The Hazels up on the roof yelled in surprise. The agents waded closer. I wouldn’t have long. I extended my arms for balance and started moving toward Dad.
Above me, Neven veered upward. A claw scraped against the nearest brick building.
“Dad?” I panted, reaching for the canoe between us. The current was so strong I had to strain just to remain standing. “Dad!”
I braced myself, pulling at the canoe. It shifted. I slid past, holding the canoe to the side with one hand while my other fumbled to grab hold of Dad. His skin felt frozen.
I took his collar. Pulling him a few feet back into open water had to be enough for Neven to reach him.
An agent called out behind me, her voice barely audible in the roar from the waterfall still pouring from the rift: “Hazel!”
Sharply, I looked over my shoulder.
Agent Sanghani was crashing through the water with an outstretched arm. An agent I didn’t know followed her, one hand on his gun.
I chanced a look upward. Neven was circling us, but made no attempts to dive.
The agents weren’t shooting at her—yet. If Neven dove to pick up Dad and me, it’d look like an attack.
“Let us take my dad,” I pleaded with Sanghani. “He needs a hospital.” I struggled against the current, my back pressing the canoe against the building to keep it in place and pulling Dad along through the narrow space I’d created.
I’m sorry, I thought, Dad, I’m sorry, I’m sorry— This wouldn’t be happening if I’d stayed at the farm. The MGA would’ve calmly tracked the other Hazels, Neven would be out by herself or safely locked up, Dad would be home . . .
It couldn’t have been just this morning that he’d delivered an over-the-top breakfast in bed, complete with sixteen helium balloons.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something gleaming inside the canoe. A knife lay wedged under one seat. The blade was dark metal, short and curved, with a hook at the tip. A string connected it to a leather sheath. For a fraction of a second, I considered picking it up. Maybe it’d keep the agents at a distance. The thought was preposterous, though—me, a knife?
The water was still crashing into me. My legs were shaking and numb, straining to keep me standing.
Giving in was so tempting. Every minute of actively keeping away from the MGA felt more wrong. They’d only ever helped. They’d sang me “Happy Birthday” at the gate that morning. Maybe they could keep Dad safe—
Could they? Their intact vans were out of reach. A chopper wouldn’t be able to land nearby. By the time the MGA got Dad into a vehicle, Neven could’ve already flown him to a hospital.
I swallowed. Mind made up, I reached behind me for the knife. For a second, I fumbled, then managed to loop the string around my wrist. The sheath dangled against my arm as I pointed the knife at the approaching agents. They froze.
“M-move away.” My hand shook. I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake. “The dragon’s gonna pick us up. She won’t hurt anyone. OK? Don’t shoot her.” Was that convincing enough? “You might hit the other—the other Hazels,” I reminded them. The agents couldn’t see from this distance that Neven’s back was empty, right? Had they seen the girls left behind on the roof, counted them?
“What are you doing?” Sanghani looked more baffled than scared.
I waded forward, waving frantically at Neven while holding the knife tightly enough to turn my knuckles white. The blade had looked dark before, but now the edge reflected the streetlights so brightly it shone.
“Stay back!” I yelled as Sanghani stepped closer. I pointed the knife at her. My voice had gone from high-pitched to outright shrill—I barely recognized it. Or myself. Screaming at an agent I’d lived alongside for years? Who’d never done me harm? Holding a knife to her?
I’m sorry I’m sorry this isn’t me—
“Your parents are worried,” Sanghani tried. “We’re worried.”
Last year, she’d kept watch outside school on Thursdays and Fridays. Once, I’d apologized for how boring her days must be; she’d smiled crookedly and said, This is worse for you than for us.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m fine. Please tell my mom I’m fine.”
A shadow glided over the surface of the water.
“Don’t shoot her! She won’t hurt anyone.”
“Unless you do shoot me,” Neven sang. “Then I might get peeved.”
The agents didn’t lower their guns.
But they didn’t fire, either.
Neven dove. She swooped inches overhead. One paw latched gently around Dad’s skull while another hooked into his coat. A back paw reached to grab his legs, keeping him more or less horizontal as she dragged him from the water.
A second later, her tail curled around me. I got snapped off my feet. Water churned below.
“Well done,” Neven said. “Hold on to that knife.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“The hospital!” I called at Neven once we’d picked up the other Hazels.
“Not yet.”
“The hospital!”
“I know what I’m doing.” She rose higher. The wind chilled my drenched body. Within moments, Neven reached the flat roof of a dollar store. She gently deposited Dad, then landed beside him with a heavy thud.
“Firstly,” she said, panting, “a dragon my size normally carries only one person. Three, if you absolutely must have a sidekick and a love interest. Five—one of them in my claws making me wildly off-balance—is overkill.”
I was shivering so much I could barely walk. I fell more than knelt by Dad’s side. He lay facedown in the gravel, not moving.
“Sheathe that knife,” Neven said. “Before you do anything else.”
The knife from the canoe was still dangling from my wrist. It hadn’t cut me during the flight, so I doubted it was sharp enough to do damage, but I listened anyway, my clumsy fingers working the blade into its sheath and removing the string from my wrist. I dropped it in the pouch of my I ♥ NJ hoodie.
“Now turn him over,” Neven advised.
“If
