Page 124 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
In dragon form and breathing fire.
I’ve never loved him more.
Carol-controlled Desmond manages to hold off the fire blazing at him, barely. Azrael reaches forward with one fearsome clawand closes it around Desmond’s body with no trouble at all.
And he roars, loud enough and scary enough to make me believe very deeply in genetic memories, because I am certain no breakablecreature on this earth can possibly be chill in the face of adragon roar.
But that doesn’t mean I can let him do this.
I scramble forward. “You can’t kill him!”
Azrael sighs, a plume of smoke erupting from his mouth. He slides me a wild gold look as he gives Desmond a little shake.“You are forever saying that to me.”
Since I’ve said it all oftwicenow, I assume he means across our many lives. But I don’t have time to mine that notion. “Carol will only use it as proofthat magical creatures are dangerous.”
The way he looks at me is downright ferocious. “We fuckingare.”
“But you’re not evil, Azrael. You’re not black magic. And I...” I look at Desmond hanging limply in Azrael’s giant claw.“I’m not altogether certainhe’sactually in there. I think Carol has some kind of mind control over him.”
Another round of smoke. “If she does, he let her.”
A terrible truth I can’t deny. But still... “We can’t give Carol more ammunition. Not until you’re all free.”
He sighs. Then, with a flick of his tail—which crashes through lamps and walls like they’re made of papier-mâché—magic eruptsin the corner of the half-destroyed house. A statue appears, kind of like the dragon one in the cemetery. But instead of bigand fearsome, this is a small and inconsequential little stone thing that looks like a naked rat.
He tosses Desmond’s limp body at it, and with another burstof magic, Desmond is gone. I realize that Desmond is now imprisoned like Azrael was.
Azrael takes his time turning that huge dragon’s head of his back to me.
And for a moment, we stare at each other across the wreckage of Carol’s once-pristine house.
My throat is so dry it hurts. “You came.”
He studies me with that golden dragon gleam. “Did you know they are broadcasting that tiresome fairy tale all the way acrossthe river? Directly into the graves. And there’s no way to block it out.”
“I did... not.”
“Well, they are. And I heard you. Loud and clear. Then.” He looks at the looming cave full of books that must be full of Joywoodsecrets. “Now.”
That makes my throat feel tight.
He keeps going. “Then the rest of them. The Guardian. The Immortal. The Revelare and the Chaos Diviner. On and on about thislovething I apparently know nothing about. And maybe you are right, I don’t.”
That hits me even harder than any of Desmond’s blows, but there couldn’t possibly be a worse time.
“Azrael, I don’t have time to fight with you. I can’t do whatever this is.” I’d magic myself right out of here, but I don’thave the magical battery for it, and I need to deal with some evil books.
Not a moody dragon I neededdays ago.
He scowls at me. “Your words freed me once, Georgina, but I suppose that was different. That was a very physical imprisonment.A curse. This time, it was my own choice.” He shimmers bright and hot, and then he is a man, and that makes everything inmeache. “Perhaps you were right, and I was selfish. I did not want to feel that pain again. It isunbearable.”
“Yes,” I say. “I know. I don’t have to remember. I feel it all the same.”
His face darkens, but it’s an intensity of emotion, not temper. I feel it inside me like a new storm. “I do not want to lose you. I cannot stand the thought, but you were right to call me out on how... I love you for the woman you are and always have been, always willing to be brave, to fight. You are special, but not just to me. In every time, you have been special toallwho need you, and inthislifetime, like that damn crow lifetime, there are so many who need you.”
My heart catches in my throat.
“I know how to love, Georgina. It is all I know how to do when it comes to you. But I have never been given the chance toliveandlove. We have been torn from each other in every time, and always too fast. Too soon. More than once bycrows. Yet if you are the teacher, Georgina, I have no doubt I can learn to be better. To love you for who you are withoutfear. And maybe I can even learn to forgive. If it will save the world. If it will give me you, who must save the world.”
