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Family Feud
Dara Monahan had not expected her mother to meet her flight from Ireland. But there she was with Simon, her new fiancé, waiting in the arrival lounge at Boston’s Logan Airport. As Dara emerged from customs with her animal companion, Timi, in a carrier, seeing them there at all was a shock. Their grim expressions meant trouble.
It was true she had some explaining to do. They had all gone together for an April holiday in Paris, where Simon planned to propose to her mother. But after three days, Dara’s best friend, Ali, had left for his home in Slovenia in pursuit of his father, and Dara had left to go after Ali. She disappeared for more than a week before she resurfaced in Ireland, all the while ignoring her mother’s pleas to return. Until now.
During the flight she had prepared the best defense she could think of. Yes, she had left Paris and gone to Eastern Europe without telling them, but that was to protect Ali, and in the end she and Timi had saved his life. Yes, she realized she had driven her mother sick with worry, but her mother and Simon had insisted she spend one night with Simon’s friend, Gaston de Lisle, while they took a romantic cruise down the Seine.
Instead, Gaston had tried to trap her in his palatial Paris mansion, forcing her to escape out window and over the roofs of the Île Saint-Louis. No, her fears of Gaston were not just an excuse to go join Ali. Someone did try to break into her bedroom, and she had proof that Gaston was raising poisonous plants from Tartaros in a secret greenhouse. She had the photos on her iPhone to prove it—just look!
It sounded convincing as she silently rehearsed what she would say. But things did not go according to plan.
They exchanged tight smiles in the arrival area of Terminal E. Sensing the tension, Timi offered a paw for her mother and Simon to shake. According to his papers, he was a Northern European ferret, but in fact he came from the distant planet Beyond. Of course, no customs official would ever believe the truth: Timi was the only one of his species here on Earth and she was teaching him to read.
During the ride across the river to their home in Cambridge, Dara could not help glancing out the rear window. Since a series of mysterious attacks on her and Simon had begun some months before, she had been followed so often it seemed almost normal. The latest had occurred three days ago on Achill Island, off the west coast of Ireland, when an assassin shot at her in the middle of a concert. His shot missed, but a henchmen had killed one of her grandmother’s beloved dogs in their absence and Dara felt deeply guilty. If she had not visited her grandmother and performed at a concert before heading back to the States, Finnian would still be alive.
Once back at their sunny house on Green Street, her mother ordered her favorite meal of Chinese take-out and Dara and Timi went up to her bedroom to unpack. When the food arrived, she came down for dinner, feeling anxious and jet lagged. The stir-fried shrimp with mushrooms and kung pao chicken were delicious, but Dara barely tasted them, waiting for the interrogation to begin.
She did not have to wait long.
Simon Ambrose cleared his throat and gave her the searching look she knew from her lessons with him. “Do you realize how upset you made your mother—and me—by running off like that?” he asked in his clipped British accent. His tone suggested that even anyone could see what a bad daughter she had been.
“Well,” Dara replied, “you guys left me alone in Paris and went off by yourselves. You claimed Gaston’s would be the safest place to stay overnight while you were away, but someone tried to break into my bedroom there. What you call my ‘running off’ was an escape. I climbed onto the roof and then discovered that Gaston was growing killer plants in a greenhouse next to his mansion.”
“I find all that hard to believe,” Simon replied. “I’ve known Gaston for twenty years since we studied in Paris together and you’ve known him less than twenty days. If somebody tried to break into your bedroom, it couldn’t have been him. Your mysterious assailant seems more like an excuse for you to go off and be with Ali. And as for those plants you said he was growing, that’s preposterous. I know you were attacked by plants like that in the past, so I’ll grant that they must exist somewhere. But in Paris? Where would he get those killer plants, anyway?”
