Chapter 9

Last night was too weird to be real. But when I woke up on the couch in the barn with scratches on my legs, greasy skin, and grass in my hair, I knew I’d been through something.

I sat up, sore all over, and closed my gummy eyes to search for Pine’s soulshine. Just to make sure. Are you there?

Yes.

The groan that came out of me was so long that Guinness World Records should’ve been there to hear it. “Ohh, boy.” It was all real. Every minute of it. I covered my face. “We’re really in it now.”

I eased the screen door to the house open as quiet as possible.

Mom stood at the kitchen counter, plugged into her earbuds, waiting for the coffee maker to do its thing.

My stomach churned. I couldn’t talk to her right now.

Is that your mom? Pine asked. Tell your mom.

I waited for her to go for the creamer. When she turned to open the fridge, I commando rolled past the kitchen and powered up the stairs.

Where are you going? Pine said. Tell her.

I swung into my bathroom, locked myself in, and caught sight of myself in the mirror. Red eyes, sweat stains all down my tank top, frizz dialed to eleven. I looked like a Walking Dead extra.

Why didn’t you say anything? Pine’s volume was way too high for this early in the morning. Are you going to take on the Crow by yourself?

I hesitated, just for a second. Was that an option?

That beat of serious consideration was way too long for Pine. No, he practically shouted.

No. I know. I just—I sighed and sat on the edge of the tub. I screwed up so bad. This whole thing is my fault.

It’s the Crow’s fault.

No. He got to me because I went somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. And then I tried to cover it up. I dropped my head in my hands. When you can do what I can do, you can’t step out of line. With the divorce last year and losing Grandpa this summer, the last thing I should’ve been doing right now was causing dinosaur-sized problems. I’m supposed to be a good kid, not my mom’s next crisis. When I break this news, she’s gonna go postal. And when she tells my dad . . . Fire and brimstone. I’m the only thing my parents still have to share, which means I’m the thing they fight about. And this is the worst thing I’ve ever done.

That’s very sad. It sounded like Pine was about to pull a muscle reaching for sympathy. But a god-king is chasing you with a knife.

“Really?” Pretty sure my voice carried through the bathroom door. I shut my mouth. Thanks for the perspective.

The Crow already got me. I’m not dying like that again.

Okay, okay. I’ll tell my mom. I sensed a raised eyebrow on his side of our bond, so I added, Today. I just need to figure out the words.

I flipped the water to the showerhead and shut our mental link—just for ten minutes. One, because I wasn’t sure what Pine could see through my eyes, and I wasn’t taking chances. And two, because I needed some alone time in my own head.

My bodywash stung the cat-scratch-sized cuts all over my legs. Dinosaur Valley was covered in thorny vines and cacti, and I’d dinged myself up pretty good. I went ahead and treated myself to my whole hair care routine. If this was the end of the world, my curls might as well be moisturized.

When I came back down the stairs, Mom was sitting at the dining table, clicking around on her laptop. She sipped her coffee and smiled at me. “Mornin’, Baby.”

This was it. I froze in the doorway, flipping through a million different openers.

First of all, I’m alive, so don’t freak out.

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? I’ll start.

I love you, Mommy. I don’t tell you that enough. Unrelated fun fact . . .

Mom did a double take when she realized I was still standing in front of her. And the longer she had to wait, the more concern started to crack her face. “Yes?”

I opened my mouth, but I forgot all my lines. How was I supposed to tell her everything that went down in the last two days? In what order? Was there any version of this story that didn’t end with her going up like an illegal fireworks stand?

Pine prodded me from the inside. Hello?

Just then, out the wide dining room windows, a big blue Dodge rolled up our drive.

I clapped my mouth closed and pointed at the pickup outside.

“Oh.” Mom shut her laptop and stood, coffee in hand. “I think that’s Dr. Jacobs.”

She slipped her sneakers on and stepped outside.

I released a big breath and clonked my head against the doorframe.

What was that? Pine said.

It wasn’t the right time. I followed Mom outside.

When is the right time?

I’ll know it when I see it.

Uh-huh. I could imagine him folding his arms.

Dr. Jacobs parked her jacked-up truck and stepped out, Stetson in hand. Martina slid out the passenger side and dusted off her washed out jeans.

