Enemy of the Realm Page 3

  “Why would the two of us just be walking around back where it’s dark and—” Marcus paused. “Never mind.”

  Dree rolled her eyes and started for the burger joint. “Let’s go.”

  They pretended to stroll around the back of the squat, brown building into a small loading area with a rusted green dumpster that smelled like old potatoes and malt. Marcus started whistling and casually took Dree’s hand, feeling the heat prickling through his skin at the touch. Dree just looked at him and shook her head.

  “You’re terrible at this.”

  “Spying or acting like we’re a couple?”

  “Both.”

  She pulled him into a hug, and this time the tingles raced through his entire body. It felt like he’d be electrocuted, and even Dree gasped a little at the sudden flood of heat. “Turn us toward the wall.”

  Marcus did as he was told.

  “And?” she asked.

  Marcus looked around. A slate-gray door labeled MAINTENANCE was set into the wall, although there was clearly a separate entrance for the employees, with Johnny’s logo. Marcus had never really noticed the door before, even though they had hung out behind the burger joint at least a hundred times. It was hard to concentrate with the tingles running through him, but he examined the roofline for cameras.

  “There is still one on the roof,” he said quietly.

  “One on the tree too,” she said. “And on the fence.”

  “That’s a new one,” he murmured. He spotted a little square groove by the door. “I see the fingerprint scanner too. Looks like everything is in order. Are you ready to—”

  He was cut off as the gray door suddenly slid open. A woman with a severe ponytail and a crisp black suit stepped out and then frowned when she saw them. Marcus saw the bulge of a gun at her hip.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Dree pulled Marcus in even closer, pressing their cheeks together like they were kissing.

  Then she pulled away, looking shyly nervous. “Sorry . . . just with my boyfriend.”

  The woman snorted as the door slid shut behind her and then started for the parking lot.

  “You might want to find somewhere a little more private. Not to mention it’s late. Both of you should be at home studying. If I was your mom I would be dragging you back by your ears, trust me.”

  She disappeared around the front, and Dree turned to Marcus, smiling awkwardly. “That was a close call.”

  “Yeah,” he said, shifting.

  She suddenly let go of him. “We should probably go report to your dad . . .”

  “I agree,” Marcus replied. “He’ll be glad to know about that fence camera.”

  “For sure,” Dree said, patting his arm and then grimacing. “Okay then.”

  They hurried back to George, not talking. Marcus’s cheeks were still burning brightly.

  “Everything like I said?” George asked. “Are you guys all right? I saw the agent come out.”

  “Fine,” Marcus said. “Everything is good. One extra camera. All good.”

  “What did you say to her?” he asked, frowning.

  Marcus and Dree exchanged an awkward look. “Not much,” Dree murmured.

  George just laughed and shook his head. “Fair enough. Well, we can deal with one extra camera, I think. Let’s get back. We could all use some sleep tonight. We have a very long day tomorrow.”

  A woman sat on a golden comet, streaking across the sky. Her hair shone like the morning light, and as Marcus watched, she flew closer—close enough that he could see the comet was a dragon. The woman had a gleaming silver sword slung over her back, and familiar blue eyes—his eyes. He knew this woman.

  He could feel love and warmth as she smiled at him, growing ever closer.

  “Hello, my son,” she said in a clear voice, though she still seemed so far away.

  He reached out for her, trying to take her hand.

  But then a shadow fell over him, sweeping the entire land into darkness. He looked up and saw a massive red shape soar overhead, his fell wings spanning miles, if not forever. Helvath the chieftain.

  Marcus screamed out a warning, but he was too late. Helvath blew a great wave of fire, swallowing the Rider and her dragon, and then all that was left were flames.

  But then he looked down and saw that the fire was coming from him.

  “Marcus!” The voice was loud and urgent.

  Marcus’s eyes shot open, and he sat up, feeling sweat pouring down his face. His father was sitting beside him, just barely visible in the moonlight seeping in through the curtains. He looked concerned.

  “I heard you talking in your sleep,” George said.

  “Oh,” Marcus murmured. “Sorry I woke you.”

  He had offered Dree his old bedroom, but she said she preferred the couch.

  “I don’t sleep much,” George offered. “Consequence of sitting in a chair for the last few years, I guess.” He searched Marcus’s face, as if waiting for him to open up. After a long moment of silence, George pressed on. “Were you having a nightmare?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Um . . . I think it was about Mom.”

  George was silent for a moment, then climbed to his feet. He paced around the room.

  “I always thought about what your bedroom might look like,” he said. “I wondered if you had posters. Or medals if you were an athlete, or maybe stacks of books if you were a writer. I should have known you’d end up a scientist.”

  He picked up a plaque from one of Marcus’s shelves. “An award-winning scientist, it would seem.”

  “I just won a couple of things,” Marcus muttered.

  George laughed. “State Science Fair Champion for three years in a row? I’d say that’s pretty darn impressive.” He sighed deeply and turned to the window. The curtains were drawn shut. “I wish I could have been there, Marcus.”

  “Yeah, I know. But you were sort of preoccupied.”

