by Chris Cannon
That did it. Bryn concentrated and shifted the Quintessence in her body to color her hair neon green. “Like this, you mean?”
Lillith seemed overcome by a coughing fit, to hide her laughter.
Her grandmother reached up to rub the bridge of her nose. “You are your mother’s daughter. Aren’t you?”
“I am.” Maybe this wasn’t going to work. A hollow feeling settled in her stomach. “If you want someone to smile and nod, I’m not your girl.”
“You’re the only granddaughter I have. My hope is you’ll mature and grow out of this odd hair phase. For now, change your hair back, and eliminate the smaller tattoo.” Her grandmother turned to face the saleslady. “We need shoes and a small, tasteful handbag.”
“Emerald green is such a lovely color.” Lillith touched Jaxon’s shoulder. “A bow tie in that color would be striking with your black tuxedo.”
“No.” Jaxon spoke in a voice that mimicked his father’s.
Lillith snatched her hand back like she’d been burned. Her eyes filled with tears.
Jaxon sighed. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. Rhianna is still my date, and my bow tie will match her gown.”
Damn it. There Jaxon went again, doing something nice.
“I appreciate your loyalty, young man, but the argument is pointless,” Bryn’s grandmother said. “This morning I received word Rhianna and her family will be traveling to Europe over the holidays. Be that as it may, the tradition of matching bow ties to gowns may be appropriate for school dances, but not for an actual ball.”
Lillith sniffled. “Ferrin matches his ties to my gowns.”
Her grandmother gave a tight smile. “I see. Perhaps I am old-fashioned in my thinking. If you wish to buy Jaxon the matching emerald bow tie, please do.”
“I don’t believe Father would find an emerald bow tie amusing. If you’ll excuse me, I have homework to complete.” Jaxon headed for the door, pushing it open so hard it bounced against the wall and rattled the glass in the windowpanes.
“He has a temper like his father,” Lillith said.
“Which is why I wish you’d stop trying to fix us up. If you keep pushing Jaxon and me together, one of us won’t come out alive.”
Bryn’s grandmother rose and came toward her until they were arm’s length apart. “Do you enjoy flying?”
Was this a trick question? “Yes.”
“Do you still want to become a medic?”
Not knowing what was coming, Bryn nodded and waited for her grandmother to move in for the kill.
“And do you think your parents enjoy their isolation? Don’t they miss flying?”
She’d never thought of her parents in those terms before. When did they have time to fly? The simple fact that she’d never suspected they were anything but human told her how infrequent their flights must have been. A weight of sadness pressed on her heart.
“I can see it in your eyes. You realize now what they gave up. You will marry whomever the Directorate chooses if you wish to live this life.”
“Are you trying to blackmail me?”
“No.” Her grandmother reached to cup her chin. “I’m trying to save you. Understand this: marriage is a legal contract that produces children. Nothing more. Love isn’t part of the equation.”
Bryn felt her nails digging into her palms and unclenched her fists. “Did you ever love your husband?”
“No. And I’m better off for it.” Leaning in, her grandmother pressed a light kiss on her cheek. “I’ll have your gown delivered to our estate. You can dress there before the ball.”
Her grandmother exited the boutique.
“She’s right, you know,” Lillith said.
The blond woman looked so fragile sitting on the couch alone.
Bryn joined her. “Right about what?”
“It’s better not to love someone who can’t love you back.” Lillith sighed and averted her gaze. “When my contract with Ferrin was approved, I thought myself the luckiest girl in the world. He was so handsome. When he came to call on me at school, he was the perfect gentleman. All my classmates were jealous.
“It wasn’t until we were married that I noticed his lack of warmth. At first, I thought I’d done something wrong. Gradually I came to realize he’d never recovered from your mother’s defection. I could never live up to her memory. So I stopped trying.”
Not knowing what else to say, Bryn went with her gut. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I have a good life. My son loves me. And I have another child on the way. I’m happy. You could be happy with Jaxon.”
