Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed. You guys rock! I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I am writing it.
Chapter Three: Heritage
"Bye, Mrs. Corey!" Dave said, as he climbed over his best friend, Bennett, to get out of the car. "Thanks for the ride."
"Tell your mother that I'll see her on Wednesday," Bennett's mother said, and Dave nodded as he shut the door.
He waved good-bye to his best friend before hitching his backpack up higher on his shoulder and heading into his apartment complex. He bypassed the elevator for the stairs, running up all five flights without even getting winded.
Of course, the way he felt right now, he could have run all the way to the roof and back down again. He felt good enough to fly, even.
'I wonder if that's even possible,' he thought, curiously, as he unlocked the front door to his apartment and went inside.
Out of long habit, he kicked off his sneakers at the door, pushing them off to the side where no one else would trip over them. His backpack he dropped on the couch, slinging his jacket over the back of the cushions. Tank, hearing him, came barreling in from the other room, nails clicking on the slick floor as he built up speed. Then, just as the bulldog hit his top speed, his paws slipped right out from underneath him, sending him skidding across the tile.
Dave laughed at the confused look on the puppy's face as he clambered back onto his paws, shaking his head so fast that the tags on his collar jangled.
"You want to go for a walk, buddy?" Dave asked, clapping his hands, encouragingly.
The puppy, recognizing the word walk, got worked up all over again, barking his head off as he ran toward the front door. Dave followed him, snatching the bright blue leash from its hook by the door and clipping it to Tank's collar. He slipped his key into his pocket before he opened the door, letting Tank charge out into the hallway.
Shutting the door behind him, Dave heard the locks click into place right as he realized that he hadn't put his shoes back on. Then, he shrugged as he and Tank headed for the elevator. It wasn't like he was allowed to walk Tank on the streets, anyway, and where he was going, he didn't really need shoes.
Pressing the button for the rooftop, he leaned against the wall of the elevator car, listening to the tinny Muzak being piped in through the speakers. When the doors opened onto the rooftop entrance, Dave unclipped Tank's leash and watched the puppy fly out onto the grass that covered the roof.
Some enterprising soul had turned the rooftop of their drab little building into a private little park-like area, with grass, gardens, and even a small stone fountain. And out of consideration for all the dog owners in the building, there was even a gravel area for the dogs to use. It was quiet and peaceful, the traffic far below a distant sound that barely intruded on the serenity.
Dave came up the roof all the time with Tank, to let him play and stretch his legs. But, now he thought that he might come up here for another reason.
Balthazar's words about meditation being good for control had stayed with him, and when the field trip had taken them to the New York Public Library, he'd checked out as many books on meditation that his backpack could carry. He'd spent the bus ride back to school, and then the ride back to his apartment, reading one of the books, and he wanted to give it a try.
Going over to the fountain, he sank down until he was sitting cross-legged on the smooth, cool stones that ringed the fountain. He tried tugging on his legs so that one foot rested on top of the opposite leg like he'd seen in one of the poses in the book, but it wasn't a very comfortable position, and he winced when the muscles in his legs protested.
After a few more seconds of half-hearted tugging on his leg, he quickly gave up on it, settling back against the fountain and letting his hands fall into his lap, instead. Since the point of meditation was to relax and let go of everything, he figured that he'd do better if he wasn't trying to bend himself like a pretzel the first time out.
Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of water splashing down in the fountain, the low hum of the motor just audible beneath it. The book that he'd read had said the same basic thing that Balthazar had during their aborted lesson, that the key to meditation was to clear the mind of all distractions. He didn't think that he was going to have much better luck with that than he had, earlier, so he just focused on the dragon ring, again.
With his eyes still closed, he tried to imagine every detail of the ring, from the dragon's golden eyes and intricate scales, to the tiny words in another language that were etched along the underside of the tail. The sound of the water filled his ears until it was all he could hear, blocking everything else out.
Slowly, he could feel himself start to relax, could almost feel everything that was unimportant start to slip away. Then, he was jolted out of his reverie by something crashing into him. Opening his eyes, he looked down to see Tank sprawled out across his lap, tongue lolling out as he panted, happily.
"You messed up my concentration," he groused, but he reached out and scratched the puppy behind his ears, getting a big, doggy grin in response.
Checking his watch, he saw that he'd been at his meditation attempt for almost ten minutes, and for a moment, he felt disappointed that he hadn't managed any longer. But, he rationalized after a moment, it was better than he'd during earlier, during his lesson with Balthazar, and he figured that was something to be proud of.
Pushing Tank off his lap, he stood and stretched, working out the stiffness that had crept into his legs even in just ten minutes. Someone had left a tennis ball up on the roof and he grabbed it, rolling it across the grass for Tank to chase after. He and the puppy played their modified game of catch until Tank flopped down on the grass, panting happily, and then they sat and watched the sun creep down toward the horizon.