“From Tartaros. You’ve never been there, but Ali and I have. The clans there fight all the time but they have no access to metal, so instead they breed plants as weapons. My right side is still purple from where one especially nasty one nearly killed me. Another took off two of Ali’s fingers. Those plants don’t mess around. I have no clue where or how Gaston got them, but they could only have come from Tartaros. Lucia and I smelled them the evening we went to Gaston’s for dinner. What’s more, I have pictures.”
Dara pulled out her iPhone and tapped in the code. The pictures she had taken at four in the morning were not especially bright or sharp, but they did show green things dimly illuminated by a row of lights suspended from overheadin Gaston’s secret greenhouse.How could Simon doubt her now?
“See that time stamp?” she said. “Saturday, April 23, 4:13 a.m. At that point I was running for my life, but I stopped to take pictures because I knew you wouldn’t believe me without proof.” She held out the iPhone to Simon, who studied them in silence, then shook his head.
“These aren’t proof,” he said flatly. “They could be pictures of anything—more like pond scum, to be honest, surely not killer plants. You took the pictures somewhere early in the morning, that much I’ll give you. But what they show beside some green blobs is beyond me.”
“But really, Simon, those could be plants from that awful planet,” Dara’s mother interjected. “Anyway, let’s not get sidetracked. Even if Dara’s life was in danger at Gaston de Lisle’s, she should have come and joined us when we begged her to and not headed off east on her own. A fifteen-year-old girl traveling by herself across Europe is enough to give any parent nightmares. You’re lucky nothing bad happened, Dara, and so are we, but I never want to go through that again. You were just being selfish.”
There was a long silence. Dara bristled at the word “selfish,” but managed to keep her temper in check. “Reckless” was more like it. She had been followed and attacked twice on her way to Slovenia, plus that third time in Ireland. She couldn’t communicate with her mother because her phone might be tapped and a call would help assassins to find her. And she couldn’t confess that after taking all those risks to join him, Ali had refused to return with her to the States, leaving her feeling miserable and abandoned.
Instead, she helped herself to some more shrimp. This was as bad as having to pretend that Timi was some kind of ferret: Telling the truth now would only get her into more trouble. Perhaps she just needed to change the subject.
“I’m sorry you were so worried, really I am. But as you know, someone in Cambridge is trying to kill Simon and me both. So putting aside my sins in Europe, what do we do now? Did your friend Gaston de Lisle have some ideas about who our enemies are and how to deal them, Simon? Not that I’d believe what he said, but I’d still like to know.”
“Gaston had no suggestions to offer,” Simon replied in professorial tone that made Dara feel about five years old. “I told him we suspected that the killings involved someone in France, since we’d recovered a notebook noting names of potential targets written in a distinctively French hand. He merely observed that many people write that way, including citizens of the French ‘overseas departments’ like Martinique or Tahiti, so it was foolish to draw any conclusions.”
Despite her desire to change the subject, Dara could not resist a jibe. “Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?”
“Dara, making stupid remarks about Gaston de Lisle gets us exactly nowhere. We need to see to our safety here in the States, to be sure, but that safety has nothing to do with him. Until we can identify the killers and understand the reason for the attacks, I suggest you put Gaston out of your mind. What you need to focus on is a dog.”
“A dog?” The conversation had taken a turn Dara would never have expected. Where had this crazy idea come from?
“Yes, D-O-G—a dog.”
Dara shook her head. “No dog. I have Timi.”
“Why not?” her mother asked. “Your friend Ellie has a Japanese Akita. Simon thinks you need a dog as well—not that breed, perhaps, but still a strong, loyal guardian for as long as these threats last. We’ve talked this over and Simon is willing to pay, which I must say is quite generous.” She gave Simon the warm smile she refused to give her daughter.
Dara had never given the least thought to owning a dog and did not consider herself a “dog person.” Why did she need another pet? She already an animal companion who could talk, climb, and fight off attackers. All sorts of objections crowded her mind. Would Timi approve? Would a dog be happy here? Her schedule was not exactly dog-friendly.
