Page 69 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
“Why does it feel like it isn’t over?” I ask him as he comes closer. I lean against that hard wall of muscle that he callsa chest, trying to find some comfort in it. And I realize how often I have done this, come to my newel post for comfort. Notbecause I didn’t want to be a burden to my friends, or even honest with them, but because this alwayswascomfort.
But his words aren’t comforting at all, even as his arms come around me and he tucks me in close.
“Because it isn’t,” he tells me, and I can feel the truth in the words the same as I can feel the rumble of them in his chest.“As long as they have access to dark magic, it’s not justnot over. It’s dangerous. For everyone.”
17
I spend the next few days in the archives, but it’s not like that first night. The archives are being decidedly difficult.No more books appear and show off for me. I commune, I ask, Ibeg.
But they give me nothing.
I try to find information about next steps, about what happens on the solstice, and how to make sure the full power exchangehappens.
I try to find books about dragons, past lives, and most importantly, dark magic.
“Maybe it’s a test,” I suggest to Octavius, who’s curled up in the middle of the table in the center of the room. A littleshaft of light shines on him from the skylight above, and he’s basking in it.
He doesn’t offer anything in return, not even a feline show of support.
I don’t feeltested. I feel thwarted. Like the Joywood are dancing around in the stacks, hiding everything I need. Which makes it easier to packup at night and head home.
I have no desire to dance with the Joywood.
Tonight, I decide to change my way home. Maybe I’m notgetting anywhere in the archives because I’m following the same old patterns. Maybe I need to take a page out of Azrael’s book and upend everything.
The thought makes me smile, and I decide to take the longer walk back to Wilde House along the river path that humans—mostly—useto jog and cycle on.
I watch the river as I walk, my hands in my pockets against the cold. I’ve forgone the black jade rodent that looked a bittoo much like Carol’s weasel and switched it out for a disc made of fluorite that I bought in Juneau. I curl my fingers aroundit now, still seeking that spiritual crystal guidance I’ve had trouble feeling since I returned from my trip.
My crystals and I just haven’t been on the right frequency ever since. Everything has felt off since I came back. I frowna little, trying to think back to anything that might have happened to ruin my balance. Sage and Cailee, obviously—exceptI felt off before I walked in on them. I went to Sage’s house because Ialreadyfelt strange.
I hold the fluorite disc more tightly, but I still feel nothing. Nothing comes to mind to explain it. I stop walking, though,because whatdoescome to mind is that melody.
Faint and just out of reach, as always.
But calling me, tugging me.
I realize then that I forgot to tell my coven about this. About Carol watching the rivers from the windows in Wilde Housewhen she was there.
How did I forget? It feels imperative now.
If Carol hears this melody too, then surely I need to get to the source of it. I step off the paved path and take a few stepson the hard, cold ground. I frown down at the river and feel a shiver of fear when I see the water looks black again, theway it did before Emerson dived into the confluence and fought off the flood that would have killed us all.
This is a very bad sign. I should hurry home and tell everyone.
I’m sure that’s what I’ll do, but my feet take another few steps toward the water anyway. Because that melody isso close.
If I could make out the words, would that be the answer to everything? I just need a few words. Then I can—
My feet slide out from under me. I let out a screech. My butt hits the groundhard.
But then... nothing else happens.
I let out a surprised, relieved sort of laugh. I get my bearings, a little confused, but it was just a slip in the mud. I’mfine. Shaking my head, I try to push myself to my feet. Muddy and a little wet and feeling silly.
I’m just hoping that no one saw me bite it on the riverbank. That’s hardly the sort of dignified behavior witchdom is lookingfor in its newly elected—
But I can’t get up.
