The Easter Dragon
Notes: Saint Francis de Sales is the Patron Saint of Writers--it's a fictional church, but it should be obvious why I chose the name. Eostre is an Anglo-Saxon goddess whose traditions are seen in Christian Easter. Aaron Norfair belongs to engelhund and this story is a gift for her.
Happy Easter!
The Easter Dragon
In the basement of Saint Francis de Sales Catholic Church, three teenagers were etching magic circles in chalk.
More accurately, two of them were doing the etching while the third looked on. At the center of the room crouched small, elegant Madeleine Murray, long dark hair caught in one small hand as the other delicately traced symbols. Further out stood the tall, fastidious Russian Ilya Ivanovich Ilatovsky, armed with compass and notebook as he drew precise, intricate loops about Madeleine’s emblems. Presiding over the scene was scruffy, impatient Aaron Norfair, idly tapping his heel against the defunct pew he was perched on. As his friends finished and turned toward him(Madeleine remaining crouched with chin resting pensively on the back of her chalking hand), Aaron rolled from the pew, landing awkwardly with a soft grunt before getting to his feet.
“Finished? Finally?”
“Finished, finally,” Ilya agreed, squinting through his glasses at his neat circles. After a moment he nodded to himself, pleased, and moved carefully to Aaron’s side.
“Great! So why couldn’t I do this myself?” Both boys turned to the slightly older Madeleine for the answer. She was quiet a moment, ordering her thoughts as she straightened and dusted her hands.
“Well. A good bit of it is probably baseless tradition, like silver for exorcism. Partly to save your mental strength for the actual summoning. And partly,” she finished, tucking her hands behind her back to lean forward a bit as she smiled up at him, “because you get off track more easily than Ilya or I do, and you’d get impatient and mess it up.”
Aaron rolled his eyes. “You have a lot of faith in me, don’t you?”
“In some ways,” she told him mildly. “Anyway-the symbols need a certain magical charge. You two are smart. Very smart. Magically, however….”
“Duds,” Ilya finished cheerfully, plopping onto the pew.
“Exactly. I see you’re getting the hang of slang.”
“Yes. A wonderful variety you have. If I have no slang, I make one up and am understood.”
“Great. Wonderful.” Aaron settled beside Ilya, peering accusingly up at Madeleine. “You still think this is a bad idea.”
“I’m helping under protest. Like Ilya said-dud.”
“Too kind.”
“Hey-I’m supposed to be incapable of lying.”
“Supposed to be.” Aaron leaned back against the pew, frowning. “Time yet?”
Madeleine sighed and obligingly checked her watch. “The bells should start any minute.”
“Excellent.” He got to his feet, striding into the center of the circle, and Ilya slowly rose as well.
“Do we wish to be present?” he muttered to Madeleine. She shook her head but stood her ground, frowning as she watched Aaron.
“Hey,” the would-be summoner called over his shoulder. “It’s fine. It’s me!”
Madeleine and Ilya exchanged a long look. Then they wordlessly dragged the pew to the large safe in the corner and climbed behind both as the bells started chiming. Aaron puffed his cheeks childishly, bit back a sarcastic thanks, and drew a long strait-edge razor from his pocket. A deep breath, and he carefully cut a long, thin line in his left palm-the dominant hand-allowing the blood to drip onto Madeleine’s strangely dainty sigils, pattering in time with the churchbells. No words were necessary for the summoning, and they would have died in his lungs if he had them; the bells and the faint phut of his blood on chalk and stone seemed to be slowly, powerfully amplifying, the sound pressing against him until he felt caught between turning gears. At his feet all of the chalk, bloodtouched or not, began to run red.
The room went entirely black, a strange, reverberant thump rattling through their bones. Madeleine and Ilya dared to peek over the top of their shelter, and were rewarded by a pair of luminous red eyes, peering down on where they though they had last seen Aaron. They both tensed, Madeleine fumbling for her rosary as they prepared to leap forward to retrieve him.
Then the lights came back. Aaron was sitting perhaps five feet from where he’d been standing, staring up at the owner of the eyes.