It was difficult to swallow over the lump in her throat. Lillith and her grandmother meant well, but a loveless life would never be enough. “There is no way Ferrin will allow me to marry Jaxon.” Thank God. “It’s silly to discuss this.”
“A few weeks ago, I would’ve agreed. Rhianna’s accident opened a door for you. Jaxon is handsome, smart, and loyal.”
Bryn sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s stubborn and he has a foul temper.”
A slow grin spread across Lillith’s face. “Must be like looking in a mirror.”
Not like she could argue that point. “Fine. Our temperaments are similar. That alone should be reason for us not to marry. Think about how obnoxious your grandchildren would be.”
“I know you respect my son,” Lillith went on, ignoring Bryn’s argument. “And he respects you. That is a good foundation for a relationship.”
This conversation was going nowhere. Bryn pushed to her feet. “Believe what you will. I’m going to change out of this dress, go back to Fonzoli’s and spend time with Valmont.”
When she reached the restaurant there was a line out the door of people waiting to be seated. Crap. Maybe she could sneak in the back. The door to the kitchen stood wide open to let the heat out. Should she go in?
Valmont’s grandfather saw her and waved her inside, spouting something in Italian. The only word she understood was “Valmont.”
The door to the dining room swung open and Valmont strode in. Just seeing him made her feel better. When he looked up and grinned, her stress melted away. His single dimple was like therapy. The hug he pulled her into felt heavenly. He smelled like Italian spices.
“Come with me. I want to show you something.” He grabbed her hand like it was the most normal thing in the world and led her through a door at the back of the kitchen and up a flight of narrow wooden stairs.
“Where are we going?”
“My secret sanctuary.” At the top of the stairs, Valmont produced a key from his shirt pocket and unlocked the door before gesturing for Bryn to go in. “Ladies first.”
A strange sense of déjà vu came over her. Jaxon had said those same words outside the baby clothing store, but hadn’t meant them. Jerk. Valmont meant it.
The polished oak floors and walls of the attic room gleamed in the light. A marble-topped table sat in the middle of the room. The matching chairs were black cast-iron with gray cushions. She blinked. It was patio furniture.
A glider swing sat in the far corner of the room with matching chairs. Colorful pots of roses and other flowers were scattered around the room on small tables or lined up against the baseboards. Their sweet scents permeated the room. “It’s a garden. How’s that possible?”
“Look up,” Valmont said.
The roof was punctuated with rows of windows. There were so many, and so evenly spaced, the ceiling resembled a checkerboard made of light and dark squares.
“I love it.”
“My grandmother loves to garden, so my grandfather built this room as a wedding gift so she would always have a garden no matter the season.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Why don’t you pick a chair, and I’ll go fix us a couple of cappuccinos.”
“Sounds good.” She wandered the room smelling different flowers. Several roses were in full bloom, and half a dozen buds appeared ready to burst. She touched a red rose,
channeling a bit of Quintessence into the soil. The buds burst open and their fragrance filled the air.
Maybe she could become a florist or a gardener. Beautiful flowers made people happy. If she was a florist or a gardener, she could move back to the human world and leave this entire mess behind. But then she wouldn’t be able to fly whenever she wanted or become a medic. Damn her grandmother for putting those thoughts into her head.
The sound of Valmont’s footsteps on the stairs kept her from trying her skills on another plant. He entered the room carrying a small tray with two steaming cups of cappuccino, sugar, and cream.
She inhaled the rich coffee scent. “That smells fabulous.”
Once they were seated at the table, he seemed content to drink his coffee in silence. After a few minutes, she couldn’t take the quiet. “What does your family do for Christmas?”
“I have a sister and an older brother who are married. Between them they have three boys and two girls. Christmas Eve, my parents, siblings, and all the assorted nieces and nephews squeeze into my grandparents’ house, eat until we’re about to burst, and then have a ping-pong tournament.”
“Ping-pong?”
He grinned. “My grandmother is the undefeated champion.”
