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Blurb
BOOK FIVE OF THE TREES SERIES
    In Fire, Book V of The Trees Series, Peter has more than his future preying on his mind. There is something outside the door, that would like to prey on his body, too.
    Peter is about to learn that fire burns insatiably - but the result is not always flame...


Fire


Book Five of The Trees Series


by N. D. Hansen-Hill


***

Dedication


To Rosemarie, George, Chris, and Sheila…
***
Fire


Wrath and pain,
Lust, desire,
Molten hot
As dragon fire.
*
Blood that boils,
Skin that burns;
Insides ache,
As passion churns.
*
Hunger driven,
Or heated lust?
Sanity flees
In Banshee's dust.
*
Emerald eyes
A-fleck with flame,
Scales and claws
To rip and maim.
*
Moondrawn madness
Adrift on screams
Insatiable seed,
All lost in dreams…
*

by N. D. Hansen-Hill
***

Prologue


        The Trees had stood for many years: harsh sentinels that stirred unreasonable discomfort, even fear, in the hearts of human visitors. These icons marked the boundaries, where one world interacted with another - where the seeds of one dimension throve in a place far from their origin. Some of those who traversed dimensions were also products of two worlds - changelings who had, by fate or folly, incorporated traces of another dimension within their persons; who'd succumbed to a mutation that altered their bodies as much as their outlook.
        Their new genetic make-up gave them the freedom to traverse the channels between worlds, but frequently alienated them from their own kind. Many of them now found they had more in common with species from other worlds, than their own.
        The latest victims of this odd mutation are Peter, Trevor, Katy, and Mari. Fairies, gargoyles, and gnomes are but a few of the creatures the mutants have encountered on their journeys, and they realise now that "fairy tales" have more than a little basis in truth. It is only the grimmer of these that they fear, for too many creatures caught in tradition have come close to catching them in fact.
        The former humans have discovered themselves capable of amazing feats, from healing, to mind-over-matter displays. Some of their abilities have tried them in other ways - and Peter's soul has just been salvaged from an opportunistic wraith, who'd insinuated his way into Peter's tissues. The mutants are beginning to find that many of the positive aspects of their existence are not without cost.
        They are resting now, and searching for clues to their future. To where they will go, and what they will become.
Some of it is decided already - a product of where they have been.
***        

