Read Online Icefire by Chris D'Lacey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chris D'Lacey
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Zanna held tighter than ever to the egg, caressing it and speaking softly to it as she moved toward the window and Liz’s workbench. “Who’s this?” she asked, coming face-to-face with an elegant dragon at the back of the bench.
“Definitely, one hundred percent, do
not
touch that. That’s Guinevere, Liz’s special dragon. If you knock that over, we’re cinders, I’m telling you.”
Zanna tilted her head. “She wants it,” she whispered.
“Eh?” said David. “What are you talking about?”
“Can’t have it,” said Zanna, almost spitting like a cat. “My baby.
My
egg. It’s Zanna’s b —”
“Zanna, what’s the matter?” David grabbed her arm.
“No!” she squealed, trying to fight him off. In the struggle, the egg fell out of her arms. It dropped onto the workbench, spinning. Whole.
“Zanna!” David shook her till her eyes began to clear.
“What — what happened?” she whispered, flattening herself against his chest.
“I don’t know. You went weird. You were talking about babies. You wanted that bronze-colored egg.”
“Egg …” She blinked and reached to touch it.
“No,” said David, knocking against the bench as he pulled her away. The egg jostled and twitched like a compass needle, then rolled to a rest at Guinevere’s feet. At the moment of contact, David thought he saw the surface of the egg begin to ripple. But as he squinted and focused, the clunk of a car door sounded nearby and he jerked his head sharply to the front of the house. “What was that?”
Zanna touched his hand and gulped.
“Oh no,” said David, turning white. “They shouldn’t be home for ages yet.” He yanked Zanna’s arm and dragged her to the landing. “Quick. Downstairs. Let me do the talking. You’ve been here two minutes, dropping off a book. Got it?”
“Yes. No! What about the tea mugs?” “All right … ten minutes. Make yourself presentable.”
“David!”
“Zanna, don’t argue. Come
on-nn.”
They clattered downstairs and bumped to a halt beside the front door. David pulled her to his opposite side. “You never went upstairs. And I’m just showing you out, OK?”
“Such charm,” she muttered, parting her hair.
“Ready?” David was panting now. He bit his lip as a figure appeared behind the wafers of stippled glass in the door. He said a quick prayer and whooshed it open. “Liz!” he exclaimed in a cheery voice.
But it wasn’t Liz. It was a stern-looking woman with pinned white hair and black lace-up shoes, dressed in a smart-fitting slate gray suit. By her side was a suitcase. Perched on top of the suitcase was a dragon. A Pennykettle dragon. It had a sort of quiver over its shoulder and a small bouquet of flowers between its paws.
David looked at the woman. The woman looked athim. Then she looked at Zanna. Then at him once more. When she smiled, it seemed to David that a whirling vortex flickered in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice carried with it all the chilling austerity of a Victorian governess.
“Well, well,” she said. “What have we here? Good afternoon, children. Trick or treat …?”
11
A UNTY G WYNETH C ALLS
I f you’ve come to see Liz, she’s out,” muttered David, flicking his gaze between the woman and the dragon, and wondering what the suitcase was for.
“How very inconvenient,” the woman said. She slid one fine hand over the other as though she was about to draw a rabbit from a hat. “Let me guess: You must be Elizabeth’s tenant?”
“Yes. How did you know that?”
“Are you her mother?” asked Zanna.
The woman gave out a derogatory laugh. “We are related,” she said in a lofty tone. “But that’s really none of your business. Now, let me in. It’s beginning to rain.”
“No, it isn’t,” said David. “It’s—” But to hisastonishment, the space behind the woman, which a moment ago had been occupied by sunshine, had suddenly filled up with a transparent drizzle. The woman produced an umbrella from
“Definitely, one hundred percent, do
not
touch that. That’s Guinevere, Liz’s special dragon. If you knock that over, we’re cinders, I’m telling you.”
Zanna tilted her head. “She wants it,” she whispered.
“Eh?” said David. “What are you talking about?”
“Can’t have it,” said Zanna, almost spitting like a cat. “My baby.
My
egg. It’s Zanna’s b —”
“Zanna, what’s the matter?” David grabbed her arm.
“No!” she squealed, trying to fight him off. In the struggle, the egg fell out of her arms. It dropped onto the workbench, spinning. Whole.
“Zanna!” David shook her till her eyes began to clear.
“What — what happened?” she whispered, flattening herself against his chest.
“I don’t know. You went weird. You were talking about babies. You wanted that bronze-colored egg.”
“Egg …” She blinked and reached to touch it.
“No,” said David, knocking against the bench as he pulled her away. The egg jostled and twitched like a compass needle, then rolled to a rest at Guinevere’s feet. At the moment of contact, David thought he saw the surface of the egg begin to ripple. But as he squinted and focused, the clunk of a car door sounded nearby and he jerked his head sharply to the front of the house. “What was that?”
Zanna touched his hand and gulped.
“Oh no,” said David, turning white. “They shouldn’t be home for ages yet.” He yanked Zanna’s arm and dragged her to the landing. “Quick. Downstairs. Let me do the talking. You’ve been here two minutes, dropping off a book. Got it?”
“Yes. No! What about the tea mugs?” “All right … ten minutes. Make yourself presentable.”
“David!”
“Zanna, don’t argue. Come
on-nn.”
They clattered downstairs and bumped to a halt beside the front door. David pulled her to his opposite side. “You never went upstairs. And I’m just showing you out, OK?”
“Such charm,” she muttered, parting her hair.
“Ready?” David was panting now. He bit his lip as a figure appeared behind the wafers of stippled glass in the door. He said a quick prayer and whooshed it open. “Liz!” he exclaimed in a cheery voice.
But it wasn’t Liz. It was a stern-looking woman with pinned white hair and black lace-up shoes, dressed in a smart-fitting slate gray suit. By her side was a suitcase. Perched on top of the suitcase was a dragon. A Pennykettle dragon. It had a sort of quiver over its shoulder and a small bouquet of flowers between its paws.
David looked at the woman. The woman looked athim. Then she looked at Zanna. Then at him once more. When she smiled, it seemed to David that a whirling vortex flickered in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice carried with it all the chilling austerity of a Victorian governess.
“Well, well,” she said. “What have we here? Good afternoon, children. Trick or treat …?”
11
A UNTY G WYNETH C ALLS
I f you’ve come to see Liz, she’s out,” muttered David, flicking his gaze between the woman and the dragon, and wondering what the suitcase was for.
“How very inconvenient,” the woman said. She slid one fine hand over the other as though she was about to draw a rabbit from a hat. “Let me guess: You must be Elizabeth’s tenant?”
“Yes. How did you know that?”
“Are you her mother?” asked Zanna.
The woman gave out a derogatory laugh. “We are related,” she said in a lofty tone. “But that’s really none of your business. Now, let me in. It’s beginning to rain.”
“No, it isn’t,” said David. “It’s—” But to hisastonishment, the space behind the woman, which a moment ago had been occupied by sunshine, had suddenly filled up with a transparent drizzle. The woman produced an umbrella from
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