Skullduggery

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. As far as Dill Rose knew, her home had been dragon-free until today. The family manor, Rose Hall, stood stoic and weather-beaten atop a hillside overlooking the Valley. Bordered by ash and birch, a river meandered through the Valley’s lowest reaches. Sheep grazed along the banks. They weren’t Rose family sheep—just a neighbor’s animals grazing on Uncle’s leased acreage. Lord knows, none of the Rose family Skullduggers would descend to sheep raising. They might be the barrel scrapers of the magical world, but they were still Practitioners.

Performers of magic. Descendants of the Blessed.

Everyone knew that Skullduggers had no special talents—unless mischief making could be considered a talent. The Roses were very good at that. Yet not so good that they didn’t have to occasionally stoop to mundane pursuits such as renting out their property. Dill dug her boots into the rocky ledge where she stood and tossed fiery red braids behind slim shoulders. Rose Hall faced her across sloping pastures, its walls pink-washed in the dusk, the sea behind sparkling with sun motes. A picturesque scene if one could ignore Uncle Xavier’s ancient, rusty Model T hunkered by the gazebo, patiently waiting to be rejuvenated.

Between Dill and her ancestral home sat three dragons: longer than school buses, lithe as serpents, with iridescent wings and metallic bodies colored in shades of blue and green. Their heads were triangular, their snouts overhung with wicked, sword-length teeth. They were eyeing the sheep with decidedly hungry expressions, but perhaps dragons always looked ravenous?

Dill couldn’t say. Though the spring day was warm, she shivered in her grungy jeans and grandfather’s old pea coat. Dill rubbed at her freckled nose and wished for a cell phone so she could take a picture of the beasts. Like technology even worked for anyone in the Practice. Dill sighed. What she would have given to be a normal, to live a peaceful life with an ordinary family, and not EVER have to deal with magic again. Or dragons. Especially not dragons. At least they weren’t looking her way and salivating. Yet.

Possibly—or probably—someone had sent them. The same enemy who had made her parents disappear all those years ago? But if so, why wait so long to dispatch the rest of the Rose family? Unless this dragon plan had been long in the making.

The air shimmered next to her, then solidified. A young man appeared. She spared a glance in his direction, taking in his black chinos, form-fitting tee, and shoulder-length dark hair, which screamed style even as the wind tossed it messily into his caramel-colored eyes. Arkady. Dill’s heart did a little jump. She fingered the silver sword charm that swung on a chain about her neck.

He grinned at her cockily, like he knew the effect he had on her. But the cheeky smile faltered when he turned to survey the Valley and caught sight of the dragons. His breath caught. “What are they doing here?”

“You mean you don’t know? You didn’t bring them back from one of your Travels? Maybe to the dinosaur age?”

“I’ve never Traveled that far, as well you know. Plus, those creatures aren’t Tyrannosaurus Rexes. They’re freaking dragons. Look at those wings! Any minute now, one of them will breathe fire and scorch the whole Valley!”

“I hope not. I love the dell this time of year. Have you ever seen it so green?” Even in her own ears, the flippant remark fell flat.

His gaze flicked back to her. “As usual, your brain settles on the least important thing, Picadilly Rose. Are you not even worried that one of those monsters could destroy Rose Hall? And there are—count them—three dragons down there.”

“You know I don’t like being called Picadilly, so quit trying to annoy me. And I understand perfectly well the dangers of having three dragons appear in my backyard out of nowhere. Are they real, do you think, or just an illusion? A tasteless joke played by one of my more tasteless relatives?”

The largest dragon cocked its head at the flock of sheep, which had just wandered around some trees into the open. The animals milled nervously, baaing. Then the fattest dragon bounded forward and plucked a sheep from the herd’s periphery, setting the others running, but only a short distance, stupid creatures. The ewe bleated once before disappearing down the fat dragon’s throat.

Arkady’s jaw worked.

“Well, I guess that answers that,” Dill said, this time going for a dry tone but achieving only breathlessness, which made her sound scared. She was scared, but she hated giving that weakness away, especially to Arkady, who had previously been forced to rescue her more than once. She fingered the charm again, then dropped it.