It was perhaps the size of a housecat, and with light restored its eyes were simply lustrous brown. Feathered wings spread from its shoulders, fanning gently to keep it in place while long ears swiveled to and fro, the motion of the wings disturbing the luxuriant ruff of fur on its chest.
It looked like nothing so much as a rabbit, dyed lavender and somehow in possession of wings.
“Does the summoned beast not reflect the heart of the summoner?” Ilya managed after a few moments. He and Madeleine both ventured out into the open, the girl lowering her gaze and biting her lip.
“It does not!” Aaron snapped back, trying not to notice Madeleine’s silent mirth. “I was trying to summon a dragon,” he said a bit more meekly, turning to the rabbit again. It blinked its large, mild eyes, head tilting.
“But I am a dragon.” The voice was sweet, bright, and distinctly feminine.
“You are not!” Aaron retorted, sounding oddly offended. “You’re a refugee from my little sister’s toybox!”
“I think I know what I am!” She was rather more offended, and showed it by gnashing her long incisors.
“She has you there, Aaron,” Madeleine said sensibly. “Besides, if she’s not a dragon, what is she?”
“I don’t know.” He glared at the little beast a moment and then shook his head. “Fine. You’re a dragon.”
“Thank you, Master!” the rabbit chirped, all sweetness again. “I knew you’d see it my way! Could I have something to eat? Being summoned takes a lot of energy.”
“Yeah, so does summoning.”
“Not that he did the work at all,” Ilya muttered. Then he headed for the stairs. “Come, I still have donuts.”
They filed out one by one, the rabbit flying cheery loops about her disgruntled Master’s head.
“This is what I get for trying this in a church on Palm Sunday, isn’t it?”
**
After feeding himself and the rabbit, Aaron’s next step was to sneak her out of the church and into the parochial school’s dorms. She refused to hide under his shirt, which was too closefitting to hold her in any case, and so he found himself creeping through as unobtrusively as he could with the leashed dragon bobbing behind him like a balloon. It was still early, and few parishioners had come to the first Mass of the day; he had a few hours before crowds began to arrive for Palm Sunday services.
The only real obstacle was Madeleine’s older brother, Father Justin Murray, and the fact that his office door was usually open. Aaron had the feeling that, while congenial Justin would probably not mind the rabbit’s presence in itself, he would certainly disapprove of summoning an obviously sentient creature with no real preparation or forethought. Aaron already regretted it himself; he hadn’t known that his ‘dragon’ would actually be intelligent, or resistant to efforts to banish her.
He peeked into the office and smiled a bit at the sight-Justin, who had seemed so cheerful, lively, and awake while preparing for and saying Mass, was now staring blankly and blearily into his coffeemug. Nothing unusual, and absolutely perfect. Aaron strolled calmly by, even waving a bit to the priest.
“Morning, Justin! Good Mass?”
“Mm.”
“Good morning, Father!” the rabbit chirped. Aaron flinched and hurried down the hall, hardly hearing Justin’s response.
“Hi.”
It took five seconds for Justin’s eyes to report what they’d seen when he looked up at Aaron’s greeting. When they did, he snapped to attention, blinking rapidly at the empty doorway.
“Aaron? What are you doing this early?”
“Oh, just coming from Mass, haha! I’d better get back to the dorms, see you!”
Justin could now hear Aaron actually running, and the strange voice-the purple thing-squealing in response. He stared sadly at his coffee a moment and then reached for his glasses and got to his feet to follow.
Sometimes I hate being the responsible adult around here.
**
“Yes, that’s a dragon all right,” Justin sighed, absently scratching the rabbit behind the ears and smiling at her pleased little squeak. He’d been surprised to actually find Aaron where the boy said he was going; all the better to investigate this. “What made you call her?”
“Scientific curiousity?” Aaron offered his most winning smile. Justin didn’t smile back; he simply stared unhappily at Aaron, who found himself wishing the usually merry young priest would just yell at him like a normal authority figure. “Look, it was stupid, okay?”
“Stupid, dangerous, and irresponsible. Well, you’re responsible for her now.”