  “Yes,” George responded, his voice suddenly softer, sadder. “But you’re all I thought about. You, and your mother.”

  Marcus watched him, a frail silhouette against the moonlight. He had a million questions for his father, but only one came to mind in this moment. “What was she like?”

  He opened his mouth to speak and then shook his head. “Maybe when this is over, Marcus. It’s painful to talk about her. When the war is done, you and I can go over everything.”

  He turned to Marcus and smiled sadly.

  “Just know that you and your mom have always been the most important things in the world to me.”

  Marcus allowed himself just a little flicker of resentment. “I thought the most important thing to you was becoming a Rider.”

  George sighed. “Not the most important, no, but it was my greatest sin. Injured pride, I guess. I don’t know. I admit I led all us down this road, and for that I am sorry. For everything, really. I’m sorry.”

  Marcus didn’t know what to say, so he just let the silence hold.

  George smiled. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow we go after the Egg.”

  He went out to the living room, and Marcus lay back down, thinking about how one decision had changed all of their lives. But did it mean his father was a bad person? Did he deserve a second chance?

  Marcus shook his head and rolled over. It didn’t really matter at the moment.

  First they had a war to win.

  Marcus had just dozed off when he heard it: Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Marcus jumped out of bed, his eyes locked on the far wall. Outside his fifth-story window, something was banging on the glass. He stood up and slowly walked toward the window, the noise continuing like a beating war drum. He felt his whole body tremble.

  In one swift motion, Marcus pushed aside the cu
rtain, then quickly ducked out of the way. But nothing was there. Slowly, Marcus slid the glass pane open.

  Suddenly, something burst in through the opening, sending Marcus flying backward.

  Chapter

  4

  Marcus slammed into the hardwood floor, his head connecting with a thud. As he tried to scramble to his feet, the little black object made its way to the desk, and Marcus realized that it must be after something. Did Francis think they had already stolen the Egg? Had he sent a drone to try to retrieve it? Or was this the CIA?

  Marcus was about to call for help when the object suddenly stopped, hovered for a moment, and then lowered itself onto the desk.

  Marcus’s exhausted brain finally clicked into place. “Bug?” he asked incredulously.

  He hurried over and tenderly picked up the little drone, which was covered in dirt and even had a little dandelion sprouting off its black hull. Marcus had flicked on Lightning Bug’s transmitter when they arrived at the apartment, but he never actually expected the drone to return. Before landing in Dracone, Marcus had spent months building Lightning Bug, a small Researcher drone that he used to find the portal. When Marcus was swept up in the storm, he assumed Bug had been destroyed. He hugged the drone to his chest, surprised and relieved to have it back.

  “I can’t believe you’re all right, buddy,” he said, inspecting the drone for damage.

  There was a quick knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Marcus said.

  Dree stepped inside, rubbing her eyes. “I heard a noise.” She stopped. “Is that—”

  “Don’t worry,” Marcus said. “I made this one. Dree, meet Lightning Bug. Bug, say hello.”

  The drone beeped and began to fly toward Dree, who immediately stepped back. “I don’t exactly like drones, remember?”

  “Bug is different,” Marcus said. “He’s not dangerous. He just chases storms and collects data for me.”

  Dree cast a suspicious glance toward Bug, then looked around Marcus’s bedroom. “It’s like a laboratory in here,” she said.

  Marcus laughed. “Yeah, I was real popular.” He placed Bug down on his desk, stroking the drone’s metal casing affectionately. “Can’t sleep either?” he asked Dree. “That seems to be a theme here tonight.”

  “I was sleeping just fine,” she said pointedly, eyeing Lightning Bug again. “But I am getting restless. I’m glad we’re finally going after the Egg tomorrow night—I can’t stand waiting around anymore.”

  “But Earth’s not so terrible, is it?” Marcus asked, feeling a bit protective of his home.

  Dree smiled. “Well, I do like your burgers here. We need those in Dracone.”

  “Definitely,” Marcus said, grinning. “We’ll start a burger shop after the war. Dree’s Dragon Burgers.”

  Dree raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh, right,” Marcus said, thinking about the wording. “I didn’t mean . . . they won’t, like, be made of dragons. How about Driele’s Hand-Fried Hamburgers? Cooked on her actual hands!”

  “No. And don’t call me Driele either,” she said, trying not to smile. “Anyway, I don’t think I can open a burger shop with you. I’ll be too busy as a Dragon Rider.”

  Marcus sat down beside her. “True. So that’s the plan? Become a Dragon Rider? Fly around Dracone and protect the people and keep the peace and all that?”

  “It’s what I was born for. And so were you, remember?”

  “I know. It’s just . . . a different career path. Awesome . . . but different.” Marcus paused and then looked down at his hands. “What about the whole . . . fire thing?”

  “My dad never really explained it to me,” Dree said. “But I did overhear him talking about me to another former Rider once. It was years ago, before his injury, when he was leading the Resistance group that was getting suspicious of Francis Xidorne. It was late, and I was supposed to be in bed, but I heard my name so I listened from the hallway. They talked about Furies.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Special Riders. I couldn’t hear everything, and the woman he was talking to was even quieter, but I definitely heard him say something about living fire. They could create and control fire. They were also exceptionally rare, but whenever they arrived, they changed Dracone forever.”

