Page 10 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
But Azrael has turned away from me. From all of us. He’s walking for the door.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have Joywood members to incinerate. I’ve been waiting to rain fire upon them for a long, long time.”He says this offhandedly.
Half of my friends are still staring at what used to be a newel post. The rest of us are close to gaping at the magical creature,thedragon, that erupted from it.
And is now sauntering off to commit a few revenge murders, like he suggested taking high tea.
He walks straight out the door. He doesn’t even close it behind him.
I assume we’re all rendered totally speechless and immobile, because I am.
But Emerson grabs me. “You have to stop him.”
“Why me?” In what world wouldIbe able to stop adragon?
Besides, I’m all for him incinerating the Joywood. Shouldn’t we all be?
Emerson shakes her head. “You broke him out.”
I don’t think I actually did, but there’s no use arguing with Emersonanda dragon. “So what? I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I think that means he’s yours,” Rebekah offers. “Like a chinchilla.”
I don’t know how I feel about the wordyours, or how it shifts inside of me—hard—but I suppose she has a point. I was the one who was here.
Besides, her mention of chinchillas, historically a fraught topic between them, diverts Emerson’s attention from me.
“He won’t be able to incinerate them,” Frost says darkly. There’s something torn in his expression. “He doesn’t understandwhat’s changed.”
“Do you?” I ask.
His eyebrows draw together. “Not fully.”
Because why would anything be that easy? I sigh. I’ve unleashed the dragon, allegedly, so somehow it’s up to me tore-leash him before he makes a mess.
Or a bigger mess than... whatever’s happening in me.
That makes me want to laugh, but I rush outside into the bitter cold of the dark November night instead. I’m getting readyto try a quick spell to locate him, but I don’t have to. He’s stopped before the gate that leads out to the sidewalk.
And he’s still in the form of a man, looking up at a bright crescent moon.
Like he’s drinking it all in, and I suppose if he’s really been trapped in a newel post for what has to be at least a hundredyears he should. Fresh, cold air. The rivers murmuring all around us. Moonlight. Magic and life and movement.
I take the moment to try to reason with him. Witha dragon, because every myth I’ve ever read suggeststhat’sa possibility.
“Azrael. You can’t go incinerate the Joywood,” I tell him. Not that I think he’ll listen to me, but I don’t know how elseto talk to supernatural creatures.
He’s still staring up at the moon, and the fact that he’s only wearing a T-shirt while the cold wind cuts through us doesn’tseem to bother him in the least. “Why not?”
“If they cursed you once already, won’t they just curse you again?”
“Only if they know I’m coming,” Azrael says, with a lack of concern that I should find alarming.
But I don’t. All that offhanded confidence makes something in me...hum.
“Maybe they do know you’re coming,” I point out, ignoring anyhummingand focusing on my rational, reasonable approach to an ancient, powerfuldragon. Because I might not understand that burst of fate andhimand passion andmine, but reason and rationality I can do. Reason and rationality are who I am. “Maybe they felt it the same way my friends did.Wilde House is protected, but we don’t actually know if they’ve got eyes onyou. Maybe the mermaid is a spy.”
Azrael scowls at this. “She would be. She likes a grudge, does Melisande.”