“You mean, I can’t send her back?”
Justin shook his head, frowning. “No. You can’t send a kitten back if you change your mind, or a puppy, or a child. She’s no different.” He paused, removing his glasses and biting fretfully at the earpiece. “She’s tied to you by blood. She doesn’t have to obey you, but she is bonded. Of course, if you don’t name her to complete the bond-she’ll disappear.”
The rabbit stopped making her happy sounds at that, huddling silently beside Justin. Aaron frowned back at the priest, running a hand back through shaggy caramel hair.
“She’ll die?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never known of someone trying to resummon a vanished creature.” He stood, giving the rabbit one last pat. “I can’t make you keep her. But you need to think about this carefully, Aaron. It’s not a game.”
“I know it’s not! I just….” He trailed off, uncertain, and then sighed, gathering the rabbit into his arms. “I’ll think about it, Justin.”
**
Over the next week, having a dragon proved to be a world class nuisance.
The rabbit wasn’t stupid, to Aaron’s relief. It was easy to explain to her why she couldn’t come to class and why she had to hide from other students aside from Ilya and Madeleine and church staff aside from Justin. Her attempts to serve him, however, provided enough problems to make up for that small respite.
For one thing, the dragon was a rabbit in manner as well as form. Aaron quickly learned not to express anything more than mild annoyance at any possession, lest she chew through it in revenge for ‘insulting’ him. Her attempts at cleaning his clothes lent them an odd musty smell and occasional threads pulled free by claws. She was forever licking and nibbling at his hair, or snuggling against him to demand attention regardless of what he happened to be doing at the time.
Still, she was cheerful, earnest, and in the habit of stealthily nipping students and teachers he complained about in her earshot.
On Good Friday-five days after he summoned her-the rabbit grew restless and irritable.
“Master. Master!” She stared at Aaron a moment as he hunkered over a model kit. Then she snatched a part from his hand and reared up, thumping a hindfoot against the floor.
“Hey! What?” He glared at her, taking the part back and lifting her by the scruff. “Problems?”
“Something’s wrong, Master. Don’t you know?”
“Huh?” He released her, sitting back to consider. “Oh, right. You want a name, huh?”
“It’s not that!” The rabbit tilted her head, allowing one ear to flop to the side. “Well, partly that. But there’s something bigger.”
“Oh yeah?” He stood, crossing to the window, and frowned as he caught sight of Justin in the courtyard. The priest was perfectly still-something Aaron had rarely seen since meeting the man-and gazing out beyond the church and school with an air of intense concentration. “Maybe so. Let’s go see.”
**
Aaron wasn’t the only one who wanted to know what Justin was up to, but out of the curious gaggle of students and parishioners only he, Madeleine, and Ilya actually followed him into the office, with Madeleine carrying the rabbit as if she were a stuffed toy.
“It’s a Handmaiden of Eostre,” Justin told them in response to the unanswered question. “I’ve never seen one; they’re more common in Britain and Europe.”
“Dangerous?” Ilya asked. Justin shook his head slightly.
“Yes and no. I mean, they’re not evil, but-well, let’s see.” He made a halfhearted attempt at smoothing blonde cowlicks. “The thing is, not many people still worship Eostre, but the creatures called Handmaidens of Eostre are still around-and they still build up the energy that would traditionally be released during the original festival. It’s very positive in its correct form, and most Handmaidens manage to find substitutes for the festivals.”
Aaron nodded a little. “I get it. No pagans, and they go crazy.”
“It doesn’t have to be neopagans or druids or what have you. It can be Catholics or atheists for all they care-but you’ve got the idea. The energy keeps building, and stagnates, and the Handmaiden goes wild. The stagnant energy can also be very bad for animals and even humans.”
“So what do we do?” Madeleine asked.
“We try to purify the energy. With luck, we can find a place for the Handmaiden to release it normally next time; since she’s not a devil, she won’t be harmed. The problem is containing all that energy, but I’m sure we’ll think of something. Aaron, Ilya, you two stay here; neither of you have magic or much experience with this sort of thing, and your dragon isn’t made for combat.”