Chapter One


        Thyme flew high above the crumbly rock of the Shimmer's lair, his thoughts far from the massive iridescent bulk of the creature below. As he neared the shimmery portal between worlds, he hesitated, nervousness causing his aura to flicker uncertainly.
        The memory of Aristi's laughter still echoed in his ears - and the thought of it made Thyme snort in disgust. His father had offered him a warning, but Thyme had scoffed; little doubting that he could control the situation when it arose.
        But can I? It seemed ridiculous to him that a mere visit to such a place could have such an unfortunate effect. Not that I wouldn't enjoy the doing, he thought, his eyes alight as he remembered the heat of Lily's aura immersed in his.
        But, my father claims that Lily will have no control over her being. His eyes flared red as he considered what might happen. What if the situation should arise without him? With one such as Strey Aytaas? Jealous fury made his wings whirr faster.
        The red glow faded slightly. It would not be Strey Aytaas. That pompous fairy would still be nursing wounded pride; eagerly squelching all rumours about how Thyme's friends had bested him. That had been the best part of this visit to his father: the knowledge that some not only called him friend, but had even sought to emulate his methods.
        No, he would not be too late. Aristi had said it was most likely to occur during the full moon, in the Earthen world. Perhaps I should take Lily home, he thought. But, then, he considered the competition among his own kind. He could hardly watch her every second. And, what better claim could any fairy have to her, but that? Even Lily, as good and strong as she was independent, would justly acknowledge the claim.
        Should I tell her what Aristi said?
        She will never believe me, he decided. Aristi had admitted it was more of a cure - hardly common knowledge except, perhaps, among those few who had need. No, Lily will think I am being devious. She will think my true intentions are to seek that which I am trying to forego.
         I could take her to see him, or him to her. But, location or timing could prove the enemy. Thyme pictured himself attempting to fight off twenty fairies, all vying for Lily's attention. Or, worse still, Lily vying for the attention of twenty other fairies. Although the thought of causing trouble always appealed to him, fighting large numbers of his own kind for his lady's attention - which should rightfully be his anyway - did not. Besides, Thyme remembered how his father had been so quick to share auras with Lily. Can I trust my own father, should it come to that? Thyme's light flickered once again. Some questions were better avoided.
        Besides, his father, once again warmed by the firm arms of Nemelia, would not exactly welcome a request for his company. Especially since, with his son forewarned, there should be no need for help in this matter. "It is simply a matter of restraint," Aristi had said - "or the lack of it." And then, his father had laughed, somehow finding humour in the thought of Thyme being placed in circumstances similar to his own.
        Thyme, fearing this situation as he very seldom feared anything, entered the dimensional gate. With any luck, he would have time to speak of these things to Peter. The human - who was quite clever in some things - might have some good advice for him. At all costs, I must avoid Lily, until I have decided what to do. And I must seek to speak with Peter alone. Thyme could just picture Trevor's response to this delicate situation. Ruefully, he admitted, it is similar to the way I would react if the trouble were his.
        Thyme floated through the gate, some of his nervousness dispelled by his decision to consult Peter. He even chuckled at the thought of finding himself in such a fix. Exiting, his eyes on Peter's dilapidated dwelling at the top of the grass-clad hill, he breathed a sigh of relief. The breath froze in his throat, and he gave a squeal of horror as a pink-tinged aura mingled with his, and a soft pair of arms enwrapped him from behind. "Thyme!" Lily said, her eyes aglow. "I am so happy you are back!"
*
        Peter ran his fingers through his hair. "What are we going to do, Katy?" he asked, looking at the way the floors dipped up and down in the lounge. They'd rearranged their bookshelves and Katy's pictures, and placed furniture to accommodate the downhill cant of the room, but even the blankets covering the holey walls couldn't hide the basic instability of the structure. "This place is a disaster area."
        "That's not all, Pete." Trevor's smile dimmed as he looked at the few remaining comforts of home. He handed Peter a postcard. "Warning, warning, warning," he said, his voice as close to a computer-generated tone as he could make it. "They're about to turn off our electricity. For non-payment."
        "Oops."
        "'Ouch' is more like it, Katy-my-love," Peter said. "I, for one, am broke. I have enough in my account for this year's house payments, but then it's repossession time."
        Mari came up in time to hear the last. "I have a little money, but not much, Peter."
        Trevor nudged her. "I thought you medical types were supposed to be rich. You know - exorbitant fees, unnecessary surgeries, cosmetic realignments -"
        She put one hand over his mouth, smiling as he started nibbling her fingers. "I haven't yet achieved that pinnacle of success. I'm still paying off med school debts. You know - slaving long hours in overcrowded conditions with the constant threat of bankruptcy hanging over my head. I was saving the success stuff for next year."
        "Disillusioned once again," Trevor said with a sigh. "I only let myself go cheap, in the hopes that your huge bank balance would improve my credit rating." He gave her a squeeze. "I don't suppose there are any other rich medical types out there, who - with a great deal of effort, of course - I could convince myself I can't live without?" Secure in his arms, Mari grinned and shook her head. "Oh, well," he sighed. "I guess I'll just have to embrace a life of poverty."
        "I have money." They all looked at Katy in surprise.
        Peter's eyebrows went up, his ears lifting so that he looked more elfish than ever. "What's this? Holding out on me, Ms. Ryder?" He saw a darkening along her cheeks, and realised she was blushing. Taking her hand, he grinned. "Spill it, Katy."
        "Do you remember, when I went to Sydney, and you ended up turning green while I was away?"
"How could I forget?"
Katy smiled, then took a deep breath and blurted, "I took some of my paintings with me - only, I didn't tell you."
        Peter looked hurt. "Why?" he asked. "I would have helped you -"
        She interrupted, a little impatiently. "That's just it, Peter. You would have helped me. You would have e-mailed a colleague in Sydney, and asked him to spread the word that a certain soon-to-be-famous-but-as-yet-undiscovered artist was in town, etc., etc., etc."
        "Katy, I would never interfere in something like that -" Peter alternated "cut-to-the-quick", and "oh, how you've misjudged me" expressions, occasionally flashing a tragic, "how could you" look.
Trevor spoiled the moment. He snickered.
        Katy's eyes flared a brilliant rainbow of colours, an array that was tending toward the reddish hues. "Oh, wouldn't you?" she asked. "Peter, just because you think I'm a competent artist, doesn't mean anyone else will. And you wouldn't have wanted me to return disillusioned. Admit it."
        Peter shrugged. His own eyes flared slightly red. "That doesn't explain what's happened since you returned." He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up, still miffed.
        "Uh-oh," Trevor said in a loud aside. "Peter's on his high horse. Mari, we'd better clear out."
        "Shut up, Trev!" Katy said, beginning to get really upset. "I found out a few weeks ago that someone's bought that painting of the ocean I made -"
        "Which one?" both Peter and Trevor asked together.
        "The one where I tried to capture the sea life at low tide."
        "The one with the squiggly rocks," Peter said to Trevor. Trev nodded. "And?" Peter prompted. "When was I going to hear about all this?"
        "Peter," Katy begged, "be reasonable. That was just before you were possessed. It slipped my mind."
        Mari couldn't help herself. She thought how anyone else would view their conversation. She started laughing.
        "It's not funny!" Katy said. "I was planning to use any money I made from my paintings for a special fund." Peter's hurt expression fuelled her anger. Exasperated, she explained, "You and I were both working when I did this, Peter Trevick! We didn't need it!"
        "What special fund?" Peter looked puzzled, mentally cataloguing any pet causes that Katy had mentioned. "For charity?"
Katy glanced at Trevor and Mari. "I'd rather not say."
"Let me guess," Trevor pushed. "'Save the Wongnits'? 'Fairies Anonymous'?" He grinned. "I'd swear off -"
Peter chuckled. "'Green-pieces' - for the salvation of nearly extinct green people." He pulled Katy over and nuzzled her hair. "You can tell us, Katy. Trevor and Mari are like family…"
        She pulled away. "That's what it was about - family, you insensitive idiot! I was going to make a special trust fund to surprise you with - for our kids!" Katy bit her lip, embarrassed at her outburst. She turned away, and dodged through the gaping hole in the wall that led to their bedroom, letting the blanket they'd hung for privacy drop behind her. It was mortifying to know they could all sense what she was feeling.
        Peter groaned in dismay. He didn't need to see her to know Katy was trying to hold back tears. The lights in his eyes dulled. "Damn!" he whispered. "I really blew it, pressing her that way."
        "It's hard, Peter, but we all know what's at risk. None of us can take a chance on having children." Mari sighed. She hadn't wanted children herself - until she'd met Trevor. Now, she shared some of Katy's disappointment. "Not with the questionable genetic material we're carrying around."
        Peter nodded, and Trevor slapped him on the back. "Tell Katy I'm sorry I teased her, Pete."
        Peter gave him a weak smile, then a look of dismay. I hate it when she cries, he mouthed to Trev.
Trevor gave him a grin of commiseration, then turned to Mari. "Let's amble through what's left of the bramble, Mari." Mari gave one last look at the blanket, then nodded, following Trevor out the shredded wooden portal, that had once held the front door.
*
        The ground undulated with a slow violence, at odds with its solid appearance. When the contortions of the soil could no longer yield, cracks formed, scattering across the surface like the drying fractures of a mud flat.
        The cracks lengthened, to join one another in the myriad segments of a jigsaw puzzle. Dust flew in small explosive puffs from the ruptured soil. The dust danced with bright glimmers of organic detritus - that leaf debris speckled with luminescent glowing crystals, that had settled to form thick humus layers. The dust, the glimmering fragments, the tossing bits and pieces of decaying refuse mingled, thickening the air of the steep-sided ravine to a cloudy reddish-purple.
        In the midst of this turmoil, the surface-deep cracks suddenly widened, opening rifts to a dark mass below. In a birth-thrust that likened the formation of a mini mountain, the ground was tossed upwards. The lightweight organic materials sailed high, littering nearby trees with a mixed speckling of crud and crystals. The heavier soils lurched, tipping layers of rock and amassed sediments into slide-formed hillocks of debris.
        Movement ceased. The frenetic burst of activity had been exhausting; a violence randomly dispelled. The dust had begun to settle once more, when one of the hillocks shivered in warning. Another frenzied, explosive burst, that shot a stubborn boulder far afield, culminated in the thrust of a blackened limb from the depths. Claws scrabbled at the loose rock, soil, and humus, seeking a firm footing.
        The next movement was startling fast: a sinuous parting of the soils. The thing that undulated forth was smooth, swift, and undefined - a thick, worm-like extrusion, that writhed as it met the day's light. Dust flew once again, and the ravine rustled with a scraping crackle, as though a thousand dried leaves were being ground against the scattered rocks. A rattling began at the base of the still-wriggling creature, moving in a wavery motion up the gyrating form. As it did so, the final bits of debris dropped away, revealing green-shot scales of shimmery black. Travelling upward, the wave splayed and shattered, as the concealed contours of the massive head were revealed - fanning outward in an unfolding of scales, ears, and a pointed, reptilian mouth.
        A red ribbon darted between toothsome jaws, forking in a "Y" that snapped at the air, revealing the day's flavourful scent to the waiting beast. Satisfied, the jaws cracked in what may have been a smile, and twin bulbous slits, on either side of the massive head, opened. Brilliant green eyes, smouldering with dancing red sparks, studied the ruined ravine.
        Assured that nothing here could challenge her in her yet vulnerable position, she shifted once again, drawing herself up and out of her former resting place. Capturing the day's heat in the black expanse of her leathery wings, she lifted her face, offering the sun a shrill, raucous screech of unmitigated joy. Without conscious thought, her wings started to beat, responding to the pulse that pumped mightily through her unencumbered form. Dust arose once more, filling the air, but she no longer cared. Narrowing her eyes to mere slits, she wallowed in the sheer pleasure of unburdened freedom.
        For a creature such as she, that unburdening could not be satisfied by her emergence alone. Not while rock and soil still lingered beneath her feet. Not while the walls of the ravine remained to hem her in. With another raucous cry, she lifted skyward, desperate to taste the untrammelled freedom of the heavens. As she went, she whipped her lance-like tail, topping a tree with a satisfying crack - the action helping to vent her anger over her long entrapment. Then, in a burst of speed, she soared beyond the confines of the rock-clad cleft - soaring aloft in the unfettered freedom of dragon flight.
*
        Thyme jumped, quickly edging his aura out of contact with Lily's. Lily drifted forward, to wrap her arms more firmly around Thyme's neck. She paused, sensing his uncertainty, and immediately misinterpreted it. "Thyme?" she said, a quiver in her voice. Did he regret the pledge he had made her? Doubt subdued the glow in her eyes, and the pink of her aura faded to dusky white. "Is something amiss?"
        "Amiss?" Thyme tried to look confused, but failed utterly. Where is all my slyness? he asked himself in dismay. My grasp of the devious? This problem has obviously rattled me. Be convincing. Forcing a wide smile, he gripped her hands in his own, to keep them from grabbing him once more. "Aristi has given me much to ponder," he said, truthfully.
        Lily considered what Thyme and his father may have discussed, and her aura grew heated. Thyme had always been fickle and feckless. Have I let him know my heart too soon? she wondered. Will he now flee from me, fearful that I may hold him to his pledge? Seething now, she pushed him away, using the strong beat of her wings to hold herself in place.
        "Lily!" Thyme pleaded, but she refused to meet his gaze; holding herself tightly aloof.
        Fighting away the anger born of hurt, she offered him a smile that failed to touch her eyes. Placing her hands at her sides, she said formally, "It is good to see you, Thyme. Your father is well?" At his nod, she flicked him a quick glance, then turned away, to dart swiftly toward the house.
        Thyme groaned as he watched her go. "Lily, you don't understand!" he trilled in fairy to her retreating form. But, she didn't even pause. Swearing loudly, he denounced his amused parent, the sensitive natures of certain female fairies, and, particularly, the attractions of an ill-conceived world that would afflict the females of his dimension in such a fashion.
        His first annoyance shed, he considered Lily anew. She must be told, for this was her decision as well. He thought of the brief flaring of her fury just now, and how she would feel, should she find he had made the decision without her.
        Aristi was wrong. His father had said it was up to him. But, if I do not wish to hurt her further, truth is my only choice, he realised. Surely, she will believe me. Then, shrugging, a smile lightened his eyes once again. And, if she doesn't, at least she can't say I didn't try. Decision made, he whistled as he followed her bright gleam through the day's blue sky, already rehearsing the words he would use, to wriggle past her hurt feelings.
*
        "I feel like a fool - falling apart that way in front of Trevor and Mari." Katy sat on the edge of the bed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I don't know what came over me." She smiled at Peter. "I've come to terms with it, Peter." She saw the flicker of doubt in his expression. "Really. Consider my little tantrum a temporary aberration, and forget it."
        "It's not that easy to come to terms with, Katy-my-love." He sat on the bed next to her, his eyes staring unseeing out the glassless window frame. "Even if it weren't a genetic risk, I think about all the incredible things that have happened to us, and I just don't see how we could provide any security for a baby."
        Katy nodded, thinking about the hazards they'd encountered. "I don't know what I was whinging about. It's just -" She stopped, searching for the words.
        "It's just what?"
        "Nothing, Peter," she replied, embarrassed. "Stupid stuff, that's all."
        "PMS?" Peter inquired, trying to be understanding.
        Katy burst out laughing. "How would I know? I don't seem to have any M, let alone the P or S. Goes to show there are some blessings in being green, after all."
        Peter grinned, glad to see she was getting her sense of humour back. He gave her a hug. "We could go see if Lily's right," he suggested. "About there being other 'changelings' in her world."
        Katy's eyes brightened.
        Peter kissed the top of her head. "If nothing else, it might help us decide where to live," he added.
        Katy grinned. "What? And give up all this?" A wave of her hand took in the yassel-stained furnishings, broken windows, cracked walls, and tilted floor. She giggled. "Maybe this could be our luxury vacation place."
        "Hey - Morty's on vacation," Peter reminded her.
        "Yes, but that's different. The vacation was for us, not him." She grew serious for a moment. "I hope it wasn't a mistake, Peter. I'd feel horrible if something ate him."
        "Deron'll protect him - a darn sight better than we could right now. He was prowling too far for comfort."
        "I think our little treks have been all it takes to convince Morty to make himself at home - anywhere."
        Peter chuckled. "Now we just have to find a home big enough to hold him." He looked around. "And us. Especially when company comes calling." They both knew what kind of company he was referring to - the kind that had terrorised the house days before the yassels had. "But, first things first. Jordan's waiting for my report." Peter chuckled. "Wait till Thyme hears what Jordy's offering him for his help."
