Prologue: The Storm, the Bear and the Dragon
Under the blankets, it was hot and stuffy and smelled like old people. Evelyn hugged her knees to her chest, squeezed her eyes shut and hummed to drown out the sound of the storm. Leaves hit the windows like claws scratching and the wind howled like rabid dogs and the room shook. Her humming faltered and the sounds grew monstrous and she reached blindly for her teddy but found only comforter and quilt.
Her eyes broke open and she scoured the bed, but with horror, realized that her toy must still be above the blankets, or worse, that it may have fallen to the floor. The world was rocked by thunder and ozone. She bit her lip, stuffed her fingers in her mouth, hummed, but there was an innocent left out in the barrage and she knew she could not sit by while it weathered the weather alone.
Evelyn crawled to the foot of her bed and poked her head from under the blankets. Her black curls stuck up like spider legs and the fresh air was cold against her smothered pink cheeks. The room was gloomy but she spotted the teddy bear instantly.
It had fallen, or maybe it had been flung off when she dove from the claw leaves, she wasn't sure, and now it lay in the middle of a braided carpet, half way to where her curtains hung limp over her large bolted shut window. Pale, red light seeped from under the curtain hems and from between their part. The light oozed across the floor, stained her rug and her toy chest, grew like mold on her dresser leg. Teddy's paw was an inch from where the blood light stopped, but every time the storm shook Evelyn's house, the window would rattle and the curtains would ripple and the light would reach its tentacles out, out, wriggling toward the bear, hungry.
Thunder roared. Her messy curls rabbited back under the comforter and Evelyn again stuck her fingers in her mouth and pressed her face into the mattress and hummed and stared into the needlework but all she could see was the light coiling around her favorite animal, her friend, how could she leave it there alone? She thought of trying to call Mother, but her parent's room was up three flights of stairs and she had promised that she would be brave tonight. Mother had never allowed her to sleep alone on the nights when the red moon rose and what would she think if now, after all Evelyn's begging and whining and tantrum throwing, Evelyn woke the whole household over a teddy bear and some autumn rain?
No, she decided, she could not call her mother.
Evelyn took her fingers out of her mouth and slunk back to the edge of her bed. A tree branch broke outside and was blown into the wall with a thunderous applause. She sobbed, but not wanting to appear a baby in front of teddy, composed her face before sliding to the carpet.
It was then that she heard the screams.
Evelyn froze. Teddy was only a few feet away, a second's rush, but she was held by the fear that if she moved then whatever was outside would know she was awake and come in with claws and teeth and black eyes and blood light and find her. She couldn't hum, because then maybe the outside would hear her, so she froze and listened and eyed the curtains. The curtains were almost sheer, so that tonight the blood moon made them glow and the leaves that tangled outside were dark birds against them. Evelyn watched the leaves come close and go away and the light cavort like water rainbows or jellyfish and the screaming outside grew loud enough to drown out the howl of the storm.
Suddenly, there was a tremendous blast of wind that lifted the house and her curtains jumped and light splashed over the rim of the windowsill and Evelyn yelped and dove and snatched Teddy just before he drowned in the red. She clutched her toy to her chest and curled into a ball and whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut in the middle of her room, expecting this to be the end. But after a moment, she realized that there was a stillness, that the screams and the storm had subsided for a moment and opening her eyes, she saw that the light had retreated to the wall.
She pushed herself to her knees and was about to make a dash for her bed, when a shadow touched her curtains. The outline of a human. Her eyes locked, her heart stopped, her stomach turned to ice. The silhouette did not go away. It just stood there, as if peering in from the storm, watching, waiting for her back to be turned.
People were not supposed to go outside when the moon was red. Everyone knew this. Bad things happened on red nights. Those were the times when the dragons ran. Evelyn wasn't sure what that meant, but she imagined it included teeth. So, why was the shadow outside her window?
The stories adults told were full of scales and fire breath and impossible things like that. The howling was just the wind. The screams were in her imagination. The light was a fluke. The shadow frightened her, but maybe it needed help? Her toes touched the light on the floor. She wriggled them, but nothing happened, so she stepped up to the curtains.
She grabbed a fistful of fabric with one hand, clutched her bear with the other.
This close up, the silhouette did not look right. There was something sharp about it. It was too tall. It could see her. It leaned closer, pressed dark against the glass.
She tugged and the curtain spread wide and red flooded in and she dropped her bear.
Its eyes were orange, its skin dead white, its mane toxic colors, its huge black claws scratched the glass, its teeth were fangs and its mouth gaped wide tongue long and forked and reaching. It hit the window twice and cracks erupted like spider webs and the storm howled and the creature howled and its claws shrieked against the window and all this was red and there were hundreds of other monsters, prowling the lawn and the sidewalk and the street and Evelyn screamed but she could not let go of the curtain.
“Evelyn! What are you doing!”
Arms encircled her, lifted, the curtain dropped back. Her mother had been downstairs getting a glass of water and had heard her daughter's fright. She left the stuffed animal on the floor, locked Evelyn's bedroom door and took her daughter upstairs, but the child did not sleep. She lay in bed next to her parents, the dragon printed on her eyes.
Chapter One: The Wall, the Strangers and the Dragon
Fifteen Years Later.
On one side of the wall, a tangled jungle. On the other, cobbled walks, windowsills heavy with flowers, warm firesides, a tabby cat on the prowl, a city curling up for sleep. Evelyn sat on the wall, her black hair knotted in the autumn wind. The sound of voices made her heart skip, but it was only a pair of boys out to race and taste the midnight hours while their parents slept. Still, she waited until they had turned the corner before giving her attention back to the jungle.
