The Secret World of Dragons Page 2

  Her pulse hammering loudly in her ears, Emma quickly ran the remaining blocks to her home. It was the fifth house on Cameron Street, and the only one with a large garden out in the front. Her father kept it that way because her mother loved flowers.

  She had never been so happy to see her house or the front door as she opened and closed it as fast as she could. She slid the chain into place and leaned against the door for a moment, trying to catch her breath.

  Why am I so afraid?

  She kicked off her boots and threw her schoolbag down. She did a few checks out the window before finally deeming it was safe and heading out into the kitchen. The answer machine was blinking.

  Who could that be? she thought anxiously.

  She had watched one too many horror movies. All she could think about was the horrible scene where the character would pick up the phone to hear a sinister voice breathing into the receiver. The girl who found herself alone and trapped was usually the first to die.

  She pressed down on the flashing button. To her relief, it was her father on the other end.

  ‘Emma? Hey, it’s me. I hope you’re getting this message. My phone is acting strange again …’

  A pause, and then he was back.

  ‘I might not be home until later. There have been a few complications at work today. Do you mind getting supper ready for later tonight? There should be something in the freezer. I’m really sorry, Emma. Be back soon. I love you.’

  Emma pursed her lips as the line cut. He never did that. He never stayed late at work. As far as she could remember, he was home at six every day. With a weary sigh, she headed up to her room. She kicked the books on the floor to the side and made her way to the bed. Feeling exhausted for some reason, Emma lay down. Her eyes shut, but not for long.

  Her father was away. He was never away. She was never alone in the house. Now she was.

  But what does that mean? she asked herself.

  It meant she could explore the room her father had left in the past.

  Emma gulped. No, she could never do that. She could never wander into that room. That was a place where too much memory laid, a place that could hurt her as much as it hurt him, if she gave pain that chance.

  Though, her mind was being curious again. Just one peek! it begged. He would never know!

  But in her heart, she knew her father would find out. A place so close to his heart could not be disturbed, and if it did, he would sense it even from where he now was.

  Her feet and inquisitiveness still dragged her back down over the stairs, as though a voice was reaching out to her, pulling her towards that room with its invisible hands. And she went, straight to the glass doors, stopping just within an inch of them. The room inside was dark and gloomy, even though there was a window to the side. It seemed the glass was dusty and concealed most of the sun.

  Emma’s hand found the handle of the door and she turned it, surprised to find it unlocked. She figured he had locked the doors, as though trying to trap away all the memories. But the door opened softly, without the heavy creaking that should have came with all doors that were not in use. She moved her hand to the wall on the other side, searching for the light switch. Some feeling inside told her that it was near – yes! Right there!

  She flicked it up, light rushing into the spacious room. It was completely empty except for the idle fireplace at the back and the grand piano in the middle. The velvet mat underneath the musical instrument was dark from many years of dust.

  At first Emma was fearful of stepping any farther into the room, but her anxious mind would not rest until she wandered over to the piano and sat down. She swallowed uneasily and moved her finger over the case that covered the keys. The clear line through the dust revealed a deep and shiny blackness. She pushed up the cover, exposing white keys. Her hands trembled as they touched them, trying to remember who had stroked them last.

  My mother, of course. A sharp and bitter pain shot through Emma’s chest. Why did she keep thinking about her today? My mother … she left us.

  Yet she still felt upset. She still felt guilty, as though she herself was the reason for her mother’s departure.

  ‘You did nothing wrong, Emma,’ her father’s voice was clear in her head. ‘You are the most precious thing in the world. Elizabeth … she left for her own reasons. It had nothing to do with you. It was more of a … personal sort of problem.’

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. Pain was easier to deal with in the darkness of her mind. She looked down at the keys again, eager now to play something she had learned at school. She had never told her father that she could play piano. She did not want to give him another reminder of how his daughter was like his wife.

  Taking a deep breath, Emma pressed down on the keys her mother had once made dance. She could never be as talented as her, but she was decent enough. The music travelled once more throughout the house. It was a calming presence, and it drove all her distressing thoughts instantly away.