        "Help with what?" came a snide voice at Peter's ear.
        "Don't you believe in knocking?" Peter asked testily.
        "Knock on a blanket, Butthead? I repeat: what's he offering?"
        Peter glanced at Katy. "Big enough to live in, with big, sturdy locks -"
        Thyme yanked Peter's hair. "His offer, Baldy Locks," he said threateningly.
        "Dead-bolts, Katy," Peter went on. Thyme yanked his hair some more. "Or maybe," Peter said, giving the fairy a shove, "we could keep some big, crusty rocks by the door - for those 'special' visitors."
        Katy eyed Lily's bluish aura, sensing her withdrawal. "Lily, are you all right?" she asked quietly. She guessed that Thyme's arrival hadn't been all that Lily had hoped it would be.
        "I am well, Katherine," Lily replied, somewhat dismally.
        "Never try a fairy's temper," Thyme warned, his eyes glinting red.
        His wings buzzed, and he came at Peter, intent on ramming him. Peter said casually, "Jordy says he'll give you his wreck of a car, if you'll help us scout out the extent of the hyphal damage."
        Thyme flared with excitement, and Lily, forgetting her hurt feelings, threw her arms around him. "Is it not wonderful?!" she exclaimed. "Your very own car!"
        Thyme swirled her around, bright sparks showering the room in his excitement. "Our car, Lily!" he said, very deliberately. The pink colour flooded her aura once again. He ricocheted up and down, and Peter had to squint against the brightness of his aura. "Let's go check it out, Babe!" Dragging Lily by one wing, Thyme hit the blanket with a loud whup, sending it flopping to the floor. High-pitched fairy chatter sang in the narrow confines of the wrecked hallway.
*
        Mari looked back at the house, seeing bright flares of light speeding past the windows. "Peter must have told Thyme about the car," she said. Her smile flickered, then was gone.
        "What's wrong, Mari?" Trevor asked. She shrugged. "Spill it. Was it Katy's outburst? Is that it?"
        She looked at him. "That's part of it, Trev." Slightly embarrassed, she continued. "I'm feeling it, too." She looked confused. "This thing about children, or babies, or whatever." He squeezed her hand. "I don't know why it should bother me so much all of a sudden -"
        "Maybe you're just thinking about the future."
        "Maybe. The last few days, I've been doing a lot of thinking. About my healing."
        "And?" he prompted.
        Mari sighed, then looked at Trevor seriously. "It occurred to me, Trev, that my healing has improved a lot. Or, rather, my control of it has. I think - if I were able to focus it correctly, I might be able to heal even severe genetic damage."
        Trevor gulped. "Do you mean what I think you do?"
        Mari nodded. "There's a chance that I might be able to bring us back to the way we were before."
*
        The dragon's leathery wings captured the thin air of the higher strata, manipulating it to keep her aloft. Her flight was jerky at first, but soon smoothed out as her powerful muscles warmed to the demands of flying once again. Her rich genetic blend was multi-dimensional: a herpetologist's dream bred from the reptilian wonders of numerous dimensions, where her kind had once ruled and multiplied freely. Not least among her ancestors, were a hundred million years of Earthen dinosaurs, whose DNA riddled her cells in odd permutations of confused instincts.
        Her multi-dimensionality served her well, allowing her to ride the slipstream of the gates to the worlds of her choosing, as long as their fragments were encoded in her tissues. Not for her the limitations of a singular destination, nor the uncontrolled traversal of the gates to the uncharted or unknown. Other creatures, upon entering the portals, were cast as flotsam on the electromagnetic light stream connecting worlds - riding each path to its unchanging destination. But she was above such an unwitting traversal of worlds. She chose her destination; creating her own electromagnetic slipstream, that mingled with that of the gate, to determine the outcome. She had merely to enter a gate, and slip to a level of her choosing - to raid, or mate, or gorge herself on the inhabitants of a dozen worlds.
        Nothing beckoned her more strongly than others of her kind. Others whose mixed blood held traits as confused as her own - a mingling of worlds that somehow survived the tangled sharing of dimensions and bodily forms. No other creatures could attract her taste buds as strongly as those, whose physical forms so mirrored her own structure. Survival fare could come from anywhere, but the connoisseur's lure of savoury cuisine drifted to her, on the light rays of the dimensional portal, like a siren's call to her empty stomach. With a grumbling scream of impatience, she followed the electromagnetic trail to her prey, as another predator might follow a scent.
*
        "How's the little hellion going to get it out of there?" Trevor asked Peter loudly, his eyes glowing brightly as he waited for Thyme's reaction. The little energy left in the car's battery was going fast, as the remaining lights flashed on and off, and the horn sang its harshly nasal melody over and over.
        To Peter, wincing at the effect of the horn on his sensitive ears, it seemed like they'd been at it for hours. He frowned. "'Very carefully' is how. Remember, I own this little parking spot. Any more damage, and we won't even have a roof over our heads."
        Thyme darted over and yanked Trevor's ear. "This hellion," he said nastily, "is going to have human help, or he," Thyme butted Peter in the chest, "is going to make certain subcreatures regret they ever met a fairy -"
        "Too late," Trevor muttered.
        At Trevor's remark, Thyme's wings whirred, creating a loud droning buzz that filled the hall. Feinting a disgruntled exit, he whipped a quick turn, gaining momentum as he zeroed in on Trevor's rear end. The hall grew momentarily bright with the force of the spark from the fairy's flashing wings.
        "Ow-w!" Trevor yelled, while Thyme chortled gleefully.
        "Thyme!" Lily's voice held chastisement.
        Thyme's manner abruptly changed to one of bemused tolerance. "You are right, my Love," he said charmingly, taking one of Lily's small hands in his. "These humans try one's patience."
        Lily unsuccessfully hid her smile. However, the words "my Love" had the effect Thyme had intended. Her annoyance gone, she merely asked, "Patience?"
        Trevor and Peter sniggered. Thyme snapped off a warning spark in their direction, before replying smoothly, "Of course, Lily." To the smirking humans, Thyme said haughtily, "Remember, Bozos, that 'Patience' is only a game."
        Peter snatched the fairy's wing and tugged him forward. "Maybe you'd better remember, Pug Face, that 'Patience' is a game you play alone."
        Thyme used the whirring action of his other wing to jerk away. Changing tactics, he said winningly, "Yes, Peter Trevick. You are correct, as always."
        Peter's eyebrows lifted, while Trevor's jaw dropped in surprise. "I think I'll be sick," Trevor said.
        With a dramatic sigh, Thyme continued. "We must, of course, retrieve the information for Jordan first." He paused purposefully, to stare longingly at the car, trapped within the crushed floorboards of the hall. After a moment, he made a point of forcing his eyes away. "It will, of course, be impossible for me to extricate my payment alone. It is almost as if," he said in false wonderment, as though the thought had just occurred to him, "I am being teased. Will my wage, when I am finished, still be stuck in this hole, like some of your money in one of your banks?" He sighed loudly. "I am so gullible. So susceptible to the vagaries of human whimsy. It is only that -" he lowered his voice dramatically, while looking pointedly at Lily, "- if the car remains in that dark hole, my lovely Lily will be so very disappointed!"
        "I can't stand it!" Trevor complained.
        "I give up!" Peter said, flinging up his hands. "I'll help you! Somehow, I'll find a way to get it out of there," he conceded, his voice frustrated.
        "And you tell me I'm gullible! Now, he'll never stop bugging you!" Trevor whispered, giving Peter a playful nudge.
        Peter elbowed him back. Then, seeing the smug look on Thyme's face, and the glimmer of ill-concealed excitement lighting Lily's eyes, the humour of the situation struck him. He started to laugh. Trevor was right - having extracted his promise, Thyme would hold him to it. Smiling now, Peter asked, "Do you know the definition of 'nagging', Thyme?"
        "Do you know the definition of 'dupe'?" Thyme responded.
        Peter's smile faded. "'Dope' is more like it," he moaned. "How could I let you con me like that? I must be slipping." Peter stared for a moment at the sunken car, momentarily lost in thought. Then, a sly look entered his eyes, and he chuckled. His voice congenial, he said softly, "Jordy needs this report, Thyme. And it has to be very thorough." Peter walked over to the car, where he rubbed his fingers into the plaster dust coating the top. He continued nonchalantly, "Who knows how long something like this might take? I know of similar studies that have taken months - even years."
        Thyme squirmed. "Long? Jordan did not specify long, Human," he said irritably. "I think you are being very difficult, Peter Trevick."
        It was Peter's turn to look smug. "I certainly hope so," he replied, smiling.
        Thyme flew forward and ruffled Peter's hair. "You do sly very well, Bozo," he said, his eyes bright.
        Peter looked pleased. "Was I good, Trev?"
        Trevor grinned. "Positively crafty, Pete," he admitted admiringly. "Can you teach me?"
        Thyme flew over and hovered in Trevor's face. He told him, not unkindly, "There are some things that cannot be taught, Trevor. They are instinctive."
        Peter laughed at the look on Trevor's face. Lily was more sensitive. She joined them, her voice scolding. "You would think it an admirable thing to manipulate another. It is to your credit, Trevor, that your straightforwardness betrays you."
        Trevor looked happier. "See, Pete. That shows you. You've obviously been keeping bad company. You know - being led astray by bad influences and all."
        Peter's eyes dimmed slightly. He was thinking of the effects of Jarrod Demascar's brief habitation of his body. "Do you think -?" he started to ask, worried.
        Trevor sensed what was bothering him, and said quickly, "That's not what I meant, Pete. I was referring to Butthead," he assured him, flicking his thumb at Thyme.
        Thyme yanked Peter's hair. "If Demascar were still with you, I would sense a difference, Peter." The fairy studied him briefly, head tilted and wings buzzing. "No, Human. I sense you are the same obnoxious creature of my first encounter." Peter looked relieved. Thyme added, "It is a pity that my good influence has not improved you." Grabbing Lily's hand, he darted swiftly away, out of Peter's reach.
        "Lily!" Trevor called her back.
        Releasing her hand from Thyme's grasp, she flew back into the hall. "Yes, Trevor?" she inquired.
        "You're really picking up our language quickly now," he said, wanting to return the compliment she'd paid to him. As her head tilted in inquiry, he elaborated, "You know - 'manipulate' - 'straightforwardness'."
        Lily's face lit up with a smile. "Oh, Trevor!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "Knowing Thyme, how could I not also know the word 'manipulate'?" she asked. Her face grew briefly serious as she considered the other. "But you are correct, Trevor Richmond. It is very surprising that I should know the word 'straightforwardness'." Her puzzled frown changed to a smile. "Perhaps it is something I have learned from you -" With that, she turned and darted toward the door, leaving a trail of bright wing sparks behind her.
*
        The roar of the portal sang its sweet tune to her scaled ear orifices, as the dragon shed the light of the gate, much as she would a cast-off moult. Her eyes opened wider in the darkening sky, and the old familiar burning began deep within. Her insides were churning, and an unwary belch startled her with its heat.
        She had forgotten the effects of this dimension on her body: the discomfort of her heated innards, the roiling burn that etched painful striations through her throat and snout. The demands of the burning made her hunger an agonising thing, and she felt as though she were being eaten alive by fire - her insides searing and in need of appeasement - in need of an offering to the gods of her hunger.
        She examined the cool light from the small dwelling on the hill, and was pleased when some shift of movement caught her eye. Her sensory network told her that food awaited, and her bowels rumbled. Her stomach acids, now more like lava than digestive juices, roiled and bubbled. She extended her wings, and took to the sky.
*
        Lily paused sharply in flight, hovering like a hummingbird in the doorway.
        "What's wrong, Lily?" Peter asked, sensing her turmoil.
        Lily turned to him, the glow in her eyes a haze of confusion. "I do not know, Peter," she whispered, as though fearful of speaking aloud. Peter and Trevor drew closer. "There is something - a rumbling of movement - strong - forceful!" The confusion had given way to sharp glints of fear. "There is something fearful lurking without! Perhaps Thyme - with his knowledge of worlds -" Her voice trailed away as she sped from the room.
        Peter went into the lounge and stuck his head warily through the glassless window. He couldn't see anything, but there was a heck of a lot of "without" where Lily's "fearful" thing could be hiding.
        Trevor chuckled behind him. "Do you know how stupid that looks? You could've used the hole in the wall, instead." Trevor had patched part of the yassel-hole, and they'd covered it with a couple of blankets, but there were still large gaps. "Don't look so worried, Pete!"
        "Maybe it's a Sylybin, Trev." Peter's expression was grave.
        "Sylybin-schylybin. So what? Jeez, Pete - we've been through worse than that. Big deal." Trevor's voice was confident. "Nothing could scare me now."
        Katy appeared in the doorway. Her arms crossed, she hugged them to her like someone trying to get warm. Her eyes searched the room, as though it could tell her what was happening beyond. "Peter?" she said.
        He extended his hand, drawing her close. "I feel it, too, Katy."
        "Any ideas?"
        He shook his head. "Whatever it is, it sure spooked Lily."
        Mari practically ran into the room, slowing her steps when she saw the others. Her expression slightly embarrassed, she tried to appear as though she was just strolling in. "It's no good, Mari," Trevor said, laughing. "Afraid the bogey man's going to get you? Don't worry, Mar. Trevor'll protect you." Still smiling, he wrapped his arms around her.
        Annoyed, she pulled away, but not totally out of his grasp. "You may think this is funny, Trevor, but something's going on."
        Trevor looked disgusted. "I don't get it!" he complained. "What a bunch of namby-pambies! You guys are being ridiculous." At their looks, he sniggered. "Have you forgotten Mader? Or that hyphae stuff? Or that cupid from hell?"
        "It's because of those things that we're worried, you fool!" Peter said.
        "All right," Trevor said, his tone placating. "But maybe what we're sensing is just an earthquake or something -"
        "- so you're sensing it, too," Katy interrupted.
        "What I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," he continued, giving Katy a stern look, "is that you're letting past experience over-rule your good sense." A humming sound filled the room, and the floor began to vibrate beneath their feet.
        Trevor looked momentarily astonished that he'd been right, then said - his voice shaking along with the walls, "See-e-e! N-noth-thing b-but an-n ear-r-rthqua-ake!" As the walls continued to shiver, the crashing thunk of falling pictures, books, and mementos mingled uncomfortably with an explosive symphony of breaking glass and groaning wood.
        "Get in a doorway!" Katy's shrill words broke through the cacophony. The others looked at her strangely. She screamed to them again, her eyes flashing multi-coloured hues. She enforced her words with a shove. "Move!"
        But, moving was nearly impossible. The wave action of the quake acted on the canted surface beneath their feet, and they struggled for footing on flooring that had suddenly become as uneven as the rails of a rollercoaster. Katy dropped to all fours, then reached out a hand to Mari. The two of them began crawling toward the doorway. Katy paused once, to look back at Peter, and he forced a reassuring smile to his lips. "It'll be okay," he mouthed. Just then, one of the ceiling lights fell, showering them all with plaster dust.
        Imperturbability could be overdone. Peter dropped, to crawl after Katy and Mari.
        Trevor, coming up the rear, decided they weren't crawling fast enough. Closing his eyes against falling chips of plaster and wood, he picked up speed.
        As one of his plant pathology tomes was flung off a shelf, and nearly into his face, Peter recoiled, stopping to shove it out of the way. Trevor never saw him pause. Concentrating on making full speed across the undulating floor, he barrelled into Peter's rear end. Peter, caught off-balance, was shunted forward, onto Mari, who sprawled awkwardly on to Katy. Trevor sat back on his haunches, trying to clear his eyes enough to see. When he could, it was to the sight of a big bookcase coming his way.
        Trevor flung himself on to Peter, trying to get clear. The bookcase, books and magazines buried him nearly to his hips. The ground beneath them became suddenly still; the jarring movement ceasing as abruptly as it had begun. Only the plaster dust in the air, and loosened objects following gravity's dictates, remained in motion.
*
        "Why?" Trevor's voice came out of a face liberally streaked with plaster dust.
        "Why what?" Peter asked irritably, trying to pull himself out from under Trevor, so Mari could get clear. Then, he hastily lifted the bookcase off Trevor's legs.
        "Why the doorway? And why do you have to do so much heavy reading?" Trevor asked in disgust, tossing aside some of the larger books that were still pinning his legs. He picked up the biggest, testing its bulk with one hand. "This is as close to this kind of rubbish as I ever want to get," he grunted, chucking it aside.
        Peter watched one of his more treasured references slam against the wall, before tumbling to the ground. He quickly helped Trev extricate himself, before he could toss anything else. "Some people have no respect for the finer things," Peter said. "Are you okay?"
        Trevor turned over and wriggled his legs. "Fine," he said, then grimaced. Lifting up, he tugged a slim, dented volume out from under his rear end.
        He started to toss it away, but Peter quickly snatched it. "No, you don't," he said firmly.
        "Is that one about fungus, too?" Trevor asked. Peter nodded. "Then I agree with you," he said with false reverence. "Tossing's too good for it, Pete. I should have left it under my butt." He grinned. "Katy - why the doorway?" he asked again.

