Free Icefire by Chris D'Lacey

Lucy seems to have disappeared, so I’d better go and put the kettle on myself.” With that, she drifted into the kitchen.
    “What was all that about?” Zanna whispered. “Did you see the way she looked at me? What’s going on?”
    David realized he was shaking slightly and couldn’t for the life of him understand why. “I don’t know. Liz doesn’t miss much, though. Maybe she knew you’d been in the den?”
    “So? I didn’t
do
anything, did I?”
    David shook his head, but privately he was wondering about that egg. And Gadzooks. The dragon had not been happy. Had he sensed that Aunty Gwyneth was coming? And if so, why had he looked so worried?
    “Here,” said Zanna. She unzipped a purse that looked no bigger than a pirate’s eye patch. From it, shepulled out a business card. “My address and cell number. Call if you need me. Any time, OK?”
    “Um, fine. Thanks. But why would I need you?”
    Zanna clicked her tongue and steadied herself. Then sliding her hand around the back of David’s neck, she pulled him forward and kissed him on the mouth. “There. That’s just in case you never do. But somehow, I think you will. I don’t know who that woman is, but I’ll tell you who she’s not.”
    “Uh?” muttered David, still shocked by the kiss.
    Zanna found her car keys and stepped outside. “She’s not Liz’s aunty, and her name’s not Gwyneth. Take care, Rain. Use the number.”

12
F LOWER P OWER
     
    David watched Zanna disappear up the path and continued waving till her car was out of sight. He tried more than once to utter good-bye but his mouth was still recovering from the strength of her kiss. It was like being numbed by a dental injection, though much more enjoyable and not as long lasting. He thought about Sophie then, and his lips, though deadened, soon managed to straighten to a guilty line. Sophie might be in Africa, but they were still going out. Did that mean he’d two-timed her? Did a single kiss count? Sighing, he turned and looked at the suitcase. So, he was a bellboy now. But who for exactly? Who
was
the mysterious white-haired visitor who might not be an aunty or a Gwyneth? He searched for a name tag, but none waspresent. Neither could he see a zipper or a buckle anywhere on the case at all. Puzzled, he carried it into the hall. It felt weightless and airy, as if all it contained was a box of tissues. He was about to turn it over and examine it further when Liz’s voice called him into the kitchen.
    The moment he walked in, he knew he was in trouble. Her gaze rolled away from him toward the bread box. She had taken off the lid, but not removed the contents. The listening dragon! He’d forgotten to put it back on the fridge.
    “You know, this has got to stop,” she said.
    “I’m sorry,” he muttered, trying to look anywhere but into her face. He stepped forward and returned the listener straightaway.
    “And that?” Her gaze flickered over the book. It was still on the table where David had left it.
    “Zanna brought it. Research — for my essay.”
    “Research,” Liz repeated, folding her arms. Not a good sign, and David knew it. He braced himself forwhat he knew was coming next. “Did you take Zanna into the den?”
    “Yes,” he answered quietly. There was no point lying.
    “Did she touch anything?”
    “No, not really.”
    “What do you mean, ‘not really’?”
    “She picked up an egg.”
    “The bronze one?”
    “Yes.”
    Liz closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her gaze settled into the middle distance. “I see. You’d better go to your room.”
    David looked up, annoyed. “I’m not a little boy.”
    “This is my house,” Liz said curtly, stabbing a finger onto the dragon book. “I don’t object to your bringing friends home, but I do expect you to respect my privacy. You should not have taken Zanna into the den, not without my permission, anyway.”
    “But—?”
    “David, please. Disappear for a while. I need to make arrangements … for