Page 129 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
Azrael shifts in a fury of light, and comes down to kneelover me, his expression more ferocious than his actual dragon form. He takes my chin in his hand and presses his mouth to mine.
It’s a hard kiss. Almost bruising.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.
“Don’t die while I’m gone,” he tells me fiercely.
Then he leaps up, throwing himself into the air and changing back into a dragon as he does it. He soars high, bellowing andshooting fire down below.
“You still have your sword,” Emerson says quietly. “You need to use it, Georgie. I’ll make another one for me, but I thinkwe should assume it will only be temporary.”
And when she looks at me then, it’s not as a Confluence Warrior. It’s not as my coven leader. It’s as my best friend.
My sister.
We’re losing. I know we’re losing. Too many witches are held tethered by black magic tentacles no matter how Frost and Zandertry to get people free. Familiars have joined the fray, pulling people out of the tornado’s pathway, giving Frost and Zandermore time to cut away the black tendrils of evil.
But the tentacles keep coming. The snow keeps falling, natural and magical alike. And I think there must be some kind ofbubblekeeping us from reaching out to witches beyond St. Cyprian, because no one is coming to help.
If we’re going to lose this, though, we’re going to do it fighting.
Me and Emerson, like always, even back when our biggest concerns were that the boys got called on more in kindergarten thanwe did (Emerson) and that there was never a good recess- to-class ratio (me).
We give it our best. I go around slicing through as many black magic tendrils as I can, but it’s useless. They grow back twiceas fast. Emerson is on her fourth sword. I’m tired, and there’s been no progress.
Only snow and screaming.
There’s one hope, I think. One thing that can save us.
I strike through a few more black tendrils popping up through the bricks. I turn to Emerson and grab her with my free arm.
“You and Jacob have tofinishthe vows,” I tell her desperately. “I’ll try to hold Carol and thatthingoff. But you need to get on the stage.Finish the vows.It doesn’t have to be pretty. You just have to mean it.”
Emerson looks at me. She’s used to calling the shots, but I don’t think she fully understands what’s happening the way I do.The crows. The fabulae.
“It’s the only way,” I tell her.
She nods—maybe because it’s not like there’s a better plan—and then she flies off to find Jacob.
Meanwhile, I am left to fight.
Not alone, exactly. The armies of crows, along with Zander’s and Ellowyn’s bird familiars, are diving at tendrils that gettoo high, clawing through ones that hold witches captive. It’s a losing battle, and the crows are already weaker than theyshould be since they’re working to get around a curse to even be here, but they fight.
We all keep fighting.
Melisande has joined Ellowyn and Rebekah. Their bombs are better aimed, but have little effect. Still, it just goes to show,if we can getmore, we can getbetter.
Jacob and Emerson scramble up to the stage as Carol’s scream echoes between buildings. She screams louder, and bricks startcrumbling off, tumbling down facades. Windows are shattering. Jacob narrowly blocks Emerson from a hurled brick. Then shestops shards of glass from flying at both of them.
“They need guarding,” Zander says, suddenly next to me, flinging out his own magic. He’s left Frost and a few familiarsto keep helping people out, but we’re losing ground. Black tendrils of evil keep shooting up from the ground, grabbing more and more witches.
We needmorethan witches.
We needeveryone.
I look up in the sky, hoping to see Azrael return—but instead my breath catches.
The largest raven of them all, violet-eyed and familiar, takes a dive at the tornado’s center.Gideon.
