Dragon's Fire

by Emily Martha Sorensen

  “That won’t happen,” Bessie said haughtily.

  The director looked at the quiet man sharply.

  “Yes.” The man shrugged. “I’d see no value in having a child that didn’t want me.”

  “Good.” The director smiled, resembling a crocodile. “Very good. I’m glad to hear that. In that case, let’s introduce you two to the egg.”

  He pushed the chair back from his desk and stood. He walked out the door, trailing the haughty woman and her silent husband, and Rose followed them both.

  She had no idea what the egg might pick, though she hoped it wouldn’t be the haughty woman. But either way, a future that the dragon chose for himself would be better than any forced on him.

  No matter what that future might be.

  Chapter 10: Future

  Gathering in the Research Library, where the two eggs had apparently been moved, Rose waited nervously for the two eggs to wake up. To her surprise, it was the other one who awakened first.

  There were new minds here. Were these minds her parents?

  “Yes,” Bessie said eagerly. “We’re —”

  No, these new minds weren’t her parents. She would go back to sleep.

  Bessie’s jaw jutted out, and her eyebrows lowered. She looked very put out.

  “That’s one down,” Director Campbell said gleefully.

  “That’s all right,” the other man said mildly. “She’s not the one we were thinking of, anyway.”

  They waited for awhile, and neither egg stirred.

  “Why isn’t he awake now?” Bessie fumed. “I don’t like being kept waiting!”

  If you don’t like being inconvenienced, I suggest you not have children, Rose thought, amused.

  Before anyone could stop her, Bessie dove forward, seized the egg, and shook it vigorously.

  “Hey!” Director Campbell shouted.

  “That could be dangerous!” Rose shouted, too.

  “Bessie —” her husband began.

  But just as Director Campbell reached to snatch the egg, a familiar emotion began to fill the room. An intense emotion. One that Rose remembered all too well from yesterday.

  Rage. Rage. Rage. He was angry! He was angry! Someone had shaken him awake!

  “Bessie, that was not well done,” her husband said.

  He was angry! He was angry, he was angry! He was angry, he was angry, he was angry!

  “Your name is Philomel,” Bessie announced grandly. “And we are Bessie and Francis, your parents.”

  That was not his name! That was not his name! He was Crimson! His parents had said he would be crimson, so now he was Crimson!

  “That is not a name,” Bessie said coldly. “That is a color.”

  He was Crimson, he was Crimson, he was Crimson!

  “We were hoping we could be your parents,” Francis said. “But you must make the decision. Will you accept us, or will you not?”

  Rose drew in her breath. She glanced at Director Campbell, whose smug facial expression was belied by the tenseness of his shoulders.

  He was confused. He liked Francis, but not Bessie. Could he have Francis, but not Bessie?

  “No,” Francis said. “You can have both of us, or neither. We come together.”

  He didn’t like that! He was angry! He was angry, he was angry, he was angry!

  “I’m angry, too!” Bessie said indignantly. “What do you have against me?”

  “Well,” Director Campbell said, grinning broadly, “there’s no need to trouble your pretty little head about that, is there? Seeing as the egg’s made his decision. Now, if you’d be so kind as to . . .”

  “Pretty little head?!” Bessie roared, spinning on him. “Maybe the papers were right! Maybe this is similar to my cause! Maybe I should focus on dragons’ rights instead!”

  Crimson was thinking about it. Crimson was still angry. Crimson’s mother understood how it felt to be angry. Maybe Crimson’s mother could be mad with him together.

  “No!” Director Campbell shouted.

  Crimson wanted to go home with his new parents now. Their memories showed their cave was big and had lots of space. Crimson’s old parents had had a big cave with lots of space. Maybe these parents would be just like his old ones.

  “No!” Director Campbell shouted.

  CRIMSON WAS ABSOLUTELY FURIOUS, AND HE WAS GOING TO MAKE THAT PLAIN!

  Rose doubled over as a piercing headache slammed into her. Director Campbell looked ill. The dragon’s emotion was potent and powerful.

  Neither Bessie nor Francis looked terribly affected.

  “Yes, yes, yes, we know you’re in a bad mood,” Bessie said impatiently. “But could you rein it in? You’re going to make it very difficult to find a nanny if you keep behaving like that.”