  The keys shuddered under her fingers and she stopped, feeling confused. She pressed down on some keys until she found the one that sounded as though it was broken. She wondered why it made that sound. No one had touched the piano in years. It should have been perfectly fine.

  ‘Something is blocking it inside,’ she concluded.

  She stood up, determined to fix the problem, and lifted the piano lid up. It was heavy and dust swirled up in her face like bats emerging from a dark cave. She coughed and dropped the lid, making a horrible clattering sound. After trying the second time, Emma searched the inside of the piano. Hiding down by the strings, she saw something strange. She reached her hand inside to grab it.

  It was a box. It was no longer than a book and no wider than three inches. It was brown with a golden clasp at the middle, and slightly reminded her of a case for holding glasses. She closed the lid of the piano and sat back down on the seat.

  The box did not seem to share the same amount of dust as the rest of the room. In fact, it looked like it had been placed there not too long ago. Faint markings were carved into the box; elegant script. She had never seen anything so beautiful, or so old. It looked as though it would fall apart if she held it roughly.

  What’s inside? The voice was so strong that she had to swallow the excitement that rose up within. She unclipped the clasp and slowly pushed back the cover, her anxiousness growing.

  Her curiosity was suddenly squashed. She picked up the necklace inside the box and held it up in front of her eyes. She could not hide the disappointment that crossed her face. She had expected something … well, something more than this. The necklace had a silver chain, and attached to the chain was a pale blue stone. It was very odd. It looked like half a circle, just big enough to cover half of her palm.

  A crash from the kitchen startled Emma to her senses. The case fell clumsily from her hands and to the floor. She hurried from the room then, flipping off the light and shutting the door, her heart beating fiercely in her chest. She grabbed the broom in the hallway closet and held it up like a bat, stepping slowly towards the kitchen.

  Of course, the first thought that had crossed her mind was a thief. Since her father was not home and would not be home until later, she could think nothing else. She always jumped to conclusions, but if it was not him, who could it be? She did not have any other family as far as she knew. Her father had always said that he was an only child and so was her mother.

  ‘Hello!’ she called nervously. ‘I’m warning you, whoever you are, that I’m armed! And I know karate! And – and I have a cell phone on me! So don’t try anything!’

  Her voice was faltering as she spoke. Truth be told, none of that was accurate, and she really did wish she had a cell phone. She had lost hers last week while at the park for a walk. She deemed it had fallen into the river or somewhere else where it was impossible for her to reclaim her poor phone.

  Although, whoever the intruder had been was probably gone now, out through the kitchen’s sliding doors, wh
ich she had probably forgotten to lock last night. She sighed at her stupidity. Her father always reminded her to lock them. She sometimes misplaced that reminder in her head.

  When she entered the kitchen, she was right. There was no one there, just the broken remains of the coffee mug her father had been drinking out of this morning. It had fallen over the counter. But how?

  Emma glanced around the room, trying to figure out why strange things were happening to her today. It was only then that she realized she was still holding the necklace in her hand. She slowly held it up in front of her face, enchanted by its beauty. The sunlight that poured in through the window above the sink caught on the stone and it shimmered so brightly that Emma had to look away.

  ‘My, what a pretty piece of jewellery that is.’

  That voice! Emma’s heart jumped at the very sound of it. She searched the kitchen, trying to find whoever had followed her home, but there was no one, as usual.

  ‘Over here, half-wit.’

  She glanced towards the sliding doors, but they were tightly shut. Though, sitting just beside them on the kitchen floor was the black tabby cat, the same one that had been lurking around her school. She knew it was. She could tell by its eyes: dark and violet.

  ‘Are you going to keep staring at me like an incompetent fool?’ it asked, cocking its head to the side.

  Emma pointed a shaking finger at the cat, her mouth slowly opening. ‘You … you can talk,’ she whispered, her voice cracking. ‘Cats don’t … they don’t … talk …’

  The cat rolled its eyes. ‘Not in your world, maybe,’ said the tabby, ‘but I’m not from your world.’

