Dragons of Drupes - 1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

Sweet, sweet smoke.

I was locked in the bathroom, head quirked out the window at an angle no reasonable person would have attempted.

What could I say? I was addicted.

I dragged in another puff of the highly toxic, nicotine death stick. Damn it was good.

Icy breezes made my hand numb, but I welcomed them. They took care nobody knew about this little . . . habit.

A door slammed coming from the adjacent room and I jammed the burning end of my cigarette against a frosty pipe. It sizzled, and the sweet smoke came to an abrupt end. Stupid nerves. The murmuring of voices through the wall had me on edge. Correction: his voice had me on edge. Jack. He was like the angel on your shoulder, always trying to shush the devil up. When you really, really didn’t want it shushed.

Bit of a buzz kill, really.

I took out my lighter. Tempted to strike up another. D-r-a-k-e. I ran a thumb over the stenciled letters on the side of the metal lighter. Drake. The only thing I had left from my real parents. The name, not the lighter.

I squeezed my head and arm back through the tiny bathroom window and jumped off the toilet seat, flicking the cigarette stub into the toilet. Next for the mouth spray, and smidge of deodorant. I sniffed my T-shirt. Sorted.

I paused a moment, my hand ready to open the door leading to the attic: our living room and kitchen. Time-out was over, back to reality. I squared my shoulders, twisted the knob and stepped into the chaos.

Jack’s voice, deep but direct, cut across the open-plan kitchen to the dining table at the far end wall. “How am I supposed to prepare lunch, if that’s all there is to prepare.” He swung the fridge door open. “Guys, this ain’t gonna feed a flea, let alone . . .” His voice drifted off when he saw me. His scowl seemed to deepen.

Certainly not the face of an angel.

Ignoring his gaze, I peered into the fridge. A half salami roll, triangular block of cheese, and an almost-empty bottle of ketchup stared back at me.

“Who was supposed to go to the supermarket?” Terry glanced in my direction, scratching the tattoo down the side of his neck—Chinese symbols for peace and respect.

“What? Wasn’t it Faye’s turn?” I said, knowing it wasn’t and cursing the fact I’d forgotten it was my turn to make the supermarket run. “Where is she anyway?”

“That girl’s hooked. Wild horses couldn’t drag her away from that computer,” Jack said. “Those online role-playing games must be crazy addictive.” He wrinkled his aquiline nose, intense brown eyes piercing mine as he moved closer. Bollocks. I stepped back. “Drake, man, tell me you didn’t.”

How did he always know?

“Didn’t what?” Terry shuffled out from behind the table, the long pillow from the bench coming with him. He glanced at it, hesitating as if unsure whether to come over or to pick up the pillow. He picked up pillow and tied the tassels to the bench.

Jack kept shaking his head. “I thought you said you quit.”

Busted.

“Quitting,” I corrected. “In fact I’m down to only two a day.” I ignored Jack and Terry’s raised brows. Give me some credit; it was no easy feat.

Jack gave me a fuming look as he moved to slam the fridge shut. Ah, here it comes. I braced myself. “You’re an idiot. Do you know what smoke does to you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be such a square. I’m not ignorant of the dangers to smoking. As I said, I’m quitting.”

“Christ. If I had a penny every time I heard that.”

“Really. This time, for real.”

Jack crossed the room and breathed in, coming a bit closer than comfortable, his breath hitting my cheek as he breathed out.

“Why the cover up, then?” he said.

Total buzzkill.

I shrugged, waiting for the retort quivering on the edge of his lip.

“You know what?” Terry interrupted. As he always did when he felt the tension between Jack and I rise. Safe to say, we didn’t really get along. “I feel like going for a walk. Think I’ll go shopping with you, Drake.”

The door creaked open and Faye dragged herself into the room, her blue eyes swollen and surrounded by dark circles. “I’m hungry. What’s for lunch?”

“Maybe not wild horses, but food . . .” Terry looked at Jack, grinning.

