Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Huh. I’d wondered why the silver dragon oversees the hellhounds. As he’s semi-retired and inactive, I’d thought it was a desk job to appease him. Him being a war hero and all. No, I wish it was that easy. The hellhounds are his. He made them. They’re walking, talking, shifter charms.
I shiver. Of course, he probably didn’t touch them all to make the magic happen like I do. He might have changed one or two a few thousand or so years ago, and they evolved. Once dragon magic is out in the world, sometimes it takes its own initiative. I’ve seen that happen myself.
I’m not a dragon, but with my charms, if I’m being honest, I struggle to let the magic out of my sight, and I never wanted to sell them in the first place. But at the time, it felt imperative.
Everybody knows dragons have treasure. I wonder how many people know the hellhounds are the silver dragon’s horde, just as the charms are mine. That thought is enough to scare the absolute crap out of me.
The idea that the silver dragon is so powerful to charm people and no one knows about it makes me want to run for the hills or the nearest dark hole. I’ll never breathe a word of this to anyone, and I’ll take that knowledge to my grave.
The gargoyle in the front of the car must sense my anxiety because he turns his head to give me a reassuring smile. I smile back and wave away his concern.
Could I make a shifter into a hellhound?
I wiggle in the seat. I don’t know. No, I couldn’t immerse my magic into a person.
Not that I’d want to. I stare at the back of Owen’s head in awe.
The magic could have gone horribly wrong.
Hellhounds are what happens when you mess with power.
It’s only because the silver dragon is incredibly strong and wise that hellhounds are the good guys.
He set parameters, which might be why they seem to live so long when their lesser-powered brethren end up dead.
They might have super control buried in their DNA.
I almost poke at Owen’s magic but force myself to stop. It wouldn’t be good for my health. The general will find out. I know if anyone messes with my charms, I feel it. Owen doesn’t notice my attention. He drives carefully, and we’re back at my parents’ within minutes.
My brothers fling themselves from the car and run up the path with belated thanks at the two guards.
The gate swings, and my hand stings when I catch it before it smacks me in the leg.
I don’t want to see my mum again—not for a while anyway.
But for my own sanity, I need to make sure they get home and don’t get themselves in any more trouble from the kerb to the front door.
I follow behind them, a few steps away, when they shove open the front door and yell that they’re home. My parents are there, and the boys are getting hugged and kissed and then shouted at, and I stand there and watch.
My dad looks at me over their heads and smiles. “Thank you.”
I nod, give him a small goodbye wave, and turn to go.
“Kricket!” my mum shouts. I spin on my toes. “Thank you,” she says, and the door slams closed.
The silver door knocker wobbles and then settles. “No apologies for me then.” For a few seconds, I stare at the door and rapidly blink. “Yeah, thanks, Mum.” I’m surprised my heart doesn’t crumble as I shuffle back down the path and close the gate softly behind me.
The gargoyle is leaning against the car—his car. Owen is standing nearby.
“Are you all right?” Soren asks.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, thanks.” My lips wobble as I try to smile.
Will I ever be all right?
No tears this time. I’m floating on exhaustion and relief that we aren’t fighting elves in Faerie.
I reach the passenger side, get in, click on the seat belt, and lean against the door in an exhausted heap. The two men chat briefly. The gargoyle pats the hellhound on the arm in a very male, buddy fashion, and then he gets in and starts the car.
“Owen will follow us back. We’ve decided to move houses in the morning, and we’ll move every few days.”
“Okay.” That’s fine. My books and movies education aren’t going to cut it. I’m happy for them to handle logistics as I didn’t last even a few hours when Emma left me to it. I’m delighted to hand it over to somebody who knows what they’re doing. “Thank you for your help today.”
We slowly drive out of the estate. “You’re welcome. It’s no problem. Now tell me again about you seeing magical signatures.”
My leg jiggles. I don’t know how to explain it without putting another big giant cross in the middle of my forehead for someone to murder me. X marks spot. Here, kill the freak.
I lick my lips and blurt it out. “I can see magical signatures. I’ve been able to see them forever.
I know when a person creates a spell—not the person who uncorked it, but the person who made it.
I can see the creator or the creator’s fingerprint, their signature.
Sometimes I can see a creator’s signature on the ground or in the air, like when a shifter changes shape.
I can see the magical signatures in most people.
” I presume most, as I’ve not met a massive number of creatures because I’ve been sequestered in a prison town.
I won’t go as far as to tell him that I can see other people’s magic acting on others and combinations of magic. The signature of the witch who stirred the spell of a healing potion or if someone has cheated on a test with a memory spell. And I can see what the dragon did to the hellhounds.
I shut that thought right off. I’m not even going to go there.
I must bury that knowledge deep and ensure that, for my self-preservation, I need to be blind to any uber-powerful magic in the future.
My spike of fear has the gargoyle’s nostrils flaring. “You’re frightened.”
“Yes, of course I’m frightened. I’m sorry, but I don’t trust you.
Everybody is concerned about my magic, and now I’m giving you more ammunition, more things to be concerned about.
You’re going to run to your bosses, and they’re going to want to either lock me up and throw away the key, or they’re going to use me until there is nothing left. ”
Or worse, they’re going to want to pull me apart to see how I work, and then they’ll want me dead.
He asked the question. I might as well finish now and give him the answer. Otherwise, the gargoyle will keep picking, and I don’t want to be the Kricket-shaped scab he flicks off.
Not being forthright will make this entire situation worse.
“I can see my charms. I can close my eyes and do a mental map to see all the charms I’ve created and find out where they are, if they’re happy, if they’ve been used correctly, and if anything is wrong.
I can even add my power to them so that if a ward is struggling and someone’s going to die, I can boost it.
