The Trap (The Magnificent 12 #2)(19)

“What do I call him?” Mack whispered.

“You don’t,” Xiao whispered back. “He talks. You answer.”

“Right.”

Huang Long, the Dragon King, spoke. This time his voice was a bit quieter—he was using his inside voice—so it was only as loud as a rock band, not as loud as standing next to a jet engine.

“Two of you possess the enlightened puissance,” Huang Long said. “Do not be alarmed that I see this: I see most things.”

It wasn’t a question, so Mack and his friends kept quiet. He wanted to make a joke about how, with eyes that big, the dragon probably did see things pretty well. But Mack suspected this wasn’t the time for teasing.

“You are of the Magnifica,” Huang Long said.

He sighed. It was a deep sigh that seemed to first suck a blimpload of air in, and then let a blimpload of air out in what would be a strong gale or a moderate hurricane.

“So,” the Dragon King said slowly, “it is time. The Pale Queen rises again. And who will stop her now? Long has she waited and plotted and prepared. Her allies are many. Her powers great. Her evil without limit. And her foul daughter has come fully into her own.”

Still no question. But Mack was amazed to hear all this. Because it was kind of convincing when you heard it from a spectral bathroom apparition. But it was really, really convincing when you heard it from the King of Dragons.

“You have come to find the third of your number,” Huang Long said. “And alas, you have found the one.”

“You’re one of the Magnificent Twelve?” It was Jarrah, sounding both amazed and hopeful. “I mean, with you along, I like our chances a lot better.”

The Dragon King blinked. Blinked again.

Mack held his breath. But Huang Long decided not to take offense at being interrupted.

“No, little fool, not me,” he said. And then, he laughed.

You know what an earthquake feels like? (Probably not.) That’s what the dragon’s laugh was like. The ground shook, the walls vibrated, Mack’s insides were shaken and stirred.

Huang Long wiped tears of laughter away with the tip of his tail. “I am five thousand years old,” he explained. “It’s not the Magnificent Five Thousand, it’s the Magnificent Twelve. And I am not a warrior or a hero. I am a scholar. In my own humble way.”

Now he focused only on his daughter, looking at her with giant, suddenly sad eyes. “We have sensed that this day might come, Daughter. Twelve short but joyful years have passed since your mother and I had the joy of seeing you break from the egg.”

Xiao bowed her head. “I am ready, Father.”

The Dragon King shook his head slowly. “No, Daughter, you are not. No one is ready to face the Mother of All Monsters. When I was young, she was already old. But if ever one could be ready, you are.”

Mack saw tears in Xiao’s eyes. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered.

Mack’s phone rang. “Really?” he asked Xiao. “You have cell phone service down here?” He glanced at the display. The golem calling again.

It wasn’t a good time. He muted the phone. It continued to vibrate softly in his pocket.

“You may be as ready as can be, but I am not ready to see you go. And your mother will be angry with me for letting you. But we have duties, duties you understand well despite your age.”

“We are the defenders of learning and culture, of respect for our elders and for tradition,” Xiao said, like she was reciting from memory.

Huang Long nodded his head. His pride in his daughter was clear despite the fact that he was, after all, a dragon. But he was troubled, too.

“What do you know of your destiny?” Huang Long asked Mack.

“Not much,” Mack admitted. “All I know is there’s this Pale Queen, and she was locked up, like, three thousand years ago. And now she’s getting out. And we’re supposed to stop her.”

Mack was mistaken. There was no English paper in his computer. No paper of any kind. I don’t think there was even any room in there for a paper. I tried to call Mack. No answer.

Huang Long looked troubled, hesitant, like he wasn’t quite sure how much he should say. Then he took a deep breath and sighed a long, long sigh. A long sigh.

Dragons have very big lungs.

“You must learn the Vargran tongue. Those who have the enlightened puissance can use those words to magical effect. But only when they are young. Too young, and the enlightened puissance is too undisciplined. Too old, and the mind becomes too rigid. There is a very narrow window of opportunity.”

“Yes, we’ve used some Vargran words,” Mack said.

“Oh, yeah,” Stefan agreed. Then he made a whooshing noise, mimicked a fireball exploding, and pointed at Mack. “Boom. It was epic.”

“Grimluk has sent you here to find my daughter,” Huang Long said. “But perhaps even more importantly so that you may study Vargran. We have a very ancient Vargran text.” He frowned at the shelves of books. “That’s the one. The old book bound in red-dyed alligator skin.”

Mack followed the dragon’s gaze and saw the book. The book that would teach them all the secrets of Vargran. The book that might give them the power to save the entire human race.

The book that was roughly five feet wide, seven feet long, and two feet thick.