**
As was natural for teenage boys, Aaron and Ilya did not take Justin’s command seriously; the Murray siblings hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes before the pair set out after them, using the rabbit’s keen senses to track their friends. They found them in a swampy area of a park outside of town, already battling with the Handmaiden-a womanlike creature with unusually broad curves and the head of a hare.
“Always rabbits lately,” Aaron muttered to Ilya. “’Tis the season, I guess.” The Russian boy looked at him blankly, and Aaron shrugged. “Never mind. Now what?”
“I do not know; they seem to have it well in hand.”
Ilya was right; the Murrays had succeeded in ringing the Handmaiden of Eostre with charms and were working at opposite sides of the loop to drive out the stagnant energies plaguing her.
“How can they disappear the energy?”
“Dissipate. I dunno-maybe draw it in. They’d get sick, I guess, but they’re not Handmaidens.”
“Perhaps that would be the problem.”
“I don’t know if it can be contained,” the rabbit said nervously. “It has to be discharged. They can drive it out of her, but they can’t destroy it.”
“Neither created or destroyed, right.” Aaron frowned, creeping a bit closer. “Maybe it just has to disperse like any other toxin.” He moved still closer, trailed by the nervous rabbit, as Ilya moved around in another direction for a better look at the charms. Aaron was within perhaps twenty feet when the Handmaiden suddenly squealed and fell in a burst of holy energies, the stagnant energy roiling from her like yellow-green smog.
It didn’t disperse as a normal gas might; instead, almost as if sentient in its own right, it seemed to seek a new host. The charms protecting the Murrays pushed it back easily, and it sped for the next nearest creature: Aaron Norfair.
The rabbit-dragon was quicker.
She lunged forward in a white haze, little lavender form seeming reduced to a mere outline as she drew in a deep breath, chest expanding and ruff flaring. Then she expelled it, as smoggy as the stagnant energy but white with stormy purple linings. The haze about her faded as she attacked, and as the two clouds mingled and vanished with the scent of heather mingled with sulphur the rabbit fell to the ground, gasping-and fading.
“Hey!” Aaron moved forward, thinking his dragon was injured. Then he noticed the strange translucency and stopped, blinking.
He still hadn’t named her. Her time was up.
He lunged forward, faster, and simply blurted the first name that came to mind.
“Isabel!”
She flicked her ears and half-turned toward him. Then she was gone.
**
It was late the next evening before Aaron came out of the dorm room he shared with Ilya, and then it was only to poke halfheartedly at soggy cafeteria food.
It was his fault Isabel was gone. His procrastination in naming her and his stupidity in moving close to the Handmaiden. The strange creature had tried to thank him for Isabel as she thanked the Murray siblings for initially freeing her, but he’d hardly heard her.
The pencil he picked up to start his homework didn’t have any bitemarks at all. He tossed it across the room, not even thinking to apologize when it struck Ilya across the head, and curled into bed.
He awoke Easter Sunday with a strange weight on his chest.
“Geddoff, Chelsea,” he muttered, in his more-than-half asleep state immediately thinking of his sister. The weight shifted only slightly, and then mouted lightly at his fingers, sharp incisors surprisingly gentle and affectionate. “Knock it off.”
After a moment, he realized that Chelsea didn’t have teeth like that, and that large brown eyes were blinking companionably at him from a lavender-furred face.
“Isabel!”
Aaron scooped the rabbit into his arms and squeezed her until she squeaked. “I thought you were gone! How did you get back?!”
“Gone, Master?” She tilted her head, ears flopping in their familiar way. “You named me.”
“Yeah, but you were. Gone. I thought you were dead, or just, you know, trapped.”
“You named me,” she repeated, snuggling under his chin. “If I died, I would be dead here.”
“Then why?”
“I’m not made for combat. Like Father said!” She nipped him, and he tweaked her ear in return. “So, I did too much. I had to rest where I came from. But you named me, and I’m not dead.”
