Page 35 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
Emerson looks at him like he’s lost his mind. And I... have no words. Again.
Then Emerson’s gaze slides to mine. She looks confused.Hurt, even. But the customer behind Azrael is no longermuttering. He is loudly proclaiming the fact that he is a local author who has come to sign his books, andhecould wait in line, so whysome peopleare too good for that is a mystery—
I try to shoot an apologetic look Emerson’s way as I grab Azrael’s arm, then drag him away. Or, more factually, I grab hisarm, he looks amused, and then heletsme drag him away.
But I immediately drop his arm once I can, once I’ve tugged him over to the door where we’re out of the line and no one ispaying attention to us any longer. I tell myself that’s because it’s the smart thing to do and because I’m mad at him, notbecause touching him makes me feel so...shimmery. “Now that you’ve ruined, I don’t know,everything—will you just go back to Wilde House?”
Azrael scowls at me, his eyes glowing dragony gold, and I’m almost afraid he’ll shift right here, right now, andreallyruin everything.
Instead, he says nothing. Not even inside my head. He doesn’t call meGeorgina. What he does is turn and leave.
I’m relieved.
I tell myself I’mrelieved. And if he gets into trouble out there, that’s his problem.Notmine. He’s a powerful being. An ancient myth. A dragon. He should be able to take care of himself, surely.
I go back to helping Emerson with the Confluence Books crowd. She’s watching me with too-close attention, despite the factshe’s got a store full of people, all din and demands. But once the crowd dwindles and I can leave Emerson without her feelinglike I’ve ditched her in the middle of so much chaos, I do.
I can tell by the look she gives me that I’ll have to confess to her later.
And I don’twantto. I can’t believe Azrael has...betrayedme like this.
I don’t walk back to Wilde House. I just transport myself back, but my magic must be a little wonky from all my emotions, because I don’t land in my room like I wanted. I land in the foyer.
Azrael is sitting on the stair—next to the newel post now glamoured to look like there’s still a dragon in it—but immediatelyrises to his feet when I arrive.
He opens his mouth, but I am not about to let him say anything, because he still looks angry and has no right to. No rightat all. None of this is his business.
Including me.Feelingsare notfacts.
“Don’t talk to me. Don’t come in my room. Don’t evenlookat me.” I shove past him on the stairs, ignoring the fact that he must haveletme, because he certainly could have blocked me if he wanted to.
“Good thing I don’t want to do any of those things,” he returns at my retreating back.
We sound like children. I know this, and still I storm off to my room. I even slam my door, because why not? Maybe I am childish,and maybe that feels good.
I flop onto my bed. I stare at the ceiling. I want to cry, but no tears come out, and I feel tied up in a million knots. Ireach out for my crystals, trying to organize them into some formation that willfixthis.
But nothing happens. No magic. No hum. They might as well be gravel. I want to hurl them at the wall, but that is hardly ahealthy expression of anger.
I set them down.Gently.I pull out my journal, deciding I will stream-of-consciousness journal my feelings. Then organize them. Process them, onceand for all.
I put pen to paper, and then just... stare.
I try to write a word—any word—but none come out. The only thing I actually want to do is stab the pen to paper a few hundredtimes.
A bath, I think, maybe a little desperately. A good, cleansing spiritual bath. That’s what I need.
But before I can evensit up, there are suddenly three people in my turret room. Emerson sits at the end of my bed. Rebekah is sprawled out on the windowseat between the turret windows. Ellowyn arranges herself on my chair, being careful with her belly.
I can see immediately that it’s time for a reckoning.
Damn you, Azrael.I hope he hears it. I hope hefeelsit.
I beam brightly at everyone. “So, what were our end-of-day Black Friday tallies? Record-breaking, I assume?”
No one takes the bait.
“Georgie, I am so confused,” Emerson says. “Why does Azrael know something about what happened with Sage that we don’t? Whathappened? You said it was mutual?” She’s searching my face for clues, and I hate that. “Did he hurt you?”