Arkady’s gaze had turned back to her and followed the movement. Dill snapped her fingers at him. “The question is, what will I do about the dragons? Obviously, they can’t stay here. Once they’ve finished off the sheep, they’ll go after other prey. Human prey. Plus, Aunt Absinthe will have a stroke if she wanders outside in her nightgown and runs into a dragon! Unless she thinks it’s one of her vodka-induced visions and tries to ride it. Either way, this is bad news!”

“Very bad news,” Arkady agreed. He stiffened and glared at her. “By the way, did you just say ‘What am I going to do about it?’ Didn’t you mean we?”

Dill’s stomach did a flip-flop. A feeling like melting butter spread through her limbs. She mentally shook herself. The last thing she needed right now was to go googly-eyed over Arkady. Focus, Dill. And do it quick. Looks like you’ve been spotted.

She meant to tell Arkady that the dragons were on her family’s land and were her responsibility, not his, but what came out of her mouth was, “Uh-oh.” The largest and bluest dragon had cocked its head at the ridge where she and Arkady stood. “Maybe we should have hidden behind those rocks over there,” she mumbled.

“Too late now.” Arkady drew a knife from his belt sheath. It looked absurdly small compared to the dragon’s fangs.

“A machine gun would be more useful,” Dill remarked, getting the dry tone right this time.

He frowned at her.

“I know, I know. With our luck, the gun would jam, or worse, backfire and shoot us instead of the dragon. It was just wishful thinking.”

“Maybe the beast’s just curious,” Arkady said.

“Or maybe it is hoping human flesh tastes like gourmet mutton. Want to make a bet?”

The dragon half-hopped, half-flew across the Valley’s floor. Meanwhile, a greenish dragon leaped at another sheep, causing the flock to bleat in panic and veer toward the river. The last fat dragon—the one that had already feasted—hesitated, then followed its companion across the grassland. It walked quickly rather than bounding.

“Too late to hide now,” Arkady groaned. He dropped into a fighting stance.

“Do you think I better . . .”

“Yes!”

“All right then. No need to get testy.” Dill covered the sword charm with her left hand and pressed it against the matching white scar at the base of her throat. Heat seared her skin, followed by a blinding flash. The tiny weapon sprang free of its chain and elongated to shoulder height, all in a heartbeat. It felt light as balsam wood despite its size. The hilt filled her palm, curving snugly against her fingers. Unfortunately, the sword’s bright gleam seemed to attract the attention of all three dragons. Green forgot about sheep and took to the air, heading for the ledge. Blue followed with a roar that made Dill’s eardrums throb. Fatty flapped its wings, attempting a clumsy lift-off.

“Crap!” Arkady yelled. “Maybe we should . . .”

But the rest of his idea was lost in another roar. Then two of the three beasts were upon them.

Travel. He’d been going to say Travel. Just vanish, admit defeat, and live to fight another day. He could still do it. Arkady’s family were all Antiquaries, time travelers who made their living collecting relics out of the past and selling them to other Practitioners in the here and now. Dill knew Arkady wouldn’t leave her, though, and he was too far away to grab her hand and carry her with him, though he looked like he wanted to try. But Blue shot between them, and they dove in opposite directions.

Not that Dill wanted Arkady to jump through time with her. She couldn’t just abandon her family at Rose Hall. But dragons. Galloping gremlins! Why did it have to be dragons?

Dill landed on her side, sword pointed awkwardly into the air. At least it hadn’t skewered her. Luckily, Blue turned first to Arkady, who had rolled like an acrobat and flipped back onto his feet. Muscles flexed in his knife-wielding arm. Blue opened his mouth. A coughing sound emerged, followed by a lick of flame. “Run, Dill!” Arkady yelled.

He sure knew what to say to make a girl’s jelly-knees turn to steel. Run? Like he was some knight in shining armor who could save her with his piddly little pen knife? Dill shouted at Blue and waved her warrior-sized sword. Green turned in her direction and belched out a spout of flame. She swung the sword and deflected the blast, though eyebrow-singeing heat almost toppled her. Green let loose with more fire breath. The flames would have incinerated her if Arkady hadn’t dived for the beast. His hand grabbed a claw, and both Arkady and the dragon disappeared.

Great. I guess?

Down in the Valley, Fatty had managed to take off and was wobbling upwards, but Dill couldn’t worry about him, not when Blue had veered toward her. She swung the sword like a baseball bat, and a fountain of flame hit it and ricocheted into the sky. Blue paused and hovered in midair not twenty feet away. The dragon’s iridescent scales seemed to shift and ripple. His spread wings blocked the sunlight. Amber cat’s eyes gleamed with wanting.

