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  Before the message finished, the magic bond between Jimmy and Ash turned dark. Ash slumped his wings and huffed out some smoke in defiance, then hopped to the floor and waited by the backpack.

  “I’m sorry. It’s only a few minutes,” Jimmy tried to placate Ash but they both knew their journey was only halfway done. Kind of impossible to lie to someone who can read your mind.

  Back in the passenger car the little boy had thankfully cried himself out. He lay sprawled over his seat and Jimmy’s leaving nowhere to sit.

  Weary bags hung from Mom’s eyes. He’d abandoned her in their last few precious moments together and left her to suffer through the nightmare child alone.

  Still, she smiled and patted her lap for him to come sit.

  Jimmy’s eyes widened. Absolutely not.

  Instead, he crouched on the floor in front of the sleeping boy and held his backpack to his chest.

  The train lurched and jerked around so hard it tipped Jimmy over and Ash almost spilled out of the bag. Fear shot through their invisible bond and Jimmy kept repeating, “I’m sorry,” in his mind.

  Ash growled back that his apology was not accepted.

  When the train rolled to a stop, Jimmy jumped up and ran toward the door before anyone could get in his way. He headed straight for the covered platform, away from the throng of people coming and going.

  Ash flapped and screeched inside the bag. His tiny claws scratched at the fabric, desperate to get free. Jimmy looked around for somewhere to hide, anywhere that would give them a moment’s peace in this crowded station. But there was nowhere. They were trapped.

  Just when Jimmy felt his own panic rise in his chest, and old wrinkled man caught his eye and headed toward him. The fear sharpened. His legs wanted to run.

  As the man approached, Jimmy searched the mass of people for his mother’s face, but didn’t find it. Ash screeched. Smoke poured out of the bag.

  A worn leathery hand grabbed Jimmy’s shoulder.

  The old man’s face smiled down at him. Hot tobacco breath stung Jimmy’s nose. “Ye look just like yer daddy, boy.” He sounded like a pirate, speaking some ancient guttural language mixed with just enough English to understand. He was tall and wide, yet somehow still unbelievably thin. Sagging skin hung off of him everywhere Jimmy looked.

  Then he saw it.

  A thick brown patch, much like his own, covered the side of the old man’s face. The aged skin around it had cracked and darkened to almost the same color, but there was no mistaking.

  Jimmy stared at the birthmark, wondering how that giant continent-shaped blob passed down to him. Which birthmark did his dad’s resemble more? He searched his mind, standing frozen and mute, trying to recall that long forgotten face.

  A thin waft of emotion came over him, a mental hug from Ash down their magic link.

  “Jimmy, say ‘hi’ to Grandpa James.” Mom finally appeared next to them.

  Jimmy sighed with relief. Ash’s low roar subsided.

  “H… hi,” Jimmy bowed his head and held out his hand. Grandpa James took it and pulled him in close for a giant hug. Though the man looked ancient, he was still large and sturdy. It was like hugging a wall. A wall that could crush him with no effort.

  Ash squished between them and started flapping again inside the bag.

  Jimmy wrestled himself out of the embrace and backed up, subconsciously, so his mom was between them.

  “He’s just nervous about being away from home,” she told the old man as they walked ahead. “Thank you so much for agreeing to…” Mom’s voice trailed off as Jimmy let some space come between them.

  He turned his back, just to be sure, and unzipped the bag.

  Two angry yellow eyes fumed up at him. Smoke filled the bag and some blew into Jimmy’s face. He coughed and slammed the bag shut, looking around to make sure nobody saw.

  Everyone on the platform was too worried about their own business to notice him. As usual.

  All of a sudden, Jimmy’s senses heightened. He smelled electricity in the air, felt eyes watching him. He scanned the crowd of people still spilling from the trains, but couldn’t find anyone blatantly staring. Still, he held Ash closer.

  An icy shiver ran over Jimmy’s body as he turned around to follow his mother and this mystery grandfather.

