Délon City: Book Two of the Oz Chronicles Read Free Page A

quality time with freaky-turning purple-Pop. I opened my door and stepped onto the pavement with the intentions of bolting for the woods in the back of the school. But I only managed a half step before I ran into a seemingly immovable object and fell ass-first to the ground. I hit the pavement with a thud and looked up. There hovering over me was Coach Denton. I should say half of the thing standing over me was Coach Denton. The other half was a Délon with one dead eye and half its head outlined with flailing spider leg tentacles. The other eye was blue and the human half of the head was covered with a drooping comb over. The body was an impossible combination of sleek Délon design and the Coach’s doughboy build. Mandibles shot out of its mouth and snapped towards me.
    “Going somewhere, Oz?” the Coach hissed.
    Pop came around the truck. “They always try to run on their day of marking.”
    Coach reached down and yanked me to my feet with his Délon hand. “Day of marking?” His dead eye bulged. “Well, congratulations, Oz.” He pulled me close. “It’s going to hurt like hell, but it will make a man out of you or, should I say, a Délon out of you.” He cackled or hacked some disturbing sound that rattled my bones. It made me regret killing the Taker Queen.
    Pop reached in the truck and pulled out my backpack. “We brought his solifipod. It should be a couple of days before his shunter comes out, but we thought it best he keep it close by.”
    Coach Denton sniffed the air. He held my arm tightly, and moved in closer to the backpack, breathing in deeply. “This is the general’s line.”
    My Pop almost burst with excitement. “Really? We had been told that it was possible, but... Are you sure?”
    Coach Denton breathed in even deeper. “Definitely. I’ve met General Roy on several occasions. This is his scent. I’d know it anywhere.”
    General Roy? Was it possible? Was it the Roy I knew? The warrior I had betrayed? The one I had let fall victim to the Délons?
    The Coach scanned me with his dead eye. “This can only mean one thing. You are to sit on the general’s Royal Council.” He looked at my Pop. “We are not prepared for this kind of marking.”
    Pop’s posture visibly sank. He had never been more disappointed. “But we got a letter. This is Oz’s day of marking.” He pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Coach Denton.
    The half-freak/half comb-over disaster let me go and read the letter with great interest. “But I don’t understand. The Minister of Regents must be present for such a marking.”
    “He couldn’t make it,” a voice boomed. Three Délons approached on horses from the West. They galloped across the schoolyard. I immediately recognized the middle horse, Mr. Mobley. Roy’s horse.
    Coach Denton and Pop collapsed to their knees.
    The Délon who was once my friend and fellow warrior, Roy, dismounted Mr. Mobley. “I hope I will do.”
    “General...” Coach Denton’s voice was quivering.
    Pop tried to pull me to my knees but I shook him off.
    General Roy was a commanding figure. The spider legs on his head did not flail like I had seen them do on every other Délon. They hugged his head as if they were hairs in a tightly woven pattern of cornrows. His milky eyes beamed confidence. He smiled and nodded. “Oz.”
    “Roy,” I said. Pop and Coach Denton gasped at my insolence.
    The other two Délons jumped off their horses. I don’t know how, but I could tell right away they were Miles and Devlin, two more of my former warriors.
    Miles tilted his head. “Ozzie boy, how’s it hanging?”
    “General, this is such an honor,” Pop said.
    I looked at him and was disgusted by his groveling.
    “The honor is mine, Mr. Griffin,” General Roy said. “Your son is a hero.”
    Coach Denton giggled. “Oz, a hero?”
    Devlin stepped forward and slapped the Coach. “Shut up, you filthy halfer.”
    Pop swallowed hard. “I don’t understand.”
    General Roy