Julie Kagawa - Talon

My voice came out high-pitched and kind of desperate, and the woman raised an amused eyebrow. I didn’t care. The walls were closing in and my freedom, tiny and fragile as it was, was slipping out the window. I wasn’t ready for this, not yet. I didn’t know much about the last stage of training, only that it lasted several years and was specifically tailored to whatever position Talon had chosen for you. I could be destined to become a Chameleon, the dragons who occupied positions of power in human society. Or I could be shunted in with the Gilas, the grunts and bodyguards to important Talon officials. There were other positions, of course, but the important thing was every dragon had one. Ut omnes sergimus, was Talon’s motto. As one, we rise. Every dragon had a place, and we all had to work together for the good of the organization and our own survival. Only, we didn’t have a choice in where that place would be. I couldn’t even speculate what I wanted to do when I “grew up.” There were a few positions within the organization that sounded okay, that I wouldn’t completely hate, but it was useless to hope for anything outside of Talon. I was a dragon. My whole life had already been mapped out.

Which was why I had so been looking forward to the summer, one final hurrah before I had to become a responsible member of the organization. Before I became a full member of Talon for life, which was a very, very long time for us. Three months, that was all I wanted. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently so. Scary Talon Lady gave me an amused look, as if she thought I was being cute. “Don’t worry, my dear.” I didn’t like her smile at all. “I will make certain you stay on the right path. You and I will be spending a lot of time together from now on.”

That ominous smile lingered a moment before she turned to my guardians, waiting rigidly nearby. “And remember, humans.” Her poisonous green eyes narrowed. “Absolute discretion is key. Be certain that they use the alternate exit to the rendezvous point tomorrow. We want nothing tracking their movements, or questioning where they go every morning. No one is to see them leave, or return. Is this clear?”

Dante and I exchanged a look as Liam and Sarah quickly uttered assurances. Great, more rules, was my first thought, followed almost immediately by, Wait, what alternate exit?

Scary Talon Lady turned back to me, smiling once more. “I will see you tomorrow, hatchling,” she said, and it almost sounded like a threat. “Bright and early.”

When they left, I turned immediately to Liam, who sighed, as if he knew what I was going to ask. “This way,” he said, motioning us both to follow. “I’ll show you where you need to go tomorrow morning.”

We trailed him down to the basement, which was cold and mostly empty: cement floor, low ceiling, washer and dryer on the far wall and an ancient weight-lifting machine collecting dust in the corner. Beside the machine sat an inconspicuous wooden door, looking like the entrance to a bathroom.

Liam walked up to the door, pulled out a key and unlocked it, then turned to us.

“Under no circumstances are you to tell anyone about this, is that understood?” he said, his voice low and firm. We nodded, and he put a hand on the doorknob, then pulled the door back with a creak.

I blinked. Instead of a bathroom, a long, narrow tunnel stretched away into the darkness. The walls and floor were rough cement, not natural stone or earth, so someone had obviously built this, maybe as an escape route. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Our old “school,” the place Dante and I had grown up, had several secret exits, in case we were ever attacked by our ancient enemies, the Order of St. George. We never had been; I’d never seen a soldier of St. George except in pictures, but there were surprise “emergency escape practice runs” every month or so, just in case.

“Tomorrow morning, I expect you both to be here at 6:15 sharp. Now listen, you two. Where you are going, and what happens when you get there, is strictly confidential. This tunnel doesn’t exist—do not mention it to anyone. In fact, from the time you step through this door until whenever you return, you are to speak to no one outside the organization, for any reason. Leave your phones at home—they won’t be necessary where you’re going. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Dante said immediately, but I wrinkled my nose, staring down the tunnel to where it vanished into the dark. A hidden passageway in our own basement? What other secrets were hiding in these walls? I wondered. And was this level of paranoia normal for Talon, or were Dante and I special for some reason?

Curiosity flared, and I stepped forward, but Liam quickly shut the door again, locking me out. I frowned and watched the key vanish into his pocket, wondering if he would ever leave it sitting unattended on a dresser. It would probably be too much trouble to “borrow” the key and slip down the passageway alone, especially if I had to wait only till tomorrow to find out where it went. Still, I was curious.

“Where does the tunnel go?” I asked as he shooed us up the stairs again.

Liam grunted. “There is no tunnel,” he said briskly as we stepped into the kitchen. “This is a perfectly normal household.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. The nonexistent secret passageway that we’re not supposed to talk about, I get it. Where does it go?”

“You’ll see tomorrow.”

And I did. The next morning, I hurried downstairs with Dante to find the door already unlocked for us. Pulling it open with a creak, I peered into the corridor, lit sparsely with bare bulbs every twenty or so feet, then grinned back at my brother.

“Do you think it’ll take us to a secret underground cave full of dragons and treasure?”

He smirked. “What is this, a Tolkien novel? I very seriously doubt it.”

“You’re no fun at all.”

We followed the straight, narrow passageway for maybe three blocks, until it ended at a flight of stairs with another simple wooden door at the top. Eager and curious, I pushed it open, but there was no looming cavern beyond the frame, no circle of dragons waiting for us, no bustling, underground facility with computer terminals lining the walls.

Through the door sat a clean but very plain-looking garage. It had cracked cement floors, no windows and was wide enough to hold at least two vehicles. The double doors were shut, and the shelves lining the walls were filled with normal garage-y things: tools and hoses and old bike tires and such. Not counting the secret tunnel we’d just come through, it was disappointingly normal in every way. Except, of course, for the pair of black sedans already humming in the center of the carport.

The drivers’ doors opened, and two men stepped out, dressed in identical black suits with dark glasses. As one, they turned and opened each of their passenger doors, then stood beside the cars, hands folded in front of them, waiting.

I eyed the men warily. “I guess we’re supposed to go with you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” one of them answered, staring straight ahead.

I suppressed a wince. I hated being called “ma’am.” “And, there’s two of you because...?”

“We’re to drive you to your destinations, ma’am,” the human answered, as though that was obvious. Though he still didn’t look at me. I blinked.

“Separately?”

“Yes, ma’am. That is correct.”

I frowned. Dante and I never did anything separately. All our classes, schoolwork, activities, events, everything, had been done together. I didn’t like the idea of my brother being taken away in a strange car with a strange human to a place I knew nothing about. “Can’t we drive there together?” I asked.