Sunlight drenched us as I pulled the car into a parking space at the museum. I glanced at Kull as I turned the car off. “Have you thought this through? Not to rain on your parade, but that T-Rex’s skeleton won’t fit in my trunk.”
“That’s why I brought you along.”
“Me?”
“Use your magic. It’s what you do best.”
I would’ve smarted off, but in truth, he had more than fulfilled his end of the bargain. He’d taken me to the goblin lands and nearly gotten himself killed—the least I could do was help him steal a T-Rex. One problem—I had no clue how to do it. And I wasn’t fond of breaking the law.
We climbed out of the car and took the sidewalk. The museum was a modern building with glass-paneled walls. A pyramid-shaped butterfly exhibit sat adjacent to the museum, and tall oak trees muffled the distant sounds of traffic. We passed a globe-shaped fountain where water bubbled from a hole at the top. A few people crowded the sidewalks.
We entered through glass double doors and bought tickets, which I had to dig into my grocery budget to afford, and then found our way to the exhibition hall.
The T-Rex was easy to spot—it towered over us. Its skeletal face displayed rows of teeth as long as my arms. Cinnamon-brown bones stretched from floor to ceiling, some of them taller than me. Claws curved from the tips of its fingers and toes. The similarities to the sky king were uncanny. Even after millions of years, magic flowed through these bones. This was the mother of dragons.
Kull and I stopped by a plaque. I skimmed over the stats and stopped at the more interesting part…
The Houston Museum of Natural Science presents a unique, all-bone Tyrannosaurus Rex. This fossil features the best-preserved and most complete hands and feet of any Tyrannosaurus ever found. It includes patches of original skin. This specimen is the most complete Tyrannosaurus found in any of the world’s museums to date.
An original skeleton. I wondered if Kull knew how valuable this was—not just on Earth, but in Faythander as well. So much could be discovered about the dragons’ ancestry in this one specimen.
Kull circled the display. With his hands in his pockets, his face passive, he didn’t look the type to thieve a priceless collection from a museum. A pang of guilt gnawed at me.
What would he do with it? Place it next to his croc so he could glance at it every now and then as he sipped brandy? I didn’t feel right about stealing it. But I should have thought of that before I’d made the bargain.
I’d promised to bring him here, nothing else. Deciding to make better use of my time, I removed Peerling’s book from my bag and headed for a bench near the windows. “Good luck,” I said as I headed off.
“Where are you going?”
I held up the book. “I’ve got homework. Let me know when you figure out how to move that thing without anyone noticing.”
He frowned, but I ignored him. Maybe I was being selfish, but this was his idea to come here. Give him a few hours, and he’d figure something out.
Maybe I’d even help him, if he asked nicely.
Sunlight filtered through the giant window walls as I took a seat on the concrete bench. Tucking my legs underneath me, I opened the book and studied each chapter heading until I landed on “Harnessing the Power of the Imagination.” It sounded interesting, so I read it.
Think of the snow falling. Imagine every individual flake, each one unique, all building into a crescendo of whiteness that covers the land, regardless of where it falls. Covering, blanketing.
Can you see the snow? Can you taste its icy wetness on your cheeks and feel the flakes on your eyelashes?
You most likely are not in the snow. You are probably sitting, perhaps lying down somewhere warm and away from the cold, yet you’ve experienced what only the imagination provides.
Did you actually experience the snowfall? Your first answer might be no, but let’s reexamine the circumstances.
Let’s try something else.
I want you to read the following passage, all the while aware of how you feel.
Ponder the iciness, the numbness in your fingers and toes, the cold air entering your lungs, the chapped feeling in your cheeks, the scent of ice on the wind, the taste of it on your tongue.
Did you feel the cold?
This is the imagination, unique to only a few humanoid species. In essence, you’ve traveled to another place. We’ve only traveled to somewhere cold—but imagine the other possibilities of where you might go.
The possibilities of where your imagination might take you are limitless. There is no wall or barrier your own thoughts cannot penetrate.
“Olive?”
I heard a familiar voice and looked up. Brent stood over me.
Brent. Of all people.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“What are you?”
He pointed to his name badge. “A glass panel collapsed in the butterfly pyramid. They’re losing the little critters like crazy. Needed me to come take a look, figure out how it happened.”
“So you’re collecting insects?”
“More or less.”
He took a seat beside me. I inched over a fraction.
“You haven’t returned my phone calls,” he said.
“I’ve been busy.”
“I know how it is. Solve one crisis, and another one starts.”
“Yep.” I inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, realizing that I’d missed him. I forgot how comfortable I felt around him. With Brent, it didn’t matter if I looked good or not. Not that he wouldn’t notice—it was more like I didn’t care. I could tell him anything, whether he understood or not. I suppose he’d become my sounding board. I missed having a sounding board.
“How long has it been since I promised to take you on a date? A week or two, right?”
“Something like that.”
He leaned closer. I felt obligated to look him in the eyes. “Still mad at me?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
I pinched