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        Katy had one arm around Mari, who sported a decidedly chalky cast to her green skin. "Because it's one of the best places to wait out an earthquake," she responded. "Either that, or under a table. But, our flooring's so bad, I opted for the door."
        Trevor studied the hole Symmerley had kicked in the lounge wall weeks before: noting how bulgy and uneven the wall was beginning to look. "You think the flooring's bad," he mumbled. "Tractor shed's sounding more plush all the time."
        "How do you know?" Mari asked.
        "Hey - move out the tractor, add a little furniture -"
        In Mari's mind, this wasn't the time to be making jokes. "Katy," she emphasised, frowning at Trevor, "why do you know so much about earthquakes?"
        "I grew up in earthquake country. You kind of get used to it after a while."
        Mari shivered. "I don't think I could ever get used to something like we just experienced."
        "Well, this one was the biggest I've ever felt," Katy admitted. "It must have been six or seven on the Richter Scale."
        "Listen to her!" Trevor remarked. "'Six or seven on the Richter scale'," he mimicked. "As though any normal person would live where there're earthquakes."
        Peter grinned. There was no way Katy was going to let that remark go by. "You're right, Trevor," Katy said, a multi-coloured glint in her eyes. "Only exceptional people can live on the brink of disaster."
        "Exceptionally strange," Trevor said.
        "Well, then, you should be delighted to be living in what now appears to be a fracture zone. If being exceptionally strange is the requirement, then you ought to feel cosy as a clam."
        Trevor opened his mouth to retort, then snapped it shut, much like the clam Katy had mentioned. After a moment, he said, snuggling up to Mari, "That's okay. Mari and I prefer our foundations to remain firm. By the way, Mari," he whispered, "did I ever mention what a fine foundation you have?"
***