“Good.” He hugged her again, more gently this time; she squirmed free and settled in his lap, peering up at him. “I won’t let it happen again. No ‘combat’. And your name is Isabel, got it?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Just call me Aaron, will you?”
Happy Easter!
The Easter Dragon
In the basement of Saint Francis de Sales Catholic Church, three teenagers were etching magic circles in chalk.
More accurately, two of them were doing the etching while the third looked on. At the center of the room crouched small, elegant Madeleine Murray, long dark hair caught in one small hand as the other delicately traced symbols. Further out stood the tall, fastidious Russian Ilya Ivanovich Ilatovsky, armed with compass and notebook as he drew precise, intricate loops about Madeleine’s emblems. Presiding over the scene was scruffy, impatient Aaron Norfair, idly tapping his heel against the defunct pew he was perched on. As his friends finished and turned toward him(Madeleine remaining crouched with chin resting pensively on the back of her chalking hand), Aaron rolled from the pew, landing awkwardly with a soft grunt before getting to his feet.
“Finished? Finally?”
“Finished, finally,” Ilya agreed, squinting through his glasses at his neat circles. After a moment he nodded to himself, pleased, and moved carefully to Aaron’s side.
“Great! So why couldn’t I do this myself?” Both boys turned to the slightly older Madeleine for the answer. She was quiet a moment, ordering her thoughts as she straightened and dusted her hands.
“Well. A good bit of it is probably baseless tradition, like silver for exorcism. Partly to save your mental strength for the actual summoning. And partly,” she finished, tucking her hands behind her back to lean forward a bit as she smiled up at him, “because you get off track more easily than Ilya or I do, and you’d get impatient and mess it up.”
Aaron rolled his eyes. “You have a lot of faith in me, don’t you?”
“In some ways,” she told him mildly. “Anyway-the symbols need a certain magical charge. You two are smart. Very smart. Magically, however….”
“Duds,” Ilya finished cheerfully, plopping onto the pew.
“Exactly. I see you’re getting the hang of slang.”
“Yes. A wonderful variety you have. If I have no slang, I make one up and am understood.”
“Great. Wonderful.” Aaron settled beside Ilya, peering accusingly up at Madeleine. “You still think this is a bad idea.”
“I’m helping under protest. Like Ilya said-dud.”
“Too kind.”
“Hey-I’m supposed to be incapable of lying.”
“Supposed to be.” Aaron leaned back against the pew, frowning. “Time yet?”
Madeleine sighed and obligingly checked her watch. “The bells should start any minute.”
“Excellent.” He got to his feet, striding into the center of the circle, and Ilya slowly rose as well.
“Do we wish to be present?” he muttered to Madeleine. She shook her head but stood her ground, frowning as she watched Aaron.
“Hey,” the would-be summoner called over his shoulder. “It’s fine. It’s me!”
Madeleine and Ilya exchanged a long look. Then they wordlessly dragged the pew to the large safe in the corner and climbed behind both as the bells started chiming. Aaron puffed his cheeks childishly, bit back a sarcastic thanks, and drew a long strait-edge razor from his pocket. A deep breath, and he carefully cut a long, thin line in his left palm-the dominant hand-allowing the blood to drip onto Madeleine’s strangely dainty sigils, pattering in time with the churchbells. No words were necessary for the summoning, and they would have died in his lungs if he had them; the bells and the faint phut of his blood on chalk and stone seemed to be slowly, powerfully amplifying, the sound pressing against him until he felt caught between turning gears. At his feet all of the chalk, bloodtouched or not, began to run red.
The room went entirely black, a strange, reverberant thump rattling through their bones. Madeleine and Ilya dared to peek over the top of their shelter, and were rewarded by a pair of luminous red eyes, peering down on where they though they had last seen Aaron. They both tensed, Madeleine fumbling for her rosary as they prepared to leap forward to retrieve him.
Then the lights came back. Aaron was sitting perhaps five feet from where he’d been standing, staring up at the owner of the eyes.
It was perhaps the size of a housecat, and with light restored its eyes were simply lustrous brown. Feathered wings spread from its shoulders, fanning gently to keep it in place while long ears swiveled to and fro, the motion of the wings disturbing the luxuriant ruff of fur on its chest.
