Page 14 of Dragon Fires Everywhere (Witchlore #4)

The regulars laugh, because Ellowyn’s grumpiness is part of the charm.

Some of the humans who’ve never been in here before, clearly, look concerned.

I skirt the counter and nudge Ellowyn out of the way. “I’ll take over the register. Maybe you can find some way to put Pete to work,” I say, jutting my chin meaningfully toward Azrael, who is surveying the crowd with a certain kind of hunger in

his gaze that can’t be good.

At the sound of the name, he shifts that gaze to me.

He has no boundaries, so why shouldn’t I choose a name without his approval?

“Pete?” Ellowyn asks.

It’s my human name for him. Cute, right?

Ellowyn snorts. He doesn’t look like a Pete , Georgie . Or a human. Nor is he cute.

She leaves the register and makes her way to Azrael. I decide if anyone can handle a dragon, it’s Ellowyn. Even pregnant.

Maybe especially pregnant. So I focus on the job I can actually do here.

I check people out, listen to complaints about the price and the crowd. I deal with people trying to haggle or return unreturnable

things. I don’t love customer service, but with the right ditzy, I’m sure I didn’t hear you correctly smile, I find it endurable.

Or at least, I don’t feel the need to murder anyone. There’s a kind of satisfaction in never letting anyone ruffle my exterior

feathers, no matter how some try.

As noon approaches, the crowd begins to dwindle a bit.

People are no doubt flooding into all the restaurants and snack shops.

I’m able to step away from the register for a few minutes, so I take the opportunity.

I glance over to find Azrael with his head bowed toward a customer so he can actually speak at her level.

He’s telling her all sorts of things about the tea, with grand gestures and much enthusiasm.

Ellowyn’s sitting in a chair by the window, her feet elevated. “He’s got a talent for this,” she tells me when I come over,

sounding almost proud. “I’ve watched him talk at least ten women into twice the purchase they came in here to make.”

I try not to wrinkle my nose at the fact they’re all women . Ellowyn’s clientele is primarily women.

I check the customer out with my sunny smile. Azrael comes behind the counter and stands entirely too close to me, but if

I make a point of moving away from him, he’ll see that as a win. So I don’t.

“In another life, I would have made an excellent merchant, don’t you think?” he asks me lazily after the woman leaves.

“Did you charm her into buying all that?”

“Of course.”

I shake my head. “You can’t use magic to get people to buy things.”

“Why not?”

“It’s... not right.”

“She wanted tea. I convinced her to get the tea she needed. Ellowyn earns money from the purchase she made. Explain to me

how this is not right?”

“You didn’t give the woman a choice.”

“I knew what she wanted.”

“I’m going to have to side with the dragon on this one,” Ellowyn says as she waddles over to us. Her hand is resting on her

belly. Her expression is one of amusement. “You’re welcome to play merchant in my shop any time you want, Azrael.”

Azrael beams at me. “See.”

“It’s Pete,” I tell Ellowyn. “Just Pete. He’s a regular old Pete .”

“Pete the dragon? I like it,” Rebekah says as she saunters in. “I walked past Confluence Books and it’s packed. ”

“We’ll head over there right now,” I tell her. I say goodbye to Ellowyn and baby and then motion for Azrael to follow me.

“You know, you can go back to Wilde House,” I tell him. I even put on my airy, dreamy smile for him. “Take a break. Have some

lunch. Enjoy yourself.”

I think mention of food will sway him, but he frowns down at me as we walk over to Emerson’s shop. Where he stops with me

outside. “I do not like this little act of yours,” he tells me.

He opens the door to Confluence Books and gestures me in.

“What act?” I return, frustrated that he knows I have an act.

I walk under his arm and into the shop. It is teeming with people and immediately gives me a sense of claustrophobia. But

I wave and smile at Emerson directing traffic in and around the counter, and don’t give Azrael the chance to respond.

When I make it through the throng of bodies to Emerson, she leans close to my ear. “Can you put the children’s section to

rights? One of those damn Blanchard demon spawn tossed every stuffed animal into the canopy and knocked at least half the

shelved books to the ground.”

“We’re on it,” I assure her. The Blanchard children are indeed demons, figuratively anyway, and I do not allow myself to think

too much about the last time I saw their mother, Cailee.

Heaving about on a couch with my boyfriend.

But I’m here to help Emerson, not brood over my so-called romantic life. And the children’s section is in shambles. There are at least two toddlers throwing tantrums and one baby screaming its head off. I smile at everyone anyway,

and begin to tidy up while offering the occasional reading suggestions, the careful redirection of a wild toddler, or an answer

to a frazzled parent’s question about the parenting section.

