The Dragon of Rosemont High

"What would you do? If you had a pet monster, I mean?"

Eli rolls his eyes. "And it was . . ." he pauses, unsure. The creature, the peryton, was death in a feather boa. Like a rotting, festering wound in the flesh of What Should Be. Like taking a bite of a burger and finding half a turd instead of an all-beef patty. "It was messed up," he finally settles on.

Zoe sighs, looking between Eli's obviously injured face and the book. Eventually, she says, "Well. I believe you got attacked by something. How did you get away?"

The question jolts Eli back into action. A moment later, he fishes his savior out of his pocket and holds it out for Zoe's inspection. "This."

It's the amulet. Or, at least, what's left of it.

"Is that . . ." Zoe looks at the burnt-out husk of cotton and walnut. "It's the amulet I made for you."

Eli nods. "Zee," he says, "it worked. The preyton—"

"Peryton."

"Whatever. It, like . . . I figured I could escape it if I ran into the trees. Except it got me first, dragged me halfway down Old Coe Road. I thought . . ." Eli swallows, the sudden realization of what he'd thought—that he could've died—hitting him with unexpected, painful force. "It attacked. I had your . . . your thing in my hand, and I raised my arms up, y'know." He mimes the gesture, arms crossed over his face. "And then . . . boom! Like a freakin' force-field, man. Tall Dark and Feathered bounces off and I book it before it can recover."

Zoe holds out her hand, frown setting a deep line between her brows. Eli hands her the burnt-out husk of amulet, and she studies it critically. "It . . . 'force field?'"

"I dunno what else to call it," Eli confesses. "Like, blue light. But solid. Smelt like a rainstorm, y'know."

"I . . ." Zoe swallows. Seems to reconsider and starts again, "Ee," she says. "The . . . the magic stuff. It's not supposed to . . . I mean. It's subtle, y'know? Not like in video games."

"Well, I dunno what to tell you. 'Cause this? This was totally like in video games." A thought occurs. "Maybe the presence of the monster like, activated it somehow?" That sounds reasonable, right?

"Maybe," Zoe says, still eyeing the depleted amulet. "Whatever happened, I guess it's ruined, now."

"Can you make more?" Eli asks. "In case it co—" He's interrupted by the creak of footsteps on the stairs and, a moment later, Mr. Chung's head appearing around the door jamb.

"A-hah!" he announces. "I thought I heard voices. Elias, good to see you." He grins, big and slightly goofy.

"You too, Mr. Chung."

"Please, call me Max," says Mr. Chung, for about the millionth time.

Max Chung is a rail thin man with a long dark ponytail and an easy grin framed by a neat, greying goatee. He works in tech, though Eli's not clear on the details, other than that it has something to do with a startup sold for millions and currently funding the Chungs' relaxed, semi-rural lifestyle.

Near as Eli can tell, Mr. Chung likes him, because he's friends with Zoe, who hasn't always been overflowing in the popularity department. Which is perhaps why Mr. Chung's eyebrows shoot up in paternal concern when he gets a closer look at Eli's face.

"Elias, good God," he says. "What happened to you? Is everything all right?"

"Fine, sir," Eli lies. "Was jogging in the woods and tripped, is all."

Mr. Chung makes a sympathetic noise. "Zoe, honey," he says. "How about you help Elias get cleaned up, then he can stay for dinner?"

Which is how Eli ends up sitting on the edge of the bath in the guest bathroom, Zoe hovering very close and dabbing something that smells like honey and rosemary onto his face.