Or if there’s a carrot charm, say, that has an issue”—I glare at him; he’s mentioned my carrot charms a few times, and I’m feeling overprotective of them—“I can pull that magic, I can take my power away, and the charm will become inert.”
“You can do all that? Destroy them with a thought.”
“Yes.” I think so. “So I thought if I could trace my charms and see magical signatures, it wouldn’t be much of a jump to see if I could trace my brothers, and it worked.
Instead of just being information like a fingerprint, the magical signatures that I normally see ended up being like a trail.
Like a magical string that stretched off into the distance. A string that we followed.”
“You’re a magical tracker.”
Huh. Is that what that is? Well, this is the first time I’ve heard of anybody being able to track magic. It seems right.
It’s my turn to change the subject. “What’s going to happen to my family? They’re supposed to have guards. They let my brothers slip out the back door. What if the elves return, or the Claw Brotherhood decides they’re an easy target to make me do what they want?”
“The general has spoken to a few people, and one of our colleagues has contacts with a special place where your family can go while things are resolved. Have you ever heard of the Sanctuary?”
“No.” I’ve never heard of the Sanctuary. “What’s that?”
Soren flashes his lights and lets another car go ahead of us.
“It’s an otherworld hotel within a pocket realm, and the host who runs it has another world and will allow your family and others to stay.
It’s the most secure place imaginable. The host controls everything, and your family will be safe.
Your brothers will be able to study, and there are other kids.
They have facilities that you can only dream of. ”
“That’s great. Hopefully, my mum and dad will agree to go.
It sounds like the perfect solution. Thank you.
I wouldn’t like staying in a pocket realm if you told me last week.
I hope it’ll be a nicer environment and won’t be the same as being stuck behind the glass prison ward.
” I guess it will be a different feeling as the stay will be temporary and I’ll feel less trapped.
Soren’s hands tighten on the steering wheel and the leather groans out of protest. “Ah, well, unfortunately, it’s going to be just your family.
You need to learn more about your magic, and you won’t be able to do your spells there as the magic in the realm and your dragon magic wouldn’t mix.
It’s been decided it will be best for you to stay here with guards. ”
Stay under their control.
“Okay, that’s fine.” Well done, Kricket. How stupid of you to think that they’ll let you go. I’m mortified. As if they will let me have a holiday in a pocket realm where everything’s safe and fun.
I lift my eyes to gaze at the roof so my frustration doesn’t leak down my face. I need to do an anti-crying charm. Something that will stop me from bawling my eyes out. I’m sick of emotion making me look weak.
All this is overwhelming, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t run away, and I don’t have the skills to look after myself… I stop when it hits me. Ah, yes, now that is a good idea. I have people helping me, and a whole host of other guards will be coming in to keep me safe.
So what’s saying that I don’t learn?
Who’s to say I don’t learn these skills from those at the top of their profession? My stomach twists. Who wouldn’t want to learn how to fight with a hellhound? They’ll get bored, and it won’t take too much for me to convince them to teach me how to keep myself safe.
I’m already the question queen. I’ve been suppressing that part of myself for years, but if I just let myself go, ask the questions, get the answers, and learn, perhaps this is only temporary.
According to my grandad Gary, the witches’ biggest fault was their reliance on magic. They couldn’t fight, and if given the chance, other creatures would rip a witch’s head clean off before they could unstop a vial or finish a chant.
If I’m going to survive crazy dragon-loving zealots, the Creature Council, and a silver dragon’s suffocating safety, I need to learn to fight.
I also remember asking my nan about how people could control elephants.
They’re such massive, beautiful creatures.
They can weigh up to six thousand kilogrammes.
How could people control them? Was it animal magic?
Nan smiled sadly at me and told me we see fluffy baby animals as adorable and that elephants see people the same way.
I’d asked her, “Is that why the elephants obey? Because they think that we’re all cute?”
And she said, “No. I don’t know if it’s everywhere, but from what I’ve read, they will tie the elephant to something incredibly strong.
Like a metal pole in the ground, and when the elephant tries to pull away, the human stands there, and in the elephant’s mind, they believe the human is so strong that they can’t win. ”
It’s learned helplessness.
Part of me recognises that’s what they will do to me.
They’re going to develop and nurture this learned helplessness in me so I don’t fight back, and I’ll never realise how strong I am and what I’m capable of.
My magic is vast, and I can probably do anything.
Who is to say that I don’t do everything?
That I don’t make my own pocket realm and live there like a queen?
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
If I look at things with fear, I’ll always feel fear, and the same if I feel like a victim. But if I look at things logically and am smart, I can protect myself and destroy anything that’s out to get me.
What did Soren say? “I wish you were a dragon. If you could shift into dragon form, that’d solve many of our problems. No one would mess with you then.”
I need to be a dragon—a dragon blood. I might not turn into a scaly beast, but who’s to say that I can’t be scary and powerful and keep people away?
With power comes safety.
Both forearms itch this time, and I ignore them. I’ll use everyone for now, like they’re trying to use me.
Soren drives us back to his house, and the passing traffic and the flickering view from the window makes the tiredness I’ve been holding back come at me full throttle.
My body’s still recovering. Even though magic can cure everything, it can’t replace nutrients, and from healing and dealing with my injury, I’m a little bit low on everything. Perhaps I need to get some vitamins?
I close my eyes for a second. I don’t mean to fall asleep, but I do.
When the gargoyle gently nudges me awake, I almost poke myself in the eye as I quickly wipe off any drool. Hopefully Soren didn’t see that.
Groggily, he helps me out of the car and guides me into the house. Then I’m lying in bed. He removes my trainers, covers me with a duvet, and I’m out like a light.