Page 48 of Dragon Fires Everywhere (Witchlore #4)

I throw everything I am into undoing the black magic Joywood curse on the magical creatures. They’re imprisoned, erased, hidden.

So I research anything that might connect, spending long hours in the archives and up in my own library and room while everyone

else comes in and out.

Sometimes it’s Frost or Jacob in the archives with me, as they both have a patience that the others don’t. Sometimes Ellowyn

and Rebekah sit with me on the top floor of Wilde House, playing with crystals, considering herbs. Sometimes Zander comes

by with something new he remembers Zachariah telling him about the crows and we note it down, trying to build a full picture.

Just about every breakfast, Emerson sits with me, and we eat and discuss what I found—or didn’t find—the day before. She worries

over those last two votes to free Azrael that remain just outside her reach, though we pretend that is not a personal conversation.

We don’t see Gideon again. I steer clear of the cemetery.

I dive deeper into the witchlore archives and try to come at the same questions in different ways.

Instead of looking for evidence of what the Joywood changed, I look instead for the history of the Joywood coven themselves.

Like... when did they come into power?

What was their ascension like? When did this curse on fabulae actually happen?

Information that should be readily available, but isn’t.

The archives don’t seem to want to fork over much related to the Joywood. Is that a decision the enchanted archives have made

on their own? Is it another Joywood curse?

These are things I would love to be able to ask Azrael. Dragons might not keep to strict witch calendar years, but I bet he

could give me an idea of a before and an after .

No matter how I look, I can’t seem to find anything. I begin to wonder if black magic has been woven into my clothes.

All the spells I cast to find out claim it hasn’t, but I still wonder.

Because anything and everything feels possible these days. Especially when I wake up every morning a little bit more unlike

myself: frustrated, impatient, and curt with those around me.

I decide I can lay that at Azrael’s feet too.

With only a few days before the solstice, our full ascension, or a total disaster to end all disasters, Emerson and I are

sitting at the Wilde House kitchen table one morning. She is bright-eyed and talking a mile a minute. I am bleary-eyed and

scowling into my coffee. Jacob is standing at the counter and lands somewhere in the middle. Awake and alert, but he doesn’t

even try to get a word in.

“Maybe we need to go back to the beginning,” Emerson suggests, flipping through the fairy-tale book that hasn’t changed again,

as far as I know. The cover is the cover from my childhood. The princess embodies all eight timelines in her dress. It’s all

depressingly the same.

Maybe books aren’t the answer, I think... and that’s how I know I need to shake myself out of this funk. Books are always the answer. If they’re not, you have the wrong books. “What beginning?”

Emerson holds up the book. “You read this aloud to a newel post, and a dragon was magically uncursed.”

“Yes, and we tried that with Gideon. It didn’t work, if you recall.”

“Maybe it wasn’t the book. Maybe it was the place,” Jacob says thoughtfully.

“The cemetery is sacred. Why wouldn’t it be the place?”

“Maybe because it’s sacred. A curse is the most unsacred thing there is, so...”

I don’t think that makes any sense, and I don’t think Emerson is on board either, because she’s frowning, still flipping through

the pages. She gets to the last page, the page where I—where the princess is wearing the dress that’s almost identical to the one Emerson has flagged for her bridesmaids.

She studies it for a few moments, a lot like I did the first time I saw it. “It’s kind of like a vow, if you think about it,”

Emerson says. “What happened when you freed Azrael, I mean. You were saying words of love out loud to your...”

I know she wants to say soulmate , but with the current state of things with Azrael, doesn’t want to hurt me.

So I focus on the reality of what happened, regardless of souls . “Except I was furious at Sage, and not in a very vow place. I didn’t even know Azrael was real.” That’s not entirely true. “I certainly didn’t know about the past lives thing.”

“Maybe not,” Emerson says carefully, still studying the illustration. “But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s not about you

knowing on a conscious level. Your souls have always loved each other, if nothing else. So the words had your old lives and

all that love behind them. The magic freed anyone who heard it.”

I frown. “That doesn’t explain why it didn’t work with Gideon. Azrael was right there .”

Emerson ponders that, still studying the book. I magic myself more coffee. I have a long day of trying to get the archives to cough up some Joywood dirt for me, and I haven’t been sleeping well.

We don’t need to talk about how many times my dreams star a certain dragon. Maybe I should work up a spell to block them.

But the thought makes me sad, because at least in dreams he’s there .

You’re pathetic , I tell myself, though even that lacks heat, because believe me, I already know.

“What if...”

Emerson has an idea. A big idea—I can see it in the way her eyes gleam then. It’s the same look she gets when she’s revamping

a festival or in her hyper planning mode. But something holds her back. She looks at Jacob, raises an eyebrow, and it’s clear

they’re having a private conversation in their heads.

I try not to scowl. I stab a blueberry on my plate with a fork while I wait for them to clue me in.

Jacob laughs softly. “If our wedding wasn’t in service of beating the Joywood, I’d be surprised.”

My eyebrows furrow. “Your wedding?”

Emerson leans forward, her eyes shining with a gleaming new plan. “We have it on Main Street. Outside Confluence Books. Our

vows are parts of the book—the parts you read Azrael. Readings from you guys can be the other parts too, just to cover our

bases. We broadcast it out for anyone who wants to hear. It should reach any magical creature in St. Cyprian, and it might

not free everyone , but it’d be a start.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

Emerson shrugs. “Then it doesn’t work. Jacob and I will still be married. We can still have a wedding that’s part of a festival.”