“So,” she said, after taking a deep breath, “this dog would walk with me to school every day and wait patiently for my classes to finish, then come to my after-school classes as well? That’s a lot to ask of even the most patient one.”
“Dogs can be trained,” Simon countered. “We’ll figure out the details later. Right now, you take taxis to school, but taxis are expensive, and you shouldn’t be out walking alone. A dog can protect you better than Timi, even if he does have sharp teeth.”
Had they forgotten how Timi had defended her on a previous trip to Ireland? He might be small, but those teeth were lethal. No matter, it was clear she was not going to win. Dara slumped in her chair, tired of arguing, and glanced at the kitchen clock, which read 7:20—twenty past midnight Dublin time. What she wanted most of all right now was to go to bed.
But Dara had one last request.
“If you don’t tell Gaston what I said about discovering his plants,” she said, “then I’ll consider a dog. He mustn’t learn that I know his secret, or my life will be even more toast than it was before. Will you promise?”
“Yes, of course,” Simon replied. “It’s not a hard promise to make. I wasn’t going to embarrass myself by mentioning your fairy story to Gaston anyway, but if that’s the price of your entertaining the idea of a dog, then fine. But please don’t take too long to make up your mind. You need protection, and I want start the search soon.”
He gave her a smile a trifle frosty than her mother’s. It wasn’t peace, exactly, but at least they had reached a truce. Dara wanted to affirm it. “Thanks for picking me up at the airport,” she said, stifling a yawn. “And thanks for dinner.” She kissed her mother on the cheek, gave Simon a nod, took Timi in her arms, and padded up to bed.
When she awoke her bedside clock read 5:14—already midmorning at her grandmother’s house on the west Irish coast. There it was probably raining. Here a faint light was already seeping through the window she had left open for Timi, in case he needed exercise after their long flight. Climbing about in the maple trees in the back yard was one of his favorite things.
But perhaps leaving windows open wasn’t so smart, since someone with a ladder could easily get in. Would a guard dog protect her? Her Irish grandmother had said Timi needed company. With the right dog, they might become friends.
At that moment there was a noise at the window. Timi slipped in and bounded onto the bed with a thump. He was clearly in high spirits. “Timinilen kerabaranian!” Dara he exclaimed in Meerkat, the common animal language on his home planet, Beyond. “I was climbing!”
Timi understood English perfectly well, but still preferred speaking Meerkat with Dara because, he explained, it was a second language for them both, so using it put them on equal footing. Timi had been very young when Dara rescued him from animal traffickers on Beyond and so his knowledge of Meerkat was limited. But that suited Dara just fine, since hers was limited as well. “Limited” was, of course, relative. As far as she knew, no one else on Earth except the two of them knew that language at all.
“Khabisi diminilenaba?” she asked. “Was it fun?”
Timi coughed a “yes” and snuggled up beside her.
But Dara was far too awake now to go back to sleep. She stroked Timi’s soft auburn fur and thought again of dogs.
“You remember the dogs at my grandmother’s house?” she asked. Of course he did. “Well, what would you think if we got a dog who could live with us here?”
Timi wasn’t sure. Why, he asked, did they a dog? Dara had wondered the same thing. Bad men were trying to kill her and Simon, she replied. Ever practical, Timi said that in that case, maybe a dog would be OK, but they should first look at some pictures.
Timi had a thing about pictures. He loved picture books and the photos on Dara’s iPhone and could spend hours studying them one after the other with his large brown eyes. Now she typed in “best guard dogs for women” and was rewarded with pictures of a German shepherd, a Doberman pinscher, a Rottweiler, a Japanese akita, and a Belgian Malinois.
A German shepherd looked too big, she thought. Timi thought so, too. And though she loved Ellie’s Akita, Clementine, most Akitas seemed to Dara too high-strung. Malinois were super smart but required expert handling and had a ferocious energy that seldom flagged, which could prove exhausting. A Doberman pinscher? No, not with a coat the color of liverwurst. How about a Rottweiler? They seemed a little bulky, but she liked their black and brown markings better than a Doberman’s. However, their size made Timi uncomfortable, like the German shepherd.
