Burn(32)

“She might hide it in plain sight. The Believers are believers in red dragons, always have been, but there are five dragon breeds in the world, each of them with a similar but not quite identical language that each uses the same pictographic, runic alphabet.”

“What are you telling me?”

“The languages have a lot of overlap. I’ve been trying to translate those runes via the language of reds. They make enough vague sense that way to feel like prophecy, certainly enough for the Believers to build entire Cells around. But what if it’s not in red? We’d never considered it because that makes absolutely no sense for the Mitera Thea. She’d disregard anything in any other dragon language.”

“But if she was doing it on her own—”

“It turns out that the runes also make a vague prophetic sense if you translate via the language of the greens and the whites. They make no sense at all via the desert dragon language.” She finally held up her notebook. “They make perfect, almost exact sense if translated via blue.”

Agent Dernovich’s eyes raced over the page. “Holy shit. Hidden in plain sight.”

“No one would ever dream the Mitera Thea would follow a prophecy of the blues. It would fundamentally go against who she is. She would, in fact, not be the Mitera Thea if she did so.”

“But she did.”

“And if she did that, who knows what other rules she might break?”

“Hire a dragon to kill humans? It would take a lot of gold to break that taboo.”

“Believers hand over all their worldly wealth when they join. Paying for it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Dernovich’s heart sank right down to his belt. “My God, if she’s gone that far—”

“Then we have to stop her. Fortunately, I think I’ve figured out her target.”

“Who?”

“I’m not exactly sure of the name, but I know where and when.”

“What about why?”

Agent Woolf looked surprised. “Whyever else, Agent Dernovich? Because that’s where the end of the world begins.”





Nine


“WHAT YOU MUST remember through all of this,” Kazimir said, “is that you are not special.”

“Well, that’s just terrific,” Sarah said, shivering in the gathering snow. Though the moon was well hidden behind what was probably miles of clouds, the whole farm seemed to glow from the white that covered everything. It was the fourth night in a row she’d tried to get answers out of him. The constant lack of sleep and overall tension were wearing on her. She’d even told Jason about the assassin, even though Kazimir had warned her not to. The fact that Jason hadn’t even doubted her was yet more proof of how strange life had become. “When are you going to tell me something practical, like exactly when this supposed assassin is coming or—”

“You are merely lucky,” Kazimir continued, ignoring her.

“Lucky? How has any of this been lucky?”

“You have no special abilities. You have no special bloodline—or what passes for bloodline among your species. You have no history or strength or intelligence that would mark you out in any way.”

“Okay,” Sarah breathed against the snowfall. “Now, you’re just being mean for the sake of it.”

“Do not misunderstand me,” the dragon said. “You may have those things in abundance in other areas of your life. You certainly have shown a resourcefulness and a capaciousness of character I have found most surprising, but for the purposes of your death, there is no intrinsic reason why you should be the one and others not. It is merely a coincidence of timing.”

“So you’ve said, but I don’t know why I need to be insulted—”

He grunted in what finally seemed to be frustration. “Because there is a prophecy about you, Sarah Dewhurst.”

She stopped. “Me?”

“Not you in particular.” The dragon looked around at the farm, the snow, the forest, the steel antenna, and great shadow of Mount Rainier hidden somewhere beyond. “But this time. This place.” He looked back down on her, his eye seeming to glow, and not for the first time she was reminded of the old wives’ tale of dragons being able to hypnotize you. “This exact time. This exact place. And a girl.”

“What’s supposed to happen?”

“A moment in which war itself pivots.”

“War?”

He looked frustrated, but not at her. “Presumably. The language of prophecy is never so clear. It is always ‘worlds colliding’ and ‘worlds ending.’ Which is why they should usually not be taken seriously.”

“I shouldn’t take someone coming to murder me seriously?”

“On the whole, one should worry less about prophecies and more about the lunatics who believe them.”

“So I have a lunatic coming to murder me?”

“That is accurate.”

“Because he believes a prophecy that isn’t true?”

“That is what is so troubling. This one has proven quite true so far.” He frowned. “My breed are scholars, and as such, rather more skeptical than others. We freed ourselves from the Goddess long ago and feel no allegiance to the furious dictums she left behind.”