  ~ Chapter Two ~

  Mystic the Cat

  Emma was not exactly sure what to do or say at first. There were certain birds, like parrots, for example, that could repeat the words of humans, but a talking cat? The very idea made Emma’s head spin.

  ‘So, are you going to stare at me all day?’ asked the cat, jumping up onto the counter. It looked down at the broken shards of glass on the floor. ‘Oh, forgive me, but I must have knocked that cup over earlier.’

  ‘What – what are you?’ stammered Emma.

  ‘Do I ask you stupid questions like that?’ snapped the cat.

  Emma flushed. ‘Well, do … do you have an owner … or something?’

  The tabby hissed softly under its breath. ‘An owner? How ridiculous! How could you even ask such an offensive question?’

  ‘Oh, I – I’m sorry,’ apologized Emma quickly. I’m going insane. This is all just a dream, a very bad, yet very realistic … dream.

  ‘You had better be sorry,’ snapped the cat. ‘It is terribly rude to say such things to someone like me. I’ll have you know that I am very well dignified where I come from.’

  ‘I am sorry, but I just thought that all cats were pets.’ But not the rude, talking ones apparently.

  ‘Pets!’ The fur on the cat’s back seemed to stand on end. ‘Pets? What other insults are you going to throw at me, girl?’

  Emma shook her head. She could feel the cold fridge against her back as she retreated away from the angry fur ball. ‘None, not a single word more!’

  ‘Good! Let’s keep it that way!’ growled the cat. It sat down and brushed off its chest, just like the way a gentlemen would stroke his suit. ‘Now, what do they call you, girl?’

  ‘Um … my name is Emmaline Reeve. Emma for short,’ she answered. Then quite awkwardly asked, ‘Why do they … uh … call you?’

  The cat looked up with eyes that shimmered like the surface of mauve-tinted water. ‘I call myself Mystic,’ he said. ‘It is a name I gave myself long before you, your parents, or your grandparents were born.’

  ‘What! That’s impossible!’ spat Emma. ‘Cats can’t live that long!’ Then again, she thought, cats can’t talk either.

  ‘Who said I was a cat?’ enquired Mystic, and something like a smirk crossed his face, if animals could smirk. ‘I may be a dog or a rabbit or a horse for all you know. I just look like a cat, but really I am a creature as old as the world itself.’

  Emma was amazed. Who knew things like this existed? What next … flying pigs?

  ‘Why are you here?’ she asked him. ‘And why have you been following me around all day?’ So she had not been going crazy. It really had been a voice talking to her this morning.

  ‘That’s very simple,’ said Mystic, a trace of amusement in his crafty voice. ‘You are holding the answer in your very hand.’

  In my hand? Emma glanced down to see the broom, which she had not yet relinquished, and then back to the cat, confusion plain in her eyes.

  ‘Don’t be so daft, girl!’ he scolded, walking closer towards her. He nodded to her other hand. ‘The necklace!’

  Emma could have hit herself for being so stupid. She balanced the broom against the wall and then held the necklace up, letting the sun rain across it once more. It sparkled so beautifully.

  ‘Yes, that,’ said Mystic, irritated now. ‘Aren’t you a stupid girl?’ He eyed her down. ‘And such a scrawny one too.’

  ‘I am not scrawny!’ exploded Emma, blushing from ear to ear. She hated being called names like that. ‘Take that back at once!’

  The cat shrugged its tiny shoulders. ‘Why take back the truth?’ He suddenly jumped then, from the counter to the fridge, startling Emma. She backed away from him again as he peered down at her with sharp eyes. ‘Do you know what you have in your possession?’

  Emma shook her head. She had thought it to be nothing more than a simple necklace. She did not know why this cat – or whatever else it could have been – was making such a big deal out of it.

  ‘That is the Sapphire Stone,’ corrected Mystic, his voice suddenly soft and mysterious. ‘It is one half of a piece known as the Dragon’s Tear. The other half is the Crimson Stone, and is unfortunately not in my possession at the moment.’

