structure.
What are you doing up there? Desta’s wings had barely been strong enough to lift herself off the ground when Lucinda and Tyler had been banished. Did you fly up there?
Y es. Yellow Man let me out. That was what she called Ragnar because of his white-shot, golden hair.
Smart, Lucinda thought. Gives her a better chance of staying safe-the manticores can’t fly. And then something else occurred to her. Is Yellow Man still there? she asked.
Yelling. Running with stick. Fighting with bad animals.
For all his strength and bravery, the Norseman hadn’t been able to beat one manticore at the gate-what could he do against several? And are there other people with him?
Turn-Face and Hat Men.
That would be Haneb and the Three Amigos, she knew-Desta was always trying to steal the herdsman’s fur- lined hats. She hoped the farm workers would be able to hold off the manticores on their own, because she needed Ragnar. Bring Yellow Man to me, she told the dragon. ? What came back was confusion.
Bring him to me, Desta. You have to bring him to me. It’s important!
No-bad animals hurt Desta. No! The fear in the mess of jumbled ideas was very real-the young dragon was terrified of the manticores.
You have to. I need you. Carrot Girl needs you.
No. It was the panicky, absolute refusal of a child. No!
In the rainy garden across the farm, Lucinda wrapped her arms tighter around Gideon’s skinny chest as she did her best to fall into the dark, calm place where she could not just speak to the dragon, but feel her-and be felt by her. You have to. I need you. If you don’t, I won’t give you carrots any more…!
But no bribe or even threat was going to make Desta leap down from her perch in the rafters of the Reptile Barn. Lucinda realized she would have to do on purpose what she had done by accident that day when Desta tried to steal the bracelet.
Desta, she warned, if you don’t do what I want, I’m going to make you.
No! The young animal was beyond reason. Lucinda reached out until she could feel Desta’s thoughts, feel Desta whole. She applied pressure to those thoughts, imagining as carefully and thoroughly as she could what it would feel like for Desta to jump down. At first she did her best to make it seem that it would feel good to do what Lucinda wanted, but the dragon was either too frightened or-somehow, despite her age-too strong to be manipulated by kindness. A cold, miserable feeling settled over Lucinda, a feeling of pure need.
I’m so sorry… she thought, then reached out and squeezed Desta’s thoughts, hard.
No…! Hurts…!
Horrible, it was just horrible-Lucinda had never done anything that made her feel worse; it was using sharp spurs on a horse that was already doing its best, like spanking a child who didn’t know what she had done wrong. Even in the midst of all the other crazy, overwhelming sensations, what she was doing made her feel sick, but there was no other way to save Gideon, Mr. Walkwell, and Colin. Time had run out.
Let go! It was a silent but agonized shriek of pain and betrayal. Carrot Girl bad!
Pushing and squeezing at the dragon’s most sensitive feelings, Lucinda did her best to concentrate, to ignore the sense of betrayal flowing back to her along their connection like poisoned air as she forced Desta to spread her wings and leap down from the rafters, then clung to the dragon’s thoughts as the creature flapped in an awkward spiral and hit the upper floor landing with a painfully hard thump. Desta’s misery was a throbbing ache in Lucinda’s own heart, but she couldn’t afford to let go.
Now get Ragnar. Pick him up. Bring him to me.
Desta’s resistance had become as thoughtless as that of any wounded animal, but no matter what the dragon did, she couldn’t free herself from Lucinda’s control. Desta climbed onto the railing and then sprang out into the air to glide on trembling wings across the upper part of the barn. One of the Three Amigos looked up and shouted a warning, but Desta abruptly dropped down and caught Ragnar by the shoulders of his thick white overalls, then lifted him several feet in the air then glided toward the open front door of the Reptile Barn. The young dragon had the wingspan of a small plane but it was still hard for her to lift Ragnar. The big man fought back, of course, fought hard, and within a few yards of escaping the barn Desta had to drop him.
Get him again! Lucinda couldn’t afford to think about what she was doing, neither the pain she was causing to Ragnar nor to this beautiful, one of a kind animal. Grab him. Bring him to me.
The Norseman turned to hurry back into the barn but Desta caught him from behind, grabbing him by the reinforced collar of his safety suit, then beat her wings so hard that within only seconds she had lifted him a hundred feet in the air, where Ragnar recognized the futility of any more resistance. He stopped struggling and even reached up to grab the dragon’s legs and take some of the weight off the claws that must be digging painfully into his body through the heavy canvas.
I’m sorry, Ragnar, Lucinda thought, but of course he could not hear her thoughts as the dragon could. Now she just wanted the nightmare to end, one way or another. I’m sorry, Desta, I’m so sorry …!
A painful, hard thump against her forehead brought her attention back to the reality of the garden and the storm. Desta and Ragnar suddenly disappeared from her mind’s eye. Her great-uncle Gideon was trying to push away from her, his mouth opening and closing with a clack of teeth as though he were trying to say something, but his eyes were as empty as a department store mannequin’s. One of his flailing hands struck her on the jaw so hard it felt like a tooth came loose, then he was dragging her through the mud in the chaos of thunder and lightning flash.
Something dropped from the sky beside her and landed in an awkward jumble of wings and arms and legs and raspy protest. Ragnar rolled out of the thrash of dragon-limbs and stood up, ready to defend himself if Desta attacked again. The young dragon’s snaky head whipped around from side to side, hissing; when she saw Lucinda she backed up in alarm, as if unable to reconcile the Carrot Girl before her on the ground and the cruel mistress in her head who had forced her to come here. For half a moment Lucinda could so strongly feel the animal’s rage beating out at her like the heat from an opened oven door that she thought Desta might simply bound across the ground between them and snap her head off.
Carrot Girl…! The thoughts bombarded her, slapped at her-the dragon equivalent of shouting. Carrot Girl bad! Hurt us!
Desta leaped into the air with a loud slap and thrash of wings and flew off over the top of the farmhouse. For a single, lightning-painted moment she reappeared farther along the sky, then vanished again.
Ragnar stumbled toward Lucinda and dropped to his knees, then grabbed Gideon in his strong arms and imprisoned him. The master of the farm continued to struggle, but with no more luck now than a babe in arms. “What happened…?” the Norseman demanded in a voice made hoarse by shouting. “Did you send that wormling after me…?”
“We’re in trouble!” She quickly told him as much of the story as she could. “You have to help Colin! Help Mr. Walkwell!”
The Viking looked at the greenhouse and made a face. “Baldur’s blood, that is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen…!” He turned back to Lucinda. “Master Needle had a good idea for once-set the cursed vegetable on fire.”
“What?” In the midst of her struggle with Gideon she hadn’t even grasped exactly what Colin had been planning. Now, as if thinking had awakened his resolve, the old man began squirming once more in Ragnar’s arms.
“I ask your pardon,” the Norseman said.
“What?” Lucinda was so exhausted that nothing made sense. “Why?”
“Not yours, child.” He lifted a fist big as a beef roast and struck Gideon sharply on the back of the head. The old man slumped and lay still.
“Now I go to get what I need to kill this demon,” he said and loped off toward the farm house. “Don’t fear,” he shouted over his shoulder. “I will come straight back!” Rain swirled past her, blown almost horizontally by the wind.
Freed from Gideon, Lucinda crawled across the wet ground to Colin, who had long since stopped struggling and lay silent and still in his net of fungal threads. She pulled at the aluminum fence post in his hand but although she could break any single one of the little white fungus threads easily, each time she did several crept back in to take its place and she could not break them in bunches. Lightning leaped down from the sky only half a mile away,