  “It should be fine as long as we pay enough,” Francis said briskly. “But I agree, he needs to learn to control that temper first thing. If he doesn’t, he will be a holy terror when he hatches and his fire comes in. I wonder if breathing exercises will work as well for dragons as for humans?”

  “We should ask the nanny about that,” Bessie said grandly. “I’m sure it won’t be long before he’s fit to introduce to society.”

  Rose gaped at them.

  “You must be joking!” Director Campbell expostulated. “The zoo is better equipped to handle any —”

  “My dear, sir,” Francis said calmly, “how exactly do you think the zoo would deal with a child with this kind of rage? You don’t want him out in public. Neither do they. The obvious solution for all concerned is for him to be cared for by two people who are willing to teach him to not be a danger to those around him.”

  “Or three people,” Bessie said, adjusting her feathered hat, which she had still not removed. “Or more. Depending on how many we hire.”

  “Believe me,” Francis said with a hint of amusement, “it would be a far better use of your time to agree right now. She makes a better ally than enemy.”

  Director Campbell gave a fixed glare to Bessie. “But she —”

  “She makes a better ally than enemy,” Francis said coolly.

  An ally. Rose glanced over at the woman, who was tossing her head arrogantly. An ally. She did say that she would fight for dragons’ rights. Is that what she is?

  She was not an ally that Rose would have chosen. She was not a person that Rose wished to be well-acquainted with. But maybe . . . just maybe . . . she might be what Deinonychus antirrhopus needed:

  A pigheaded individual who did not accept social niceties or limitations.

  The argument raged for another half an hour, and Rose stayed until she realized that she had missed her entire first class. She remonstrated herself fiercely as she fled to reach her second in time.

  Still, by then it was already obvious what the conclusion to the argument was going to be.

  The third dragon was going to have a home. And it wasn’t going to be in the zoo.

  If nothing else, she could be very grateful for this.

  Chapter 11: Family

  Pushing open the door to their apartment and pocketing her key, Rose found Henry asleep on the couch and Virgil rolling around in his bucket. Chicken was strewn across the kitchen floor, and Virgil’s backside, obvious as the bucket rolled past, was soaked and smelly.

  For a moment, annoyance rose in her chest — what was he doing asleep? But then she breathed deeply, reminding herself that she had seen more than enough anger for one day. She was very grateful that Virgil was reasonably pleasant and Henry was kind and thoughtful most days.

  So we have bad days sometimes, Rose thought, leaning over to pick up a textbook that had fallen from Henry’s hands when he’d fallen asleep. We’re very, very lucky for the rest of our days.

  She paused, taken aback. This wasn’t Henry’s textbook. This was the blank book covered in sketches and doodles that she had found a few weeks ago, the one she had mistaken for his finance book.

  Thoughtfully, Rose sat down and flipped through the pages. She ha
dn’t looked at it for long before, only long enough to be frustrated that it hadn’t held the secrets of their financial state, but now she looked at the art to appreciate it for its own sake.

  It was really very good.

  There were sketches of Virgil, inked portraits of their family together, and skeletons of other dragon species. On some pages were plants, or perspective studies of streets, or doodles of children playing. She saw a few pictures of people she recognized vaguely from their wedding, members of Henry’s family.

  Why did he hide this? she wondered.

  She glanced up, and saw that Henry’s eyes had opened and he was watching her.

  “I’m sorry,” Rose said immediately, snapping the book shut. “I didn’t mean to pry. I only — it was lying on the floor, and I picked it up —”

  “It’s all right,” Henry said with a sigh. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “You’d’ve found out sometime anyway.”

  “Found out what?” Rose asked, confused.

  “That I’m terrible at sums,” he said.

  Rose stared at him blankly. Then realization dawned.

  “This is your finance book?!” she asked incredulously. “But there’s barely anything math-related in it!”

  “I told you I was terrible at sums,” he said defensively. “That’s why it drives me crazy when you want a running commentary. I don’t know where we are half the time. I wish I didn’t have to do it in the first place!”

  “Well, but . . . But it’s . . .” Rose sputtered. “This is your finance book?!”

  “I know, I know,” he muttered, putting his head in his hands. “I can’t balance a budget if my life depended on it. Numbers just do not make sense to me. I’m sorry.”

