Benjamin Dragon - Legacy (The Chronicles of Benjamin Dragon Book 2) Read online

  I shook Kennedy awake when we pulled into the Lubbock, Texas train station.

  “Are we there already?” he asked, stretching his arms above his head.

  “Yeah.”

  “Alrighty then, let’s get going.”

  We stopped to grab a snack at an ancient vending machine (it even had those old pull things instead of digital buttons) and then went looking for the rental car place. A bored looking attendant with angry pimples all over his cheeks looked up from whatever he was doing on his computer.

  “May I help you?” he asked, his accent just what I’d imagined a guy from Texas to sound like.

  “Yes, we have a reservation,” said Kennedy politely.

  “Name?”

  “Underhill.”

  The guy snorted a laugh. “Like in Lord of the Rings?”

  “That would be it,” said Kennedy, with a completely serious face.

  “First name?”

  “Edwin.”

  The attendant looked surprised when our record came up. Kennedy signed some papers and had to get his driver’s license photocopied. After that, the bored guy pointed us in the right direction and went back to his computer.

  “Is that your real name?” I whispered to Kennedy as we stepped outside. When we’d first met, he said he went by Kennedy. No last name. I thought that was strange at first, but now that’s who he was to me. Sometimes I thought of him as Old Kennedy, but I never called him that. That would be rude.

  “Just a precaution,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about, except…well, don’t tell people your real name until we get to your parents. Let’s go with Benjamin Underhill, shall we? We can pretend you’re my grandson.”

  If I’d gotten to choose, I probably would have gone with another Lord of the Rings character like Aragorn or Legolas, but I guess that would’ve stuck out more than my real name, Benjamin Dragon.

  A couple minutes later, we had our little red rental car and were on our way. Kennedy let me sit in the front so we could talk. He was telling me about why we’d had to make a stop in Texas.

  “We have to pick up another boy your age. His name is Roy Birch. When we meet his family, I want you to go along with my story. Do you think you could do that?”

  “You mean lie?”

  Kennedy made one of those faces that adults make when they’re telling you something they probably shouldn’t. “Let’s call it a half truth.”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. Now, do you remember me telling you about the young man, a Destructor like yourself, who gave our friend Jacee a – how should I put it – a hard time?”

  My eyes must have bugged out of my head. Of course I remembered. Jacee Trevane, singer, actor and all-around most popular guy in the world, had tried to recruit a kid from Texas. Kennedy told me that the kid had pulled a shotgun on Jacee and chased him off his land. I remembered thinking at the time that I never wanted to meet someone like that, but here we were, on our way to see him. My stomach twisted.

  “I remember,” I gulped.

  “As far as his parents know, we’re here to take him to a prestigious horse training facility, on scholarship. The Birch family has trained horses for generations, but they’ve had a rather hard time lately.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know how much you know about the economy, Benjamin, but money is tight for a lot of families, especially those who are involved in businesses that aren’t as popular as they used to be. This is a good opportunity for him and for his family.”

  I nodded my head like I understood, but I was totally confused.

  “Is that where we’re going, to a horse training place?” I asked.

  Kennedy chuckled. “Just go along with what I say. You’ll find out soon enough where we’re headed.”

  There it was again, the adult “he’s just a kid, I shouldn’t tell him the whole story” thing. I tried not to get mad, because I didn’t like fights and Kennedy was my friend, but the anxious knot it my stomach wouldn’t go away. I needed answers soon.

  Kennedy knocked on the white painted door, the latest coat chipping in a few places. There wasn’t much grass on the lawn and I’ll bet I could have cooked an egg on the rocks. It was hot and the combination of my nerves and the weather was making my shirt stick to my back. I tried to look as small as I could behind Kennedy.

  A tall boy answered the door. He was as tall as Kennedy and looked eighteen.

  “Well hello, Roy, how have you been?” asked Kennedy.

  This was Roy? How could he be my age? He was huge, more like a man than a kid.