Chapter Two


        They all stood up cautiously, checking the ground for solidity, not quite certain whether to trust the weakened flooring. "There could be aftershocks," Katy said casually. Peter's eyes met Trevor's, while Mari gasped in dismay. Without a word, the three dodged for the doorway.
        As he passed Katy, Peter reached out and pulled her after him. "There's such a thing as being too casual, Katy," he complained.
        She shrugged. "There's also such a thing as being too paranoid, Peter. What are you going to do: spend the rest of the night hovering in the doorway?"
        "Sounds good to me," muttered Trevor.
        "I think I'd feel safer outside," Mari said, as one of her feet slid into a hole under the hall carpet. "This door jamb doesn't look all that solid." She hit it with the heel of her hand, and a crack in the wall above showered down more plaster dust.
        Katy sighed and nodded. She was considering this further damage to their little house. Then, her eyes alight, she turned to Peter. "Peter, do we have earthquake insurance?" she asked.
        She never heard the answer. The shaking began again, and Peter tilted his head, listening to a bizarre rumbling howl in the background; some sound that went beyond the train track roar of the preceding quake. Then, the lights went out.
        Mari screamed. She'd never really liked the dark, and the idea of being trapped within the blackness, in a world full of movement, appalled her.
        What came next appalled her more. The jarring of her world suddenly gained an additional sound to the already throaty rumble that quivered her perception. The roof, the rafters, and the ceiling groaned and cracked, responding to the torturous assault upon the old beams. Mari squatted down, covering her head with both her hands - knowing it was a poor defence at best, but unable to come up with better. Squinting her eyes closed, she cowered, taking some comfort from the feel of Trevor's hand on her shoulder.
        She took no comfort from the knowledge that the others were terrified, too - even Katy, who had been so calm only seconds before. For a moment, Mari hated the sensitivity that made her experience their fears, in addition to her own.
        Squatting so close to the floor, she missed the cue that sent additional shafts of terror through her friends. Smoke. Trevor's nose caught it first, and he nudged Peter, whom he sensed, rather than saw, nod in the dark. Katy's grip tightened on Peter's arm, and his yelled, "Out!" was all the motivation they needed. Trevor yanked Mari to her feet, and they moved as a group into the hall - to trip their way through the shifting darkness.
        There was really only one way to go - out the front door. As they moved toward the opening, the tumult above their heads rose to an explosive blast: a rending of timbers and metal, the screech of extracted nails, and the clabber of something else - the scraping of a huge form trying to gain purchase on a slippery surface. In sudden fury, the roof gave, and Peter grabbed Katy and threw her flat, picturing the impact of that weight on their unprotected heads.
*
        If I could just get mad enough, we might have a chance. Trevor tried to dredge up his anger - and, with it, some power to keep the weight of the roof from lodging on their heads - but all his fury seemed to be buried under a thick layer of fear. Terror reigned in the darkened hall, and all he could feel were the unspoken screams of the others.
        The plaster rained down, getting in their noses and eyes, sending tears streaming down their cheeks. Katy was glad that her tears were hidden in the dark. I was so cocky, she thought. So matter-of-fact. She regretted her over-confidence; the way she'd taken it all so lightly. I even asked Peter about insurance. I should have considered, instead, what might happen next.
*
        The roof disappeared, leaving a skeleton of framing timbers to mock where it had once been. The four of them, huddled in the hall, looked up, expecting to see death hurtling their way, and were shocked, instead, to see the glint of stars. The illusion of safety was quickly cast aside as a cloud of smoke drifted into their vision, and a horrifyingly chimaeric vision displaced the last of the starlight.
        It created its own silhouette. A fearsome red glow filled their view with a garish light, that etched the features of their adversary against the innocence of the night sky. The Thing spat, espewing molten droplets that set the beams alight; taking away nearly the last of their protection against the elements - and one of the last barricades between themselves and her.
        Peter stiffened. There been a certain feel to some of his encounters in the past; a certain mental set that he'd come to recognise. It had been there in his meeting with the Shimmer, just as it had marked his first encounter with a wongnit, and his first tussle with a cat-beast. It was a sickening feature of his time within the Sylybin. That mental set was definitely here now. Whatever this creature was, it intended to eat them.
        Unless we can talk it out of it. Peter held on to the faint hope that, whatever this Thing was, it might yet be reasoned with. Until he saw it stretch out its long neck, to rip away yet another timber blocking the path to its intended meal. It would just as soon reason with us, he realised, as we would reason with the meat and potatoes decorating a dinner plate. Our only hope is to run. His smoke-stung eyes searched the exits. They'd be too damned exposed. Where could they go?
        Mari was frozen beside him. Her shocked numbness was almost tangible. "Still feel safer outside?" he whispered. It worked. She turned to look at him, and he sensed a glimmer of rationality seep back into her thoughts.
        "And I bragged that nothing more could scare me!" Trevor hissed. "Anybody have a toilet?"
        Katy's eyes were glowing, and her hands were already starting to pulse with multi-coloured hues. "No!" Peter said softly, but firmly - trying to call her out of her inward vision. Her eyes were distant and unfocused, and he knew she was looking within, at her own fear, her own anger. She, too, recognised the beast's intentions, and it was stirring her to action. "Katy-my-love!" Peter called her back to the here and now. "It won't work." He glanced upwards once more, then down at the soft luminescence that had involuntarily brightened his own palms. "That Thing's just too big."
        Katy's voice quivered. "It wants to eat us, Peter!"
        "The healing stone!" Mari whispered urgently, thinking of what might happen in the next few minutes. "It's somewhere in the lounge!"
        Trevor crawled back, to look in dismay at the piles of wreckage. He returned a moment later. "We'll never find it under all that!" he moaned. Then, his eyes grew brighter. "But Thyme could!"
        Peter jumped as a tongue of flame curled in past the remaining rafters. "Where is Thyme?" he asked worriedly. "And Lily?"
        "Somewhere close," Katy answered. She closed her eyes in an attempt to concentrate. Frustrated, she admitted, "It's no good. I don't know where they are. Only that they're still alive."
        The four flung themselves backwards as a flame-thrower burst came their way, this time charring the remainder of the ceiling. "He doesn't just want us - he wants us scrambled and charbroiled!" Trevor said. "I liked it better when he was earthquaking us -"
        "That's it!" Mari said.
        "Charbroiling? I'm much better raw -" Trevor interrupted.
        "No!" Mari said impatiently. "Isn't there something we can roll in, to make us taste bad?"
        "Morty!" Trevor called softly. "We need some direction here -"
        "No Morty, and no good," Peter said. "He'd just burn it off -"
        The others looked at him in distaste. "Yuck!" Trevor said.
        "She!" Katy exclaimed. Peter looked confused. "It's a she, Peter. And I think I know what she is." Her voice grew louder, a trace of excitement mingling with her fear. She didn't even flinch when the creature struck again, ripping with claws and teeth at a portion of wall. "She's a dragon!"
        Peter looked astounded. "A real, honest-to-God -"
        "- fire-breathing dragon!" Trevor was awed.
        Mari stared at their adversary, and fought against the wonder that could take the edge off her fear. It's enough that all this will be frozen on my brain forever. Some day, maybe I'll be able to draw it out and appreciate it, but now - Her thoughts were interrupted by a brilliant flare, that darted toward the dragon's reddened eyes. "Look!" she screamed, pointing.
        But all eyes were already fixed on the dragon's small adversary. "It's Thyme!" exclaimed Peter. "What chance can he have against that?"
        Lily's excited glow burst into their vision. "Why are you not fleeing?" she squealed, without a trace of her usual fluted tones. "Thyme is distracting her!"
        "Where to?!" Peter asked, considering their options.
        "Where can we go?" Mari asked desperately. Their only exit would take them literally into the dragon's mouth.
        "Under the floor!" Trevor said, tugging back the ruined carpet, to rip at the weakened floorboards. Finding one place where rot had succumbed to abuse, he cleared a hole, and pushed Mari through. "Go, Mar!" He was already tugging Katy toward the gap, when Mari screamed. Trevor, attuned to Mari's feelings, didn't realise it was more of a yelp than a scream - the shock waves of her response stirred him to action. He yanked Katy out of the way, and dove headfirst into the gap. Lily followed, using her aura to light the blackness beneath the house.
        It wasn't needed. The hell-cast haze of the dragon's breath - caught and held in flaming cinders, burning boards, and molten plastic - laced the underside of the house, reddening the smoky, multi-piered scene. Like the pink clouds that brighten dawn skies, these artificial cumulus reflected back the yellow and red brilliance of the world outside - the gastronomic disorders of the predator inadvertently seeking out the hidey holes of her prey.
*
        Mari forced herself to lie still. She'd wriggled through the dust, stirring clouds of her own as she'd squirmed to place the solidity of a concrete foundation block between her and - what? The eerie light cast artificial shadows; shadows that flickered with the confusing, constantly shifting billow of the invading clouds. The sulphurous fumes itched and burned their irritating way into Mari's mucous membranes, causing her eyes to tear, and her nose to run. She fought to focus against the swimming swirl of hazy, burning clouds - trying to see what had moved beneath the house. Whatever it was, it was big enough to stir dust devils of its own.
        It was there, for just an instant. Large and black, it had crept toward her, sinuous as a snake. Then, it was gone; lost in the clouded heat, dust, and smoke; in the mixed movements and shadows. What is it? Mari's first inclination - the one that made all her muscles tighten with impatience - was to flee. But where? This was their escape route - the only one available to them.
        It's up to me, Mari told herself. Trevor had thought, by forcing her into the hole, that he was saving her from further harm. He put my safety before his own. The only way I can repay that, is to see if we really can escape this way. She gasped a heated breath of hellish air, shaking as she saw the black thing come at her once again. Saving me from harm. The thought came like a prayer. If he only knew just how wrong he was.
Trevor did know. She was here somewhere, lost in the dust and haze. Calm down, he told himself. Concentrate. Find her.
*
        Katy leapt to her feet, as a huge drop of searing saliva doused the smouldering bits of debris and embers littering the hall carpet - steaming thickly where her head had lain only moments before. Peter grasped her wrist, pulling her back down. "Katy!" he urged.
        Katy risked a quick glance in his direction. Most of her attention was focused on the dragon now, who had noticed their response to her salivating hunger, and was now arching back, preparing to spit again. "Look out!" Katy shrieked, as another steaming glob came her way. Jerking backwards, she fought to get clear, inadvertently ramming Peter against the car. "Peter!" Katy half-sobbed the words. Her feet stung from the splash-back of glistening, smoking droplets. "Next time she'll have us!"
        "Under the house!" Peter, his arm firmly around her, slid backwards across the floor, to practically fling her at the hole that had swallowed Mari, Trevor, and Lily. He shoved her in, cringing as he heard her thud headfirst on to the ground. The last thing he heard, as he fell in on top of her, was a raucous gargle from their large adversary, as she sought more moisture from her heated throat, to tenderise her difficult prey.
*
        Damn it, Mari! Where are you?! Trevor didn't dare broach the question aloud, for fear Mari's response might draw unwanted attention her way. Lily was excitedly glowing like a hundred-and-fifty watt bulb, and he shielded his eyes with one hand, trying to see into the dimmer areas beyond. It was so damned disorienting. The weird angle of the floor above his head, the churning dust that stunk of smoke and yassel, and the tilty, skewed rows of piers that danced in the flickering flamelight made it nearly impossible for him to pick up Mari's movements. "Turn it down, Lily!" His whispered annoyance sounded more like a growl. "You're blinding me!"
        Lily, frenzied in her anger and fear, was unable to comply. Her own fears for Thyme, for these humans she called friends, and the terrifying voraciousness of their attacker, were playing havoc with her senses. Shifting lights, the thick, acrid smoke, and the pungent aroma and sensations of terror riddling this low, oppressive hidey hole, affected her delicate nervous system, sending all her responses into panic mode. "I can not help it, Trevor!"
