Page 53

53

CHARLIE

B loom radioed command and orders came down that I was to be brought back to the Republic with all possible haste. I became a baton in a relay race, rushed by tank then airplane then car back to headquarters. Once arrived, I was escorted to the showers and given a fresh uniform and a razor. Once I was cleaned up, my escorts—a couple of young MP’s— brought me to the commissary.

Fare from McNally Air Base was nicknamed McNasty, but I wolfed down the fried eggs, limp bacon and white toast eagerly, for although it couldn’t compare to the spiced sausage and honey biscuits of Maethalia, it tasted like home, and part of me reveled in it—although the rest of me felt terribly broken, bereft, and full of regret.

Essa…

The thought of her name ripped through me like a knife blade. Would I ever see her again? I had to. I had to.

I closed my eyes and reached out to her with my thoughts for perhaps the hundredth time since we’d parted, but there was nothing. She’d shut her mind to me. Even Parthar’s presence was dim, his thoughts indecipherable. Perhaps I was just too far away.

I shoved my plate of food away half eaten and nodded to my MP’s.

“I’m ready to see the brass,” I said.

Instead, I was escorted to the infirmary. A doctor and a nurse frowned at my eye—still swollen shut. They threw four stitches in my brow, examined the wounds I’d received from Braimar, which were apparently healing fine, then scratched some notes in a folder and sent me on my way.

Finally, I found myself sitting in General Peckam’s office, coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other, listening to the ticking of a clock. I took a drag off the cigarette, feeling like myself for the first time in months—and at the same time like a total imposter.

The door burst open and General Peckham stormed in. Behind him came his assistant, Michaels, pushing his glasses up on his nose, and behind him came two more men. One was a tall prick in a leather pilot’s jacket I recognized from Flight Academy—Carter Blaize. The last fellow wore a black suit and had slicked back blond hair, a pale movie-star’s face, and dead blue eyes.

“Inman! Back from the dead.” Peckham bellowed when he saw me. I stood and saluted, and he returned the gesture with obvious pleasure. “You’re a hero, my man. Sit. Hell, put your feet up on my desk, if you like. You’ve earned it.”

The general took the chair behind the desk and lit up a cigarette of his own.

“I know you must be exhausted,” he said. “We’ll give you a more formal debriefing later. But I wanted you to understand what you’ve done before all hell breaks loose.”

“What I’ve done?” I asked numbly.

“The intelligence you sent back via that Prelate fellow. Oh, he’s been sending us stuff for years. But you—you’re one of us. You knew exactly the information we needed to come out on top. Now that we’ve got it, by God, we’re going to use it.”

“Use it?” I muttered. “Like you used it to firebomb those dragon eggs? A thousand unborn dragons, roasted in their shells…”

If Peckham noticed that my teeth were on edge, he didn’t show it.

“Exactly, my boy! We couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t given us the exact location of their hatching grounds there on Rograd Point. And setting up the queen’s crippled daughter to take command?” he chuckled. “Genius. With her in charge, I doubt they’ll even be able to mount an organized defense when we hit them tonight.”

“ Tonight ?”

Peckham clapped me on the shoulder. “Absolutely, my boy. With everything we’ve got. Every squadron we have will be hitting their capital. Dragons will be falling from the sky like Goddamn snowflakes!”

“Hell of an analogy, sir,” Michaels chimed in.

Peckham glanced back at him and seemed to notice the men standing by the door, too.

“But that’s nothing compared to what’ll be happening on the ground, thanks to Mr. Langford and his efforts.”

The pale man nodded an acknowledgement, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. And I didn’t like those eyes, not one bit. He didn’t blink. It was like being stared at by a statue.

“I don’t believe I know Mr. Langford,” I said.

“Of course,” Peckham said. “Charlie Inman, meet Edward Langford of the Secret Intelligence Bureau. They stationed him here when you disappeared, to help bring you back, at first, then to manage communications with you. He’s been the Maethalian Prelate’s contact for years. And, at his recommendation, we brought Major Blaize here to fill in for you while you were away.”

“As the Silver Wraith,” I said.

Carter gave me a cocky ass grin.

“Seven dragon kills already,” Peckham boomed, thumbing toward the man. “You might have some competition, Inman. We couldn’t let the Wraith die, you understand. Would have been bad for public morale.”

“Right…” I said.

“It has been fun, being you,” Blaize said.

From what I’d heard, he had been stationed at Portholm with the Second Air Force after flight school. He had a reputation as a hell of an ace—and a diva. I didn’t like the idea of him being me. In fact, I kind of wanted to punch him in the face.

“Of course, nobody could fill your shoes, Charlie,” Peckham went on. “We’ll have you flying as the Wraith again in no time. I’ll tell you, the accolades you’re going to get from what you’ve done—we’re talking a Presidential Medal of Valor at the very least.”

“I agree,” the spook, Langford, said. “We’ve been laying the groundwork for the downfall of the dragon riders for years. Your arrival came at the perfect time. And the work you’ve done has been excellent. Even if you were a marionette and I were pulling your strings myself it could scarcely have happened more perfectly.”

His words were complimentary, but his voice made me think of coiling snakes. And God was he a cold customer. It didn’t even look like he was breathing.

“Thanks,” I told him drily.

The door swung open and a young lieutenant stuck his head in and gave a rushed salute.

“Sir, the planes are ready.”

Peckham’s face lit up. “Here we go.”

He glanced at his wristwatch then grabbed the microphone sitting on a corner of this desk, hauled it in front of himself, and pushed the button. Outside, a series of bullhorns fixed atop poles squealed to life.

