Page 87 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
No stone will go unturned—we’ll all see to that—but it’s clear no matter how many ghosts or familiars offer suggestions thatno onereallyknows how to beat black magic.
Which makes sense. I don’t think even Frost knew when he could remember everything, and he’s been around forever.
Still.
“I’ll research all your suggestions in the archives and see if we can’t find an answer there,” I tell the crowd of magicalthings.
“And you’ll have all our help, should that be what you need,” Lillian says. She’s clearly the de facto leader of the ghosts.Echoes of Emerson, and that makes me smile.
It gives me hope.
We begin to say our goodbyes because we still have real liveson this side to see to. But it’s hard. For all of us, I think, not just me. I really don’t want to let this moment with Lillian go.
But some of the ghosts begin to disappear. One by one.
And soon enough my coven begins to head off to those real lives too.
“I have to get to the store,” Emerson says to me regretfully, but she doesn’t leave. She’s waiting to see if I’ll ask herto stay.
Because she never opens that store late, but for me, she would. That’s best friend love.
But I’m looking at Azrael. “It’s all right, Em. Go. I’m headed straight to the archives after this.”
Emerson glances at Azrael, then me. She nods once, and then she’s off.
And it’s just Azrael and me again. He stands with yards between us and makes no move to close the distance. It gives me ashiver.
“You should get to the archives,” he says. “You have much work to do.”
For a moment, I can only stare at him. I see him, bloody and falling, over and over again. I see myself, pale and lifeless.Death, death, and more death.
The red thread that connects us, time after time.
I get why he didn’t want me to see it, but I don’t understand why it suddenlymatters. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me?” I ask him.
And I don’t know why it hurts. It’s not like Iaskedhim.
But at the same time, he’s the one with all the knowledge. Heremembers.
He studies me, and something has gone cool in his gaze. “You should not have done that ritual,” he says flatly.
I shrug. “I had to do it. The archives and the book told me to. Maybe if you’d told me yourself, I wouldn’t have had to.”
He lookswoundedby that, but it’s only the truth.
“Did you note how often it wasyourpainful death?” he asksa bit dryly—but there’s a hint ofsomethingin his tone. Something with fangs. “And how close that was to happening just yesterday?”
“I was the one getting pulled into the water, so. Yes. Noted.”
“AndIwas the one who pulled you out.” He moves forward then, and he grabs me by the shoulders like he wants to shake me, but hedoesn’t. “You must let me save you this time. You must trust me. You mustlisten to methis time. Promise me that, Georgina.”
I wish I could. “I do trust you, Azrael,” I say gently. I put my hand on his chest, hoping he understands. “But I have totrust myself most of all.”
He steps away so that my hand falls too. Everything about him goes cold as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Very well.”
I move toward him. “Azrael—”
But before I can say anything, he just disappears.