“Her dream come true,” Jacob remarks dryly, but his mouth is curved, the love evident. He’s just happy to marry her. However,

whenever.

I want this to be the answer. I want my best friend marrying the perfect man for her, that love they share, to be the key. If we do this, everyone will be free, and black magic will be done. Over at last.

But I don’t think it’s going to work. It’s not enough. It’s too simple. When nothing else has been simple this year. Especially when we thought it should be.

That means it’s up to me to figure out what happens when simple doesn’t work. Like Emerson said, they’ll be married anyway. So I guess there’s no harm, no foul on that end. And it won’t

be the first time I go along with one of Em’s plans but make backup ones of my own. This is how I got through ten years of

her thinking she was a human.

I shake my head. “That only leaves you three days to plan your wedding, Em.”

“Give me a real challenge,” she says with a laugh.

And it’s my first genuine smile in days.

Later, as we’re walking through the foyer on our way out into our respective days, I look up at the chandelier. “Wait. If

your theory is right, wouldn’t Melisande have been uncursed when I said those words to free Azrael? It’s possible the rug

in the living room couldn’t hear me, but she’s right here .”

I gesture up at the mermaid chandelier, and I swear it gleams back at me. Balefully.

Emerson squints up at the glittering crystals. “Maybe. And maybe this doesn’t work. But it won’t be you alone. It’ll be all

of us—so extra love and vow power there. And it will be on the solstice—so supercharged magic there. It will be a real wedding, so actual vows will be said. From a magic book. No matter what else happens, we know the book is magic.”

This is true, of course, but I’m still looking at Melisande. And realizing that the lights on the chandelier, which weren’t

on, are now flickering.

“I guess you’ve figured me out,” a melodic voice says, pretty and tinkling.

The gold of the mermaid is... slithering almost, and then changing. Evolving and emerging. The tail of the mermaid moves with a flick of gold, and then it sounds

like something splashes —

And a wall of water seems to fall in front of us.

But it isn’t water, really, and it evolves into a woman.

Melisande the mermaid is standing in front of us. Her green eyes sparkle like emeralds. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, and

somehow flesh and blood. She has wild hair that even outdoes mine. She’s dressed in shells, and her long tail looks sleek

and shimmery.

It’s amazing that these things can still surprise me.

“You...” But I don’t have the words. Did I really uncurse more than just Azrael all those weeks ago? I look up at the chandelier.

“But...”

“Oh, I haven’t stayed in there. I’ve just been careful about coming and going.” She waves an elegant hand. “I wasn’t about

to let Azrael know I was free too. God knows what idiotic scheme he’d drag me into.” She flashes a flirtatious grin at Jacob.

“ Dragons. Always scheming.”

But for long moments, none of us can seem to find our words.

She studies each of us in turn. “He hasn’t been around much, so I figure it’s safe to tell you that you’re right. At least,

I think you must be. I felt the locks of the curse fall off me when Azrael exploded out of that newel post. The only difference

between that day and any other day was the princess reading the book to her dragon.”

That categorization—me as the princess, the fact this mermaid called him my dragon—is a piercing pain in my heart, but I’m getting used to those by now.

Even Emerson is largely speechless.

“I don’t trust dragons,” Melisande continues, eyeing the newel post with a sneer. “But I’ve seen enough of the Riverwood coven to trust you .” She’s back to smiling brightly at us. Gorgeous and effervescent, and magnificently breasted, shells or no shells. “If you

free my people, and not just dragons and crows, we’ll stand with you. All the river creatures listen to me.”

There’s something about her that’s so mesmerizing, none of us say anything. We’re just staring .

As if that is nothing but her due, she inclines her head. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a swim.”

And she just... disappears.

“Did that really happen?” Jacob asks after a few moments of continuing shocked silence.

Emerson shakes her head, as if to shake away a lingering spell. “Yes. And she confirmed my idea, so I think I like her.” She

nods then, decisively, a sure indication that she’s taking this as a good sign. Then she smiles at me. “Good luck at the archives

today, Georgie. And get ready for a wedding-planning-all-night kind of night. Don’t worry, I should have a binder to you by

lunch.”

Then she’s out the door and off to the bookstore. Yet I have no doubt she’ll come up with a wedding binder, run her store,

and handle any number of St. Cyprian and witchdom-related issues before noon. That’s Emerson.

“I was skeptical, but if the mermaid thinks it will work, who am I to argue?” Jacob laughs from beside me.

As if that’s that .

Then he’s off too, and I am standing in the foyer where I unleashed a dragon. And apparently a mermaid as well.

We have the crows, if we can free them.

We have a mermaid, and supposedly all the river creatures, if we can break their curses.

Maybe we don’t need a dragon, freed or not.

I want to believe that.

But I don’t.

And I believe even less that he will come around. Because he is steeped in fear, and I realize, in the strangest way it is not unlike my mother. Who wanted me to shrink and hide and never be special . Now Azrael wants the same, so I’m not hurt or targeted or betrayed or worse.

But I won’t do it. That’s the thing I realize as I stand in this foyer that is now empty of everything magical but me. It

doesn’t matter what the reasons are.

I won’t shrink myself ever again.