  “Mr. Kennedy,” the huge man-boy said in a thick Texas accent. He even tipped his head like he was wearing one of those ten gallon cowboy hats.

  “Are you ready to hit the road?”

  “Yes, sir, but my parents would like to say hello.”

  Roy held the door open for us and I followed Kennedy into the air conditioned house. Roy looked down at me but didn’t say anything. His tough stare reminded me of a rodeo rider getting ready to ride a bull. My face turned red and I looked at my shoes.

  “Is that him?” came a female voice from the back.

  “Yes, ma’am,” answered Roy, tossing a large hiking pack over one shoulder like it was no heavier than a towel.

  Mrs. Birch walked out of what I assumed was the kitchen wearing a pretty blue dress with a cooking apron over it.

  “Oh, Mr. Kennedy, it’s so good to see you again.” Her eyes were kind and her voice was sweet, but not in a fake way.

  “Mrs. Birch, it’s a pleasure.”

  “Could I interest you in some iced tea or maybe some lunch?”

  “I wish we could, but we’ve got quite a long way to go before nightfall.”

  Mrs. Birch looked disappointed, but then her smile returned when Mr. Birch walked into the room. He was a larger version of his son, if that was even possible. Seriously, they could’ve been different sized twins. Mr. Birch’s muscles bulged under his dirty white T-shirt. He pulled off a pair of leather working gloves and offered his hand to Kennedy.

  “Mr. Kennedy, it’s nice seeing you again.”

  If Kennedy was intimidated by the giant with a timber roll voice, he didn’t show it.

  “Hello, Mr. Birch. Working with the horses today?” he asked, pointing at the gloves.

  “Every day. Got a new stallion from a lady in California. Says it needs some T-L-C, whatever that means.” He chuckled, but his eyes looked sad. He reached over and put his hulking arm around his son. “You ready to go?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Birch looked like he was going to cry. It surprised me. Maybe it shouldn’t have. I guess even the biggest men cry sometimes.

  “Honey, why don’t you give Roy a hug. I’ll walk them out to the car,” Mr. Birch said.

  Mrs. Birch’s hug lasted almost a minute, as she whispered something in her son’s ear. When she finally let go, her eyes were red and tears streaked her face. I was shocked that Roy was crying too. It made me feel better about breaking down before.

  Mrs. Birch waved from the door and Mr. Birch led us out to the car. Once Roy’s pack was in the trunk, and Kennedy and I fastened our seatbelts, I watched as Roy hugged his father. The big cowboy cried without shame and kissed his son on the top of the head.

  “Good luck, son. Make us proud.”

  Roy nodded and got in the car, avoiding my eyes. I heard a sniffle and then his seat belt clicked.

  “Off we go,” said Kennedy, double-tapping the horn and waving to Mr. and Mrs. Birch.

  I watched Mr. Birch in the side mirror as we drove away. He stood in the middle of the road like a statue, watching until we faded away in the distance.

  Chapter 3

  The Flight Over

  From Roy’s house we headed to the airport. It wasn’t far, which was good. The closer we got to my parents the better.

  I’d flown plenty of times before. With all the moving we’d done, fl
ying was the quickest way to criss-cross the country. When we stepped into the airport terminal in Lubbock, I took a quick glance at Roy. His eyes were wide open and his jaw looked like it was going to drop on the floor.

  “Looking forward to your first trip in an airplane, Roy?” Kennedy asked, leading the way past the airline desks.

  “Um, yes, sir.” I saw him gulp.

  I didn’t know anybody who hadn’t been on a plane before. It was crazy to think that this big kid who probably could have thrown me ten feet in the air was scared. I don’t think I would’ve been scared of anything if I was as big as him. It made me feel a little better as we passed through another set of doors and headed down past a sign that said PRIVATE in big black letters.

  Up ahead I could see a row of smaller planes, not the big jumbo jets I was used to flying in.

  “Are we going in one of those?” I asked.