  This was going to be a horrible summer.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Driving over the roads in Cottonwood Falls felt like climbing boulders as Jimmy and Ash jostled around in the bed of Grandpa James’s ancient truck. At least Mom didn’t say anything when Jimmy jumped in the back instead of sitting in the filthy cab with them. As tight and comfortable as the enclosed space would be, he wasn’t going to make this abandonment easy on her. Besides, he knew he’d have to sit between Mom and this weird talking strange old man.

  “No way I’m getting stuck in the middle of that,” he said to Ash.

  Since they were hidden from view — the truck’s middle window was gone and a piece of cardboard had been taped over the hole — Jimmy felt comfortable letting Ash out of the bag. Jimmy fought the urge to lay flat on the bed of the truck and cover himself with the backpack. So they sat together, Jimmy hugging the backpack to his chest for some small comfort, watching the endless flat nothing of their new temporary home.

  The thought of it turned Jimmy’s blood cold in his veins. When Mom had told him about the trip, he’d imagined himself as an unworthy prince, banished to the farthest reaches of his kingdom. Unwanted and forgotten. Forced to live out the rest of his days in obscurity and loneliness.

  And now, that day had come. His chariot of dust and smoke whisked him away to Nowheresville, never to be seen or heard from again. Just him and his pet dragon.

  Jimmy chuckled and scratched Ash behind the ear. At least that part of his fairy tale adventure would be fun.

  As they rode on toward his doom, Jimmy sensed something changing in the air. Something bad and ominous. The sky darkened, but not off in the distance like a thunderstorm threatening to ruin the afternoon. No, the darkness followed him.

  He knew how crazy that sounded, and he told himself as much, laughing it off to Ash. But every time he looked, which was about every two seconds, it grew closer. Bigger.

  Ash whimpered and abandoned the old piece of rope he’d been trying to dig free from under a junk pile. With his wings over his head for protection, Ash ran to Jimmy and scratched at the backpack, trying to get back in.

  The mountain in the distance grew bigger as they drove away from it, which Jimmy knew was not how mountains worked. And to make matters worse, Jimmy didn’t remember seeing a mountain at all when he got off the train. But, it had to be there, right? I mean, there it was.

  Growing.

  Following.

  When they arrived at the run down old farm, the mountain stayed right behind them. Jimmy jumped out of the truck and ran toward the field, not wanting to be trapped inside when it caught up.

  Mom and Grandpa James didn’t seem to notice at all. They chatted and smiled at each other as they carried the bags inside. What was wrong with them?

  “Jimmy, come help,” Mom yelled after him. Then, to Grandpa James, “I’m sorry. He’s usually so responsible.”

  “Naw, don’t pay it no mind. I remember when Jim was his age.” The old man’s voice caught in his throat at the mention of Jimmy’s father. When he’d left, all those years ago, he’d left everything and everyone behind. Including his own father, so it seemed.

  Jimmy realized he’d never thought of it like that before. He’d only cared about how much his father’s absence hurt his mom, and sometimes himself. If he was honest, he didn’t remember enough of the man to miss him like she did. To leave your own parents though? There was no way Jimmy could take off like that, abandon his mom.

  A lump formed in Jimmy’s throat, one that wouldn’t go down no matter how many times he swallowed. He couldn’t leave his mom, but she could leave him. She was doing so right now.

  To distract himself fr
om those crushing thoughts, Jimmy looked back to see the grief on his grandfather’s face, this man he didn’t know at all. Strangely, more than the birthmark, this was what looked familiar. It was the same tight expression he saw in the mirror, and on his mom’s face every day.

  In the distance, the mountain had stopped chasing them, for now. It loomed over the town like an alien world in the night sky. But it shouldn’t be night yet. It was barely lunch time.

  The thought of lunch churned Jimmy’s stomach and Ash gave a low grumble of agreement from the bag. Hunger, it seemed, was a twisting ball of brown and green gnawing at their magic bond.

  Still, he didn’t want to go inside the house. Not yet. Going inside meant he’d resigned himself to his fate, whatever that might bring this summer. He wasn’t ready for that.