The canopy spread below her in a mass of spider webs, strange birds, fanged flowers, bright beetles, leaves turned to brilliance in the moonlight. And deep, deep in that heady labyrinth, something roared. And then the roar became fire. A geyser, orange, hot. She held her breath and strained her eyes, but as fast as it had appeared the fire died and the night flooded back into place. She waited a moment, her pulse fast. But the jungle remained still and the only light came from fire flies and rain cloud stars. She let her cheek fall onto her hand and sighed.
However, she sat up again when she heard the gallop of horses. Coming from the jungle? That's impossible. She leaned over the wall until only her fingernails kept her from falling. Why would anyone be out there at night? The horses broke into the open, their riders blazing with moon metal. The leader rode with his arm raised, his blonde head thrown back, as if he had just cheated hell itself. On the wall, watchmen yelled each other awake and pointed.
Evelyn was just realizing that she needed to get out of sight, when someone barked at her.
“You! Girl! What are you doing here?”
She jumped to her feet before the watchman could quite grasp the situation, and dove for the oak she had used to climb up in the first place. The man shouted for her to freeze, but now she was five feet from the ground and the man couldn't follow with all his armor. She leapt, felt her skirt catch on something and rip, hit the ground and ran.
She sprinted into an alleyway, soaked her slippers in a puddle and splashed herself with grime. Two rights, a left, under a hedge and over a small white fence. A dog barked from a doorway. She slowed before she reached the colonnades and velvet curtains of the upper city and looked carefully back into the dark. No one seemed to be following, she hoped that the arrival of the horsemen had pushed her from their minds.
She took a breath and forced herself into a sedate walk so as not to alarm any more dogs or worse, their loose tongued owners. The moon was sinking in the sky. It would be dawn soon, and a servant would be waking her father for his morning meeting. She had to be quick, but she couldn't risk sneaking into her home dripping mud.
Evelyn waded through orange leaves and savored the memory of fire. The street lamps burned low. The door she knocked at was rough wood, water stained, but the woman who opened it was all soft skin and concern.
“Evelyn?” The woman took her hand and gasped. “You're ice! What on earth--”
“Can I borrow some shoes? The servants will squeal if they find my things in this state.”
“You could get hurt pulling stunts like--”
“But Beth, you don't even know what I've done this time!” Evelyn hugged her friend and darted inside, glancing behind as the door shut, just in case.
Beth rolled her eyes. “I don't need to know any more than that it is God's hour of the morning and you look like you've just got back from battling rats in the sewers. Sit down and I'll make you some tea.” She tapped a finger to her cheek. “Maybe if I drug it you'll get enough sleep to look decent tomorrow.”
Evelyn laughed and ignored the chair her friend had motioned her to. “I'll get the tea, you get the slippers. I'm sorry to wake you like this.” She twisted a faucet and filled a copper kettle. The kitchen was dark but gray half light steeped the checkered curtains and dabbled around the counter top. When Beth returned, arms full of clean things, Evelyn set the kettle on the stove and said, “I saw one.”
Beth grimaced. “I don't want to know. You'll have rings under your eyes tomorrow, so make sure you bother with face powder before you go out. Do it for me. I like to be known as the friend of someone beautiful and important.”
Evelyn handed her a mug. “Don't be stupid. I'm no more important than a piece of livestock. I'm worth a lot, sure, and no one wants me to get out of my pen, but really they only care about my calves.”
“Now you're the one being stupid.” Beth grinned. “The care a great deal about your legs and thighs as well.”
“There was something else.” Evelyn sipped her tea. “A whole troupe of men on horse back rode up to the city, had the watchmen in such a state! I can't imagine why they were out so late, maybe a hunting party got lost?”
Beth shook her head and her straight blonde hair fell into her face. “No, Myrrh was in the last party and he got back yesterday.”
Evelyn raised her eyebrows. “Oh, did he? How is the handsome devil anyway? Still managing to be devilish attractive? You know, I seem to remember you mentioning that he was pretty easy on the eyes...”
Beth glared. “He is fine. As fine as someone with a bad cold can be. I brought him some soup yesterday, the man hasn't a clue how to take care of himself.”
“Did you offer to tuck him in as well? Give him a goodnight--”
Beth yawned loudly. “Well, it's been fun. Shouldn't you be getting back to your hopefully unlocked window about now?” Evelyn pulled on the new clothes and touched the door knob, but Beth made her pause. Her friend was leaning against the counter, looking nonchalantly into her tea. “So,” she said, “did it really breathe fire and all that?”
Evelyn nodded.
A minute later she was on the street, decked in the slightly less appealing garb of a middle class citizen of Promen. The sun licked the edge of the wall. Mist rose from pumpkin gardens and grape arbors. Bakeries muttered to life and the scent of cinnamon rolls and butter cakes tumbled out of their open doors. The street lamps were doused and cats yawned their way back to fire sides and piano tops.
She stumbled around the perimeter of her lawn and stealthed to where the sculpted hedges ended. The mansion was pearl colored and slick with silver balconies and burnished door knobs. The windows were yellow and pink and blue with night come daylight. The glass shone as if someone had taken a match to it. Fire. Evelyn smiled at the memory.
She hid between the hedges until she was sure no one was near then made a mad dash for the trellis that met with her window a story above. She scaled it, ivy crumbling under her feet, pushed open the pane and rolled onto her braided carpet.
The sun was hot and the wind kicked orange leaves into her room after her. She grinned, then beamed, then laughed, the adrenaline still pumping in her breast. She let the word linger on her tongue like a trophy.
“Dragons.”
Then she tumbled into her bed and fell fast asleep.
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