Page 13 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
“I don’t think he’s wrong,” Frost says. Stiffly. “I was part of a ruling coven. I don’t remember anything about what we didto become one or what became of my coven, but I do not think he’s wrong.”
Azrael looks around with satisfaction, but I don’t think any of us feel satisfied. I certainly don’t. We’d be lost withoutFrost, no matter what misdeeds he might have done during his long, long life.
“It doesn’t matter,” Emerson says quietly. “What happened is in the past. We’d all make terrible mistakes if given a millenniumto make them. What’s important is the here and now, and that means making sure the Joywood are well and truly stopped. Frostis our Praeceptor.”
“Then I will not be your dragon.”
“I’m not certain we need a dragon,” Emerson says, but not meanly. She’s trying to be careful. A fair leader. “But we willprotect you all the same.”
He snorts, a very dragon kind of noise. “I do not need protection from a bunch ofwitches.”
“If the Joywood wanted to wipe out all magical creatures, it isn’t safe for you,” I say, sounding a little too much like Rebekahjust did. Angry. I laugh, trying to be the airhead I’m not. “I mean... is it?”
His gaze lifts to mine, and I can’t read these dark gold dragon glances. I’m usually good at taking the temperature of anyroom I enter and every person I meet, making sure I project the image I want them to take away. But he’s different.
I can’t read him at all.
“You’ll find the answers, Georgina,” he tells me in that silken, knowing way of his. “And then you’ll understand that youneed me.”
Everyone looks at me. And I feel thatfatefulnessrising inside me—but I shove it down. This is aboutreason.“Of course I’ll do research on the matter. The way I always do.”
He nods, as if he’s won here. It’s disconcerting. “Very well. Once you prove what I already know to be true, we’ll reconvene.”
I think Emerson’s head might be ready to explode, but when she speaks, she’s still her calm self, every inch the leader. “Azrael,for your own safety, you should probably go back into the newel post until—”
“Try it,” he suggests, with clear, dark, and malicious intent. “And see what happens.”
Jacob’s eyes glow in clear warning at that. He’s a quiet one, our Healer, but he doesn’t take threats to our Warrior—his fiancée—kindly.
I have to solve this. “You can’t just saunter down Main Street as a dragon. Or even go wandering around in yourmancostume.”
“I do not wear costumes. I am not a Halloween party trick. I am an ancient and unknowable force that cannot be contained ina single—”
“Shifters,” Frost says, as if he’s tired. And possibly bored. When Azrael glares at him, it’s his turn to shrug. “That’s theword they use to describe what it is you and the other magical creatures do. Youshift.”
How he manages to make the delivery of that information an insult is its own master class, but I’m focused on the dragon,who looks like his temper might get the better of him and turn flamey at any moment.
“The Joywood will know, if they don’t already,” I say softly. And since they haven’t appeared to strike him down, I assumethey don’t yet. But theycould. “They’ll figure it out. That’s what they do.”
His eyes are more gold than they were before, and I feel all the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “I will not be cursedand trapped again.”
“That’s fair,” I say hurriedly, because my friends didn’t see him in his dragon form. They don’t know what all that gold means.And they clearly can’tfeelit like I can. “But what about a compromise? I’m assuming you can’t do some kind of glamour, or you all would have done thatto keep from getting killed and cursed.”
“With access to dark magic, powerful witches can sense our magic, no matter what,” Azrael says mirthlessly, looking Frost’sway again, but at least there’s slightly less gold in his gaze. “They feed off it.”
“What if we all did a spell?” Emerson suggests when it looks like Rebekah, alwaysthis closeto chaos, might try to take a swing at him. “We can pool all our magic together to create a tighter, more armored glamour.To actually hide what you are. Maybe even strong enough to ward off their dark magic. We’ve had plenty of run-ins with itthis year. We can fight it.”
Ellowyn, who hid her own pregnancy for months, studies Azrael dubiously. I can’t help but do the same. Hidingall thatseems unlikely.
More than unlikely—undoable.
“It’s possible.” Frost takes a moment to say that, as if he’s going through that glorious library of his in his head. “Withour power and the right spell.”
“I wouldn’t trust you to make me dinner,” Azrael growls.
Frost actually smiles at that, a cold curve of his admittedly beautiful face. “I might not remember everything, but I knowbetter than to break bread with a fire-breathing worm.”
“I’ll work with Frost to create the spell,” I jump in then, before the serpent in question decides to demonstrate his fire.I’m not sure why I think Frost trusts me. But he does. Or he always acts as if hemight, which with Frost is as good as the real thing. “I’ll make sure it’s correct. We’ll cast it together. And if it works, thenwe can say you’re some... long-lost Wilde cousin, or something.”