“That sounds nice.”
“What does your family do?”
“Normally, my parents and I string popcorn to decorate the tree, bake cookies, and play board games. This year, I’m trying to make nice with my grandmother, so I’m going to her house.”
Valmont cringed. “Sorry to hear that.”
She laughed. “It’s funny. If you’d asked me six months ago if I wanted to wear a gown and attend a Christmas Eve ball, I would’ve jumped at the chance. Now all I want to do is go home.”
“You could come play ping-pong with us. I guarantee the food and the company will be better.”
In her mind she could see herself laughing and eating dinner with Valmont’s family. “Wish I could. But if I want to have any sort of relationship with my grandparents, I must go to the ball.” She shook her head. “My life is the weirdest fairy tale ever.”
Crash. Glass rained down on them. Bryn jumped back, knocking her chair over as a baseball-sized piece of hail smacked into the table.
“What the hell?” She met Valmont’s gaze. They both glanced up.
Crash. Crash. Crash. Glass flew as hail smashed through the windows. Valmont lunged for her, and together, they ran for the stairs. Once they were on the landing, he slammed the door to the greenhouse room. The crashing sound was muffled, but the pounding on the roof grew louder. People in the restaurant screamed. Valmont and Bryn ran down the stairs.
Valmont’s grandfather was shouting in Italian, and waving his hands directing customers who’d been in the dining room to cram into the kitchen. The back door had been shut, and wooden shutters had been closed in front of the windows.
Bryn ran to look in the dining room. Two girls huddled under a table, crying. They couldn’t have been more than six years old. Where was their mom? Hail flew in through the gaping hole where the window used to be and smacked down on the table, splintering the wood.
“Valmont, I’m going to blow fire at that window to keep the hail away while you grab those girls. All right?”
“Give me a minute.” He ran back into the kitchen and came out with a pot on his head. He placed one on her head and held a smaller pot in each hand.
“Good thinking,” she said. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.”
She took a deep breath and thought of the idiots who were playing with peoples’ lives. Fire roared in her gut and up her throat. She inhaled and then blasted a stream of fire over the table at the window, slowly walking toward it. As the hailstones hit her flames, they hissed and melted into steam. Valmont, keeping low to the ground, ran to the girls and put the makeshift helmets on their heads. With one girl under each arm, he ran back to the kitchen.
Once they were safe, Bryn moved toward the window.
“Bryn, what are you doing?”
Answering him would mean stopping her flames. The anger fueling her pyrotechnics raged inside her. She kept going until she reached the window and checked the street. Crouched against walls and in doorways, dragons of every color used their breath weapons to keep the hail at bay. None of them appeared to need her help, so she stayed where she was.
The hail banging on the rooftops was deafening. Then, as if someone threw a switch, the hail stopped. Ears ringing, Bryn turned to find Valmont behind her wearing a soup pot on his head. The pissed-off expression he wore, combined with his odd headgear, made her laugh.
“What’s so funny?” The pot shifted so it covered his eyes. “Oh.” He pulled the pot off and took hers off, too. “I suppose that did look ridiculous.”
“But it was smart.” She pointed back toward the kitchen. “Are the girls okay?”
A solemn look crossed his face. “Their mom told them not to leave the table while she ran down the street to buy something. Unfortunately, they listened too well.”
“Do you think their mom is okay?”
“I hope so.” People started filtering out of the kitchen, picking up their belongings and righting the tables and chairs. “I better get a broom.”
“Wait.” Bryn pointed to a group of Green dragons. “You three. Use your wind to push all the debris into a pile.”
The girl in the group opened her mouth, but Bryn cut her off. “Do it now.”
One of the Green males cleared his throat. “If everyone would go back in the kitchen for a moment, we’ll clean this up.”
Bryn and Valmont returned to the kitchen as well, but stood in the doorway to supervise. The Greens directed wind from their hands to push all the debris into the back corner. In five minutes, they’d cleared the floor.
