Page 22 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
“Look at this,” I say to the both of them. I point to the diagram and watch as he mutters a spell to translate it for Rebekah.
“This feels familiar,” he says. Then he nods. “If this is right, and true, Azrael needs protection now more than ever. TheJoywood certainly won’t want us to have access to him. They won’t want us to have the opportunity to become atruecoven, whatever that means.”
It’s hard to think of Azrael as being in trouble, considering the size and strength of him inmanform, let alone his dragon form. But if the Joywood cursed him once, they can do it again. Last night was a risk, a bad risk.
So Frost is right. He needs protection, whether he wants it or not.
Before I can think about that, or deal with the shrouding spell Nicholas has brought, my gaze lands on a stack of books. Onthe top is the same slim little paperback fairy tale I’ve had since I was small.
Only instead of the usual scene on the cover, the dragon isn’t flying.
He’s falling. Andbleeding.
And I don’t think.
I don’t do anything butreact.
I’m back in Wilde House in the blink of an eye—a literal blink. I look around wildly, dropping my stack of booksin much the same way Frost dropped the ancient one just minutes ago.
I don’t see or hear anyone, so I shout out. “Azrael?”
No response. My heart is beating triple-time as I pulse out my magic to feel him, find him.Save him.
I feel nothing and I can barely breathe, the panic is so sharp. I transport myself into my room to grab my clear quartz wandand my athame, my mind geared for a fight. But when I arrive in my turret, I realize it is not empty.
Octavius is curled up on my window seat, calm and sleepy. And Azrael is right there. I get the impression of a huge, scaledtail swirling around the room, long and sinuous, but it’s only an impression. As if I’m seeing it without actually seeingit.
He’s lounging on my bed, reading one of my books. My crystals are scattered... everywhere. On the bed, on the floor, inthe air.
And he is not bleeding. He does not appear hurt in any way. He looks as if he’s relaxing and having a grand old time withmy things.
“You’re... okay?” I’m panting, willing my heart rate to slow, trying to find some much-needed calm amidst the panic—
And I’m not sure I want to parse thelevelsof my panic, either.
I’m afraid they would answer each and every question I don’t want to ask.
He lifts an eyebrow, studying me with those golden onyx eyes. “Was there some doubt?”
“I...” I’d feel stupid if I wasn’t still trying to catch my breath. I look down at my hands, and while I dropped all theother books in the foyer, I’m still holding the slim fairy-tale book in one hand. I don’t know what else to do but hold outthe cover, so he can see what I saw.
Azrael sits up, a lazy demonstration of his impossible physique, and studies the picture. He doesn’t seem alarmed or upsetin any way. He nods. As if to say,Of course, there it is. “Gruesome.”
“It changed,” I tell him, with a little too much heat, because he shouldgetthis, surely. “You—”
But just because there’s a dragon and a girl with red hair on the cover, it doesn’t mean they’reus.
Embarrassment crashes over me, pushing past the worry and panic.
Azrael rises up from the bed in a manner that manages to be athletic and graceful at once, and crosses to me. He takes thebook, then steers me to the cozy chair in the corner of the room that looks toward the turret windows. I like to curl up here,read, and drink my tea. He nudges me to sit down, and then a mug of tea appears on the little table next to the chair.
Like he’s... taking care of me.Nurturingme, even. Which makes zero sense.
“Why are you...”
I don’t even know how to finish the sentence. Because it’s the strangest situation I’ve ever been in—and I’ve dealt with ghostsand muting hexes and talking statues this year, just to name a few of the highlights.
It’s clear Azrael does as he pleases, but something aboutmeand helpingmeseems to be what he pleases.