Faye made her way into the kitchen. Don’t mess with Germans when it comes to food, she’d told us the day she moved in. And as innocent and sweet the petite, blonde girl looked, none of us wanted to get in her bad books, especially in her grumpy morning moods. As the only girl in the house, we all gave her a wide berth.

“How’s the game?” Jack said.

Faye grunted and opened the fridge. “Egh, cheese,” she shuddered in disgust. Then she sighed, “and you guys know that Drake and I are vegetarians! Salami is out.” She grumbled and took out the bottle of ketchup. “Seriously, guys.” She shook it upside down and waited for the dark red sauce to trickle down to the opening. With her free hand, she grabbed a spoon from the sink and rinsed it.

Darn, the pile of dishes was high. That was meant to be my job too. I looked away, as if not seeing them made it go away. On top of the fridge, my eyes rested on the small can labeled ‘food money’. It was light in my hands as I lifted it down. Moving over to the dining table, which really was a plank of wood held up by books, I unscrewed the lid and laid the money out where all could see.

10.35 American dollars, 15.20 British pounds, 7.48 Euros and 22.50 New Zealand dollars. Those were the sad remains of our last earnings. And it was unlikely we’d stumble upon a new job like we did the last time. Better put up some ads or something. I ran a hand through my brown spiked hair.

“Looks like Britain’s buying this week,” Jack said.

“Ain’t this a bit of a dire situation.” I picked up the pounds. “London here we come . . .”

The sound of bells cut over my voice.

Terry, Jack and I turned to Faye, waiting for her reaction. The high pitched violin screeches told us it was the third floor. Visitors from Berlin? We all looked to Faye, only she spoke German.

She hesitated, little beads of sweat forming on her temples. Moving slowly toward the stairs, her teeth clattered together. I’d lived with her long enough to know she only did that when something was up. “You alright there, Faye?”

“Peachy,” she said, with a weak smile.

I frowned. That smile was all nervousness. It was the same one she’d had when she’d first moved into the house. Back then, anytime her doorbell rang she’d been frightened her parents had found her. For a couple of months Terry or I had accompanied her to the door, but she’d been much more confident lately.

“Want me to answer it with you?” Terry asked, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Faye shook her head. “It’s okay, guys. Stay here.”

As she inched down the spiral staircase, Terry threw me a worried look. “I swear, if I ever meet those parents of hers, I’m going to . . .’ He punched his palm. “What did they do to that poor girl?”

Whatever it was, Faye needed to let us in. Talk, so we could understand. Help her. But she bottled up her emotions so tight.

One day she was going to blow.

“Maybe there’s another reason,” Jack said, switching off the boiling kettle and pulling out a box of Earl Grey tea with a groan. Oh yeah. I’d finished the last of coffee in my late night Mercedes Lackey read-a-thon. I avoided the glare Jack threw my way.

Voices trailed up the stairs. Faye’d let someone in? “Guys?” I said, confused. “Does Faye have friends?”

Terry growled at me. “Don’t be so harsh.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

Faye shuffled into the attic, red-faced. A male in his late fifties wearing a green uniform strutted in behind her. She bowed her head at our puzzled looks. “He said he’s a detective.”

“Detective Wurz,” the man said, sitting himself at the table.

Jack offered his cup of tea to him, and he took it with a sharp nod. “Thank you.”

The thin man shifted uncomfortably on the small chair he was perched on, his knees banging on the wooden table top. The cup of tea he set down in front of him bounced. He caught it and took a cursory sip, his green police hat slipping off his head and revealing a sandy brush cut.

“So,” Jack cleared his throat, throwing glances from Terry to Faye to me, “what are you here for, Detective Woots?’ Jack rushed the name.

Faye leaned over. “Think of vortex, drop the ‘ex’ and add ‘s’. Wurz.”

“Detective Vorts,” Jack said, face reddening. He gave a boyish grin, dimples cutting into his cheeks.

“I’m here in order to become help on a mystery.”

I sat straighter in my chair, swallowing my impulse to fist a ‘yeah.’

“Get help on a mystery,” Faye clarified, glancing at me as if she knew I wanted to stand on the table and whoop. Finally some work. Things were getting a bit more than dire around here. Our fridge a case-in-point.

