The phone rang.
“This is Amy from Sunshine Realty . . .”
“Take me off your calling list, or I will find you and make you regret it.” I hung up. Great. I’d graduated to threats now. What kind of sadistic asshole calls the same number twenty damn times in the space of a week pestering strangers to sell their house?
I drank my coffee. This was the first moment I had gotten to myself in days. I remembered I had a great deal of things to sort out, but hadn’t gotten the chance to do it while they were happening, and now I just couldn’t muster any energy.
Curran was now a theophage, like Christopher, only far more gone. He had eaten six manifestations of various animal gods. Only time would tell if he survived the tech shift. Thinking about it was like having your neck exposed and waiting for the axe to fall.
Julie disappeared after Rowena’s rescue. I’d called around to Derek and the Guild, and the last time anyone had seen her, she was driving away from Kings Row at top speed. She would be back. If she went somewhere, she usually had a good reason for it.
A dragon was about to invade the city. A dragon whose brother had slaughtered most of my family. When I finally told Erra, she would go through the roof. She must’ve suspected a dragon was involved, but I doubt she’d guessed he and our ancient enemy were related. That conversation would go well, I just knew it.
We had to convince the city that a dragon was invading without any evidence.
And my father was still going on the offensive.
I felt like there wasn’t enough of me to go around.
At least Rowena was still alive. I’d done something right.
Someone knocked on the door. I walked over and opened it.
Saiman stood on my doorstep, carrying a large Tiffany-style lamp, the kind that would fit on a side table, in one hand and a duffel bag in the other.
“Did you abandon your life of wealth and intellectual brilliance and decide to sell lamps door to door?”
“Hilarious,” he said. “I may have a way to communicate with the Suanni.”
I stepped aside, let him in, and locked the door behind him.
“Is this more from the David Miller collection?” I asked.
David Miller was a magical version of an idiot savant. A cruel jest of nature or fate, he couldn’t use magic at all, but every object he’d handled during his lifetime had acquired some sort of random power. Saiman had spent a fortune acquiring Miller’s possessions after the man’s death.
“No,” Saiman said. “Where is he?”
“In the basement. Let me go first.”
I led the way. Adora glanced up from her book, gave Saiman a derisive look, and went back to her reading.
Saiman set the lamp on the side table by Yu Fong and paused, studying him.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Quite a remarkable face,” Saiman said.
Somewhere in my future, if I had one, Saiman would show up wearing Yu Fong’s face. Ugh.
Saiman knelt, unzipped the duffel, and extracted a roll of fabric, wrapped in plastic. He untied the knot and hauled out a small rug, which he placed on the floor. The old rug must’ve been vibrant at some point, but now the blues and reds of the blooms twisting across it had faded to near beige. Saiman took a tealight candle from the duffel and put it on the table, next to the lamp. Finally, he produced a small box.
“Hold out your hand.”
I offered my palm to him. He opened the box and shook a radiant amethyst into my hand. As big as a walnut, the stone pulsed with brilliant color.
“Don’t let go, or you’ll break the spell.” Saiman pulled a box of matches out. “This lamp came from Cunningham Hospital, a facility in New England that specialized in the treatment of coma patients. Countless people sat by its light and wished with every drop of their being for just one more chance to speak to their loved ones.”
All of that energy, all the love, grief, and sadness poured into the light of one lamp. So much desperation wrapped in it.
“Will it hurt him?” I asked.
“The lamp won’t wake him from the coma. But if everything goes well, we can communicate with him. The tea light will burn at an accelerated rate. We’ll have about five minutes. Ready?”
“Ready.”
Saiman lit the candle. The lamp came on with a click. The cord was right there, wrapped around it. It wasn’t plugged in, yet it glowed with a familiar electric light.
“Yu Fong?” I asked, the amethyst cold in my hand.
“Yes . . .” a clear male voice answered.
“This is Kate Lennart. You’re in a coma in my house. You’re safe.”
“I’m aware of my surroundings,” he said.
Okay then. “Is there anything we can do to help you?”
“The healing I require is beyond the capabilities of a human. Ask your questions. You’re wasting time.”
The candle was melting before my eyes. He was right. I had to get to the point. “Tell me about the dragon who attacked you.”
“He’s insane. We are an old species. There are traditions. Rules of conduct. One doesn’t just blindly attack another dragon without provocation.”
“How large was he?” Saiman asked.
“I’ve never seen one that large. Even my oldest brother can’t match him.”
“How can we kill him?” I asked.
“How much do you know about the dragon realms?” Yu Fong asked.
“A dragon realm is a pocket in reality,” Saiman said. “A fold in the fabric of space, where time and physical constraints have different meaning. Frequently, it is hidden in a place that one has to enter: a cave, a palace, a gorge, somewhere two separate spaces meet and a boundary exists between the two.”
Look at Saiman go. “A place one can’t enter except by invitation from the dragon,” I added. “As long as a visitor doesn’t consume anything, the dragon won’t be able to injure them.”
“But what makes the pocket?” Yu Fong asked. “What keeps it closed?”
“I don’t know,” I told him.
“An anchor. Every dragon has one. It is an object of great value to them. It can be a sword, a book, a poem on a scroll, something we treasure beyond everything else. We pour our power into it. We sleep with it, we lick it, we bathe it in our blood and in our magic. We keep it close. True, time doesn’t affect us the same way within our lairs, but time still matters. The more time that passes in the outer world, the stronger the anchor. It is the linchpin on which the entire realm revolves. A dragon as old as that insane asshole would have an anchor of overwhelming power. He can call on it anywhere and it will bring him home.”
Shit.
“We can’t kill him,” Saiman said. “Unless we somehow manage an instant death, he will call to the anchor and retreat to his realm.”
“Yes,” Yu Fong said.
Crap. Crap, crap, crap. “Can we destroy the anchor?”
“It’s an object of great power. If you were somehow to destroy it, the realm would collapse upon you.”
That didn’t sound good.
“You have a book,” Yu Fong said. “About small people. They go to the lair of the dragon and they steal his an—”
The candle went out.
“Small people?” I asked.
Saiman shook his head.
“Can we do another session?” I asked.