“All pilots and crews to battles station, all pilots and crews to battle stations. Operation Silver Dawn begins now. Take off at your squad leader’s signal.”

The speakers squealed once more as the mic shut off. Outside, the familiar sound of many thumping boots filled my ears, setting my blood pumping. One by one, plane engines roared to life.

“Well, that’s my cue,” Blaize said, putting his flight helmet on and pulling his goggles down. “I’ll finish what you started and shoot down the one-armed princess of yours,” he said, a sadistic glee in his voice, then he turned and swept out the door. Langford followed, whispering in his ear.

I felt as if my blood had turned to slush. I started to rise from the table.

“Woah, woah, woah, easy there, Ace,” Peckham said, dropping his heavy hands on my shoulders and pushing me back down. “Where do you think you’re off to?”

“I’m going. I have to fly.”

He gave me a pitying smile. “I knew you’d feel that way. And I was planning to send you. But not with that eye. The medics have grounded you.”

“But—” I faltered, one hand going to my swollen eye. Certainly in normal circumstances they’d have never let a fellow fly with his vision so severely limited. But I didn’t give a damn about that.

“No buts , Charlie. We just got you back, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose you now. You’re grounded, that’s an order. But I do have someone who might be able to console you,” he turned and shouted over his shoulder. “Send her in!”

The door opened and there was Kitty. I slowly rose from my chair at the sight of her.

Peckham clapped me on the shoulder once more. “I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted,” he said with a wink. Then bustled out the door with Michaels at his heels.

Kitty moved toward me, somehow making her hips prominent even in the suit dress she wore. Having been away for so long I looked at her with fresh eyes. Her shortish, curly hair was perfectly coifed. Her lips the vermillion of fresh blood. Her face as flawless a painting of twenty-year-old angel, though I thought she looked paler and thinner than she had when I left; she’d been cooped up in her apartment worried about me, maybe.

Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she said, one corner of her red lips quirking up.

Outside, the engines of more and more planes were starting, becoming a deafening chorus. With each one, my heart beat faster.

She stared at me without blinking. “Well? It’s been two months. Aren’t you going to kiss a girl hello?”

She stepped forward, her heels clacking on the floor in a way that made me think of a hammer driving nails. Then her lips were on mine, her lipstick smearing on my face.

When I didn’t kiss her back, she pulled away, giving me as sharp look. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you miss me?”

I couldn’t answer. My heart felt like a whirling propeller. The buzz of the engines outside was driving me mad, the song of a siren.

I should just relax. Stay. This was my home. My time in Maethalia was just a dream. I was a fool to think…

And yet…

Dragons will fall like snowflakes…

I’ll finish what you started and shoot down the one-armed princess…

Essa…

Kitty’s hands grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me closer.

“I missed you, Charlie,” she said into my ear. “Take me back to your apartment.”

My first impulse was to recoil at her words. But a voice of reason inside me countered. I should just stay. This was my home. Kitty had been my girl. Everything in Maethalia had been amazing. But could anything that amazing last? Could anything that amazing be real? Kitty’s lips slipped slowly down my neck.

“There’s something I want to try with you, Charlie,” she whispered. “I promise you’ll love it.”

I felt her mouth open, felt her teeth on the skin of my neck.

Suddenly Parthar shouted in my mind—faint but urgent:

Run!

It was like being shaken awake.

I grabbed Kitty and shoved her back to arm’s length. Something was different about her. Her skin? Her teeth…?

“Hey!” she said.

“I have to go,” I muttered, brushing past her.

She grabbed my arm, stopping me short.

“You heard the general, Charlie. He ordered you to stay here. With me.”

I tried to pull my wrist from her grasp but she held on with freakish strength.

“I have to go,” I said, yanking my arm again. There was a ripping sound as my shirt sleeve tore off. I left her holding it as I bolted from the room.

“Charlie. Charlie!” she called after me. But I didn’t turn back.

Outside, the entire airfield was filled with planes. Normally, we sent out no more than a third of the squadrons on a single mission. But now, from the looks of it, they’d called up anything with wings. Peckham wasn’t joking; this was going to be an all-out attack.

I scanned the runway for my plane—the Silver Wraith—and found it already taxiing up the runway for takeoff.

“Damned Carter,” I snarled.

“Charlie!” Kitty burst out of the administrative building behind me, a pair of MP’s in tow.

I ran. The planes were taking off now, wave upon wave of them taxiing forward and buzzing into the air as I sprinted into their midst. Wind from their propeller blades buffeted me and wings whooshed over my head as I raced toward the back of the formation. At last, in the second to last row, I saw a plane with an empty cockpit. She was no Silver Wraith, just a ratty old patched-up Comet painted a drab army green—but she would have to do. The pilot was just clambering his way up when I grabbed him by the back of the jacket and yanked him down, snatching the leather flight helmet off his head.

“What the hell?” He wheeled and swung at me. I ducked it and slugged him in the side of the face, sending him to the dirt.

“Sorry, pal,” I said, leaping over him and climbing into the cockpit. The wave of planes in front of us was already taxiing and I put her in gear with a clunk. The smell of burning fuel filled my nostrils. The heat of the engine warmed my feet. I was home.

At the edge of the formation, Kitty and the MP’s were still trying to get me, but there were too many whirling propellers blocking their way. And then I was picking up speed, the rumble of the engine becoming a roar as I went faster, faster, faster, then weightless, veering up into a tumultuous gray sky.

“I’m coming, Essa,” I said. “I’m coming…”