Page 23 of His Human Believer

Hannibal releases him and turns to me. “And now we will have a community meeting with the Homeowner’s Board and you will update them on everything you’ve learned.”

“Yes,” I agree.

“Not only me.” He is already reaching for his tablet. “All of them. Every being in this community with offspring.”

We arrive together in Hannibal Hellstone’s vehicle and step out onto the sidewalk.

Margaret pauses to stare at the domicile of Bergelmir and Chloe Touchstone.

I have heard about the impressive Heimdall residence. It is built amongst the drive that circles the central lake of the community, in a prime location. And it is famously built to resemble a dragon. Three stories of red and gold, jaws open at the peak of the roof, waves of yellow-orange flame carved down both sides of the structure.

“I’ve been to this community, I don’t know, eight times?” Margaret is walking backward now, looking up. “Nine? And I have never once been inside this house. I’ve driven past it and made a noise every single time.”

“It is formidable.”

“I think it’s amazing.”

We walk in beneath the fanned wings, which are gold-painted and tipped with metal spikes.

“The domicile is on the historical register,” Bergelmir Touchstone confirms as he holds open the door. “I am not permitted to remove the teeth. I have tried.”

Inside, the foyer soars up two floors.

The staircase banisters curve up in the shape of the dragon’s tail, faded green and gold, with a black barbed tip at the base large enough to sit on. The beams are rough-hewn and dark. The fireplace at the far end of the front living room is tall enough for Bergelmir himself to stand inside, and he is not a small male.

Through the front windows there is nothing but lake.

“Everything in this residence has been faithfully restored by my bound,” Bergelmir says, catching the look of awe on Margaret’s face. “All of it.”

“I can give you a tour after the meeting, if you want,” Chloe Touchstone says to Margaret. “Avery told me you’d been dying to get in here.”

She claps her hands. “I would love that. I would love that so much.” Margaret glances over at me. “Can Dr. Coalstone come along too?”

Warmth again spreads in my chest at the fact that Margaret tries to include me. I should not have her this near, of course. In fact, I should be delivering this address to the Homeowners’ Association, alone. But Margaret is better with children than I am, and she knows the members of the community better than I do. And she is also a terrific communicator with a voice that carries well. Not only is she fantastically beautiful and easy to be around, but she is also an asset in this situation.

“Of course he can,” Chloe agrees.

Overhead there is a sound like a small war. “Chloe has all four of Aegir’s offspring plus our own on the second floor,” Bergelmir explains. “A gourd-carving demonstration ended some hours ago and never dispersed. Bestla and the ancient one have the smallest ones in the sitting room.”

“Dagr was sent upstairs with them,” Hannibal confirms with a curt voice.

I let out a polite cough, to clear my voice. I’m now standing in front of the fireplace with the board in front of me. They are mostly all here, with a few exceptions. Aegir and Riley. Bergelmir and Chloe. Hannibal and Avery. Skoll. Idun. A tech billionaire and Team Molten Lava. No pressure.

Margaret takes a seat near the wall. “Good luck,” she whispers.

“The folklore is specific,” I begin. “The Skyggjar is said to emerge once in a generation, at the alignment of the twin moons in the dry season. It is said to be drawn to the first flames of young Hyrrokin.”

Nobody interrupts.

“The Royal Academy sent me out here because of the timing. Reports beginning nine weeks before an alignment are the only reason a Fellow was assigned to this case. In an ordinary season these reports would have gone to a wildlife officer and no further.”

I open my case and set out the four casts. I explain the stride of one hundred and ninety against a hemisphere maximum of one hundred and ten. A movement pattern across my equipment line that I cannot attribute. And now a fourteen-year-old witness who claims to have seen a bipedal animal with a falsifiable acoustic detail.

“And my professional finding is that the creature does not exist,” I conclude. “I have specialized in this folklore for sixteen years and have never located physical evidence to convince me otherwise. But I do have new, anomalous data I cannot yet attribute and that is the entirety of what I have.”

Aegir leans forward. “Those two statements contradict.”

“They do.”