  “We are. It’s the only way to travel these days. More legroom.”

  Kennedy smiled like it was the most natural thing in the world to fly in private jets and probably eat caviar and drink expensive adult beverages. I wondered if we were going to be the only ones, or if there were going to be more mentors like Kennedy, and kids like me and Roy.

  After passing through the quickest security check I’d ever been through, we left the cool AC and stepped out into the heat again. Kennedy seemed to know where we were going, and made his way to where a guy in a pilot’s uniform was looking underneath a private jet. He turned when he heard us coming.

  “Mr. Underhill, right on time,” said the pilot, offering his hand to Kennedy.

  “Boys, this is Captain Carrington. He used to be a Navy fighter pilot.”

  Captain Carrington laughed. He looked about my dad’s age. “You guys can call me Rick, okay?”

  Roy and I both nodded, not knowing what to say back to the pilot who was probably a war hero or something.

  He led us onboard and I’m pretty sure my eyes could’ve popped out of my head. Everything was leather and that shiny dark wood looking stuff.

  “You guys can have your pick of seats. We’ll be taking off in five minutes,” said Rick, leaving us and stepping into the cockpit.

  “Are we the only passengers?” I asked, noticing a blond lady in the back stuffing soda cans into a small fridge.

  “Just us and the crew,” answered Kennedy, picking a seat halfway back and throwing his small bag on the chair next to him.

  I didn’t know where to sit, so I sat in the row across the aisle from Kennedy, copying what he’d done with his bag. Roy sat one row in front of Kennedy and was already staring out the window.

  The blond lady walked up to us just as the engines kicked on and said, “Gentlemen, my name is Mindy. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

  “I’ll have a grape soda, please,” requested Kennedy. “Do you happen to have any gummy worms?”

  “Will gummy bears be okay?”

  “I suppose I can manage,” Kennedy said with a wink.

  “And you, sir?” she asked me.

  “Can I please have Sprite and some crackers?”

  She nodded without taking any notes or anything.

  Roy ordered a Coke and a Snickers bar.

  By the time we were waiting to take off, we were all drinking and munching, me and Roy were looking out our windows, and Kennedy was scanning a newspaper Mindy had given him. I wondered when he was going to tell us where we were going.

  Once the pilot announced that we were at cruising altitude, Kennedy called us over and laid out the plan.

  “I expect you’re wondering where it is we’re going.”

  I nodded but Roy just stared with the same look he’d had since getting to the airport.

  “From here we fly to New York City, where we’ll refuel for the flight over the Atlantic. From there we stop in London, and then on to Rome.”

  “We’re going to Italy?” I asked. I’d never been to Europe.

  Kennedy smiled. “We are. From there we’ll make the short trip to our final destination.”

  “And I’ll get to see my parents?” I asked, maybe a little too eager. Roy gave me a funny look. I couldn’t tell if he was jealous or annoyed.

  “Yes. Now, get all the sight-seeing in on our way to New York. I suggest that once we leave there you get as much sleep as you can. The time change can be a bit disruptive. Best to acclimate as soon as possible. Don’t want to miss out on anything.”

  I didn’t know how I was going to be able to sleep. With the amazing jet we were flying in, and the thought of going to Italy to see my parents, my energy was flowing. Too bad there wasn’t a track or treadmill I could run on to get rid of my nerves and adrenaline. For all the fanciness of the jet, they had forgotten that part.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a little reading to catch up on,” said Kennedy, tapping the folded newspaper in his lap.

  I went back to my seat and ordered another Sprite. As I watched the wing of the plane cut through the clouds, I wondered how cold it would be this high up if I was flying on my own, with my…gift.

  +++

  It was morning when we landed in Rome. I’m not sure I got more than an hour of sleep the whole way over. If Kennedy was right, I was going to be pooped for days.

