Katie MacAlister: Love in the Time of Dragons

“I don’t know,” I said finally, sadly aware that I couldn’t trust the images my brain suggested. There was no way to know if it was an actual memory, or a fabrication of a mind that more and more I was beginning to fear was not normal.

“I can think of any number of reasons why her husband might prefer her without memories,” Kaawa said calmly. “For one, he might not wish for her to know what sept he’s from.” “Sept?” I shook my head. “Gareth isn’t a dragon. I would know if he was.” “Just as you would know if you were one?” Gabriel asked lightly.

“Yes, exactly.” He raised his eyebrow and I hurried on. “Besides, Gareth is an oracle, and I’ve never heard of a dragon being an oracle.” “Just because no dragon has ever sought the position of oracle does not preclude the possibility of doing so,” he pointed out.

“He’s not a dragon,” I insisted. “I would know. I’ve been married to him for…” I slid a quick glance at Kaawa. “However long it’s been, I would know.” “I agree,” she said, taking me by surprise again.

“You do?” I asked.

“Yes, child. You would know if your Gareth was a dragon.” She laid her hand on mine, the gesture one that would normally leave me recoiling — as a rule, I do not like to be touched other than by Brom — but the gesture was a kind one, and offered an odd sort of comfort. “But there are other reasons he might like you to be without memories of what you do during these fugues of yours.” “What do you mean, what I do? I sleep,” I told her.

She raised her eyebrows just as Gabriel did, giving her the same disbelieving expression. “How do you know?” “I know. I mean, I must sleep. Otherwise, I would not have dreamed—” I stopped, not wanting to go into the oddly vivid dream I was having when I woke up.

The look she gave me was shrewd, but she said nothing about the dream, merely commented, “You wake without a memory. You may think you sleep, but what if you don’t? What if your husband has you performing acts that he knows would be repugnant to you? Would he not want your memory wiped of them to protect himself? What if your son knows what he does—” I bolted for the door, alarmed by the pictures she painted in my mind. “I have to go. Now !” “Calm yourself, Ysolde,” Kaawa said soothingly. Tipene had somehow gotten in front of the door before me and stood blocking the exit, his arms crossed over his chest.

“My name is Tully,” I said through clenched teeth.

“I do not say that your husband is doing anything heinous,” she continued. “I merely offered that as a possible reason why he might want you in a perpetual state of unawareness.” “Please let me leave,” I said, turning to May. Of all the people in the room, she seemed the most sympathetic, the most familiar. “I must go back to my family.” She looked uncomfortable as Gabriel said, “We are your family, Ysolde. You were born a silver dragon. You need our help. You will stay here while we give you that help.” “I don’t want your damned help!” I said, losing my temper, while at the same time I wanted to sob in frustration.

“You need assistance recovering your memory,” Kaawa pointed out. “Even if you are not who we believe you to be, you cannot wish to live your life without any memories.” That stopped me, as did a thought that struck me as important. “Why didn’t I notice before this that I can’t remember things like Brom’s birth?” She was silent for a moment, searching my face before answering. “I suspect that whoever expunged your memory applied a compulsion that would keep you from being troubled by the lack. It is only a guess, of course, but you did not become distraught about it until I drove home just how peculiar your circumstances are.” I slumped down on the chair nearest the door, exhausted, mentally bruised and battered. “I just want my son.” “And you will have him. He will come here as soon as possible,” Gabriel said.

Hope flared within the dullness of pain inside. “He’s only nine,” I said.

“May and I will fetch him ourselves,” he answered smoothly. May smiled and twined her fingers through his. “We will let no harm come to him, of that I swear.” I watched him for a minute, not sure whether I should trust him or not. A worried little voice warned that I knew little about these people, but they had taken very good care of me for the last five weeks, and I felt an odd bond with May, almost as if I had known her for a very long time. She seemed comfortable to me, trustworthy, and after giving it some thought, reluctantly I agreed. “All right. If you bring Brom to me today, I will stay. For a little bit. Just until you help me discover my memories, so I can prove to you that I’m not a dragon.” Two dimples showed deep on either cheek as he smiled at me. I was unmoved by them. I didn’t actually distrust Gabriel, but he didn’t seem as familiar and comfortable to me as May, and the sense of power around him made me wary and left me feeling vaguely unsettled.

Brom, unfortunately, could not be whisked to me at a moment’s notice. After a lengthy conversation with Penny, the American friend who had taken Brom and me to her heart, she promised to hand him over to Gabriel and May when they arrived in Spain later that afternoon.

“I’ve never been to England,” Brom said when I told him he was to join me. “Not that I remember. Have I, Sullivan?” I panicked. “Brom, you remember last Christmas, don’t you?” “Last Christmas? When you got upset because I asked for a dissection kit and you wanted to give me a Game Boy, you mean?” I relaxed, the sudden fear that my memory issues were hereditary — or that someone had been abusing his mind — fading into nothing. “Er… yes. That’s right.” “What about it?”

“Just remember that sometimes, you may not understand why things are happening, but they turn out for the best,” I said in my “vague but wise” mom manner. “I want you to behave yourself with May and Gabriel when they get there, but if anything happens to them, you call me, all right?” “Yeah, OK. Penny says I have to go pack now. Bye.” I hung up the phone feeling relieved, but at the same time I was worried. Could I trust Gabriel and May? Where was Gareth, and why had he left Brom for so long? And what was going on with my brain? Was I insane, or just the victim of some horrible plot?

“I need some serious therapy,” I said aloud, thinking of the small garden plot that I shared with the other residents of our apartment house. It was my haven against daily trials and tribulations, providing me with boundless peace.

“All silver dragons like plants,” Kaawa said from behind me. “May hasn’t had time yet to take the garden in hand, but I’m sure she’d be happy if you wanted to tidy things up out there.” I whirled around to pin her back with a look. “How did you know I was talking about a garden?” She just smiled and gestured toward the French windows. Gabriel’s house, although in the middle of London, had a minuscule garden guarded by a tall redbrick wall. My heart lightened at the sight of tangled and overrun flower beds, and before I knew it, I was on my knees, my eyes shut as I sank my hands into the sun-warmed earth.

“I’ll leave you here. It will be four hours before Gabriel will reach your son,” she said, watching with amusement as I flexed my fingers in the soil, plucking out the weeds that choked a chrysanthemum.

“I know. The garden is as good a place as any to wait,” I said, looking about to see how bad it was. There were only three beds. One appeared to have suffered some calamity, since the wild lilac bush in it was crumpled to the ground, and wild grass filled the rest of the bed. The second contained miniature rhododendrons run amok, tangled up with irises and what looked to be phlox. The bed I knelt before contained autumn plants, all of which were threatened by the rampant weeds and wild grass.