“Tanen barahommareh,” he said. “Keep looking more.”
Dara scrolled through bullmastiffs, great danes, boxers, giant schnauzers, and American bulldogs. But as one dog after another passed across the screen, it slowly dawned on her that of all the breeds she knew, her grandmother’s border collies appealed to her the most. She had found Riley and Finnian smart, hard-working, and fun. The only problem was that they were bred to be herders more than guard dogs. Though they had put up a fight when her grandmother’s home was invaded, Finnian had paid with his life. So maybe not a border collie after all.
She was about to give up when her thumb brought up a picture of a dog with pointed ears, sitting with what looked to be a smile on his face. His markings were a strange mix of tan and white.
The caption said he was an Australian cattle dog or ACD, otherwise known as “red” or “blue heelers” (this one was red), bred to herd cattle on the wild Australian outback. Like Rottweilers, heelers were super smart, but unlike Rottweilers, they tolerated heat well, which would be important in steamy Cambridge. On the other hand, they were easily bored, “nippy,” and intense—almost as intense as a Belgian Malinois. That had led several YouTube videos to explain in convincing terms why “an Australian cattle dog is not for you.”
But was that true for her? She was stuck between loving the look of the dog and worrying about its care. Dara loved to run. Could she go running with a “heeler” every day? On the other hand, what would it do when she was in school? She needed to talk to someone who knew about dogs. Luckily there was an expert living only four blocks away.
She and Timi would have to go see Ellie Holmes.
“Would you like to go to Ellie’s and play with Clementine?” she asked in Meerkat. Timi looked tired after spending much of the night climbing trees, but the prospect of spending time with Ellie’s Japanese akita convinced him to come anyway.
Simon’s red Aston Martin was parked in their driveway, which meant he had spent the night. But there was no noise downstairs, so Dara assumed he and her mother were not yet up. She quickly showered, put on fresh shorts and a linen blouse, and stole quietly downstairs, where she grabbed some fruit for herself and Timi and posted a note on the fridge:
Timi and I have gone Ellie’s to ask about dogs. We’ll be back for lunch. XOX
But of course this did nothing to address her main worry: Gaston de Lisle.
While Simon worried about her safety in Cambridge, he was willfully blind to the greater menace posed by Gaston. Why is it always up to me to fix things? Dara thought, then bit down the temptation to complain. That was the way things were. At least she saw the danger.
Now her path was clear. She had to discover how these plants were making their way to Earth and what Gaston planned to do with them. Next she had to destroy them before they did irreparable harm, and somehow scotch Gaston’s plans. would be difficult to stop, and she could not do it alone. But the clock was ticking. She had to begin on her own in the hopes of assembling a team along the way.
Gaston was smart and wealthy—a magician three times her age and an academic star who impressed peers like Simon. She had no hope of matching his wealth or his erudition. But as she undertook her most dangerous mission so far, Dara thought she could count on two things in her favor.
First, Gaston would likely underestimate her. How could a fifteen-year-old girl be a threat? Second, she had visited Tartaros while Gaston had not. That meant she knew these plants and their native habitat well enough to understand how they worked. Gaston might have book learning, but as what Simon would call a “field researcher,” he was still ignorant.
She would never forget the dull thump of something heavy pushed against her bedroom door in Paris, or her terror as she and Timi climbed across slippery metal roofs six floors above a cobbled street, or the eerie glow of the greenhouse concealed on the top floor of the building next door.That discovery put her life at even more risk than before. But it also gave her something to work with.
Magicians were trained to work with nature, not against it. These repellent plants were also part of nature. Already a plan was forming in Dara’s mind. She could destroy them by pitting them against one another, and then use those that remained to destroy Gaston.