Intelligence. Ferocity.

Blue was actually quite attractive.

Wait! Attractive??? Dragons were known for their mind tricks. How long had Dill been frozen by Blue’s hypnotic trance while Fatty gained the ledge and snuck up behind her? Fatty trumpeted. His shadow elongated in the grass, the only tell as he pounced at her back. She fell flat and covered her head, sword pointed upward over her shoulder. A smell of rotting carrion overwhelmed her. The sword jolted. Dill had clenched her eyes shut as she waited for death, but all she felt was heat, pressure, unyielding walls enfolding her. Something dribbled down the hand that still clutched the sword hilt. She opened one eye and skewed her neck around. Dragon scales attached to a long neck that ended in steel-trap jaws filled her vision. Dill’s blade had pierced the tender, scale-free skin beneath the dragon’s mouth. Fatty’s momentum had carried his head down until only the sword hilt was visible. Silver dragon’s blood soaked her coat sleeve. She hoped it wasn’t acidic or poisonous.

My first dragon kill! But there was no time to gloat. Fatty’s carcass blocked Dill’s view, but Blue was out there, just waiting for her to wiggle free of the giant head. She was stuck between Fatty’s forelegs, in a little hollow adjacent to neck and breastbone. She tugged on the sword hilt, but the blade was stuck fast. Great. One dragon to go, and she had no weapon, no Arkady, and—thank you Skulldugger genes—no significant magic with which to defend herself. Could she just hide under the dead dragon and wait for Blue to go away?

A hot, sulfurous, and unbreathable wind whistled through the chinks in Dill’s dragon cave. Blue was frying his companion’s skull in an effort to make her break cover. Or roast her. Hard to say which. Spots danced before her eyes. Her brain went fuzzy. Dill gave up on the sword and wiggled out from under Fatty’s head. The spots in her vision faded as cool evening air revived her. She rolled away from Blue’s flamethrower breath, totally exposed.

Ready to die.

But apparently Blue had expended his flames on his companion. He coughed out a few black clouds, then bobbed in the air above Dill, wings flapping. Smoke from the charred remains of Fatty’s head coiled into the air beside her. She looked up at the dragon. He was a strangely beautiful creature. So graceful, with sickle claws and muscles that worked effortlessly beneath a sleek, herringbone-patterned hide. Still, I’d be okay with Arkady showing up on his white steed, armor gleaming, about now.

Dill sighed, wishing she looked a little like a princess—more blonde ringlets and less violently red hair. And many less freckles. She shook herself. Shame on you, silly goose. Find your fear. Find your fight. If not for yourself, then for your family at Rose Hall. For Uncle Xavier and Aunt Absinthe, who took you in when your parents disappeared. Who raised you and accepted you and gave you back a family.

Several things happened at once. Blue lunged for her, mouth agape and fangs bearing down to impale. His breath stank of rotten entrails. The interior of his mouth gleamed red, and a piece of flesh dangled from one fang. Simultaneously, Arkady popped into view, his boot planted beside her head. He caught Blue’s wing tip with one hand and her arm with the other. She felt a sickening jolt, followed by weightlessness as they spiraled away in time. Colors whirled in a sickening kaleidoscope. Distorted faces swept past her. She tried to call out, Not the dragon! Don’t take him! But the words were shoved back down her throat. Dill’s stomach clenched. She felt her arm wrenched from Arkady’s grip. Then she was tumbling, head over heels, splashing into icy water. . . .

Cold gurgled over her, trying to invade her lungs. Currents tossed her sideways and down. Pressure. Pain in her chest.

Dill kicked furiously, somersaulted, swam toward a light. The river they’d Traveled into spewed her up like a cork to gasp and flail. An undertow tugged at her boots, but she fought back. Her hand hit rough tree bark, and she clutched at it. Her other arm wrapped around the overhanging limb. The world righted itself.

Dill found herself in a jungle. The downed tree she was hugging had fallen across the water near the rushing river’s shore. “Arkady!” she called, her weak voice lost in a cacophony of sound. Not far downriver, mist rose where the flow disappeared over a waterfall. Something huge and blue swept past her. The dragon! Arkady straddled its back like a bull rider, one arm waving wildly. They catapulted toward the drop.