Mom leaned against one of the porch beams and raised her coffee. “Mornin’.”

“Hey y’all.” Dr. Jacobs flashed a bright smile. “We came to check on the training wheels.”

“And we need our fossil back,” Martina said.

They must’ve meant Bitey Face. At least I had a little good news.

A blue heeler with a bobbed tail and bandana hopped out of the truck bed and bounded toward us.

Pine’s soulshine spiked in my chest and boomed through my body.

He jerked me away from the incoming dog, slamming me back against the door so hard the screen rattled. What is that?

I stood frozen against the door. Pine just grabbed the steering wheel to my body. Only for a second, but still—he could do that?

Mom caught the heeler before it reached me, distracting it with a couple good pats on the side. But her focus was all on me. “Cecelia?”

Pine, it’s okay. I fought down thundering heartbeats and peeled my back off the door. It’s just a dog.

What’s a dog? He said dog like most people would say killer clown.

“That’s just Winnie,” Dr. Jacobs knelt on the porch, wrapped her arm around her wiggling heeler, and smooched her on the forehead. “Sorry. She’s a little too friendly.”

“What’s wrong, Baby?” Mom put her hand on my arm, looking concerned. “I thought you liked dogs.”

“I do.” My heart was still pounding, but I walked over on wobbly legs and sat on the porch steps to meet Winnie.

Don’t just grab control like that, I said to Pine. It’s my body. I’m driving.

I didn’t know I could, Pine said. Was that embarrassment in his voice? It won’t happen again.

It better not, I said. But I could feel in his soulshine, he meant it.

“Sorry, puppy.” I rubbed Winnie’s ears, hands still shaking. “You came out of nowhere.”

Winnie smiled up at me with soft brown eyes, tongue out. She was graying around her muzzle—not so much puppy. More old lady.

It’s like a hyena, but it acts like a baby. Pine sounded like he was majorly tripping out.

How did this kid not know about dogs? I shook my head. We have gotta figure out where you come from.

Martina scuffed the gravel with her sneakers. “So, you feel any better?”

It took me a second to realize she was talking to me. “Huh?” I forgot the last time I saw her I left the museum early. Hard to believe that was only two days ago. “Oh, yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

Just full of human ghosts. I guess. No way I was tripping that landmine of a confession in front of the paleo team. A screw up of that size was need-to-know.

“Don’t suppose you got a chance to tackle that homework we gave you?” Dr. Jacobs said.

“Oh . . .” That was the one piece of good news that came out of last night. “Wanna see?”

I brought my guitar and the ring box down from the attic, making sure to return the fossil to Dr. Jacobs before I took a seat on the porch swing to play.

“Whoa there, sweetpea.” Dr. Jacobs leveled her hands to warn me. “This is Glen Rose formation limestone.”

“Yeah,” Martina said. “Should we be worried about life, uh, finding a way?”

“This house is the safest place to summon for miles around,” Mom said as I tuned up my guitar. “My great-grandfather moved here from The Colony in Granbury to break horses. Slumbers have been working their magic all over this ranch for a hundred and ten, maybe a hundred and twenty years. There isn’t a drop of soulshine left in the dirt.”

I breezed through some on-the-spot chords for the tractor store jingle. “Jones and Freeland’s Tractor Store/ something-something and so much more . . .” I was way too tired to put my heart and soul into that stupid song, so I faked my way through the rest.

Good enough. The gravel near Dr. Jacob’s truck rattled and rolled, and Bitey Face bubbled up out of the driveway.

Winnie crouched down on her belly and slicked her ears back, staring while my magic worked. She let out a little whine.

“Whoops.” Martina lifted her sneaker and hopped backward to give Bitey some space to form. “Here he comes.”

A peacock-sized dinosaur shimmied out of the ground, followed by several feet of shiny blue tail, and shook the extra pebbles off his back. He wiped driveway dust off his big eyes and turtle beak with tiny hands. Twitched his head to look around.

I got up from the porch swing, letting my guitar hang at my hip by the strap. “This is Bitey Face.”

“Ohh.” Martina’s voice went dog-whistle high. She got down on her hands and knees and reached out for Bitey, making kissy sounds. “Come to me, gordito. Mishi-mishi.”

