Page 76 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
My crystals are shattered into violent shards.Allof them.
And something oily and black oozes out from each of the broken pieces.
I’m not the only one who recoils.
“Black magic,” I whisper. There was a vile, nasty blackness in the middle of my crystals, and I didn’t evenknow. Then it dawns on me. “Those are almost all new crystals. I got each of them in the places I traveled to find the keys. Ithought it would give me luck in the archives to wear crystals I got while gathering the keys to access them, but—”
“They were traps,” Frost says, not unkindly.
Which is actually deeply kind, for him, and yet...
I feel small. Stupid. They set a trap and I fell right into it. They knew I would find the keys. They banked on it. I thoughtI was so smart and all the while, theywantedme to find those keys. They know me and my love for crystals. They knew exactly what they were doing.
And what I’d do too.
And I did it.
But it’s not Azrael whose arms come around me to comfort me. It’s another rare show of affection from Ellowyn. And I needit so badly I don’t even make a joke of it.
I can’t even think of something to say to release all this tension. Because my dawning realization is worse.
It wasn’tonlythe crystals I picked up on my travels that were the problem. It was the necklace my mother gave me atpubertatum, and I suppose it became a habit to wear. A weird lifeline, if I think deeper about it. Maybe if I wore it enough, I could finally be what she wanted me to be.
And instead it’s been infused with black magic for all these years.
Before I can really delve into how I feel about all of this, Emerson and Jacob appear. They both look grim, and that’sbeforethey take in the dragon statue, Azrael standing apart from it. A pile of crystal shards with black magic oozes in the bowlFrost is holding.
There is no battle gleam in Emerson’s eyes, and that’s unusual. She lookstired—and that’s almost unheard of—as we catch her up on what we’ve discovered.
“What was it like with all the pitchfork-bearing villagers?” Rebekah asks. “I mean, our friends, neighbors, and fellow citizens?”
Emerson shoots her sister a quelling look, which is at least more normal. “People are uneasy. We need to explain what a truecoven is and the role of the fabulae that’s been kept from us all too long.” She nods as if she’s come to a decision. “Wesimply need to put together a presentation of the facts.”
“It will not work.” Azrael says this with no heat. Just a grim kind of certainty.
“How do you know?” Emerson asks him. “I don’t think you understand the power of a good presentation to change mindsandhearts.”
“It’s a passion of hers,” Jacob says to the dragon. Deadpan.
This is one reason we love him.
Emerson is winding up to give one of her speeches, but then it dawns on me. “The fairy tale.”
Everyone looks at me.
“That book?” Emerson asks. “What about it?”
“There are two crow armies in the story. One with the good crow leader, honest and true.” Just like Emerson, the more Ithink about it. “She’s defending the fairies, and she has a bunch of crows on her side. But theotherside won’t listen to reason about the fairies. She tries and tries. They refuse to listen.”
“It’s just a story,” Zander says. “I know it had Ellowyn’s Revelare stuff in there, but it’s still not a historical text.”
“No, but it’s also notjusta story,” I counter. “There’s historical fact buried in there. There’sourstory buried in there. And it’s magical because the story keeps changing. Which means there are other stories too.”
I look over at Azrael, and I don’t like what I see on his face. AguardednessI don’t recall ever being there before. “You all must focus on the future,” he tells us. “On the solstice and your ascension.Not fairy stories and not me.”
I don’t understand that kind of response. Not from him. “But you’re what makes us a true coven.”
He’s not looking at me. His gaze is on a grave to his right. It’s a Wilde, with a stone raccoon sitting on the top of theheadstone.