  Feeling the mountain watching him made Jimmy’s skin crawl. Ash jostled around in the bag, clearly uncomfortable, too. Their magic bond burned with fear.

  As if sensing his trepidation, Grandpa James waved a thick wrinkled arm toward the back yard. “I think there’s some of your dad’s old things in the barn, there. Go take a looksee.”

  Jimmy stole another glance at the ominous mountain and dark sky, which Grandpa James and Mom were still oblivious to, and gulped. Being trapped in a barn wasn’t much better than being trapped in the house.

  But the lure of his dad’s things won.

  Mom motioned him on and said, “I’ll make you something to eat. Go on and play for a bit.” Play. She knew as well as Jimmy how important this moment was. There would be no playing.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The barn’s double doors creaked as Jimmy swung them open. The air smelled old and tasted older. Jimmy put his shirt collar over his nose. Particles floated in the air around him as thin strips of light shone through the boarded up windows in the far back. Jimmy had never seen a barn before but this was not what he had pictured.

  It was huge. Twice as big as his house for sure. In fact, it looked bigger than Grandpa James’s house. If Jimmy had this farm he’d move in here and leave the house for… whatever barns were used for.

  Before he could stop it, Jimmy felt the wide open space of the barn closing in on him. Too much room. It was just like being outside. He looked up at the high dome ceiling, unable to see the boards. His body shuddered. Too big.

  Ash fidgeted in the backpack so Jimmy unzipped it and let him walk around. Ash scratched at the ground, digging for food. There was no floor, just dirt. Maybe that’s why Grandpa James didn’t live in here. Plus, under the moldy smell was a harsh musk of animal sweat. Decades or centuries of farm stock left their mark on the dilapidated building.

  Along both sides of the deep open space hung hundreds of rusted unused tools. Things like fence wire and rope and giant scissors swayed in the light breeze, everything out of a horror movie. The sweat running down his back cooled against his skin as he thought about all the bad things someone could do to him in this dark room with those scary tools.

  Ash huddled behind Jimmy’s leg and whimpered. Jimmy wished he had someone’s leg to hide behind, too. Only for a moment, though.

  With a heavy sigh, he stood tall and scanned the room with purpose. Somewhere in this barn was stuff from his dad’s childhood and he wasn’t leaving without it.

  Jimmy’s first steps weren’t as sure as he was. His leg trembled with the fear he and Ash both felt. The nervous buzz running between them did nothing to calm the prickly hairs on his arms. Could he pass his phobias to Ash? The thought of ruining this poor baby’s life with his irrational fears made Jimmy determined.

  “Come on, Ash. You’re a dragon for Pete’s sake.”

  Ash made a clearly offended noise in the back of his throat.

  In the far right corner stood three rows of moving boxes stacked higher than Jimmy’s head. Like rings on a tree, Jimmy could count how long the boxes had been stored in the barn. Ancient crumbling and darker boxes slumped under the weight of the lighter new ones.

  None of them had any writing that he could see, except one. The girly looped handwriting said, “Jim’s Things” in cursive. It called to him. As he got closer, the thick magic marker lines were jagged, as if made by a trembling hand. A grieving hand.

  That’s when it hit him. A mother. His dad had a mom and he left her, just like he up and left Jimmy.

  Jimmy shook his head and so did Ash.

  It was one thing to run off and leave your wife and kid, and another to leave your old dad. But to leave your mom.

  Ash nudged Jimmy’s leg as if to say, “Go on,” so he did.

  He pulled the box off the top of the middle stack and set it down on the ground with great ceremony. He wondered if this was what archaeologists felt when they excavated a tomb full of priceless artifacts from pharaohs and kings.

  “Ready?” Jimmy asked Ash.

  Ash nudged him again.

  The tape pulled off easily and Jimmy stuck it to his pants leg to reseal the box when he was finished. Then, unable to stall any longer, he took a deep breath and looked inside.

  The box bulged with the weight of mementos from a long lost childhood. Jimmy sat each item on the ground beside the box as he took a mental inventory.