When it was starting to get too dark to see, Dave clipped Tank's leash back on him and led the bulldog back to the elevator. Back in his apartment, he could hear the sound of the radio coming from the kitchen, and when he went to investigate, he saw his mom standing at the counter, tossing a salad. The timer on the stove dinged, suddenly, and he could smell pizza when his mom opened the door to check on dinner. His stomach growled embarrassingly loudly when he realized just how hungry he was, and he blushed when his mom turned and looked at him.
"Dinner's almost ready," she said when she saw him. "Go wash up."
Dave dashed off to the bathroom just down the hall. He turned the taps on, but before he could stick his hands under the water, the dragon ring came alive, the dragon uncurling its tail from around his finger and scrambling off his hand. The dragon perched on the hot water faucet, watching him with what seemed like interest as he scrubbed his hands.
"I guess you don't like getting wet," he said, feeling foolish for talking to the dragon, but to his amazement, the dragon shook its head, emphatically.
"Are you really alive?" he asked, dubiously, and he received a nod in return. "And you can understand me?"
Another nod, and then the dragon unfurled its wings with a snap and launched itself off the faucet, soaring around the room. On its second pass around the bathroom, the dragon snagged a hand towel that was hanging from the hook and dropped it on his head. Taking the hint, Dave quickly dried his hands off, hanging the towel back up.
As he turned to go back out to the kitchen, the dragon landed on his arm, again. Gliding down his hand, it curled its tail around his finger, reclaiming its earlier position.
"No moving around my mom, all right?" Dave hissed, before he left the bathroom. "I don't think she'd get it."
He still felt silly for talking to the dragon, even if it could understand him, but he needed to make sure that nothing weird happened where his mom could see it.
When he got back to the kitchen, his mom had just finished setting out dinner on the table, neatly sidestepping Tank who was shamelessly begging for scraps at her feet.
"How was your field trip, today?" she asked, as he sat down across from her.
"Pretty awesome," he replied, taking a big bite out of his pizza. "We got to go to the top of the Chrysler building and see the eagle statues. And we saw the library, which is huge."
"Sounds like a busy day," his mom commented, and Dave nodded.
"And I got lost and found this really cool, old antiques shop," he told her.
"You got lost," she repeated, incredulously, and Dave hastened to reassure her.
"Only a little," he protested, quickly. "And, besides, I met the guy who owns the shop and he's really neat."
"Is that where you got that ring?" his mom asked, nodding at the dragon on his finger. "I hope you didn't spend your entire allowance on just that."
"Nah," Dave said, "it was practically free."
"So, some stranger gave you something that looks very expensive for almost nothing," she commented, and there was a strange tone in her voice that had him looking up at her.
His mom's lips were pressed in a tight line, and she looked unhappy. He was confused for a second until he got why she was upset.
"Mom, nothing happened," he insisted. "Balthazar's not dangerous; he's not some weirdo like we learn about in school."
"And you know this for sure?" his mom asked, quietly. "David, you're ten years old. I know sometimes that it seems like you're invincible, but you're not."
"I know, Mom," Dave said, his overactive imagination drawing up scenarios of everything that could have happened.
"I'm not trying to scare you, sweetheart," she told him. "But, you need to be careful. I can't be there to protect you all of the time."
"I know," Dave repeated, feeling about two inches tall.
He hated the thought of scaring his mom, knowing that she was imagining him lying dead in some alleyway. And he was starting to wonder if she was right, if Balthazar wasn't as harmless as he'd seemed, and if he really had been lucky to get out there, intact.
As if it could hear what he was thinking, the dragon suddenly uncurled its tail and, to his horror, took off across the table to land in front of his mom. Dave groaned, dropping his head into his hands as his mom stared, open-mouthed, at the little metal dragon that paraded on the table in front of her.
When he dared to look, again, his mom had her hand stretched out as the dragon climbed into her palm, golden eyes staring up at her. Her mouth moved, soundlessly, as she watched the dragon move around on her hand.
"Mom, I can explain," Dave said, weakly, but it didn't seem as though she heard him.
All of her attention was on the dragon, her head cocked slightly to the side as though she was listening to something. The dragon took off from her hand, suddenly, landing lightly on her shoulder and weaving its sinuous body through her hair. The dragon rubbed the top of its head against her cheek before it took off, again, flying back to Dave and winding its tail around his finger as it landed.
"You and I have a lot to talk about," was all she said, her voice shaky.
Dave nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and turned his attention back to his dinner. They finished eating, quickly, and then he followed his mom into the living room. For once, his mom didn't wash the dinner dishes as soon as they were finished, and he knew she was rattled, especially when she didn't say anything about his backpack and coat on the couch.