I snuck a glance and Terry and Jack.

Even buzzkill looked thrilled.

“Ja, to get help with a problem,” Detective Wurz said.

“So what’s the problem?” I asked, reaching to the middle of the table and grabbing a pen and notepad poking out from under J. Gee’s Conservation of Magically Enhanced Plant Genes: A Study of In-Vitro Biomagic-Technology.

Immediately I started to draw out my whoop in guise of a goblin, coins filtering through his fingertips, a sly and contented smile on his face.

“Ah yes, a special jewel was stealed from a museum.” Detective Wurz took another sip of tea. “It’s a very important jewel. We spend it to the cancer society.”

“Donate.” I was grateful for the translation, and scribbled down the key points under the pile of gold I was drawing at the goblin’s feet.

“Yes, they sell it to become much money for the sick children.”

“What. Do. You. Know. About. How. It. Was. Stolen?” Jack slowly pronounced each syllable. I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath. There was something so direct about Jack that it came across as rude.

Detective Wurz stared back blankly. His eyes were the same shade of blue as Faye’s, but where hers were full of warmth, his eyes showed no hint of emotion. This guy meant business. “Why do you persons speak so slow to non English person? Always. Too. Slow. Or VERY, VERY LOUD. I understand much.”

“What do you know about how the jewel was stolen?” I rested the pen on the pad and ink blobbed on the page.

Detective Wurz straightened himself and looked at me. “It stealed at nine in the morning.”

“Do you have security tapes?” Terry said, gesturing to a camera.

“That is what is so… komisch.”

“Strange.”

“So strange. On the cameras we see nothing. The jewel is there and then it has went. Puff. Magic.” Detective Wurz looked at each of us in turn. “So I was ordered to come here.” He said ‘ordered’ as if had he a choice, he wouldn’t have come to us. “You handle funny mystery before two months.”

“Two months ago.”

“So you do it?” Detective Wurz said, pushing for a response.

I was about to snatch the yes out of all of our mouths, when something occurred to me. I sketched over the money pile. We hadn’t talked details. “What do we get if we help? We each got 500 pounds for solving the last mystery.”

Detective Wurz moved his chair back from the table. “Ah,” he said hesitantly. His foot started tapping and his mouth twitched as he tried to find the right words. He shook his head. “Not all words come to me. I speak to her now.” He pointed at Faye, whose expression darkened. She hated speaking in her native tongue. “She can say.” He turned and spoke in German.

It sounded to me as if what he said was one really long word. We all watched as Faye’s face went from its pale olive to an indescribable red. She looked worried, and said something in response. The detective nodded, and Faye sighed.

Detective Wurz pointed to the book he had laid on the table earlier. “That has information about the jewel. Maybe it helps.” He looked at his wristwatch. “I must go.” He slipped a card on top of the book. “You four come this evening at five.”

Faye was in such jitters, she had trouble standing up from the table. I took the lead and led Detective Wurz out of the attic. Jack followed, but after the first set of the spiral staircase snuck off to his room. Or his science lab, I wasn’t sure which.

Detective Wurz marched down the next set of stairs two at a time. He was clearly in a hurry to leave. From the impression I got, he wasn’t too glad having to ask us for help. But that was often the way adults were around us; they just weren’t sure how seriously to take us. We’d shown a few disbelievers what we were made of, and if we didn’t gain friends we did gain respect.

And, as it was starting to look, a reputation as well.

I studied Detective Wurz’s squared shoulders and unnaturally straight back. He looked too proud. If I hadn’t already gotten the feeling this job didn’t come with a cash prize by the way he snapped at Faye, I certainly had now.

I’d weasel it all out of Faye next.

I opened the heavy, metal door for Detective Wurz, and not out of gentlemanly behavior. Our doors were special and I only allowed people I trusted or at least liked to touch them. So far, Detective Wurz ranked as neither.

The sun poured into Faye’s floor and the last I saw of Detective Wurz was his elongated shadow on the carpet. I shut the door with a mental note that it was good weather in Berlin, should we want to soak in a little sun later.

