck, the fox freezes, head high in the air. I assume my movement startled it, but it’s looking away from me. After another moment of stillness, it streaks off into the trees, a blur of red.
A growl rumbles through the forest.
Now it’s my turn to freeze. My heart explodes in my chest. I can’t tell where the sound came from, other than it’s somewhere in front of me. Slowly, I begin to back out of the clearing.
That’s when I see it. Through a gap in the trees, a deer path almost, something huge and antlered about fifty feet away. It has to be at least eight feet tall. But it’s not a buck, or a moose. It stands on two legs, upright. A body almost solid black, including the face. A face that is somehow… misshapen. I can’t make out eyes or a nose.
A thrill of terror runs through my veins, and then the creature charges.
I can’t help myself. I scream.
And I run. I whip around and I run my ass off, like I’ve never run in my whole life. The thing lets out a bellow that shakes the forest. I know then for certain that this is no being of the earth. It’s an unnatural and wholly terrible sound that sends a spike of dread through my gut.
As I run, I can hear it thrashing behind me. It sounds like the whole forest is coming down around it. Branches snapping, the ground pounding with each enormous step. And I can tell, without even looking back, that the thing is gaining on me.
I’m not sure if I’m even running in the right direction. Is my house out there somewhere, or just empty forest for miles? I’d gotten so turned around following the fox that I have no idea where I am. Or what direction help might be in.
I risk a glance over my shoulder then, and my eyes widen. The creature is almost on me. A dozen feet, and I’m going to be under its claws. Because I can see those now, up close: foot-long razor-sharp things coming out of its hands. My breath comes in sharp gasps and my heart feels like it’s going to give out.
Another clearing opens up before me, and now I know I’ve gone the wrong direction, because I don’t remember this place. What I do know is that I’m not going to make it to the other side of this meadow. Not before that thing catches me. It’s so close I can hear the gnashing of its teeth and feel a foul wash of heat and stench from its body.
I do the only thing I can think to do, though I know it’s futile. But I’m not going down without a fight: I grab a big stick lying in my path, and I spin to face the beast.
That’s when something collides with it from the side with stunning speed and force.
The monster crashes into the ground with a reverberating boom. I see only flashes of movement for a moment. Whatever landed on the horned thing is even bigger, and it’s… golden. With scales. Huge jaws. Massive wings. A spiked tail.
It’s a dragon.
My heart comes skidding to a halt and all the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. I’m frozen. I can’t take my eyes off the two beasts before me, locked in a brutal death match. They spin round and round, thrashing each other with claws and teeth and horns. Blood sprays into the air, and their roars split the sky.
Their fight moves them closer to me and I scramble backward, survival overtaking my shock. I back up into the trees. But I don’t turn around. I don’t leave. I know I should run now, when they’re distracted by each other, but I can’t. My heart kickstarts and thuds painfully in my chest, adrenaline shooting through my veins as I watch their battle.
I realize then that I can feel their magic. Each creature has its own, like a unique signature. The dragon’s is all heat and fire and sky. I can see it swirling off its body in waves that shimmer red-gold, with a touch of indigo here and there. But the horned beast…the power emitting from it is dark and ancient. It comes off the thing in a dark gray fog. I’ve never truly known such a presence before, but it’s unmistakable. Evil.
The horned thing is no match for the dragon in size or strength, but it flickers in and out, disappearing and reappearing in swirls of mist, then slashing with its claws. After several rounds of this, the dragon manages to flip it over in a moment of solidity, and its teeth are at the thing’s neck in an instant. There’s a spray of blood and I flinch. It turns to mist again, but this time, it doesn’t come back.
Is it dead? Or had it simply performed its vanishing trick again and quit while it was ahead?
In the abrupt end to the fight, the forest is suddenly silent. The dragon turns to scan the meadow with its golden eyes, and when they land on me, I freeze. Why the hell hadn’t I run when I had the chance? The beast locks gazes with me, and my heart tries to climb out of my chest. We stand like that for several achingly long moments, and then the thing lets out a low growl that shivers along my skin.
Had the dragon rescued me, or claimed me as prey?
I don’t wait to find out. I turn and run my ass off.