  We said our goodbyes to our crew and followed Kennedy inside the busy terminal. All I could hear was the unfamiliar jabber of Italian all around me. There were groups rushing this way and that, lugging packs and pulling suitcases. We somehow made it through the crowd and found a desk with a sign that said HELICOPTER TRANSFERS.

  My heart skipped a beat. I’d always wanted to fly in a helicopter.

  Kennedy checked us in and not ten minutes later we were taking off in a four seater, gliding up and over Rome. I could see the Coliseum below where Roman gladiators used to be sent to their deaths, fighting lions and each other. Maybe we’d have time to check that out while we were in Italy.

  Two and a half hours later (I know because I set a timer on my phone), the pilot brought us down over a huge lake.

  “Lake Como,” he announced through our headsets, pointing to the water below.

  He slowed our descent, and pretty soon we were hovering over a flat green lawn that sat in front of a humongous mansion which looked like something out of ancient France and King Louis the what’s-his-name. We touched down and Kennedy said it was okay to unbuckle our seat belts.

  As we waited for the helicopter rotors to stop, I looked around. There was a group of people in front of the mansion that I couldn’t quite see, and behind the house were the towering mountains across the lake.

  The pilot finally gave us a thumbs-up, and Kennedy opened the side door. Roy got out without a problem, but my foot caught on something and I almost fell out head first. Luckily, Kennedy caught me and plopped me on my feet.

  I went to say thank you, but then I noticed two people walking up behind him. Everything else melted away as I ran to my parents. They swept me up into a tight family hug, my mom crying and kissing me, and my dad scratching his stubbly chin against my face. I held them and told myself that I never wanted to let go.

  Chapter 4

  Revelations

  My mom finally let me go. They both stared at me for a minute. My dad looked the same, with his mischievous smile, like he had a secret he really wanted to tell me. It was my mom who’d changed over the last couple days, or had it been longer? Her face looked thinner and there were dark circles under her eyes. She wasn’t even wearing makeup.

  “Mom, are you okay?” I asked.

  A look passed between my parents, like they were hoping I hadn’t noticed.

  “I’m fine, honey. Why don’t we go inside and get something to eat. We’ll fill you in.”

  “Promise?” I asked.

  “I promise.”

  They led me into a house that looked more like a hotel. The ceilings were high and there was gold etching everywhere. Fancy furniture and enormous mirrors and paintings dotted the long hallways.


  “What is this place?” I asked, craning my neck, trying to soak it all in.

  “It’s our home,” said Dad, giving my mom the same look he had a minute earlier.

  My stomach turned.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We’ll discuss it over lunch,” said Dad. His tone made it final.

  The library they took me to looked like it was bigger than the one at my school. Thousands of books lined the shelves that ran up every wall except for the one facing the lake. That one had floor-to-ceiling windows, giving the room an awesome view of the water below. I could see boats skimming over the water in the distance.

  We sat down at one of a handful of seating areas arranged around tables like you’d find at a cafe. I half expected there to be a waiter with a bushy mustache coming to take our order.

  “You don’t mind pizza for lunch?” my mom asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her smile seemed forced.

  “Of course not,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic, but I really just wanted to ask a million questions.

  Not a minute later an old lady with gray peppered hair walked in pushing a rickety wooden cart. My mouth watered as the smell of wood fired pizza hit me.

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so we got a little bit of everything,” my mom said, thanking the old lady in Italian. The woman left and the door closed, leaving the three of us alone again.

  “You said this was home,” I said, my mouth already full of savory goodness.

  My dad answered. “This is our home now. No more moving.”

  If my body wasn’t so starved, I probably would have lost my appetite.

  “But you said…”

  “I know what we said before, buddy, but things have changed.” He looked at Mom and grabbed her hand.

  “What changed?” I asked, hoping this was where the answers would come.

  Dad turned back to me, ignoring the slice of pizza on his plate.

  “We know about your gifts, son.”

  My throat caught. I had assumed that was the case, since Kennedy brought me there, but the words still felt like a volley of stinging arrows plunging into my chest.