It looked like nothing so much as a rabbit, dyed lavender and somehow in possession of wings.
“Does the summoned beast not reflect the heart of the summoner?” Ilya managed after a few moments. He and Madeleine both ventured out into the open, the girl lowering her gaze and biting her lip.
“It does not!” Aaron snapped back, trying not to notice Madeleine’s silent mirth. “I was trying to summon a dragon,” he said a bit more meekly, turning to the rabbit again. It blinked its large, mild eyes, head tilting.
“But I am a dragon.” The voice was sweet, bright, and distinctly feminine.
“You are not!” Aaron retorted, sounding oddly offended. “You’re a refugee from my little sister’s toybox!”
“I think I know what I am!” She was rather more offended, and showed it by gnashing her long incisors.
“She has you there, Aaron,” Madeleine said sensibly. “Besides, if she’s not a dragon, what is she?”
“I don’t know.” He glared at the little beast a moment and then shook his head. “Fine. You’re a dragon.”
“Thank you, Master!” the rabbit chirped, all sweetness again. “I knew you’d see it my way! Could I have something to eat? Being summoned takes a lot of energy.”
“Yeah, so does summoning.”
“Not that he did the work at all,” Ilya muttered. Then he headed for the stairs. “Come, I still have donuts.”
They filed out one by one, the rabbit flying cheery loops about her disgruntled Master’s head.
“This is what I get for trying this in a church on Palm Sunday, isn’t it?”
**
After feeding himself and the rabbit, Aaron’s next step was to sneak her out of the church and into the parochial school’s dorms. She refused to hide under his shirt, which was too closefitting to hold her in any case, and so he found himself creeping through as unobtrusively as he could with the leashed dragon bobbing behind him like a balloon. It was still early, and few parishioners had come to the first Mass of the day; he had a few hours before crowds began to arrive for Palm Sunday services.
The only real obstacle was Madeleine’s older brother, Father Justin Murray, and the fact that his office door was usually open. Aaron had the feeling that, while congenial Justin would probably not mind the rabbit’s presence in itself, he would certainly disapprove of summoning an obviously sentient creature with no real preparation or forethought. Aaron already regretted it himself; he hadn’t known that his ‘dragon’ would actually be intelligent, or resistant to efforts to banish her.
He peeked into the office and smiled a bit at the sight-Justin, who had seemed so cheerful, lively, and awake while preparing for and saying Mass, was now staring blankly and blearily into his coffeemug. Nothing unusual, and absolutely perfect. Aaron strolled calmly by, even waving a bit to the priest.
“Morning, Justin! Good Mass?”
“Mm.”
“Good morning, Father!” the rabbit chirped. Aaron flinched and hurried down the hall, hardly hearing Justin’s response.
“Hi.”
It took five seconds for Justin’s eyes to report what they’d seen when he looked up at Aaron’s greeting. When they did, he snapped to attention, blinking rapidly at the empty doorway.
“Aaron? What are you doing this early?”
“Oh, just coming from Mass, haha! I’d better get back to the dorms, see you!”
Justin could now hear Aaron actually running, and the strange voice-the purple thing-squealing in response. He stared sadly at his coffee a moment and then reached for his glasses and got to his feet to follow.
Sometimes I hate being the responsible adult around here.
**
“Yes, that’s a dragon all right,” Justin sighed, absently scratching the rabbit behind the ears and smiling at her pleased little squeak. He’d been surprised to actually find Aaron where the boy said he was going; all the better to investigate this. “What made you call her?”
“Scientific curiousity?” Aaron offered his most winning smile. Justin didn’t smile back; he simply stared unhappily at Aaron, who found himself wishing the usually merry young priest would just yell at him like a normal authority figure. “Look, it was stupid, okay?”
“Stupid, dangerous, and irresponsible. Well, you’re responsible for her now.”
“You mean, I can’t send her back?”