  ‘It’s yours, then?’ asked Emma, looking sadly down at the necklace. She suddenly did not want to part with the mysterious thing.

  ‘Not mine, no,’ whispered Mystic, staring at the object as though evil aura surrounded it. ‘It is a dark and dangerous thing that you hold.’

  ‘This?’ Emma glanced disbelievingly at the pale blue stone. ‘It looks like a simple rock to me.’

  ‘Your head is filled with simple rocks as far as I can tell,’ growled Mystic, which made Emma shut her mouth. ‘I’ve spent years upon years looking for that stone. You can only imagine my satisfaction when I spotted it around your neck. I almost missed it … but I’d never forget that silver chain.’

  ‘And why is this thing so dangerous?’ asked Emma, touching the shiny surface of the stone with her thumb.

  Mystic snorted. ‘As if I would tell an outsider that,’ he said. ‘It’s best if you didn’t ask questions and just come quietly with me.’

  Emma raised her eyebrows. ‘Come with you?’

  ‘To Dragonis,’ said the cat. ‘It’s where you’ll be taking that stone.’

  ‘And where exactly is this “Dragonis” place?’ asked Emma. She had never heard of such a name before.

  ‘It’s where I came from,’ replied Mystic. ‘It is a world linked to yours, but invisible to human eyes.’

  ‘A different world,’ said Emma incredulously. ‘I think I’d know if there was another world around here. Such a thing doesn’t exist, just as you probably don’t exist and I’m dreaming this whole thing up. I think I’ll just go upstairs and lie down and hope that you go away.’

  Mystic snarled at her. ‘Stubborn human spawn!’ he spat. He paced back and forth on the counter. ‘I am no more a dream than you are a pink-spotted toad! I’d much prefer you to be a pink-spotted toad. Then I wouldn’t have to exchange mindless words with you! You have no idea the amount of danger you are in! Or the danger you will place upon those you love!’

  Emma’s eyes flickered towards the answer machine, and then back to the cat. ‘What does that mean?’ she asked quietly. ‘What sort of danger?’

&n
bsp; The cat sat down, pleased that he had gotten somewhere with her. ‘There are others looking for the trinket you carry. When they come looking for the stone, they will have no mercy on the one who holds it.’

  ‘They? Who are they?’ asked Emma sharply. ‘Thieves? Murderers?’ Her heart skipped a beat. Why was the necklace hidden in the piano? Had one of her parents stolen it and hidden it there? Perhaps the real owner of the necklace was coming back to claim it.

  ‘No,’ whispered Mystic. ‘They are much more deadly than that. They are the very reason you fear to sleep at night, the shadows that lurk around corners, the darkness that swallows up the day … they are the evil in my world, and now they have come to yours as well. You cannot fight them.’

  ‘I’ll call the police,’ said Emma quickly, moving towards the phone on the counter.

  Mystic was quick to block her way, his teeth bared. ‘You can’t do that!’ He turned and ripped the cord out with his teeth. ‘Who would believe such a story, hmm? That a talking cat told you that dangerous people were coming to harm you? What sort of idiot would consider the idea? This isn’t a situation that can be dealt with by the humans on this side. You must understand, Emma. You are in danger here. Every second you stand there, every moment that passes while you wait in ignorance here will be another second the enemy claims as their own. It’s a wonder they haven’t found you yet.’

  ‘But my father!’ shouted Emma impatiently. ‘What about him! I just can’t leave him here!’

  ‘They’re not after him!’ Mystic yelled back. ‘They’re after you! They’re after that stone!’ He glanced at the necklace in Emma’s hand. ‘You are its owner. If you don’t escape to my world – and fast – they will find you … and kill you.’

  Kill me. The words rippled through her head like cold, angry waves, all crashing down over her. The day had started out normal, but now everything was changing. What would happen now? What would she do?

  ‘They followed me into this world,’ continued Mystic. ‘They knew I’d lead them to the stone, but I managed to lose them when –’