        The last words were lost in a slur of fairy, but Trevor got their meaning. Momentarily surprised at her loss of control, he glanced her way, suddenly becoming aware that the intensity of both physical and emotional sensations was causing her pain. He realised that Lily and Thyme could have been well beyond the dragon's reach by now - yet they had chosen to stay - to try to salvage the lives of four ungrateful humans. "Thanks, Lily," he muttered gruffly. Quivering, she ran a gentle hand across his, offering him a tremulous smile.
*
        Mari lay still for a few moments, wishing she could disappear from this hideous hell-hole. Spiders, struggling to escape the heat, abandoned their webs, and sought shelter in the dark layers of her hair. She twitched it, trying to blot out the creepy-crawly feeling of tiny legs and feet. Once, she opened her mouth to swear, and ended up spitting out a particularly repulsive specimen. Her stomach churned. That's all I need, she thought. Any more of this - she wiped a hand across her neck - and I'm going to throw up -
        Don't throw up - don't throw up - don't throw up - Her brain chanted it like a mantra, while she sucked deep breaths through her nostrils, not daring to open her mouth again. The spasm passed, and she lay there weakly, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Her ear against the ground, she felt, rather than heard, the approach of the dark creature which had terrified her only moments before. All thoughts of sickness flew, as panic churned through her veins. Cursing her stupidity, she jolted to attention. Her anger at herself gave her courage, and she scooted forward, using her elbows to pull herself across the dusty floor.
        The Thing swept around in an arc, slapping against her with a heated thud that sent her rolling against the concrete foundation. Mari, terrified, got up on all fours and tried to crawl away, bumping her head and back on overhanging pipes and wire; scraping against wood and metal plates. She twisted her head, to see the black Thing coming at her again through the murk.
        It was the stuff of nightmares. Mari tried to crawl faster, but couldn't overcome the feeling that she was moving in endless slow motion. Ramming into a low board, she briefly saw stars - her aching brain making her momentarily wonder whether she'd made it outside. Then, a shower of cobwebby dirt coated her like rain, gritting her eyes and making her realise that she was a long way from being in the clear.
        Unable to see anything now beyond the stars in her head, she tried wiggling forward, but the feel of a heated blow against her ankle sent her into crawl mode once more. Sweating dirt into mud, blinded by the dusty cobwebs that coated her eyelids, and gasping for breath like an asthmatic needing her inhaler, she barrelled forward - head down - directly into Trevor's rear end.
        Trevor was knocked flat - or nearly so. His head contacted the concrete block that Mari had hit only moments before. Mari lay prone across his lower legs as an intense awareness of Trevor's being flooded her senses - combining relief with an inordinate sense of well-being and happiness that had no place in this grotty hole beneath the world. Spitting the dirt out of her mouth, and wiping, first her eyes, and then her lips, on the inside of her T-shirt, she said softly, but with a sure and firm note that made Trevor forget his sore head, "I really do love you, Trevor Richmond."
        Trevor rolled over carefully, to avoid pushing her face into the dirt. He looked at her briefly - her face scrungy and dirty - but her eyes alight with softly pulsing lights. Don't let me blow this, he thought. Then, seeing her expression, he realised that whatever he said - whatever words he used - it wouldn't matter. She loves me. She's telling me that she loves me - and, even if I mess up, it won't matter. Grinning, he winked at her. "It took you long enough," he said. "Because I feel like I've loved you -" he paused as though thinking about it, "- just about forever."
        "But you've only known me a short time -" she wheezed, choking on the sour smoke, before moving up to lie against him.
        "Picky." He tried to think of a romantic way to put it. "I needed a special diode to make my circuit complete." The hand Mari was using to caress the bump on his forehead suddenly assumed a more professional touch. He took her hand in his. "No, Mari - what I'm trying to say is that I always needed you, to make me the person I wanted to be. Only I didn't know it until I was with you, and - and my life just suddenly got a whole lot better -" He grinned, satisfied. "You completed my circuit, to make me the person I wanted to be." He looked beyond her, seeing a smooth blackness sift the shadows. "Right now," he said with false calmness, "the person I want to be is a live one. Move, Mari -"
        Mari, her head against Trevor's chest, had felt the betraying lurch of his heart. She was already in motion, her hand tight on his arm, as she urged him in the direction of Lily's incandescent aura.
*
        Katy was wedged where Peter's weight had pinned her: between the car's tyre and a big concrete block. "Peter!" The sound was muffled, but the fear in her voice wasn't. It was here that Lily lingered now - her agitated movements stirring wild shadows in the shallow space beneath the house.
        Peter's dive into the hole had been followed by the scream of the dragon's frustrated fury, as she flung charred boards and beams, furniture and wads of insulation at her quarries' hiding place. The itchy insulation protected Peter from the nail-studded sharpness of the snapped wood, but there was no protection from the sheer awkward weight of the toppled boards. Peter squirmed and kicked at the debris that trapped him, well aware of the panicky note in Katy's voice. He tried to turn on his side, to ease the burden of his weight on her back, but the movement caused the unsteady pile at his own back to shift, sending paint chips, plaster, and broken wood spilling through the contours of their hiding place.
        Some hiding place! Peter thought. Burial place is more like it.
        Katy felt his discouragement; recognising his frustration at being unable to free her. She wriggled one hand out from where it lay pinned beneath her chest, working it free between her hip and the tyre, in order to touch his arm and grip it tightly. I love you, Peter. The words slipped quietly past the panic stirring his mind, seeping a note of calm into the muddled fears that drove him. Next time - the message appeared in a burst of red scrollwork - I get to be on top -
        In spite of their situation, Peter smiled, shifting his arm so he could grasp her hand. When that time comes, Woman - behind her closed eyes, the vision of a dark red rosebud appeared, grew plump and swollen, the petals suddenly exploding outwards into a lush, fragrant flower - I'll make sure you don't know which way is up -
*
        Thyme spun in a rapid whorl, that left the dragon uncertain where he was. The residual light from his energetic movements remained to linger annoyingly on her vision, distracting her from her determined attack.
        The changelings, whose blood and cells pulsed with a blend of worlds so enticing to Direygayn's tastebuds, were radiating even stronger signals in their fearful flight: the scents of terror-induced exertion - so strongly emitted that she could almost taste the sweet protein and fats; the salty sweat of their bodies.
        But this small creature would not be stayed. Like the quilras and shyranoynoys of other worlds, and the flies and mosquitoes of this one, the small being returned again and again. Direygayn could only assume that this thing, although larger than those other plaguey pests, possessed no greater a brain. His belligerence and dare-devil tactics, in the face of his certain demise, could only be considered demented: the acts of a suicidal species intent on being squashed. Direygayn roared at him again, unburdening herself of an abhorrently large burst of flaming heartburn, as she belched out a long, untidy, regurgitating blast.
        Thyme continued, unfazed. Or nearly unfazed. His aura deflected the worst of her heated burst, but the intensity of her attack was beginning to conduct itself to the outer fringes of his aura, marking it with a dull red glow. Uncomfortably, he noticed that he was beginning to sweat.
        He realised it was a sign of vulnerability. Fuming, he swore in rapid fairy. Thyme knew he had no hope to best this massive creature in battle, but he sensed her irritation at his activities, and was thoroughly enjoying niggling at her ponderous form. Unlike Lily, who endowed his actions with nobility of purpose, and loyalty to his friends, Thyme admitted that at least half of his motivation in attacking the dragon was for the sheer enjoyment of it. Overconfident, voracious, and of a bullying disposition, the dragon possessed a temperament that brought out the worst in Thyme, and gave him every excuse for doing his worst.
        Thyme flared briefly, blinding Direygayn once again, then almost disappearing from her vision as he reappeared in a mask of sludge, stench, and fumes. It was Spigot who attacked her now, leaving her momentarily confused, and wondering what had become of the beaming gnat who had shot sparks off her rear. Wary, she paused briefly, slitted eyes rapidly scanning the skies. Where was it? Had she unknowingly destroyed it? She jumped as a zap of pain jolted her beneath one of her scales. The nasty jolt, though small, ached like a splinter in the tender underskin of a fingernail.
*
        Edwin Murphy sat up abruptly in bed - his heart pounding, and the dry taste of terror still lingering in his throat. For several weeks now, his sleep had been riddled with dream memories of fairies and flying horses, little people and gargoyles. And a quiet guilt over the plight of four people, who were no longer quite human.
        He didn't know exactly why he felt the guilt. Maybe it was his past, coming back to haunt him, but he didn't think so. He'd made the wrong choice once, but now things were different. If there was one lesson he'd learned from Peter and Katy, Trevor and Mari, it was that whatever life threw your way, you did the best you could with what you had.
        It was never too late to start over, and develop a conscience. The nulling void he used to live in, though, had been much more pleasant. Having a conscience interrupted his sleep. Because his conscience believed that they'd abandoned their new friends to their fate. To yassels, to hyphae - to trying to survive here, where their very existence seemed to draw enemies out of the woodwork. He'd never pried deeply into the origins of some of Peter's and Trevor's "friends", because he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. Envy again, because he suspected the mutant humans could venture where he could not? Maybe. Or, maybe, I just don't want to stretch my rationality too far, because I have to know that, despite my new "gift", I'm still sane.
        Tonight had been different. These were not dreams of the past, but of what was to be - soon. He didn't know how to explain it, even to himself, but there was a certain "flavour" to his visions, that went beyond the texture of a dream.
        He pulled Paul Gatley's private number out of his wallet. I hope the good doctor doesn't have me committed for this, he thought.
        "Gatley." Paul didn't pick it up until the fourth ring. His voice was hoarse with sleep.
        "Paul, this is Edwin Murphy." The phone clunked as Gatley dropped it. Edwin grinned. Poor Guy, Ed thought. After what he's been through with his friends, he's probably anticipating the worst. Ed's face grew serious. Which this might very well be.
        "Sorry, Ed - I dropped the phone." Paul sighed loudly. "I don't suppose this is just a friendly hello?" he ventured hopefully. At Ed's silence - as he tried to figure out how he'd explain his vision - Paul said, "I didn't think so. What's on your mind?"
        "Fire." Ed decided to stop worrying about how it sounded, and infect his words with some of the urgency his dream had given him. "Fire burning Katy's and Peter's house to the ground."
        "Jesus!" Paul exclaimed. "Do you know when?"
        "Soon - real soon. Maybe even tonight."
        "Thanks, Ed. Look, I'll get out there and warn them -"
        "Wait, Paul! There's more -" Ed hesitated, while Paul waited tensely at the other end. "About the source of the fire -"
        "Lightning? A bad electrical connection?" Paul prodded. Thinking of some of Mari's friends, he added, "Someone playing with matches?"
        "None of the above. I saw - and I swear to God I wasn't dreaming, Paul - some kind of monster."
        Paul remembered Mader and shuddered. "Like Mader?" he asked.
        "Worse. Paul, don't have me committed for this - but I think it was a dragon."
        Paul sounded incredulous. "A dragon?!"
        "Yeah, Paul. A fire-breathing dragon."
        Paul snorted with laughter. "Ed, you're pulling my leg -"
        "Dammit, Paul!" Ed yelled into the phone. "Do you think I would've risked a call like this unless I thought it was true? I may have visions, but I'm not nuts! It's a goddammed dragon, Paul - and it's hungry! Do you get what I'm saying?"
        "All too well. Look, I'm going out there - but I'll have to stop by the hospital - to get some stuff for burns - and whatever -"
        Ed knew Paul was thinking about severe bleeding, severed limbs - and the thought made him sick. I hope those people know how lucky they are to have a friend like him. It wasn't the first time he'd thought of them as lucky. He just hoped they'd stay that way.
        "I might be there ahead of you, then. I - we'll - do what we can."
        Paul was momentarily silent. "You're going out there?" His voice held shock.