Justin shook his head, frowning. “No. You can’t send a kitten back if you change your mind, or a puppy, or a child. She’s no different.” He paused, removing his glasses and biting fretfully at the earpiece. “She’s tied to you by blood. She doesn’t have to obey you, but she is bonded. Of course, if you don’t name her to complete the bond-she’ll disappear.”
The rabbit stopped making her happy sounds at that, huddling silently beside Justin. Aaron frowned back at the priest, running a hand back through shaggy caramel hair.
“She’ll die?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never known of someone trying to resummon a vanished creature.” He stood, giving the rabbit one last pat. “I can’t make you keep her. But you need to think about this carefully, Aaron. It’s not a game.”
“I know it’s not! I just….” He trailed off, uncertain, and then sighed, gathering the rabbit into his arms. “I’ll think about it, Justin.”
**
Over the next week, having a dragon proved to be a world class nuisance.
The rabbit wasn’t stupid, to Aaron’s relief. It was easy to explain to her why she couldn’t come to class and why she had to hide from other students aside from Ilya and Madeleine and church staff aside from Justin. Her attempts to serve him, however, provided enough problems to make up for that small respite.
For one thing, the dragon was a rabbit in manner as well as form. Aaron quickly learned not to express anything more than mild annoyance at any possession, lest she chew through it in revenge for ‘insulting’ him. Her attempts at cleaning his clothes lent them an odd musty smell and occasional threads pulled free by claws. She was forever licking and nibbling at his hair, or snuggling against him to demand attention regardless of what he happened to be doing at the time.
Still, she was cheerful, earnest, and in the habit of stealthily nipping students and teachers he complained about in her earshot.
On Good Friday-five days after he summoned her-the rabbit grew restless and irritable.
“Master. Master!” She stared at Aaron a moment as he hunkered over a model kit. Then she snatched a part from his hand and reared up, thumping a hindfoot against the floor.
“Hey! What?” He glared at her, taking the part back and lifting her by the scruff. “Problems?”
“Something’s wrong, Master. Don’t you know?”
“Huh?” He released her, sitting back to consider. “Oh, right. You want a name, huh?”
“It’s not that!” The rabbit tilted her head, allowing one ear to flop to the side. “Well, partly that. But there’s something bigger.”
“Oh yeah?” He stood, crossing to the window, and frowned as he caught sight of Justin in the courtyard. The priest was perfectly still-something Aaron had rarely seen since meeting the man-and gazing out beyond the church and school with an air of intense concentration. “Maybe so. Let’s go see.”
**
Aaron wasn’t the only one who wanted to know what Justin was up to, but out of the curious gaggle of students and parishioners only he, Madeleine, and Ilya actually followed him into the office, with Madeleine carrying the rabbit as if she were a stuffed toy.
“It’s a Handmaiden of Eostre,” Justin told them in response to the unanswered question. “I’ve never seen one; they’re more common in Britain and Europe.”
“Dangerous?” Ilya asked. Justin shook his head slightly.
“Yes and no. I mean, they’re not evil, but-well, let’s see.” He made a halfhearted attempt at smoothing blonde cowlicks. “The thing is, not many people still worship Eostre, but the creatures called Handmaidens of Eostre are still around-and they still build up the energy that would traditionally be released during the original festival. It’s very positive in its correct form, and most Handmaidens manage to find substitutes for the festivals.”
Aaron nodded a little. “I get it. No pagans, and they go crazy.”
“It doesn’t have to be neopagans or druids or what have you. It can be Catholics or atheists for all they care-but you’ve got the idea. The energy keeps building, and stagnates, and the Handmaiden goes wild. The stagnant energy can also be very bad for animals and even humans.”
“So what do we do?” Madeleine asked.
“We try to purify the energy. With luck, we can find a place for the Handmaiden to release it normally next time; since she’s not a devil, she won’t be harmed. The problem is containing all that energy, but I’m sure we’ll think of something. Aaron, Ilya, you two stay here; neither of you have magic or much experience with this sort of thing, and your dragon isn’t made for combat.”
