Inside, there was no room for us to do anything but stand packed together. Gentry slammed the door closed and set Marcus down on top of a half-collapsed stack of newspapers. I hugged Marcus tight, feeling his whole body quivering. I wondered if he understood why those strangers were shouting his mother’s name.

“It’s okay, buddy. I got you,” I said. With this sick lurch, I realized that I was LaReigne now. Not just for Marcus, but for me. After Dad went to prison, right up until she left for college, LaReigne had been the adult in our family. After that I had to be my own adult, but now I would have to be one for Marcus, too.

“Zhorzha? Is that you, Zhorzha?” Mom yelled from the front room.

“Yeah, it’s me. I have Marcus with me.”

“What was that crash? What did you knock over?”

“I don’t know. Whatever was behind the door. I almost couldn’t get it open.”

What had fallen over was a cardboard box full of ballerina figurines, too high on the stack to be the ones LaReigne had as a kid. There was also a tumbled-over pile of romance novels, a broken laundry basket with a half-finished quilt in it, and two wooden boxes that maybe were for silverware. I knew she got stuff off Craigslist and eBay, but I didn’t have a clue where most of the new stuff came from.

I turned around, intending to make sure the door was locked, and there was Gentry, looking the way he always did. Like one of Marcus’ Lego people. Not very tall, but a solid block, dressed in a black T-shirt, cargo shorts, and Timberlands. He had his back pressed against the door, his head down, and his hands resting on the back of his neck. He didn’t look at me—he never looked me in the eye—so at least I didn’t have to hide the horrified look on my face when I realized what I’d done.

I’d invited my stalker into my mother’s house.

CHAPTER 3

Gentry

   I brought Lady Zhorzha and her little page safe through the throng of knaves, but ’twas no great task for the many months I was set to watch over her. To guard the threshold like a dog would give me joy, but my lady needed me carry the boy.

I set him down, and my lady embraced him while I made fast the door. I saw no clear path from that place, and I would not give offense, so I waited to hear my lady’s bidding. I felt her gaze upon me, but knew not how to meet it. ’Twas rare I kenned her, nor she me.

From deep within the cottage, the air rumbled with a great voice, heavy and coarse with age. It called my lady’s name and stirred all the voices in me.

“Come in,” Lady Zhorzha said. “Come in and meet my mother.”

Marcus led the way, clambering like a goat down narrow passages. On all sides heaped up weren manuscripts and folios, and great cupboards filled with platters and goblets. Our footsteps set them to rattle.

“How long has it been like this?” Lady Zhorzha called.

“They’ve been here since yesterday. And calling and calling. I had to unplug the phone.”

“Oh my god, Mom. I tried to call you a bunch of times. Why didn’t you call me if you were going to unplug the phone?”

First Marcus and then Lady Zhorzha withdrew through a doorway, flanked upon each side by mounds of chests and baskets. I followed, and at last, afound the answer to the question I asked of the Witch many a time. ’Twas my bounden duty to protect Lady Zhorzha, for she was descended of dragons.

There, in the inner chamber, reclined upon a throne of red leather that scarce contained her serpentine hugeness, was the dragon Lady Zhorzha called Mother. My lady was blessed with a great mane of fire that ne comb ne blade might tame. Mayhap in the dragon’s youth, she had worn such a mantle, but in her age, her hairs weren grayed.

Fearless, Marcus approached the throne and flung himself upon the lady dragon. For a time, there was kissing and lamenting, for they weren greatly distressed with the fate of my lady’s sister. The dragon clapped the little boy to her and succored him. Then she raised herself upon one red-scaled elbow and with a plume of white smoke spake: “I was calling you all day yesterday! I was about to report you and Marcus missing to the police.”

“I had my cellphone on all day yesterday. What number were you calling?”

“Your apartment number.”

“We don’t have a landline anymore, Mom. You have to call my cellphone. And you can’t smoke around Marcus,” Lady Zhorzha said, but the dragon exhaled another blast of smoke.

“Who is this?”

I felt the dragon’s gaze fall upon me.

“Hark, little knight,” Gawen said. “She would eat thee.”

“Filth and the Mother of Filth,” Hildegard said.

Tho none but I could hear them, I would not support their uncourtesy, and heeded them not.

“This is Gentry,” Lady Zhorzha said.

“Gentry, I suppose we’ll have to introduce ourselves, since she can’t be bothered to.”

“I’m sorry,” Lady Zhorzha said. “Gentry, this is my mother, Dorothy Trego. Mother, this is Gentry Frank.”

The dragon offered one sharp-taloned hand to me, and I took it. I would go upon my knee, but the dragon’s hoard was too close upon her. I bowed over her hand to show my admiration.

“And who are you, Gentry?” she said.

“My lady, I am thy daughter’s champion.”

The dragon laughed like a clap of thunder and pressed my hand.

“Oh, he’s charming. Nicholas was good-looking, but he had no sense of humor. I never could—”

“Seriously, Mom? That’s what we’re talking about right now? Because I can think of a few things that are more important than my ex-boyfriend.”

“Little pitchers have big ears,” the dragon said.

“You’re thirsty, aren’t you, Gentry? Don’t you need a drink?” Lady Zhorzha said, but I kenned not her intention. “Marcus, why don’t you take Gentry and get him a pop out of the fridge?”

“Okay.” Marcus came down from the dragon’s throne and led me further into the maze. The dragon’s hoard trespassed even into the scullery, platters and goblets piled upon the cabinets until the cupboards above opened not. So high weren the things heaped up there, I saw not the spigot.

We passed through another door and into the garage, where great towers of chests and crates rose to the rafters. In the midst of them was a small icebox with a small oven stacked upon it. Marcus opened the door and shew me what was within. I wished not for a sweet drink, but would do as my lady bid.

“What do you want? There’s Coke or orange,” Marcus said.