I heard Jack muttering as he came down the stairs. “I need new curtains. Mine don’t keep the cold out. And the dehumidifier is dead, thanks to you and Faye using it non-stop.”

“Terry’s worked on it at least five times. It’s just old junk,” I said. Man I was glad I didn’t have to fiddle with the thing again till next year.

Jack and I spun round when Faye ran into her bedroom and slammed the door.

Terry, coming after Faye, pounded on the wooden panels. “Sorry for what? You’re sorry for what?”

I pressed my ear against Faye’s door and heard a muffled crying. She was such a sensitive creature, easily offended, but she usually got over stuff pretty fast. I couldn’t yet decide how serious this was.

Terry looked from me to Jack who only shrugged. “Sorry for what?” he said again louder, still banging on the door.

“What’d he say to her?” Jack rested back against the wall across from us.

“Come on!” I banged my fists against the wood while Terry tried jiggling the handle.

Jack stared at the door to Faye’s computer lab, which was ajar and swinging ever so slightly. “Just a sec!”

He walked over to it, then turned back and winked at Terry and me.

I clicked on. Jack may have been a pain in the ass, but he was clever. “Jack’s going into your comp-lab, Faye.”

Immediately, the muffled crying stopped.

“Jack!” Faye shouted. “Get out!”

“Not before you do!” Jack shouted back.

Something loud thumped against the wall, followed by a moment of silence, before the key rattled and Faye came out. She had red rings around her eyes but her jaw was clenched. She looked livid.

“She’s out!” I jumped out of Faye’s way and Jack stepped out of the lab.

“Don’t touch my things!”

“Didn’t, I promise!” Jack said. “We just want to talk to you.”

I followed Terry, inching nearer. “What did he say, Faye?”

Faye sighed and headed back to her room. Terry was quicker, positioning himself in front of her door. “You’re not locking yourself in again.”

“Move out the way, Terry.”

But Terry refused to move.

“Come on, free the door. There is something in there that I need to show you all.”

Reluctantly, Terry side stepped, keeping one foot in the doorway.

Faye rustled through some things on her desk and came back with envelopes, fanning them out in her hands.

“I thought ’cause this house was special that it just wouldn’t happen.” Faye said, “I really didn’t think they could actually do it.”

“What wouldn’t happen?” I asked. She’d mentioned our house, which alone would have gotten my attention, but her red face, cast toward the carpet, got my blood pumping real fast.

“They’re going to tear it down. My floor,” Faye said.

Terry slammed his open palm against the wall with a thunderous crack. “What?”

My hands were balling at my sides. “Who? When?”

“The Berlin City Council. In two weeks on Saturday.” Faye’s voice shook, but right now I didn’t give a damn that we frightened her. Jack at least gave her an awkward pat. “They sent warning letters demanding us to pack up and leave and threatened police involvement if we don’t do it voluntarily.”

“Shit, Faye,” I said. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us earlier?”

“There’s no fucking way we’re just going to let that happen,” Terry said, in a low voice that would have given me the shivers, if the thought of losing part of our house hadn’t already done that.

“That’s our payment. Kinda,” Faye said really fast. “We solve this mystery within two weeks and Detective Wurz, well, he can delay the demolition.”

“For how long?” Jack asked.

“He reckons anywhere from three to six months.”

“Jesus!” I said, whipping the letters from Faye’s hands.

“I’m so sorry—”

I held up my other hand behind me as I walked toward the staircase. “Just leave me alone.” Frigging hell.

Terry caught up with me. “I could really burn off some steam,” he grunted. I looked at the guy, worse for wear at the news than I was. That was saying something.

“Let’s get out. I don’t know, do the shopping, or something,” I said.

With as much care as I could muster I shut my front door, the one that lead out to London. A blotchy golden sign halted me from stamping down the path. I felt a rumble rise in my throat and swallowed the sob. I spat onto my sleeve and with the damp fabric started rubbing off the dried rain residue from the sign attached next to the door.

OXION HOUSE, it read.

My home.

Terry gave a sad smile.

Our home.

“What the hell are we going to do, Drake?”

