Page 1 of Magic & Matchmaking
Chapter One
EMMA
The baby dragon’s breath smelled like decaying meat and rotten eggs. I covered my nose with one hand and leaned down, looking into its cavernous mouth. Its pointy teeth glinted as I scrubbed them with the thistle brush. I shifted on my stool, the small dragon perched atop a wooden table in the little room filled with shelves of cleaning tonics and a small basin for washing animals. Its blue scales shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the window. Sasha was a good dragon, but she hated getting her teeth cleaned, and of course, the job fell to me.
“Almost done,” I gritted out, scrubbing what looked like blood off one of her back molars. She let out a frustrated huff, sparks shooting from her mouth and landing on my arm.
I screeched, and Sasha’s yellow eyes welled with tears.
“Oh, don’t do that.” I retracted the thistle brush from her mouth.“Sasha, you know I hate it when you cry.”
She let out a few pathetic whimpers but quieted down. The sparks had burned through my sleeves, leaving little holes in the dark blue fabric.
I’d have to visit the seamstress later to see if she could patch these. Itcould’ve been worse. Last time I cleaned Sasha’s teeth, she’d snapped at me, ripping my entire sleeve off. At least it hadn’t been my arm.
“Just one more tooth,” I said, reaching the brush further back.
She hiccuped, and a long stream of fire shot from her mouth as I yelped and ducked under the table.
The door to the room swung open, a familiar set of black boots appearing. “Sasha, look at you with those sparkly little pearls.” My father strode toward the table, reaching out and petting Sasha, whose wings fluttered in excitement. He looked down while I crouched under the table. “Emma? What in the bloody magic are you doing under there?”
I scooched out. “Just... playing a game of peek-a-boo with Sasha.”
He frowned, scratching his head through his thinning grey hair. “Dragons don’t like peek-a-boo. Now fetch? They love a game of fetch. Especially if you’ve got a good arm. You know that. You’re the one who catalogued all the animals’ favorite games to play.”
I smiled weakly, covering the spot where Sasha had burned me.
Father touched his chest, wincing, and I stilled. “Did you take your medicine this morning?”
His thick grey eyebrows drew together as he rubbed at the grey stubble covering his chin. “Erm...”
“Father,” I said with a stern voice. I grabbed his arm and led him to the stool, then reached into the pocket in my apron and pulled out a tiny leaf. I held it up to him, and he grumbled but took it. “Chew,” I instructed.
I carried these leaves around for exactly this purpose. My father somehow mysteriously forgot to take his medicine daily.
He made a face then popped the leaf into his mouth and chewed dutifully. He finished chewing and swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Stop acting so pathetic.” I swatted his arm.
Sasha sat on the table, watching us, her spiked tail gently wagging. Well, it looked gentle. I’d been on the receiving end of that tail, and when one of those spikes jammed into your ribs, it hurt.
My father stood and raised his hands to Sasha’s face, scratching behind her ears and saying, “Who’s a good girl? Who’s my good wittle girl?”
My father loved the animals in his shop. And he did a lot of good. Arcane Creatures Emporium was his brainchild. He rescued magical animals without families, or creatures that had been accidentally spelled, then rehabilitated them, trained them, helped them find forever homes. He matched many witches with their familiars. If the creatures were a good fit for reintroduction, he always chose to send them back into the wild. But oftentimes, many of these animals couldn’t return to their homes for a plethora of reasons.
I watched Sasha. She’d been hatched from an egg four months ago. A witch had decided she wanted a dragon and took the egg from its nest, bringing it home. Then Sasha was born, and the witch quickly realized dragons were not made to be pets. Sasha had almost burned her cottage to the ground. The witch brought Sasha here, and my father was working hard to find her family so he could reintroduce her back to the wild. She was a normal-sized dragon and would soon grow too big to keep here.
He was also lobbying the Coven Council to make laws punishing those who took wild animals from their homes. It was an arduous process.
“Emma.” My father now sat on the table next to Sasha, his arm around her as she snuggled into him, little puffs of smoke shooting from her nostrils while he stroked her. “Did you get Morty Hallow all set to pick up Herman today?”
My father leaned in closer to Sasha, and I paused. Something was wrong. I squinted at the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He was anxious, but I wasn’t sure what was causing it.
“Emma?” My gaze snapped to meet his. “Herman? Are we all set?”
Maybe I was imagining things. I tended to worry about my father too much. “All set,” I said brightly. “Herman will be going home with his new owner today.”
Thank the Witch Superior. Unlike Sasha, he was a miniature dragon who someone had taken in as a pet, along with his four siblings, then accidentally spelled all of them to talk. It might have been tolerable except Herman never shut up. He had many opinions. About everything.