Dr. Jacobs laughed. “It’s not a cat.”

“I don’t care,” Martina said in the same high-pitched voice. It sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “He’s my baby, and I love him.”

Bitey hesitated in front of her outstretched hand, wobbling between taking a sniff or taking off.

I reached through our magic channel and gave him a little poke toward sniff.

He took my suggestion, and a snuffle turned into a nibble. After a few seconds, Bitey scooted into Martina’s arms and allowed her to lift him off the ground.

She cradled him close, her face all twisted up like she might cry. “My heart is exploding.”

“What is he, exactly?” Mom asked.

Martina smooched him on his round beak. “He’s my sweet nene.”

“Convolosaurus marri,” Dr. Jacobs said. “And a tiny one, too.”

Wait. “They get bigger than this?”

“The longest Convolosaurus we’ve got is nearabout eight feet from nose to tail. And that’s mostly tail. Hard to say exactly how big they are full-grown”—She shrugged at Bitey—“but this ain’t it.”

“Aww. Baby Bitey Face.” Had to admit, despite the night I’d had, imagining a whole gaggle of Biteys beeping together made me smile.

“Huh.” Mom put a hand on her hip and took another sip of her coffee. “Awful friendly for a lizard.”

“He’s not a lizard,” Martina and I said at the same time.

“They found a bunch of these little fellas up at Proctor Lake, buried in groups,” Dr. Jacobs said. “Seems they flocked for safety like birds, so I hoped he’d warm up a little quicker than Radiodactylus. Looks like I was right.”

Winnie whined and strained toward Bitey Face, trying to get a good whiff of him. Her whimper broke into a bark.

Bitey reacted in an instant. He punched his back legs straight into Martina’s stomach and launched himself out of her arms.

Martina oofed like a pro wrestler getting powerslammed and doubled over on her knees. “Why?” she wheezed.

Bitey landed in the grass and hauled tail across our field.

Winnie tucked her bobtailed booty and zoomed after him. She dodged and nipped, trying to herd him home, but Bitey out-juked her at every turn.

Dr. Jacobs helped Martina off the ground, cracking up so hard she couldn’t get out a sound. Martina giggled between gasps, hugging her ribs. I couldn’t tell if the tears she wiped away came from pain or laughter.

Mom jumped off the porch after Bitey, spilling coffee. “He’s getting away.”

“Nope.” I closed my eyes, found the thread that connected us, and gave it a yank.

Bitey unraveled. His little body shattered into a million bits of gravel. He was moving so fast that when he fell apart, all his pebbles kept going. They sprayed across the yard and pinged off the side of the barn.

Winnie blew through his dust and skidded to a stop.

Bitey’s soulshine returned to me and curled up in my chest, safe and sound.

Everyone, including Winnie, gawked at the space where he used to be.

I opened my arms and looked down at myself, sort of surprised that actually worked.

I’d withdrawn a dinosaur—twice now.

Mom whipped around to face me, eyes so big I thought for a second I might be in trouble. Her mug dropped with her jaw. Clunk.

“Ta-daa,” I said.

Before I could throw in some jazz hands, Mom was on the porch, crushing me in a hug. “When did you learn to do that?”

“I, uh, figured it out last night.” I could barely squeeze the words past the knot in my throat.

Luckily, with Mom pressing the air out of my chest, I didn’t have the oxygen to explain the rest. But as I smooshed my face into her shoulder, I could feel Pine frowning at me.

“I’m so proud of you.” Mom’s voice was right in my ear, splintered with tiny, emotional cracks. She gave me an extra-tight squeeze. “You’re a good mage and a good kid.”

My smile wrinkled into a wince. “Yay,” I whispered. It came out so weak.

“Does this mean we can see Radiodactylus fly?” Martina finally had her voice back.

“Think bigger, sister,” Dr. Jacobs said. “We don’t have to summon these suckers in the lab anymore. We can tackle some gen-u-ine megafauna.” She drummed her hands on her jeans to psych up Winnie, who was bounding in and out of reach, play-nipping at her boots. “Yeah. I’m talking sauropods, baby!”

Martina braced herself against the truck like she was about to faint, in a celebrity meet-and-greet kind of way.