  “And you think we’re Furies?” Marcus asked.

  “I don’t know. But it makes sense. When does your fire come out?”

  “When I’m angry or upset. Just ask my Xbox. So yeah . . . the name makes sense. But is it . . . a good thing to be a Fury? Changing Dracone forever sounds a little . . . vague.”

  Dree sighed. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out more when we get home.”

  “Still sounds funny,” Marcus mused. “Talking about going home when I’m sitting in my bedroom.”

  Dree smiled, though she looked troubled for a moment. And then she stood up, stretching and looking down at the little black drone sitting next to Marcus.

  “Are you going to bring Bug back to Dracone?”

  Marcus stared at the little drone, thinking.

  “Actually, I think we may have a job for him.”

  “I still can’t believe you built this guy,” George said proudly, fitting LB with a brand new transmitter.

  Marcus watched in amazement as his dad worked. Marcus had always been good with technology, but his father was a wizard. His slender, almost skeletal hands flew over the wiring even as he programmed the upgrades on the laptop simultaneously. His eyes flicked from one machine to the other, never stopping for long.

  “Jack gave me all the tools,” Marcus said. “He helped with the concept design too. He was always encouraging me to work on new designs.”

  At the mention of Jack, a fresh wave of guilt swept through Marcus. Where was his uncle? Was he okay? George didn’t seem too concerned, but Marcus wasn’t so sure. What if Jack hadn’t gotten away in time? What if the CIA had him? Or worse, what if Francis had gotten to him? Marcus shuddered to think of Francis interrogating his uncle. He could use him to build more drones.

  “So what is this thing going to do again?” Dree asked, standing by the window. She had been doing that all day now, sometimes pacing with her hands clenched at her sides. He knew she was growing restless.

  “Bug is going to fly up to each of the surveillance cameras outside of Johnny Burger and transmit a signal,” Marcus said. “That signal is going to loop their feeds, so they see the same thing constantly even as we walk up to the door. Cool, right?”

  Dree wandered back over, her interest obviously piqued. “Huh. Helpful little device. Well, that gets us through one obstacle.”

  George finished with the transmitter and sat back, nodding. “Yes, but not the other. The fingerprint scanner.”

  “So the entrance is just fingerprint protected?” Marcus asked.

  “Fingerprint and password protected,” George said, sighing. “And I don’t have either one.”

  “But Jack is cleared for the annex, right?”

  George glanced at him. “Yes, but without access to him—”

  Marcus stood up, interrupting George. “We’re going to have to do without. I can guess Jack’s password—I know most of the ones for his computers and credit cards and stuff.”

  “And the fingerprints?” Dree asked.

  Marcus looked around the apartment. “We’re surrounded by them!”

  George’s face lit up. “Of course,” he said. “We can lift a fingerprint from the house. We just need—”

  “Hair gel,” Marcus finished, smiling at his father. “I know. Jack taught me well.”

  George smiled, but a sadness suddenly filled his eyes. There was no time to discuss, though.

  They had to get moving.

  Marcus carefully slid the knife under a clump of hair gel and then pulled it out, grinning. Dree and George were both wat
ching over his shoulder, which was making him very nervous, but he managed to lay the knife down with ease. Then he took a blow dryer, set it to the very lowest level, and started to dry the gel.

  “Very clever,” George mused.

  The gel was already hardening, and Marcus could clearly see the grooves of Jack’s fingerprints on the knife. It was far from a guarantee that the fingerprint would be clear enough for the scanner, but it gave them a chance—to get into the annex, at least. After that, George could only guess at what they would face.

  The pomade grew rigid, and Marcus tenderly picked it up, examining the fingerprint.

  “This might just work—”

  He was cut off by a sharp knock at the door. He jumped and dropped the fingerprint, grabbing at it as it floated down and onto the floor. Dree was up in a second, snatching the knife and stalking toward the door.

  Still clutching the knife, she looked through the peephole and relaxed. “Your friend.”

  She opened it and Brian strode in, flushing instantly when he saw Dree.

  “Hello, Dree,” he said, his eyes darting to her hand. “Is that . . . a steak knife?”

  Dree tucked the knife behind her. “Sorry.”

  “No problem,” he said, plopping down next to Marcus as he retrieved the imprint and put it back on the table, scowling. “Oh,” Brian said. “A gel imprint? Very cool. So you’re like a spy now too?”

  Marcus shrugged. “More like a thief. And what are you doing here?”

  “Well, I know you told me to go home—”

  “Yes,” George said.

  “But,” he continued, ignoring the comment, “I thought I should come by just to be sure you don’t need my help.” He held up the bag of fast food. “Anyone?”

  Dree appeared in a flash, grabbing a burger and taking a huge bite out of it.

  “Someone likes burgers,” Brian said, watching her wolf it down. “There’s this place, Johnny’s—”

  Marcus laughed. “Maybe another time.”