Dandelion Fire by N. D. Wilson Page A

in the kitchen. They were in the dining room now. “Dad! The raggant's back, and he bit Penny! He's bleeding and he's mad!”
    Frank hobbled into the dining room. The raggant was standing in the center of the table with its wings flared and its tail up. His right rear leg was bent, and a dark patch shone on his haunch. Dotty looked at the blood on Frank's face and raised her eyebrows. She was holding a rag on Penny's hand.
    “What happened?” Frank asked.
    “He squeezed in the cat door in the back,” Dotty said. “Got blood on the kitchen floor. I think he was bitten by a dog or something. Maybe a coyote.”
    “Penny tried to hold him,” Anastasia said. “And he chomped on her.”
    “It's not bad,” Penny said. “I think he just wants Henry.”
    “And he got bit,” Anastasia added.
    Dotty left Penny and walked around the table to Frank. The raggant stretched out his neck and bellowed at her like an angry goose. His wings were almost as wide. Dotty skipped farther away from the table's edge.
    “Hello?” It was Zeke's voice at the front door. “Mr. Willis? Are you okay?”
    The raggant bellowed.
    Zeke stepped around the corner and took his hat off. He was carrying a bat and a glove.
    “I was just coming over to talk to Henry,” he said toFrank. “And I saw you on the ground. Are you okay? You fall off that ladder?”
    Before Frank could answer, the raggant jumped off the table and hurried to the base of the stairs on its three good legs. They all watched the small animal fold its wings back and strain its neck, its nostrils flaring.
    The air moved. Everyone felt it. The raggant's ears rustled, and the room was suddenly warmer. Doors banged upstairs.
    Dotty grabbed Frank by the arm. “Are they back?” she whispered.
    Frank sniffed. The air smelled wrong, false somehow, he didn't know why. “Don't think so,” he said. He moved to the bottom of the stairs and stood behind the raggant. He could hear creaking in the attic.
    His shotgun was still out in the front yard, and he didn't have time to get it. He stepped over the raggant and stood on the stairs. Zeke stood behind him.
    Someone was coming down from the attic. Someone heavy.
    A huge man, dressed all in black, stepped into view on the second-story landing. He was wearing a cape held by a chain around his neck, and a tall velvet hat. In his left hand, he held a long, straight blade. A small barefoot body was draped through the crook of his other arm, partially hidden by the cape. On one dangling limb, there was a blue cast. Frank recognized it. And he recognized the dirty pink sweats.
    “Plebe,” Darius said quietly. “Where have you enclapsed my son?”
    Frank didn't think to be afraid. He couldn't. His jaw popped, and something burning climbed up into his throat. It was anger. Anger like he hadn't felt in a lifetime. This man had Richard.
    “Don't know your son,” he said. “Put the boy down. You and your costume should get back to the circus.”
    Darius laughed. Perfectly. Booming behind his ribs.
    “So you speak to a seventh? Not a seventh only, but to one stronger than a wizard in his dreamings? To a witch-dog? To your likes, I am none of these. I am a god.”
    “Excuse me while I get a wreath,” Frank said. He was ready to die right here if he had to. So long as he hurt this man first. His hand slid into his pocket and closed around two shells. “Zeke,” he said. “Run, grab that stick from the lawn.”
    Darius took one step down, and the raggant bleated anger between Frank's legs. Zeke backed toward the door.
    “I'm glad no one else is here,” Frank said. “Wouldn't want my family to have to meet you.”
    “There are three lives in a room beneath my feet,” Darius said. “Girls. A woman. But where is my son?”
    Zeke winced and jumped away from the door, sucking his fingertips. The wood crackled and hardened around the glowing latch. Zeke tucked his hand beneath his shirt and tried to quickly flip the metal. His shirtburst into