After a while, I realize that Azrael has followed me, but he isn’t talking to anyone or apparently exuding any charm whatsoever. He’s putting books back on shelves and giving threatening looks to any child who dares reach for one. Before I can scold him for that, an unholy screech pierces the air.

A child—one of Cailee’s blond-haired, blue-eyed terrors—thunders over to a rack of books. He reaches out, shoves it, and the

whole thing goes toppling over.

With only seconds to spare, I manage to snatch a little girl out of the way.

The boy turns, clearly looking for another rack to topple. I send out some magic that will keep all the books in place and

hand the startled little girl off to her mother, but before I can do anything else, Azrael has plucked the Blanchard boy up

and off the ground by the back of the collar. I leap forward. “You can’t—”

The child starts screaming and struggling. Azrael looks like he’s going to eat him.

“Azrael, put him down,” I hiss, all the while internally muttering magical words so any humans in the store think they’re

seeing something else. Anything else.

And then I forget about magic, because I hear a familiar piercing voice. “Rigsby!”

Because of course this is actually happening. Here. In a crowd containing a dragon.

“Put him down,” I say to Azrael. Firmly.

On a heavy sigh, he does just that as Cailee approaches. The offensive Rigsby runs right into her and throws his arms around his mother dramatically, sobbing and carrying on.

I can see Cailee is about to yell at us. Until her gaze finds mine.

Then she gets kind of... wide-eyed.

Satisfyingly wide-eyed, in fact, though the memory of her Daffy Duck tattoo is emblazoned on my mind, and it’s all I can think

about for one dazed moment.

“G-Georgie. Hi. Hello.” She’s patting her son’s back as he wails into her side. Her eyes keep getting wider, and I don’t know that she looks ashamed , exactly, but there’s certainly embarrassment.

For the both of us. Even though I have nothing to be embarrassed about.

Except, I suppose, that a dragon was about to eat her child. I swallow my discomfort and summon a sunny smile.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend Pete. He doesn’t deal with children often.”

“Particularly ones with absolutely no manners.” Azrael affects a slight British accent. Then he places his arm over my shoulders,

much the way Jacob did to Emerson last night.

Cailee stares at the both of us for a long, ticking sort of moment.

“You brought a friend home from England?” she says to me.

“Uh, well. Yes.”

She shakes her head, but she’s smiling now. She leans close to me, and I’m too stunned to react. “I told Sage there wasn’t any way you were off in England being faithful. So it’s okay. We’re all okay. And no one has to go...

spreading any unfavorable stories around town.”

Cailee beams at me, as though with enough hope and cheer she can force me into agreement. But there’s something genuine about

it. It’s not affected, it’s... her.

It occurs to me that this is how she views a relationship. Affairs and infidelity are of courses as long as we can keep the public embarrassment to a minimum. And maybe for her, that’s true. Maybe that’s a deal she and

her husband have struck, and it’s absolutely none of my business.

But it was not the deal Sage and I had.

So, no, I don’t smile at Cailee . I don’t agree with her about anything. I just say a polite goodbye and turn back to Azrael.

Who is glaring at me like I’ve done something offensive.

“You can’t grab children like that,” I say beneath my breath. “They’re not snacks. They’re precious.”

“Why haven’t you told your friends?” Azrael looks thunderous. His words don’t make sense.

“Told them what?”

“That your little wheat cracker crumb of an ex was cheating on you.”

I blink at him. Children and parents—human and witch alike—are milling about, and he’s... just saying that. Out loud.

“I... It’s none of your business.” I look around, worried about who might have heard.

“I have spent the past year listening to you lot go on and on about working together. Trusting each other. And these scant few days of being back in

my own body, what I see is you holding yourself apart. Why?”

“What you’re seeing is me third-wheeling it through coven life.” I don’t know where that comes from or why it sounds so raw. I point a bright,

unconcerned smile at him to cover it.

To no avail. “Think better of yourself,” he growls.

I balk at that. “I think greatly of myself, thanks.”

“Then think better of them.”

“You have no idea what I think.”

No, Georgina? Because here I am in your thoughts.

You’re an impossible asshole, do you know that? I shoot right back at him on this channel we shouldn’t have open between us.

But before he can answer that, I turn away.

Dramatically, I can admit.

And I pay for it, because I nearly smack right into the horrible duo of Carol Simon and Maeve Mather, two of the Joywood’s

most powerful and exceptionally vile witches.