“Thank you.” Valmont nodded to the Greens. “Much appreciated.” He pointed at the waist-high pile of glass and splintered wood. “I’m going to need a bigger dustpan.”
The rest of the patrons cleared out.
“I’ll drive you back to school,” Valmont said. “I’m sure they’ll be checking to make sure all the students are safe.”
“Please tell me your car is safe in a garage.” The idea of his cherry-red convertible banged to pieces made her ill.
“It is, but I’ll drive my dad’s truck, in case the hail comes again.”
“Maybe you should keep some soup pots in the trunk of your car for emergencies.”
…
After Valmont dropped her off, she signed in at the back gate and headed to her dorm, intent on finding Clint and Ivy. They were waiting for her in the first-floor lounge. Ivy zoomed across the room to hug her.
“From now on, we’re all going places together.” Ivy’s voice shook.
Bryn hugged her friend back. “I was inside at Fonzoli’s. I’m okay.” She stepped back from Ivy. “Where were you guys?”
Ivy blushed. “We were studying.”
Right. “Did anyone get hurt?”
“You didn’t hear?” Clint asked.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. “Hear what?”
“The hail came on so fast…students who were flying got beaten up pretty bad. Garrett…the hailstones…” Clint cleared his throat and looked away. “He’s lost the use of his right wing.”
“No.” Bryn didn’t feel her legs give out, but the next thing she knew, she was sitting on the floor. This could not be happening. “In Dragon’s Bluff, it wasn’t so bad. Windows were smashed, but everyone found shelter.”
“Everyone to your rooms, please.” A guard bellowed from the front door. Dark circles ringed his eyes, like he was recovering from a broken nose. “If any of your friends are missing let the staff or one of us know.”
Bryn rushed over to him. “Can I help the medics?”
Pain shone from the man’s eyes. “It is my understanding that those who are still injured are beyond help.”
Tears flooded her eyes. What would happen to Garr
ett and anyone else who was permanently injured? Before she could ask, the guard turned and left.
Bryn, Ivy, and Clint all stayed in her room together that night. The next morning, classes were canceled and the dining hall was closed. Students were to stay in their dorms and eat at the first-floor cafés.
An air of disbelief and misery seemed to float through the first-floor lounge where Bryn, Clint, and Ivy sat picking at their breakfast of submarine sandwiches.
“Okay. In the big scheme of things, I know this is petty, but I miss eggs and bacon.” Clint picked the onions off his sandwich.
“Thank God they have coffee.” Bryn sipped her second cup. She could eat anything for breakfast as long as caffeine was part of the deal.
“We’ve had wind, ice, and earthquakes. Does that mean fire or lightning is next?” Ivy asked.
Fire was self-explanatory. “What form will lightning take? A giant storm, or bolts of electricity zapping everything?”
“If you were still privileged enough to be enrolled in history class, you’d know that Black dragons used storms to cover their attacks. It’s a two-for-one whammy. Drench everything with water and then light it up.”
“So it’s electrocution or fire. Great.” Bryn finished off her bag of chips. None of this made sense. “Have the Clans ever worked together before to attack the Directorate?”
“That’s the weird thing,” Clint said, “or one of the weirdest of all the weird things going on right now. The Clans have always played their separate roles.”
“Not true,” Ivy said. “The Clans fought among themselves and against each other when they were trying to keep territories, before the Accords were drawn up. Each Clan settled in a specific territory and sent a representative to marry into another Clan.”
“This sounds vaguely familiar.” Bryn rolled her eyes. She’d been kicked out of history class over this topic. The teacher had claimed that crossbreeding couldn’t produce a functional shape-shifting dragon, even though Bryn had been sitting right in front of her. Wait a minute. She scooted closer to her friends so she wouldn’t be overheard. “I heard a folk tale that those dragons who married into other Clans had children with unusual powers and that one of them, Wraith Nightshade, tried to take over everything and make himself king. In the end, he was killed, and that’s when the Directorate was formed to make sure nothing like that happened again.”
