When I peer back, time stands still. “Oh my God …”
There’s a huge, circular hole in the floor. The shelves that had once been standing in corridor four have now disappeared underground. The edges have been charred to a crisp, blackened and shrouded in graying smoke. Clouds of dust and debris are covering most of the area, but I still spot dozens of witches and wizards dangling off the edges, holding on for dear life. They’re about to sink right into the hole, where the dragon cries out once more.
I scan the hole in a craze. There’s no sign of either Mom or Samira.
“Samira! Samira, help me!” someone yells from the right side of the hole.
Todd.
He’s driving his nails deep into the floor, clawing his way out, but he’s slipping away. “Samira, please!” Todd’s voice is the loudest of them all. “Help me!”
I bolt after him.
I crash into people running in the opposite direction, some knocking into me so hard that I almost lose my balance, but I’m flying through the terrified mass of customers. The graying smoke and dust cloud blinds me as I get closer to Todd. I swat at it and hold my breath, never stopping. When I find Todd, I drop to my knees and grab his wrists.
“I got you!” I start pulling him up. He’s using all of his strength to lift himself closer to me.
BOOM!
Another quake strikes. It’s stronger, longer than the first one.
I’m launched forward again. I slam right into Todd’s chest.
We plummet into the hole together.
Screams rip out of me as I flail. Todd’s screams are even louder. We slice through the clouds of smoke like bullets made of flesh and fear. I can’t see how long I have left until I smash into concrete. Everything is gray and black and certain death.
Water breaks my fall.
I sink into a chilly, almost dead current. My screams die out as I inhale and swallow what seems to be water, as if I’m sinking into an underground lake. I can’t see a damn thing in this cold darkness. I need to get back to the surface, where the ceiling lamps are shining bright. I’m kicking up as fast as I can. My chest is seconds away from bursting, but I push onward. When I break for air, I cough out every bit of water I swallowed, spinning around in search of Todd.
He’s floating on his back two feet away, his eyes pressed shut.
“No …” I swim toward him at full speed. When I grab his shoulders, he doesn’t even stir. At least he’s still breathing. “Todd? Can you hear me?” I try shaking him, but he’s out cold.
The nearest stretch of shore is six feet away. I hug Todd close, then swim toward the caramel-colored soil. Everything burns and begs me to stop. With deep, continuous breaths, I push Todd up onto the ground and settle beside him.
There are fir trees in front of me. The lake is more like a pit filled with water, twisting in a serpentine shape at the center of the room. Farther ahead, the fir trees lean side by side, doing their best to block the muddy, brown, cavernous walls behind them. One wall has a giant logo in black script. It reads LEVEL FIVE. This is the shop’s lowest level.
And it’s a dragon habitat.
Why the hell is there a habitat inside a wand shop? Habitats are supposed to be located far away from populated areas. What kind of illegal crap is Madame Waxbyrne pulling here?
The dragon roars again behind me.
I’m stiff as a board, cradling Todd with shallow breaths. If this dragon is Un-Bonded, it’s going to strike once it sees me. Especially since it’s already pissed off.
Remember what Papi taught you. No sudden movements. Stay down until the dragon tries to attack. They won’t hurt you unless they think you’ll hurt them.
I turn my head little by little.
I spot the scarlet horns first. Four on the left side. Four on the right. The two smallest horns protrude directly above the dragon’s forehead. The rest jut out farther back. I swallow hard as the dragon stomps forward on its hind legs. Its scales are the color of molten gold, as are those spindly wings. And right at the center of its chest is a small, heart-shaped crystal.
Holy crap. This is a British Fire Drake. It has a crystal heart. It’s not a real heart that beats and pumps blood, but it does make this Fire Drake different from its brethren—it can grant wishes to its rider. Fire Drakes, wish-granting or otherwise, are only supposed to be found in England, and yet here I am looking at one in Florida, hiding in the lowest level of a wand shop.
There’s a guy standing before the dragon. He’s about five foot eleven or so, with cropped black hair and a matching leather trench coat. His gloves are black leather, too. There’s a large silver scale sewn onto the back of his coat. The same silver scale the Sire has for skin.
Oh. My. God. I’m stuck here with a Dragon Knight.
What do I do, what do I do, what do I do …
The Fire Drake opens its gigantic mouth, revealing a small spark creeping past its throat. The spark grows bigger and bigger until it’s a fireball the size of a boulder.
The Dragon Knight raises his fist at the Fire Drake. He throws something at its chest.
A golden glow bursts to life upon impact, and the Fire Drake gulps down the fireball. It falls onto its side as the glow spreads all over its body. With an earth-shattering thud, the Fire Drake slams onto the ground, encased within the glow as if it’s a shield. The dragon tries to writhe its way free, but it’s no good. It stays down, moving slower and roaring louder.
That’s not a shield. It’s a Paralysis Charm.
For that spell to work on any dragon, this Dragon Knight has to be a Gold Wand: the only wizards capable of slaying dragons. He pulls out a bright golden orb from his coat’s pocket. A smoky wisp glows from within the orb. He throws the orb at the Fire Drake’s chest.
With a softer roar than before, the Fire Drake lies as still as a corpse. It’s still breathing, but it’s like the dragon’s been hit with a second, and far stronger, Paralysis Charm.
The Dragon Knight isn’t carrying a wand. Gold Wand or not, he shouldn’t be able to channel his magic without one—or be able to contain spells inside objects. And he’s attacking a dragon. He’s not revering it or setting it loose like the Sire’s henchmen are known to do.
My heart hammers as I ponder how to save both Todd and the Fire Drake.
This Dragon Knight is taller than I am. He’s probably trained to fight everything under the sun. What if I can knock him out? I’d have to get closer. Even if I had a billion stones lying at my feet, my aim sucks so hard I’d end up tossing them in vain. If he’s here to kill that Fire Drake, maybe I can get it to fight alongside me? Can we take this Dragon Knight down together?
Save the dragon, save us all.
When the Fire Drake stops roaring, the Dragon Knight pulls out a dagger white as snow. The blade isn’t steel. It’s … a claw. Or, I should say, claw bone. It’s about the length of a police officer’s baton but much, much thicker. The sharpened tip curves upward like a hook. The Dragon Knight walks straight for the Fire Drake’s chest.
He’s not here to kill the dragon. He’s going to steal its crystal heart.
I jump to my feet. “Stop!”
The Dragon Knight freezes. Then he slowly turns around.
I slap both hands to my mouth. His black hair is shorter now. His brown eyes have dark, heavy bags underneath. His skin is duller, too, and he’s not smiling anymore. It’s him, though. This is the boy who spoke to those kids at IBF headquarters in Japan about compassion. The boy who vanished after his dragon steed was killed two years ago.