"Yes, it's magic. Yes, I did it. Yes, Henry is changing."
Tressa gasped. "Can you read my mind too?"
Jarrett laughed. "No. It's pretty obvious what you were thinking."
A small light came to life, illuminating their corner of the alley. A bauble floated in the air, not far from Jarrett's shoulder. Tressa glanced down at Henry. His blond hair had all but disappeared, replaced by a head all too reminiscent of the dragon that crashed into Hutton’s Bridge.
"Dragon." Tressa wasn't even sure she said it out loud until Jarrett responded.
"Yes."
"But Henry is human," she said, stumbling over her words. She reached out to touch him, then thought better of it and jerked back her hand. "Isn't he?"
"In a way," Jarrett said. "Now you know about us."
Tressa let loose a nervous laugh. "Know about you? All this has done is raised more questions. I don't know anything. I know less than I did when we sat in the pub. No, I don't know anything about you." Her nervous rambling didn't help calm her. Henry continued to convulse and change. From the neck down, his body was contorting, changing into something else, something she wasn't even fully sure she believed in until that moment.
The dragon that broke through the fog died within moments. She only saw the claws that pulled Connor's body through the doorway. Both seemed distant, somehow disconnected.
But this. Henry. He was more alive than any of the others. He'd been warm on the way to the pub when she'd put her hand on his back to guide him around a corner. His blue eyes had sparkled. He was fully human, a fact she never doubted.
Yet now he was something else. The metamorphosis took only a few more moments. His shoes tore, talons poking through the leather. Then he rested. It was done.
Chapter Forty-Nine
The people of Hutton's Bridge gathered in the center of town. Packs hefted on their backs, weapons in their hands.
Huddled in small groups, they whispered. Nervous conversation permeated the entire town square. Bastian strode through the crowd, Farah’s hand in his. He nodded to Lukas. "Now."
The boy's aunt patted him on the head, then pushed his back. Lukas smiled and came running to Bastian.
"Take care of my little girl." He knelt down and handed his daughter's hand over. "Maybe someday the two of you can be joined."
Farah’s eyes lit up. "I'd have to choose his ribbon, Papa."
The little boy looked less excited. Bastian laughed. "Where we're going, there isn't any need for ribbon picking, Farah." Then leaned over and whispered in Lukas’ ear, "Don't worry. I only said that to make her interested in sticking with you. There are no promises being made today."
Lukas let out a long sigh. "I will protect her, sir." He looked down at the little girl's doe eyes. She fluttered her lashes at him.
Carrac stood at the edge of the fog, a torch in his hand.
"That won't help. The fog will only extinguish it," Bastian said.
“It is not for you. But this is.” Carrac extended an open hand into the fog. Instead of disappearing, his hand glowed.
Bastian took in a breath. “What is that?”
“Tallow. I supervised the dressing of the dragon and had some fat on my hand. I must not have washed so well and when I went to bed that night I noticed my hand was glowing. I snuck out under the cover of darkness and cut the rest of the fat off. Then I made the tallow. If you rub it on yourself, it will glow. Even in the fog.”
“Can we use it?”
“Of course!” Carrac laughed. “It is yours to take. I had hoped it would aid you, but I didn’t want to mention it until I was sure. It took time to create and test the candles. I’ve handed them out to the torchbearers. When you’re ready to light them, just say the word. I’ve already instructed them on what to do.”
“Thank you!” He squeezed Carrac’s shoulder. "You are staying behind with Udor? Making sure he doesn't mess things up for the town when we collapse the mist?"
Carrac nodded. "I have been considering this as well." He looked down at his aged, frail body. "What can I do out there? If the beasts you spoke of are true, I am no match for them. All I could do is stand in front and be a victim, maybe stop them from hurting another. Slow down their progress."
"I'm not asking for blind sacrifice." Bastian looked at the old man's rheumy blue eyes. After Sophia died, he was the oldest person in the village. His opinion mattered. His experience and his kindness were invaluable. "Stay here. No one will interpret it as weakness. In fact, I'd consider it a personal favor. If Tressa makes it back to the village, I don't want her alone with Udor."