Sitting down on the couch, he watched as his mom went through the photo albums on the top shelf of the bookcase. When she found the one she wanted, she sat down next to him and spread the album open over both of their laps, her fingers careful on the delicate, yellowed pages.
"This album belonged to my great-grandmother," she told him, as she slowly turned the pages. "These are the only pictures we have left of her family."
The pictures, all in grainy black and white, were of somber-looking people in formal dress, sitting in stiff poses as they scowled at the camera. That was why Dave was surprised when his mom stopped at a page with only one picture on it, and the subject of the picture actually smiling.
"This is your great-great-great grandmother, Evelyn Rourke," his mom said, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders. "She grew up in Ireland, where her parents were farmers."
"But she didn't stay there?" Dave asked, already anticipating the answer.
"Her parents were dead, and their farm had been destroyed in a fire," his mom told him. "She was eighteen, and pregnant, and alone. She paid for passage on a freighter headed to New York, and when she landed, she built a new life for herself and her unborn baby."
"Wow," Dave said, impressed. "But, if all that bad stuff had just happened, then why is she smiling?"
"She wanted her baby's life in America to be a good one," his mom replied. "And she knew that she couldn't start that life with a frown."
"She sounds amazing," Dave said, tracing Evelyn's picture gently with a finger.
"She was," his mom said, smiling as she squeezed his shoulders in a hug. "She was also," she continued, tapping the picture, gently, "supposed to be a witch."
"A witch?" Dave echoed, shooting his mom a skeptical look.
"According to my great-grandmother," his mom said, "her mother was forever casting little spells to keep food from spoiling, to keep rats out of their apartment, and to mend their clothes."
"She really had magic?" Dave asked, looking at the smiling woman in the picture in a new light.
"That's what everyone in the family said," his mom replied. "I always dismissed the stories as just that, stories, but now I'm not so sure."
"Do you think maybe I got my magic from her?" Dave asked, and his mom nodded.
"It's the most likely explanation," his mom said. "Although, I don't know how to explain that."
She nodded at the dragon, which had left Dave's hand to fly around the room, buzzing around Tank's head and driving the dog crazy. Tank was jumping into the air and snapping at the dragon that was staying just out of reach, teasingly.
"Get back here," Dave scolded, and after one more pass, the dragon landed on the edge of the couch, walking across his legs to look curiously at Evelyn's picture.
To his surprise, the dragon opened its mouth and trilled, a chiming sound that rang out like a bell. The dragon trilled a second time, seemingly satisfied with something, before it settled on its usual place on Dave's hand.
"I'm never going to get used to that," his mom said, with a sigh.
"Me, either," Dave admitted. Then, as a new thought occurred to him, he looked over at his mom. "Are you okay with me having lessons with Balthazar?" he asked, nervously.
He suspected that the dragon had told her about everything that had happened, earlier in the day. How, he had no idea, since the dragon didn't seem to talk, but considering how relatively calm his mom was about everything, there really was no other explanation.
"I want to meet this Balthazar, first," his mom said, firmly. "If he's going to be teaching you magic, then I want to know who he is."
"He'll probably show up here, at some point," Dave told her. "I hope so, anyway, because I don't know how to find him."
He and his mom looked at the rest of the pictures in the album for a little while, his mom sharing stories about her great-grandmother when she was growing up. Then, they worked on the dishes, his mom washing while he dried. The dragon had perched on his shoulder to get away from the water, again, and was watching them, curiously.
"It doesn't like water," Dave explained, when his mom looked at it, yelping when she splashed him, suddenly.
The water that splattered on his head and shoulders soaked the dragon, which shook itself all over like a dog, trilling indignantly at his mom. Then, the dragon took off across the kitchen as Dave splashed his mom, back, starting a brief but furious water fight. When they finished, nothing in the kitchen had been spared getting wet, and his mom was breathless with laughter as she tossed a towel at him to dry off.
"Go to bed," she told him, as he wiped his face off. "I'll finish cleaning the rest of this up."
"Love you, Mom," Dave said, hugging her before he went to his bedroom, detouring to the living room along the way to grab his backpack.
He got ready for bed, quickly, and when he went into his bedroom, Tank and the dragon were both on his bed, the dragon on his pillow and Tank at the foot of his bed. Tank was keeping a wary eye on the dragon, but his tail started wagging wildly when he saw Dave.
Dave crawled under the covers, trying to avoid knocking Tank off his bed, and as he settled down, the dragon curled up in the crook of his shoulder, the metal warming quickly against his skin. He could feel sleep coming over him, his eyes growing heavy, and he eventually gave up the fight to stay awake. He was almost asleep when he heard his door open, quietly, and his mom padding softly across the room.
She brushed a kiss across his forehead with a murmured, "I love you, Davey," and then blackness overtook him as he fell asleep.