“Well, whatever that is,” Jack said from behind, startling us, “running to do the shopping now won’t help.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder back to inside. “I’m calling a flat meeting. Effective now.”

 

* * *

 

“So it’s like a ruby?”

We were all in my library for the “flat meeting”. The upcoming demolition had us in a glum mood, but getting to work was the best medicine.

Or so Jack said.

Which is why we were discussing the missing jewel.

He really was pretty bossy.

“No, it’s not like that at all. Except that it’s red. But that would be like saying oranges and apricots are the same thing because they’re both orange.” Jack opened the book on his knees and jerked it around so we could all see a picture. Looked like a ruby to me. “There’s only one red emerald for every eight or nine thousand rubies.” He turned the book around and started flipping through the pages. “Found in the Wah Wah Mountains of Utah.”

“Isn’t that your home state?” Faye looked over at Terry who was sitting on a large armchair, trying to flick paperclips into the bin.

Terry frowned. “I come from Ohio.”

“Utah. Ohio.” She shrugged as if to say, ‘what dif’?

Terry shook his head, his next paperclip landing shy of my foot.

“Look it up on Google Maps next time you’re online,” Jack said without even a hint of a smile. He passed Faye a page with notes the detective had scribbled on.

“Fine.” Faye exhaled heavily. “It says that the stolen red emerald was three carats, weighing around 600 milligrams.”

“What’s that in ounces?” Terry asked, grabbing another clip.

My mind struggled at the math. It was little language differences like this that got us all confused sometimes. Pants instead of trousers. Hamburger instead of mince. Eraser instead of rubber.

Others got me in trouble. Like when I said I fancied a fag. I meant cigarette. I just wanted a cigarette. Terry had thrown a fit for that one and banned the word from our flat.

Needless to say, I was quick to stick to smoke after that. Hmmm, smoke . . .

“That’s like .02 ounces,” Jack said, then glanced at me as if it’d been a race or something. If I wore glasses, I’d be pushing them up with my middle finger about now.

Faye glanced over the rest of the notes. “Because of the jewel’s rarity they were hoping to auction it off for around 50,000 euros for the cancer society.”

Jack winked and said, before I had a chance, “That’s close to 65,000 dollars.” He looked at me out the corner of his eye. “And 42,000 pounds.”

“Finally!” Terry said, a paperclip rattling into the bin.

He looked up, his gaze falling on Faye, and the contours of his face softened. “Huh?”

“O-kay,” I said, “back to the research then.”

Terry got up, making sure to pick up every fallen paperclip.

“Okay, the chemical formula,” Jack continued, “It means that this red emerald is made up of beryllium, aluminum, manganese, silicon and oxygen.”

“Well, I think it is safe to say we all know what silicon is. What’s this berry thing?”

“It impresses me every time how mature you are, Drake.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from, Jack.”

Again with the buzzkill. (Okay, so I may have waggled my brows.) But the guy seriously needed to get a sense of humor. He had everything else, was good at sports, looked great (he seemed to have escaped the bane of bad skin). And even if I hated to admit it, he was clever.

But maybe he needed a touch more of that crazy adolescent hormone-thing going on. Just a bit. Enough to get him to relax.

Jack narrowed his eyes at me (his favorite pastime). I loved the bubbling feeling I got inside when I got on his nerves. That probably doesn’t make me a very nice person. But there you go. I probably wasn’t.

Faye looked at us. “Jack, it’s amazing how you know so much about chemicals and such. Tell us more about the stone?” If I could see through Faye’s intentions, Jack certainly would, but he acknowledged Faye with a smile.

So, he could be nice.

“Yeah totally,” Terry said out of the blue and we all stared at him. “What? It’s true. We make an awesome team.”

“This is sounding suspiciously like a Barney moment,” Jack said, glancing at Faye, Terry and then me—but only for the barest second. “Are we all going to give each other a hug now?”

Terry flung a paperclip at him. “Well you’re missing out. I’m sticking to that though, we fit great together.”

“For solving mysteries, maybe” Jack said, his voice slipping a notch lower. “Just for mysteries.”