Page 8 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
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“You know a dragon?” I ask Frost. Incredulously.
“A dragon?” Emerson demands, casting a suspicious glance at Azrael. Then back at me. “What do you mean,a dragon?”
I mean things I don’t know how to put into words, and I don’t even try. I look at Azrael, who stands there, notablynotlooking like a dragon. He’s dressed like a regular guy—if that guy happened to bethattall,thatcut, andthatridiculously hot. He’s also lounging against the far wall instead of filling the whole foyer, examining his hand as if it’sof tremendous fascination to him.
Which is fair, because it’s not ahuman-looking hand like the rest of him. It was a humanish hand a moment ago, I’m sure it was, but now it’s a claw. A dangerous-lookingclaw, though it’s smaller than the whole talony thing I saw on him earlier.
It’s clearly meant to intimidate Frost.
I’m not sure it works, or if Frost is even capable of being intimidated in the first place, but if they know each other...
“Georgie, I hate to break it to you, but that’s just a guy,” Zander tells me, gently.
Like I’m fragile.
I want to scowl at him, but Emerson has moved over to the shattered newel post. She touches one sharp shard. “What happened here?”
“Well.” I saw the whole thing transpire, but I still don’t have the words to describe it. To explain it. Certainly not ina way that’s going to make sense. And that’s not getting into how itfeels.I glance at Azrael. In his... man form, I guess. His absurdly attractive man form—but I tell myself to focus.
Because hewasa dragon there for a few minutes.
I saw it. It’s real.
Dragons.
Are.
Real.
His mouth curves into a smile, and that may be aman’sgorgeous face, but the grin is all dragon. Everyone sees it. I can tell, because they stiffen. “Greetings, witches. You cancall me Azrael. Don’t worry, I won’t eat anyone.” His dark gold gaze slides to Frost. “Anyone important, anyway.”
“Dragons are a scourge,” Frost says coldly. “So much so, I forgot they even existed.”
“Is that why you killed so many of us?”
“I never killed a dragon.” The affront is clear in his tone.
“My mistake.” Azrael’s smile shifts, but not to anything remotely humanish. And I have to wonder if he actually looks...hungry. “Unicorns were your victims of choice.”
Frost frowns. He doesn’t immediately reject Azrael’s accusation, which is... not great, but he doesn’t seem to agree, either.“I don’t remember unicorns...”
He rubs at his temple. Becoming mortal did a number on his memory, and as much as I mourn the access toallthat firsthand knowledge, he did it to save Rebekah. To make sure we all lived through our second pubertatum test this summerwhen the Joywood was ready to kill us off, and almost had enough support to do it.
“Let’s take a step back,” Emerson says, eyeing the wayRebekah moves closer to Frost, as if fully prepared to take the newcomer on herself. “You’re Azrael? As in the dragon in the newel post? But now a real dragon. A dragon Frost knows because he was alive back before dragons went extinct?”
Emerson is clearly trying to put all this information together. She’s doing a better job of it than me. I keep getting stuckondark goldand all thosemuscles.
“He looks like any average guy to me,” Zander says, apparently not stuck.
But he’s also wrong. Azrael doesnotlook like any average anything, but that’s really neither here nor there. I decide Zander’s lucky the dragon ignores him.
“Extinct?” Azrael scoffs at the word Emerson used. “Hardly.”
“Not extinct then,” Emerson corrects herself, but she’s not patronizing him. She’s trying to understand. “You... becamea newel post? And then a man? But how did a newel post become a dragon?”
“A better question would be, how did a dragon become a newel post?” Azrael returns. He pushes off the wall, and his claw isa hand again. “Not all of us could be killed off.” He slides a pointed look at Frost. “Some of us were just cursed.”
