Secrets of the Dragon Sanctuary

As she progressed, the houses were getting smaller and closer together. Most needed some upkeep. A few were really run-down, with weedy yards, cluttered porches, and sagging roofs. From a pen at the side of one house, a big dog barked, prompting Kendra to walk even faster.

The house she had escaped from was well out of view. She kept glancing over her shoulder, unable to believe she had made a clean getaway. How far did she need to get before she stashed the knapsack and hid inside until morning?

Up ahead, a car came around a corner and drove toward her. The headlights flashed onto her, and Kendra knew she would look even more suspicious if she tried to hide. If she stayed calm, the car would almost certainly just drive on by. Except that the car was slowing. Was it a Good Samaritan wanting to make sure that this teenage girl walking alone at night was all right? Or could it be some psycho who really liked the idea of girls on their own in the dark? Or could somebody from the house have noticed already that Cody was missing?

As the car pulled to a stop near her, Kendra made a break for it, running for the gate into the backyard of the nearest house.

"Kendra," a voice called from behind in a hushed shout.

Kendra glanced over her shoulder and glimpsed a black man getting out of the silver sedan. She crashed into the gate, rattling the entire wooden fence, but couldn’t figure out how to open it. She grabbed the top, splinters pressing into her palms, and boosted herself up.

Strong hands seized her sides, yanking her off the fence. As her feet hit the ground, a hand covered her mouth. The other arm pinned her arms down and held her close. "I’m a friend of your grandfather’s," the man whispered. "I’m a Knight of the Dawn."

A light turned on inside the house. Kendra had rammed the fence pretty loudly.

"Come on," he said, guiding her toward the sedan. "You’re safe now."

"How do I know I can trust you?" Kendra asked, coming with him half-willingly.

"You don’t," he said. "The name is Trask. I’ve been driving around town all night. So have Warren, Elise, and Dougan. You know them, right?"

He opened the back door and Kendra ducked into the sedan. What else was she supposed to do? The stranger was fast and strong. If she tried to run again, he would catch her even more easily this time. She desperately wanted to believe him. Trask slid in behind the wheel. The car was still running. Judging by the leather seats and the fancy instrument panel, the sedan seemed expensive.

"How did you find me?" Kendra asked.

Trask pulled forward, accelerating smoothly. Kendra glimpsed a squinting male face in the lighted window of the house, his thinning hair standing up in messy clumps. "Stan Sorenson got a tip that you might be wandering the streets of Monmouth tonight. And here you are."

"Somebody helped me get away."

He nodded. "Fits the tip."

"You’ve been looking for me?" Kendra asked.

"I’m a detective. I was called in to investigate your murder. We didn’t suspect you were alive until earlier today."

"Where will you take me now?"

He took out a sleek cell phone. "We’ll rendezvous with Warren and the others, then get you straight to Fablehaven."

Chapter 9 Hall of Dread

"Hike," Hugo rumbled, backing away from the line of scrimmage.

Seth and Doren began their routes, struggling to keep their footing in the deepening snow. Newel defended Doren well, staying with him when he cut left. Verl shadowed Seth, playing him too closely. When Seth faked a cut, Verl bought it, so Seth went long.

Hugo was the all-time perfect quarterback. The golem adhered religiously to a six-second time limit for releasing the ball, negating the need for a rush. There were no constraints to how far he could throw, the passes were always accurate, and he showed no favoritism.

Seth looked up and back. Blinding swirls of snow swept through the air, obscuring his view. He kept his legs pumping hard. Verl trailed two steps behind him. Seth could no longer see Hugo or the other satyrs. How far had he run? Fifty yards? Sixty?

A dark shape appeared amid the whirling flakes, hissing through the air. Seth extended his arms. Although the football hit him in stride, it was like trying to catch a meteor. Only Hugo could throw a long bomb with so little arc on the ball!

Seth lost his footing and fell in a spray of snow but managed to hang onto the football, trapping it against his chest. He lay for a moment in the furrow he had plowed through the snow, feeling an icy prickle on the back of his neck, hesitant to get up because he knew that snow had collected inside his collar and would disperse chillingly down his back.

"What happened?" Newel called.

"He caught it," Verl replied. "Touchdown."

"Again?" Newel complained. "I’m taking Seth next time."

"Please do," Doren said excitedly. "I want Verl covering me."

"This game is rigged!" Newel protested.

Verl brushed away some of the snow from the back of Seth’s neck and gave him a hand up. The good-natured satyr had wooly white legs with brown spots, stubby horns, and a more childish face than Newel or Doren. He wore a thick brown turtleneck, while the other satyrs played bare-chested.

"Thanks," Seth said.

"I can’t believe you held on to that one," Verl said. He had dropped several similar passes.

"Me neither," Seth admitted. "Hugo throws hard."

"I guess losers walk," Verl sighed, trotting away to get ready for the next kickoff.

"Seth!" Grandma shouted from the porch. "We have a car pulling into the driveway."

"Kendra!" he exclaimed, dropping the football. "I have to go, guys."

Verl came hustling back, smoothing his hands down the front of his half-soaked turtleneck. "How do I look?" he asked anxiously.

"Like a prince," Seth said. "Remember, no guts, no glory." He had informed Verl that Kendra would be arriving today, and had encouraged his hopes of winning her affection. Ever since learning that his sister had been recovered, Seth had felt much more like himself.

"I don’t know," Verl whimpered, eyeing the woods. "Newel and Doren warned that Kendra is way too young. They said Stan would skin me alive if he knew about my ardent admiration."

"Just be a gentleman," Seth said. "This is the moment you’ve been waiting for."

"I’d rather do this on my terms," Verl hedged, backing away. "Perhaps in a hot-air balloon. With a picnic lunch. And a top hat."

"Suit yourself," Seth said, jogging toward the porch. He had convinced Grandpa to grant the satyrs permission to enter the yard in order to play snow football with him. He had needed something to occupy his mind while waiting for his sister to arrive. The snowstorm had slowed her arrival by more than an hour.