Dragon and Antiquary disappeared into the mist and were gone.

Arkady was gone.

Dill blinked water—or was it tears? —from her eyes. Overhead, a pterodactyl soared like a tiny kite. Strange ferns and ropey vines hung down into the water. Arkady had Traveled them to dinosaur times. She wanted to laugh, wanted to cry. Wasn’t sure she had the strength to shimmy along the fallen tree until she reached solid ground. She could just let go, drift along until the water swallowed her. A quick death.

Then she thought of how Aunt Absinthe had visited her bedroom promptly for months to quiet her nightmares. How Uncle Xavier had taught her to call fish with a Skulldugger spell and fixed her bedroom door so it only opened to the sound of her voice saying I am the bee’s knees three times. How Arkady had befriended her and vowed to stand by her side, even against dragons.

She hugged the bark tighter and closed her eyes. Above her, a voice called over the roar of water, “Picadilly Rose! Are you going to stay there all day? Take my hand!”

Dill’s eyes flashed open. Arkady stood atop the felled tree above her. One arm held a branching limb for balance. The other reached for her. She grabbed his hand. The scratchy trunk melted away. More psychedelic colors. Tumbling, stomach-twisting motion. A smell like . . . crushed grass. And aftershave.

Arkady rolled away from her. Pain pulsed on her thigh where something had grazed it. The throbbing hurt announced that she had survived.

Dill looked up. Caramel-colored eyes stared down at her. “You’re wounded.”

“Just a scratch.” She groaned, coughed up a lungful of water, and tried to sit. Arkady’s arm came around her. Side by side, they panted and shook droplets from their hair. He’d brought them back to the ledge above the Valley. Ten feet away, her sword hilt glinted beneath the blackened husk of Fatty’s head.

“Nice work,” Arkady growled, smiling. A lock of wet hair clung to his sharp cheekbone.

“Thanks.” Dill tried for nonchalance but couldn’t keep the tremble from her voice.

“Guess we should get the sword back,” Arkady said, but neither of them moved.

“What did you do with the first dragon?” she asked after a moment.

“Dropped him in Vesuvius during the famous eruption. His wings caught fire before he could fly away.”

“Bet that was dicey.”

Arkady laughed. “A bit.”

“And the other one went over the falls.”

“Jurassic period. Thought it was time I tried those ‘dinosaur times.’ I jumped clear and Traveled just as we fell. I wish the damned dragon luck surviving in that period. You probably couldn’t see what happened through the fog.”

“You Traveled . . . to where?”

“Just a few seconds ahead in time. It’s a neat trick I’ve been working on to use in a fight, but don’t tell my parents. They think Traveling should only be used to collect magical doodads for your Uncle Xavier to sell in his shop.” He sighed and wrapped his arms around his bent knees.

Dill shivered, missing his warmth. “Well done.”

“You, too. That sword in the brain was a real ‘St. George and the Dragon’ move, Dill. Maybe you’re related.”

She leaned against him and looked across the Valley at Rose Hall. She frowned. “Why were they here, Arkady? Who sent the dragons?”

He didn’t answer. Did he suspect, though, like she did?

She used to think Antiquaries had tried to destroy her family, vanished her parents and tried to vanish her, too. But Arkady had repeatedly denied that his kind were responsible. Practitioners were a tight-knit community, hiding among normals, trusting each other not to reveal their true natures. But if the Antiquaries weren’t responsible, it might be Skullduggers. Distant relatives of the Roses with some secret grudge, perhaps? Could lowest-of-the-low Practitioners manage such an attack? Calling dragons would have been a fine bit of Skullduggery.

They’d been lucky. It was time to go on offense, to find and destroy her family’s enemy before he or she moved against them again. “This time . . . dragons. Next time . . .” She trailed off.

Arkady’s arm slid back around her. “You aren’t alone anymore, Dill. You’ve got to quit thinking that no one can help you. I get that wasn’t always the case, and I’m not saying you aren’t capable. Heck. You killed a dragon.”

“By accident.”

“Whatever. You killed it. There’s more strength to you than you know, but strong people still need help. And I want to help, so let me.”

Dill considered this and finally gave him a tiny nod.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Good. Now, for a plan to save your family. Together.”