by a broad Ohio accent, making her sound like the stereotypical bored secretary from a bad sitcom.
I fell backward onto the bed, relief wiping the tension from my neck and shoulders. “Hi, Mom. It’s Very. How was the Underworld?”
“Verity!” The disdain vanished in an instant, replaced by Mom’s more customary brand of good cheer. My mother: one of nature’s pep squad team captains. “How are you, honey? Your father said you were having some boy troubles.”
The image of Dominic De Luca’s face if he heard his presence referred to as “boy troubles” was enough to make me snort briefly with laughter. “Well, he’s Covenant, and he’s male, but I’m not sure that’s the way I’d phrase it,” I said. “When did you get home?”
“Just this morning. I’ve barely had time to rinse the brimstone out of my hair.”
“There was actually brimstone this time?”
“Not literally, but close enough. There was this acidic slimy stuff that ate through the straps on our packs like they were sugar candy. Didn’t melt skin or hair, though, so I can’t complain overmuch.”
I heard the faint resignation in her tone, and placed a guess: “No luck this time, either, huh?”
“None,” she said. “I know she says she’s sure he’s still out there somewhere, but Very, I’m just not convinced. She was so certain that this was going to be the time we brought him home … maybe it’s time she moved on.”
“I’m not sure that she can.”
Mom sighed. “To tell the truth, honey, neither am I.”
Every family has their tragedies. My family has about a baker’s dozen, starting with the death of my great- grandmother and increasing in unpleasantness from there. Grandpa Thomas is probably the worst of the lot. Somehow, he managed to get himself linked to one of the planes in the Underworld, probably by trying to pull off some sort of spell from the “no, really, don’t do this” section of the family library. He spent years trying to sever the connection, sometimes on his own, sometimes with help. They never succeeded, and Grandma Alice was pregnant with my Aunt Jane when that link finally yanked him out of this dimension and into that one … wherever that one is. Grandma’s been looking for him ever since. After forty years of chasing rumors and half-coherent clues across the dimensions, I don’t know if she remembers how to do anything else.
Mom cleared her throat, breaking the melancholy silence that had grown up between us. “You didn’t call to talk about this, though, did you? What’s going on, Very?”
“Can you get Dad on the other line? I’d rather not go over this more than once if I can help it.”
“Sure thing, sweetie; just hang on a second.” There was a soft scraping sound as she set the receiver against her shoulder, and she shouted, sounding somewhat muffled, “Kevin! Pick up the phone! It’s Verity!”
The line clicked as Dad picked up the extension in his office, saying, “Verity! How was your dance contest this morning?”
“It was a tango competition, and it was fine, until it got interrupted by an act of Covenant.” I put an arm across my face, blocking out the light, if not the distant chatter of the mice. “Dominic decided the best way to get hold of me was to infiltrate the hall, stuff my partner in a coat closet, and get me disqualified for bringing an unregistered dancer onto the floor. Good times all around.”
A long silence greeted this announcement. Finally, carefully, Dad asked, “Verity, has the Covenant blown your cover?”
“You mean ‘does the Covenant know that Valerie Pryor is actually me’? Yeah. They do. But that’s sort of secondary to the real problem at hand.”
“If the Covenant knows—”
“So far, only Dominic knows, and he isn’t telling anyone, because if he calls home, he’s going to wind up losing control of this operation pretty much immediately.”
There was a long pause before Mom asked the question that had to be preying on both of their minds—after all, losing my Valerie identity could mean the final end of my attempts at a dance career and, while they wanted me following in the family business, not dancing, this wasn’t the way they wanted to win the argument. Her voice was almost hesitant, like she was afraid of what my answer would be. “Verity, if the Covenant knowing who you are is the secondary problem … what’s the primary one?”
“Oh, yeah, that.” I closed my eyes, bracing for the shouting I knew was about to start. “See, it turns out there’s a dragon sleeping somewhere under Manhattan…”
My parents didn’t disappoint. They both began talking at once, and quickly escalated to both shouting at once, less out of anger than out of sheer and utter bewilderment. I relaxed and waited, letting them get it out of their systems. As expected, they started winding down after a few minutes. Finally, cautiously, Mom said, “Verity? Are you still there?”
“I’m here. Just waiting for you two to calm down enough to listen. Are you calm?”
“That depends,” said Dad.
“On what?”
“On whether you’re getting ready to buy a plane ticket home.”
I rolled onto my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows as I replied, “Nope. I’m getting ready to go find myself a dragon.”
“Verity—”
“Don’t ‘Verity’ me. This is a
“What happens then?” Mom asked quietly. “When you’re alone with the dragon and a member of the Covenant, what happens then?”
“Well, then I guess we see whose point of view is faster on the trigger.” I rolled onto my back again, staring at the ceiling. “I hate to admit it, but I need his help. I can’t do this alone, and I’m not willing to have any of the rest of you fly out here—not when there’s a chance that Covenant surveillance could ID you. I’m compromised, you’re on the other side of the country, and that seems like the right place for you to be. Besides, I have Sarah here.”
“Does she know about all this?” asked Dad.
“Know? How do you think
It took a lot longer for the shouting to stop this time, at least in part because Antimony finally realized we were having a conference call and hopped onto the downstairs extension. Adding a third voice to the chaos— especially a third voice that had to be brought up to speed on the situation—did nothing to make it quieter. I wound up holding the phone a foot away from me, listening to them yell at one another, and waiting for things to settle down.
Eventually, Dad realized I’d dropped out of the conversation. After vigorously hushing my mother and sister, he asked, “Verity? Are you still there?”
“Just waiting for the panicking part of our program to be over,” I said, and brought the phone back to my ear. “Are you ready to listen calmly and without commentary to the rest of what I have to tell you, or should I send an email and turn off my phone?”
“We’ll listen,” said Mom firmly, before Dad or Antimony could say anything. “Go ahead, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said. “Okay, first, Dominic isn’t responsible for the disappearances—not among the sentient cryptids, anyway. He killed a few of the nastier dumb ones. I was planning to kill a few of them myself, so it’s hard to be too pissed. Anyway,