**
As was natural for teenage boys, Aaron and Ilya did not take Justin’s command seriously; the Murray siblings hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes before the pair set out after them, using the rabbit’s keen senses to track their friends. They found them in a swampy area of a park outside of town, already battling with the Handmaiden-a womanlike creature with unusually broad curves and the head of a hare.
“Always rabbits lately,” Aaron muttered to Ilya. “’Tis the season, I guess.” The Russian boy looked at him blankly, and Aaron shrugged. “Never mind. Now what?”
“I do not know; they seem to have it well in hand.”
Ilya was right; the Murrays had succeeded in ringing the Handmaiden of Eostre with charms and were working at opposite sides of the loop to drive out the stagnant energies plaguing her.
“How can they disappear the energy?”
“Dissipate. I dunno-maybe draw it in. They’d get sick, I guess, but they’re not Handmaidens.”
“Perhaps that would be the problem.”
“I don’t know if it can be contained,” the rabbit said nervously. “It has to be discharged. They can drive it out of her, but they can’t destroy it.”
“Neither created or destroyed, right.” Aaron frowned, creeping a bit closer. “Maybe it just has to disperse like any other toxin.” He moved still closer, trailed by the nervous rabbit, as Ilya moved around in another direction for a better look at the charms. Aaron was within perhaps twenty feet when the Handmaiden suddenly squealed and fell in a burst of holy energies, the stagnant energy roiling from her like yellow-green smog.
It didn’t disperse as a normal gas might; instead, almost as if sentient in its own right, it seemed to seek a new host. The charms protecting the Murrays pushed it back easily, and it sped for the next nearest creature: Aaron Norfair.
The rabbit-dragon was quicker.
She lunged forward in a white haze, little lavender form seeming reduced to a mere outline as she drew in a deep breath, chest expanding and ruff flaring. Then she expelled it, as smoggy as the stagnant energy but white with stormy purple linings. The haze about her faded as she attacked, and as the two clouds mingled and vanished with the scent of heather mingled with sulphur the rabbit fell to the ground, gasping-and fading.
“Hey!” Aaron moved forward, thinking his dragon was injured. Then he noticed the strange translucency and stopped, blinking.
He still hadn’t named her. Her time was up.
He lunged forward, faster, and simply blurted the first name that came to mind.
“Isabel!”
She flicked her ears and half-turned toward him. Then she was gone.
**
It was late the next evening before Aaron came out of the dorm room he shared with Ilya, and then it was only to poke halfheartedly at soggy cafeteria food.
It was his fault Isabel was gone. His procrastination in naming her and his stupidity in moving close to the Handmaiden. The strange creature had tried to thank him for Isabel as she thanked the Murray siblings for initially freeing her, but he’d hardly heard her.
The pencil he picked up to start his homework didn’t have any bitemarks at all. He tossed it across the room, not even thinking to apologize when it struck Ilya across the head, and curled into bed.
He awoke Easter Sunday with a strange weight on his chest.
“Geddoff, Chelsea,” he muttered, in his more-than-half asleep state immediately thinking of his sister. The weight shifted only slightly, and then mouted lightly at his fingers, sharp incisors surprisingly gentle and affectionate. “Knock it off.”
After a moment, he realized that Chelsea didn’t have teeth like that, and that large brown eyes were blinking companionably at him from a lavender-furred face.
“Isabel!”
Aaron scooped the rabbit into his arms and squeezed her until she squeaked. “I thought you were gone! How did you get back?!”
“Gone, Master?” She tilted her head, ears flopping in their familiar way. “You named me.”
“Yeah, but you were. Gone. I thought you were dead, or just, you know, trapped.”
“You named me,” she repeated, snuggling under his chin. “If I died, I would be dead here.”
“Then why?”
“I’m not made for combat. Like Father said!” She nipped him, and he tweaked her ear in return. “So, I did too much. I had to rest where I came from. But you named me, and I’m not dead.”
“Good.” He hugged her again, more gently this time; she squirmed free and settled in his lap, peering up at him. “I won’t let it happen again. No ‘combat’. And your name is Isabel, got it?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Just call me Aaron, will you?”