  Rose stared at him in astonishment, at first unable to speak. Then she burst out laughing.

  “What?” he demanded, raising his head. “What’s so funny?”

  Rose couldn’t stop herself from giggling. “Then why didn’t you ask me to do the budget? I’m fine with numbers!”

  “But — but —” he sputtered. “But I’m supposed to do it!”

  Rose couldn’t stop laughing. “My mother does all the accounts for my family’s household. My father hates doing them. Why did you think that would bother me?”

  “Well . . .” Henry rubbed his hand through his hair vigorously. “Well, my father always said . . .”

  Rose laughed and got up on the couch beside him. She kissed him and handed him the book. “I’ll tell you what. You keep drawing those wonderful pictures, and I’ll do the finances.”

  Relief spread across Henry’s face. “Well, if you insist . . .”

  The dented bucket went flying across the floor and whammed into the couch. A tiny head poked out of it.

  Virgil was dizzy. Virgil was having fun. Virgil’s mother was home!

  “Hi, Virgil,” Rose said, smiling, leaning over to pick him up. She had never realized before just how much she liked him and how usually pleasant it was to be around him. Fit-throwing notwithstanding, and his dreadful habit of screaming, he was usually a happy child who was pretty well-behaved for his age.

  A terrible odor emanated from their son’s hindquarters.

  “I changed the last one,” Henry said immediately.

  Rose groaned in mock annoyance, but she was in too good a mood to argue. She stood and carried Virgil to the bathroom, where she raided the cache of folded diapers they kept under the sink. The diaper change was every bit as dreadful as she had anticipated, especially since Virgil kept on swinging his tail through it, but it was accomplished at last, and she returned to the living room with a cheerful little dragon who kept telling her that she should climb into his bucket with him, heedless of her explanations that she wouldn’t fit.

  “You know,” Henry said, tapping the book that was now on his lap, “this is the reason we met in the first place.”

  “It is?” Rose asked, setting Virgil on the floor. Their son immediately dove for his bucket.

  “Yes,” Henry nodded. “The whole reason I went to the museum that day was to sketch the dragons. I was going through a period where I was fascinated with Stegosaurus. I thought I’d get a better perspective on the wings if I went to look at them in person.”

  “And now?” Rose asked.

  “Now I prefer Deinonychus.”

  Rose smiled.

  Virgil loved his bucket! Virgil was going to play in his bucket! Virgil was going to roll right into a wall! Wham! Virgil had rolled into a wall! Virgil loved rolling into a wall! Virgil would roll into another wall! Wham!

  “You can tell me anything, you know,” Rose said, taking her husband’s hand. “You don’t have to keep secrets from me.”

  Henry nodded. He patted her hand and stared at their laps for a long moment. Then he looked up, a glint in his eyes.

  “Well,” he said, “there is one I probably ought to keep.”

  “What?” Rose asked indignantly.

  He grinned. “I’m not telling you what I’m getting you for your birthday.”

  Virgil knew what his father was thinking about! His father was thinking about —

  “No!” Henry shouted. “Don’t you tell her, either!”

  Next Book:

  Coming soon!

  Sign up for my mailing list if you’d like to hear about it as soon as it’s ready!

  Henina tends to irritate people. She can’t help it — she’s bad at shutting her mouth. So when a prophecy is made that someone will stop the war, she figures she’s the worst possible choice.

  Too bad.

  The Fates have their sights set on her, and it will take all her cleverness and quite a lot of offending the king to foist the prophecy off on somebody else instead.

  But she can do it. After all, there are a lot of potentials to choose from.

  You can get it here.

  Lisette was expecting to be a werehawk. Now she’s a werevulture.

  Sure, she can still fly, but the garbage looks delicious. And everyone’s afraid of her! Okay, everyone’s afraid of her best friend, too, but her best friend chose to be a banshee.

  Then the mysterious Rarity Clan invites her to join. They offer her friendship, and the ultimate secret: how to be turned a second time so that she could choose a different species instead. She could be a werehawk, or a vampire, specter, giant, lorelei, or whatever else she pleases. There’s only one catch, and it’s a big one.

  The tool that’s used to do that is a weapon that could destroy the entire city.

  You can get it here.

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