        "What - you think you have a monopoly on friendship, Paul?" Ed asked sarcastically. "Besides," he added flippantly, trying to calm the nervous flutters toe-dancing in his gut, "I've always wanted to see one of those things."
        Ed sensed Paul was smiling. "Just don't get too close to it. Our friends' recuperative powers are much greater than yours."
        "All their powers are much greater than mine. But, I'll be careful. See you soon."
        After Paul had hung up, Ed punched in Vicki Kojan's number. Horace picked up the phone. "Ed, is that you?"
        Ed was momentarily taken aback. "Are you and Vicki -?"
        "You're the psychic, Ed," Horace responded grumpily, obviously embarrassed. "You tell me."
        Ed grinned. "It's about time someone took you on, you surly old goat. Poor Vicki."
        "Lucky Vicki," Horace responded. "Hey, look - Kelwin doesn't know yet."
        "And you're worried he'll give you both hell - right?"
        "Right. By the way, we're ready to leave, and Kelwin's on his way. We'll be ready when you are."
        "I think Kelwin's response will surprise you, but - it's none of my business. I guess I don't need to ask how you knew I'd be calling -"
        "Vicki, of course. What's the emergency, anyway?"
        "Horace, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Not in a million years."
*
        Katy had been terrified that the dragon would reach them while she and Peter lay trapped, with no room to manoeuvre, and no hope of escape. Or that the fire, which was torching the old wood of her small house, would sweep through this underfloor area as well, catching them in its path. Now, however, these what-could-be's became secondary, as the reality of the situation crept in on a last breath of thickened air.
        I can't breathe. Immediately, Katy's heart started to pound, and the breaths that she should have conserved demanded release. She gasped, realising that she'd used up some small reserve of air, and that her source of supply was quickly being sealed by sifting dirt from above. Her hand tightened painfully onto Peter's, her nails sinking into his hand as she clenched him in panic.
        Behind her eyes, the brightness of flaring reds and oranges told her that her body was making its own response to her panic - reacting in self-preservation. No! She fought it down, dissipating it along the dark crannies of her prison. To release it now would be to place Peter between the explosive burst, and God-knows-how-many tonnes of debris - leaving him as just so much refuse in the midst of the rubble. I can't! she screamed inside.
        Don't let Peter know. Her blackening thoughts surfaced in a mind that was quickly becoming confused. Don't let him know how scared you are -
        In Peter's head, a swirling haze of purple and black seeped in, gradually resolving into the words - Love you -
*
        Don't leave me! The echoes reverberated, throbbing out a migraine message into the bog of Katy's oxygen-starved tissues.
*
        I don't want to, Peter -
        The message poured into his mind - the tail end of it trailing out in a hopeless sigh, that lodged his heart somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Peter wriggled frantically, straining to push aside the planks and rubble that pinned him down. I have to get her out of there! his brain screamed. Katy's nails still dug into him - her own struggle and terror unknowingly being transmitted to Peter's clenched fingers.
        Then, Katy's hand went limp - and Peter lost control. "No!" The sound of his anguish ripped the air, half-deafening him within the close confines, and bringing down more rubble to seal them in. Sweat poured off him, and his jaw set in grim determination. No healing stone - no healing stone - The words ran through his head in a terrifying litany. Never had he valued that precious crystal as much as he did at that moment.
        The seconds ticked along with his pounding heart, as he fought for control. If he was to have a hope of saving her, it lay in the inner strength that was hidden in his core. The stifling heat was nearly unbearable now, filling him with a roasting warmth that made a mockery of the cold vein of ectoplasm centred somewhere within his person. It's there, he told himself firmly. You just have to find it -
        But how?! Unwanted, the image of Katy lying dead crept into his head, making him gag bile. Katy! his mind screamed.
        His eyes were closed against the influx of dirt and drifting debris, leaving a dark and empty screen for his panic to write upon. More dirt suddenly began to sift down one side of his face, and a demanding brightness blotted out the nightmare pictures playing behind his closed lids. The warmth burnt its way into his brain, making its own demands upon his reason. Lily! Peter forced his lids to open against the grit.
*
        But, Lily's agitation only enforced Peter's fears. "Do something!" he pleaded, choking on the dirt and plaster chips, smoke and sulphur fumes.
        Lily took a deep breath, then squeezed her eyes closed and formed her tiny hands into fists. Concentrating, she hovered as close to Peter's face as the rubble would let her; becoming lost in some effort of her own. Before Peter's squinting gaze, the edges of her aura oozed unevenly outward, drawing closer until his face was neatly immersed within the radiance of her brilliant light.
        There was no smoke here. Only a sweetness that mocked the fearful confusion of the flames, the dirt, and his disintegrating surroundings. Lily -
        I am here, Peter Trevick.
        Katy -
        Lily struggled with her own fears and confusion, fighting to hold him wreathed within her aura. You must save her, Peter! Lily's voice rang firmly in his ears, but Peter wasn't fooled - he could sense the desperation in her tone. You must seek your calm - your power - and use it - The effort of extending her light was draining her, and her words became faint. Save her, Peter! For us all -
        Peter knew that the artificial calm Lily was offering him wouldn't last. Already, his thoughts were fingering that river of cold that ran like whitewater froth through the rocky stonework of his conscious mind. He'd avoided it since he'd used it in the Sylybin world, not wanting to ever again touch the chilling flow that had nearly cost him his life, his body, his personality.
        But he touched it now. Compressed it in a mental grip that squeezed it to the surface of his tissues. And - in the gasping heat, Peter's sweating body suddenly grew ice cold.
*
        Lily drew back. Still agitated, she shifted in patternless flight, her light burning feebly now - a subdued beacon.
*
        "Is the ceiling in here getting shorter, or is it just my imagination?" Trevor muttered as he dropped flat to continue in a worm-like wriggle. Mari sighed at the question, but said nothing. Her own nerves were screaming - something was terribly wrong with Katy and Peter. Trevor's panic was taking the form of a nearly non-stop commentary as he first crawled, then pulled himself across the ground. He was oblivious to the fact that he no longer had any skin left on his elbows or knees.
        If only I knew what's wrong! The thought bounded like a jackrabbit through Mari's head. Her brain snapped with the fearful crunch of dragon teeth on frail human forms, and she gulped as visions of dog-bite victims chased those of shark attack, and lion maulings. She visualised their massive adversary, realising that none of her mental images could match the horrific combination of the dragon's jagged teeth and searing breath. What'll I do? she thought frantically, her hand tightening on a rough chunk of concrete, as though - by wishing alone - she could change it into her lost healing crystal.
*
        I've got it! Triumphantly, Peter drew the viscous flow to the surface, sucking it with a vacuum demand that yanked it free of the dark recesses of his cells. The seconds were ticking away in his head, and a quick squeeze of Katy's wrist yielded only limpness in reply. Katy! his mind screamed again, but only a grim silence answered him. Panic danced into his limbs once more, but this time, he used it.
        He let the ice flood go. The rising inferno temperatures of their basement prison were suddenly sliced by a chilling white, that painted frost across Peter's sweating skin. Out it poured - that freezing spillage of ectoplasm dripping its way through the cracks of Katy's rubble prison; hugging the contours of her body, and draping her like the caul of a new-born child.
        Katy had never been so cold in her life - had she been aware of it. The sheath of icy fluid encasing her form fought against the breakdown of enzymes and tissues - fought against the ravages of death. At the same time, the phosphorescent outpouring flowed like the hydrologic stream it resembled, making its way through the weighted pinnings of tangled wood and debris, that crushed Peter to the ground. Acting like a lubricant on a rusty bolt, the glowing flow slipped between the bound layers, loosening the ramshackle piling. Bits and pieces of rickety flotsam - that had weighed him down - now began to slide past him, to spill upon the dirty ground.
        Peter surfaced, his concentration broken. Trevor was tearing at a few smouldering planks that remained stubbornly wedged in the gap of the floor above, still effectively pinning Peter in place. As Trevor shoved debris behind him, Mari shovelled it away with both hands, working frantically to make a space for the masses of heated fragments that were still pouring in from above.
        Finally, Peter's legs were free. He booted away the last of the imprisoning wood, then did a panicky pawing at the sifting sawdust and insulation that still covered Katy's shoulders and head. "Katy -" He dragged her free from her wedged position, pulling her clear of the rapidly filling gap, and into his arms. "Katy!" he said again, more urgently this time. He wiped the dirt from her face, looking for some response - something to indicate that she was still with him. Lily hovered nearby, her light spilling weakly over Katy's frozen features.
        Mari tugged Trevor aside, to get her own look at their friend. She touched Katy's face, then felt for the carotid in her neck. Working rapidly, she tugged Katy from Peter's arms, and stretched her out on the dirt floor. Without hesitating, Mari started CPR, wondering how she was going to manage it with the underflooring right at her back.
        Peter looked dazed. Now that the struggle to free Katy had succeeded, he was left with only the uncertainty of her survival. Without action to sustain him, his world had suddenly become impossibly bleak - as frozen as his Katy's still form.
        Lily was horrified. Her own frozen moments, with the seemingly endless chill that had invaded her being, were still too recent. She shuddered in compassion, trying to force herself to touch her friend's icy skin; to seek for the life that she prayed would yet be dwelling within.
        Trevor, seeing the set expression on Mari's face, in the light of Lily's aura, wriggled forward on his elbows, to take over the breathing part of her efforts. Peter, breaking out of his sleepwalker's trance, laid a hand on Trevor's shoulder, as his friend bent over Katy's still face. "No, Trev," Peter insisted quietly. "I need to -" He couldn't finish, and Trevor nodded, unable to meet his eyes.
        Waiting for the pause in Mari's steady efforts, Peter took over the breathing. "Five and one," Mari said tersely.
        Lily gave Katy a fairy touch, and Mari felt a tremor of response run through her. "Again, Lily!" A note of hope strengthened Mari's tone, and Peter glanced at her quickly.
        Lily studied Mari's pumping efforts briefly, then moved to sit on Katy's chest, her eyes on Mari's hands. When Mari paused, so Peter could fill Katy's lungs with his own breath, Lily extended her own small hands - placing them on Katy's chest in the spot that Mari had just vacated. A spark of bright light moved from Lily's wings, down her outstretched arms, and into her fingertips. Katy twitched, and a low moan drifted from her blue lips. In a moment, Peter clasped her close to his chest, as she began to shiver violently.
        Trevor, seeing Peter's face relax, reached out a hand and squeezed Mari's arm. Mari was shaking, and he realised how scared she'd been. "If you guys are through goofing around," Trevor said - clearing his throat to hide a quaver - "maybe we can get on with this dragon extermination business - "
        Peter kissed Katy's cold forehead, finding comfort in the way the skin warmed under his lips. He looked at Lily, gratitude dancing in his glowing eyes. "That was one whopper of a fairy touch, Lily. I can't tell you how grateful I am." Turning to Mari, he added, "You're pretty good even without your chunk of rock, Mar."
        She smiled as she took Katy's pulse, pleased to feel it growing stronger beneath her fingers. "It's nice to know that I can function without my little stone. I was starting to feel inadequate -"
        Trevor squeezed her. "I get it - you felt stoned. Or maybe like you had rocks in your head. It's all crystal clear to me."
        Peter grinned. "Give Trevor one little dragon, and he cracks. Ignore him, Mari - I always do."
        Lily's voice was nervous, and her aura still fluctuated wildly. "I fear the creature above -" her eyes looked ominously upwards, "- will not wait much longer to satisfy her hunger." She stared at them, willing them to take her warning seriously. "She will satisfy it with one, or all of you, if she can." Lily's voice became pleading. "Make haste, or all will be lost."
        "Better hasty than tasty," Trevor emphatically agreed. "Time to make tracks." He pointed to a glimmer of black smoothness that was stirring its own cloud of dirt as it moved in their direction. "Something nasty's headed this way."
***