  There were old baseball cards, the names on which he didn’t recognize. One side of a bright blue yoyo with the string still attached. Two, no, three books about knights and castles. A cracked brown dog collar with a jangling name tag that said “Spot.”

  “See, I told you it was a good name,” Jimmy told Ash who had climbed up on the side of the box to see for himself.

  Though silent, Ash’s response through their magic bond made it clear that Jimmy was right about nothing because Spot is obviously reserved for dogs.

  Jimmy sat the collar down with more care than the rest of the keepsakes for it must have been very important to his father. The next item was a small book full of newspaper clippings about a ‘Great War’ and ‘The Sinking of German U-Boats’ and some place called ‘Normandy Beach.’ They were all dated about fifteen years back, just before Jimmy’s parents met.

  Beneath that book were a few magazines titled ‘Weird Tales’ with things like werewolves and a boy with bat ears on the cover. Jimmy set those on the other side of the box to take inside with him later. When he moved the magazines, two things fell out. One was a wooden slingshot with a busted rubber band. That quickly went in the “take inside” pile.

  The other item was a small rectangular piece of picture paper with crinkled edges. He almost didn’t want to look, but how could he not? Slowly he turned the picture over and stared at the face of his father. It was a face he barely recognized except for the parts that mirrored his own. They both had thin, pointy noses and the same pale blue eyes. His dad’s hair was a bit darker; it looked almost brown in the picture, but that was probably the Army buzz cut.

  Then, of course, their most degrading feature, the birthmark. His dad’s mark looked thicker than his own, more like the large curvy patch winding its way up Grandpa James’s cheek. Jimmy touched his own lighter birthmark subconsciously. At least the curse seemed to be lessening with each generation. He set the picture very carefully on top of the magazines and went back to the box. That left one final clue.

  A worn baseball mitt lay in the bottom of the box. Jimmy stared at it. The stitching had faded, but he could tell it was once new. Bright and stiff like the one he had at home. Jimmy’s heart skipped a beat, then thudded hard in his chest. He’d waited for this moment his whole life and he would remember for the rest of it.

  Ash nuzzled Jimmy’s leg for support and their bond warmed.

  Jimmy slid his hand into the glove. It fit perfectly, as if his own hand had stretched and worked the stiff leather every day for years.

  And it was still warm. The logical part of his brain knew it had to be the summer heat caught in the stifling barn with nowhere to go but in. Into the floor, the old tools hanging on the walls, and into the lifeless items discarded in boxes.

  But.
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br />   The other part of him, the part that had a baby dragon nibbling at the box’s cardboard flap at that very moment… that part knew it was something more. Something magical.

  The heat from his dad’s hand seeped into his skin, wrapping itself around him like a hug.

  Just then, the doors burst open, and a bright shaft of light shined down on him. Jimmy slammed the lid of the empty box, knocking Ash to the ground with a yelp.

  “Come get some lunch, Jimmy,” Mom called from the doorway. Her voice sounded strained and too cheerful at the same time. She didn’t dare want to come in there with him and see his father’s memories.

  “Coming!” Jimmy grabbed the stack of magazines and jumped up. He quickly shoved the slingshot and picture in his back pocket.

  Stay here, he begged Ash over their magic link. The air turned darker as Ash protested.

  I’ll bring you back some food.

  The air stilled and Jimmy followed his mom into the house where his father once lived and now where he’d be living for a while.

  CHAPTER NINE

  King Ase halted long enough to signal for Lord Sweyn to split the men. While Lord Sweyn went right, Ase and his rank went left.

  The dragon spewed fire in both directions, trying to catch the lines of men as they maneuvered around King Daegen’s formation.

  As Sweyn’s men marched out of view, blocked by the smoke and fire, King Ase led his men to the shore. A narrow path followed the cliff’s edge, winding around the back of Daegen’s army. If he could get his men to that road, they could sneak behind King Daegen and gain the upper hand.

  Looking over his shoulder, King Ase said a silent prayer to Odin for Lord Sweyn’s regiment. He would soon lose sight of them altogether.