The Dragon in the Driveway by Kate Klimo, John Shroades Page B

He’s bound to hear us and then what?”
    “Good point.” Daisy went back to thinking.“So you think we should … what? Just go down there and yank it away from him?” she said.
    “I think if you can distract him, I can get it away from him,” Jesse said.
    Daisy was surprised. “Really?” she said.
    Jesse said, “Yes!”
    They quickly revised their plan. It wasn’t completely satisfactory. They didn’t know for a fact that the pickax would become invisible once it was in Jesse’s possession, but they had to assume that it would. The pack on Jesse’s back was as invisible as he was when the fern was in his hand, so it seemed possible. When they were finished planning, they nodded solemnly and picked up their ferns.
    “All right, then,” said Jesse. His heart was thudding. They were as ready as they were ever going to be. They reached out and found each other’s hand, held tight to their ferns, and stole back down the ramp. They walked all the way down it and across the cavern to the hobgoblin queen’s throne. They stopped about a foot away from St. George. Jesse recoiled from the man’s rotting-meat breath, and his hand that held the fern trembled. The hand holding Daisy’s was slick with sweat.
    St. George went completely still for a moment. Then his nostrils started to twitch.
    He can smell us
, Jesse thought.
    St. George slowly lowered the copper brush and looked first to the right and then to the left, his nostrils working all the while. The light flashed on the disks of his wireless glasses as his eyes came to rest directly on Jesse. Jesse stopped breathing—one second, two seconds, three seconds—as time seemed to stretch into eternity.
    Finally, with a quick shake of his head, St. George went back to rubbing the Golden Pickax. Jesse started breathing again. He was bathed in sweat and a little dizzy from holding his breath, but it was now or never.
    Jesse gave Daisy’s hand a firm squeeze. Almost immediately, her hand slid out of his. Jesse had an impulse to reach out and grab it back. It suddenly felt all wrong to break contact with her, but it was too late to change their plan now.
    Seconds later, St. George’s head jerked backward. His hands fell away from the pickax as he sat up and swung around to see who had just given his hair such a pull. Jesse seized the pickax and muffled a cry. The pickax was
heavy
! He had to lift it one-handed because the other hand was holding the fern. With all his strength, he swung the pickax up onto his shoulder, like a hobgoblin.
    St. George swung back around and gaped at hisempty lap. He leaped in the air and landed in a crouch, hissing, “Who’s there?”
    Jesse dodged out of St. George’s reach as he lunged forward, moving this way and that, sweeping the air with his long arms. Jesse backed up toward a nearby torch-lit tunnel. He hoped it led to the queen’s jail. The tunnels all looked alike, but this one felt right to him.
    St. George pounced on the exact spot where Jesse had been standing a second before. With a petrified yelp, Jesse whipped around and ran. Almost instantly, he collided headlong with what felt like a wall.
    Jesse sat down hard, arms flopping to his sides, his fern on the ground a foot away. For a moment he saw stars. When the stars faded, he saw Daisy, also fully visible, sitting opposite him with her legs splayed out, rubbing her nose. The Golden Pickax lay beside him.
    “I knew it was a mistake to stop holding hands,” Daisy muttered.
    “One hopes it will be your last,” St. George said, strolling over to them. He leaned down and picked up the fallen ferns. He tore them to shreds and scattered the pieces, smirking.
    Daisy scowled up at him. “What’s so funny?” she said.
    “Why, you are, of course!” he said.
    “What are you going to do with us?” Daisy asked.
    “What else, you silly little fool? I’ll use you to bait my hook and go dragon-fishing. And I’m sure to land me a fine catch, with such perfect
worms
for