Chapter Three


        Thyme had nearly forgotten his friends, in the sheer joy of irritating this fractious, sharp-scaled behemoth. He had sensed the strong vein of egoism that fed her actions as soon as he'd approached her, and it brought out the worst in his personality. Thyme would never realise that, for his size, his pride dwarfed her own.
        At the moment, he was measuring his success on the number of quill-sharp digs he could make in that oh-so-sensitive skin under her scales, counting it a victory if he made her quiver, and beside himself with glee if she jolted in pain. He knew that Spigot was nearly invisible to this massive dragon, who would refuse to recognise something so sludgy and small, as anything but a minor annoyance. Spigot felt obligated, therefore, to be as major an annoyance as possible.
*        
        A black streak knifed swiftly through the maze-like confines of their shelter. It was Peter's first glimpse of the Thing that had so terrified Mari. "What is it?" he hissed.
        "Something black with green spots." Trevor watched the Thing nudge, then circumvent, one of the concrete piles supporting the house. At the nudge, the concrete - bearing house and all - shifted, and Trev unconsciously shifted as well, grabbing Mari's arm and pulling her back into a corner. "It's strong, too," he whispered. "And weight is no object." Peter nodded, but made no effort to edge away. Trevor poked him. "There's nothing like dishonourable retreat, Pete. Try it - Katy isn't exactly up to running."
        But Peter was intently studying the shape of their approaching enemy. "I think I know what -" he started to say, when the Thing suddenly whipped sideways across the narrow space.
        Lily had been suppressing her own fears to a mere quaver, supplying her aura to aid Peter in his observations of this new unknown. Peter, responding more to her squeal, than to any impulses of his own, immediately reacted with a near-convulsive jerk. Tightening his grip on Katy's stirring form, he rolled off to the side, coming to a stop as his head hit Trevor's. Mari cringed as she listened to the thunk of skull on skull.
        The black and green horror hit the first pile with a loud slap, knocking it aside like a child's toy, before moving on to the next obstacle. Peter forgot the pain in his head as he watched the arc of destruction continue, and the floor above begin to crumble down into their narrow space below. As their tiny world crumpled, so did any chances for escape. Peter's eyes turned upward, in a vain hope that their entry point might have cleared enough for them to squeeze through. And I thought this was the lesser of two evils. Which is worse - being baked, or tenderised? Neither prospect sounded very appealing.
        It was Mari's turn to tug on Trevor. "Into the car!" she said.
        Trevor, still holding his nose - which had been Peter's landing point - looked surprised. "De car?" he repeated, feeling stupid.
        "Would you rather face that?!" Mari asked him, pointing to where the flooring had dropped, deprived of its foundation supports. It was the spot she and Trevor had been in only moments before.
        "Righd - de car," Trevor agreed.
        Peter had heard Mari's words, and was already working away on the mini-mountain of debris, so they could rediscover their entry hole. Maybe I should dig closer to the car.
        He looked back at the piles of smouldering timber that now lay where Katy had.
        Forget that brilliant plan. He went back to his tunnelling, with Trevor and Mari working behind him, to clear away the stuff he'd moved.
"Peter?" Katy said groggily.
        "Here, Katy -" His smile was a quick flicker of white against the dust and char on his face.
        "Where are -?" Katy began in bewilderment. Then, her skin blanched as she remembered. "Dragonville," she said hoarsely. "Right?" Peter nodded. Without further comment, she reached over to help, grabbing and shoving aside the wood and debris the others were tearing out of the way.
        With a shifting of flaming sawdust, a hole suddenly appeared above their heads, and Katy felt a momentary shock as she realised there was no longer a roof of any sort on their little house - only glowing beams and hot timbers, that the dragon had flung in a spat of temper. The night's blackness was in dark contrast to the endless yellow-orange glare of dancing flames. Groggy still, she stopped digging when she felt the pressure of Peter's hand on her arm. She had a brief glimpse of stars, as Peter pulled her upwards - then the bite of sparks and cinders on her belly, as she slid across the char.
        "The car's behind you, Katy!" Peter yelled encouragingly. He pushed her through the hole, and she suddenly found herself shoved head-on into the arm of the old wing chair. She flinched, lurching in alarm as the flames set her hair alight.
        Terrified, she slapped at the flames; burying that side of her head in a pile of ash to smother the last of the embers. Peter, alarmed by her response, panicked, and alternated between trying to shove her further upwards, and trying to climb out next to her. In desperation, she lurched to one side to keep from getting a faceful of flaming chair.
        "Climb in the window!" That was Mari's voice. It held a note of panic, too, but to Katy, it sounded like the voice of reason.
What window?
Of course. The car. They wanted her to climb in the car window. Katy looked in dismay at the pile of flaming planks, smouldering fabric, and live coals that lay between her and the car. The boards that had blocked Peter's view down below, were jutting, in flaming orange pick-up-stick fashion, out the top. Katy took a heated breath, gritted her teeth, and bashed the first board aside. When she'd cleared a few away, she reached for the window, to pull herself out of the others' way.
And instantly recoiled at the painful contact with the heat-dulled metal. The paint had bubbled in places, exposing dulled silver.
        The sharpness of the burn shunted out the last traces of vagueness that had cotton-wooled her thinking - the vagueness that had kept most of her fear to a dull background noise. Jolted into alertness, a dragon roar throbbing in her ears, the light in her eyes focused, pulsing now in time to her heart. With fear bounding to the surface, so did her awareness of the others - her friends, still caught below the floor, with the roof collapsing upon them, and God-knows-what breathing down their backs.
*        
        Peter gave Katy's legs another nudge - uncertain if, in her present state, she understood their yelled encouragement. Into the car! his thoughts pushed her, fearful that the dragon would have her in its teeth before she could respond. "I should have gone first," he said worriedly. He'd latched his arms around her legs, intent on dragging her back inside, when Trevor and Mari edged in closer.
There wasn't a whole lot of "down" to tug her into.
        Trevor, understanding, his eyes vigilantly watching their flank, tried to reassure him. "She'll be all right, Pete."
        Another section of the foundation came down, leaving the boards at their backs cracking and groaning.
Mari jumped. Don't let it be that Thing, she prayed. Somehow, the thought of the foundation collapsing of its own accord was more acceptable than the awful feeling of being hunted in the dark. Recalling the writhing mass that had sliced their way, Mari wanted to close her eyes, to wish it away. If you die, she tried to tell herself, it doesn't make any difference if it's because a roof falls on your head, or you're eaten -
        She'd almost convinced herself. Her head ached from staring through the dirt clouds at the debris behind them. She forced her eyes away, turning instead to the hole - where Katy lingered half in, and half out. Impatience wriggled up and down her spine, fed by the fear that refused to be completely dispelled. Has it really been such a short time? she wondered. Hurry, Katy! she urged silently. Fear, that she might be urging her friend into the dragon's mouth, kept her from saying the words aloud.
        Just then, something touched Mari's ankle and grasped it, yanking it to one side. Mari screamed in terror, desperate to escape - her nails digging into the unknown Creature that threatened to drag her down.
*
        Katy heard Mari scream, and the echo of her terror sent Katy's own heart hammering. Katy forced her fingers to grip the heated metal - cringing as it burned her hands. She pulled herself upwards, trying desperately to clear the way for those she cared most about.
*
        Direygayn saw Katy emerge. With a crackling of unused scales, the dragon's jaws widened into an obscene parody of a smile, and her head swayed on her snakelike neck. Her tongue rasped outwards, in a quick tasting of the air - a connoisseur's appreciation of long-awaited prey. She froze, and her muscles tightened and bulged, as she prepared to strike.
*
        Spigot, caught up in his sport, didn't detect the change at first. His initial reaction, when the dragon stopped responding to his little tortures, was annoyance, and a determination to up the pressure of his activities to some really serious torture tactics. Accordingly, he yanked and ripped at dragon scales, pleasure brightening his aura from sludgy brown to dull purple. A scale came free, with a resounding snap, and Spigot flung it to the wind, watching it drift in fallen-leaf fashion to the ground below.
        Spigot poked the exposed portion of soft dragon skin, expecting at least a mild response for his efforts. Nothing. Fuming now, he zapped the tender spot, pleased when he saw the muscles tighten in response. Satisfied, he yanked another scale - grunting at the effort, but pleased at the result. The dragon was frozen in place, her muscles bulging in her effort to remain still - to make the pain go away. As the second dragon scale drifted down, Spigot glimpsed the dragon's face. It was set and tense, with every feature frozen, save that divided tongue of hers. Spigot drew back slightly, watching the action of that amazing tongue, which writhed and gyrated, each tip curving independently of the other. He stared, lost in momentary envy. If only I had a tongue like that, he thought, working out the logistics in his magic, to give Spigot this additionally impressive feature. Drawing back still further, to fully appreciate the workings of that amazing taste and smell machine, Spigot suddenly froze.
        It was Direygayn's eyes that told him. Or, maybe, it was the feature he least expected to see upon her face - the one that, like in an artist's muddied paint splotch, he could only see clearly upon pulling away from her enormous bulk.
She was smiling.
        His eyes followed the direction of her look, and he suddenly understood. It was not his attack, as painful as it must have been, that had caused her to twitch and freeze. Her focus had changed, and his senses warned him - only one thing mattered to the dragon now. He realised she'd blocked out all thoughts of pain in her efforts to appease her smouldering hunger. The dragon's concentration was caught and held by her prey, who - to Spigot's eyes - suddenly appeared as small and defenceless as a baby seal before a ravaging shark.
        The dragon's head began to sway, and Spigot realised the attack was only seconds away. With a flaring of light, he flew straight at the dragon's eye, a glaring dart of red-eyed fury.
*
        The Creature grabbed her once more - this time, capturing her hand in a strong, hot grip. Mari screamed again, booting and kicking at the Thing that held her. I can't bear to look! she thought frantically, squinting her eyes shut in terror, even as she raked her nails over her attacker.
        Trevor moaned. "Watch the family jewels, Mar," he begged.
        Mari froze at his words. Risking a peek, she opened one eye - to see Trevor holding her ankle. "I didn't want you to get squished," he said sheepishly, indicating the rubble lying where her foot had been. Lowering his voice, he added, "The next time I start to attack you, Mari, I'll know better than to start with your ankle."
*
        It'd be simple, if it weren't so hot. Katy didn't know which hurt more: the heated metal on the window sill, or the burning wood she was still trying to move out of the way. She was leaning over the debris now, using one hand to balance herself so she wouldn't fall face-first onto the hot rubble. The pain in the hand in contact with the car had reached searing point, but there was no way she could clamber over the debris without hanging on to something. If the outside's that hot, what's the inside going to be like? Katy didn't dare linger over the thought. She just hoped there weren't any of those lethal plastics in this car, that could kill them with the fumes.
        She damned the hot planks that tried to block her way, and the sifting ash that filled her eyes. But, most of all, she damned the weakness that made getting to, and through, the window such an horrendous effort. She felt like the cork in the bottle, blocking her lover's and friends' hopes for escape. Tears ran down her face as she shoved another glowing timber out of her way.
        Her concentration faltered at Mari's scream, which she felt as much inside as out, but it etched a fever of anxiety into her brain, and made her work faster, ignoring the burning smell of her own hot skin, and drying up the tears that had sizzled on the hot surfaces below. Her hands were leaking colour now - reacting to her pain and fear - but it did nothing to insulate her from the heat.
        I wish I had some of your ice now, Peter. Ice. Ice. Ice. Ice. She ran the words through her brain, fortifying herself with a vision of cold that would let her ignore the messages her screaming nerves were sending to her brain. Katy leaned over the orangy timbers, feeling like the main entree at a barbecue. Getting her elbows on to the rim of the car window, she started to pull free of the hot debris, that Peter had been trying so hard to keep clear of her legs and feet. Suddenly, she felt the heat of dragon breath at her back.
        Katy twisted, to stare death in the face. Teeth - tall, pointed, and painfully sharp - dripped bubbling saliva. Katherine knew from the amount of boiling drool how eagerly the dragon awaited her.
        There was no sense of wonder left - no awe for dragon lore or dragon magic in the dreadful snapping crunch of the dragon's jaws - in the oven-like outpouring of dragon breath. Katy stared - momentarily hypnotised by the enormity of what faced her - caught up in the horror of dismemberment by those gnashing teeth. How closely they fit together, she thought, the very irrelevance of the detail helping to stabilise her.
        But then the dragon's tongue darted out, and Katy stared at it in terror. She was vaguely aware that Peter was desperately clawing at debris - alternating between attempts to yank her back into a space that their bodies and the crumbling wreckage had already filled, and trying to get to her - to stand by her side - to fight with her. She could hear his voice - and Trevor's - and Mari's - but they were background sounds, that had no meaning under the seduction of the serpent's movements. Katherine stared as the tongue danced toward her - seductively writhing in an ages-old rhythm that some part of her instinctively recognised. Then the tongue split - catching her by surprise - and her startled gasp turned into a nearly sensuous sigh, as it reached out to touch her.
        It swept across her, setting the ragged fragments of her shirt smouldering, and raking branding iron marks across her ribs as the dragon tasted her blue-green skin. Katherine dangled there - rigid with pain but unable to react - caught up in the dragon's potent lure - in the ancient predator cunning that had taken centuries to perfect.
*
        Thyme hit Direygayn's pupil like a rock out of a slingshot. Not satisfied with this direct assault, he honed his wing sparks to a single shaft of searing power. To the dragon, it was as though a white hot poker had suddenly been stabbed into her staring eye.
*
        "Katy!" Peter yelled at her, desperation in his voice. Why can't she hear me!? He ripped at the weakened boards, trying to widen the narrow hole. Katy's legs blocked his way, and he cursed himself again for pushing her through first. At least I should have been there - with her - when that Thing decided to strike.
        A shaft of light blinded his view as Lily pushed through the new hole he'd made in the floor above. Left with the milky white shadow of her passing, to momentarily obscure his vision, he began once more to try to yank Katy back into their hidey-hole.
        What hidey-hole? Trevor and Mari were crowding him now - Mari still nervously watching for movement in the wreckage behind them, her eyes wide and frightened. Only a contortionist, who could fold up on herself, would stand a chance of fitting in the narrow space that was left.
        Katy! Peter tried to reach her - forcing his mind to form convincing words out of the jumbled patterns running through his brain. It's a simple thing - he started out coaxing, but the glimpse he'd had of those terrifying teeth got the better of him - Damn it, Katy! Get into that stinking car! The loudness of it bombarded Katy's thoughts, breaking a chink in some barrier the dragon had raised in her brain.
        Move, Katy! Peter screamed inside her head. Cringing, he punctuated his words with a sharp pinch, digging his nails into the soft skin on her calf. Wake up!
        At the same moment, Lily zapped Katy's neck, sending pain flashing up nerve endings into her skull. Katherine shook her head, suddenly seeing Lily at her side. Vaguely, Katy looked down, feeling the grasp of Peter's hand on her leg. "Peter?" she mumbled.

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        The memory of danger hit her with a whip-lik