Dr. Jacobs turned toward me and Mom. “Once you’re ready, of course. That’s the most important. We’re not gonna rush this.”

I expected Mom to smack down a hard no like the last hand in rummy. That mega-something word would trip all her overprotective parent alarms. But instead, she touched my shoulder and looked down at me, a question in her face. Like she was asking what I thought.

I switched my gaze between her and Dr. Jacobs, gripping my guitar strap. Who? Me?

Mom gave me this warm little smile and nodded. Like she trusted me to decide if I was ready.

This had never happened before.

Lately, when Mom looked at me, there was this glimmer of panic in her eyes. Like she was watching me through her fingers.

But this look. This was new. Warm as a fresh-baked biscuit. Solid as a courthouse. Even sort of, I dunno—relieved?

Heat flooded my cheeks. It took me a second to find the words. “Let’s do it.”

Dr. Jacobs whooped, and she and Martina exchanged a high five turned fist pump. Sometimes they felt more like a volleyball team than a paleo team.

“Hey, we gotta get goin’.” Dr. Jacobs straightened her hat and whistled for her dog. “They’re setting up that dang travelling exhibit today.”

I swore I heard my next heartbeat in my ears. Pine. Was she talking about his bones?

“There’s a staff party at the Hemming tonight to debut the exhibit,” Martina said as she opened the truck’s passenger door. She pointed between me and Mom. “Volunteers are invited if you want to come. We can celebrate.”

“I thought all that stuff was supposed to stay in quarantine for a week,” I said. Hopefully that sounded casual.

Dr. Jacobs scoffed and opened the gate to the truck bed for Winnie to hop in. “So did I.” I just barely caught her muttering under her breath as she scratched her dog’s ears. “But nobody listens to ol’ Jessie Jacobs. No ma’am.”

Martina shrugged. “There was some kind of accident. All the fossils are okay, but Mrs. Hemming wants them under glass where they can be monitored, so we have to open the exhibit early.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I think I was that accident.

We’re going to see that, Pine said.

Absolutely. That party was a shiny, golden chance to learn something about his past—maybe something that could give me an edge on Crow. I was not missing this.

I glanced up at Mom. Puppy eyes, go.

She shifted her attention back to Dr. Jacobs, but I knew she caught my look. “Do you know what those bones are supposed to belong to?”

“No,” Dr. Jacobs slammed the truck gate. That sounded personal.

“But you’re the Paleo Team lead,” Mom said.

“I know,” she hollered, rounding the truck. “I oughta be in the loop.” From the edge in her voice, I got the sense she’d been holding this in for a while.

Martina rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Hemming’s keeping it quiet. Board members only. It’s stupid.” She quick-drew a finger gun on me. “So, you in?”

Mom looked at me. “Can you handle it?”

Her stare made my stomach flop. Before, when it came to iffy stuff like this—stuff like Grandpa’s funeral—it had never been up to me.

The last time I encountered those fossils, I couldn’t handle it.

But I’d already resurrected Crow and Pine. So there was nothing left to screw up. I’d broken everything there was to break.

It really couldn’t get any worse than this.

“I can handle it,” I said.

Mom nodded at Dr. Jacobs. “We’ll be there.”

“Seven o’clock.” Dr. Jacobs stepped up into her pickup and rolled down the window. “And this is one of those silly black tie Hemming parties. So, y’know”—She started the truck and tipped her hat—“be there with bells on.”

I waved. “All the bells.” I didn’t even know what that meant.

Mom and I stood on the porch and watched the truck roll away.

I almost forgot Pine was watching, too, until I heard his voice in my head. Now, you tell your mom.

A bucket of ice-cold guilt dunked me head to toe. For a second back there, I got to know what it felt like to have Mom look at me like anything except a Jenga tower about to topple. Now it was back to reality, where I was a bad mage and a worse kid.

Pine pressed even harder as Mom kissed the top of my head and went inside. Tell her.

Not if you want to go to that exhibit. Before, I knew I had to tell her the truth, but I couldn’t make myself. But now, I straight-up couldn’t. Just be patient, okay? I’m waiting for—

—the right time, he finished for me, totally deflated. There isn’t going to be a right time, is there?