Page 9 of The Dragon’s Stone Hearted Mate (Mori’s Mementos #1)

Outside, someone had stood Pinky back upright.

He peered out into the dark night as if he looked toward those who lingered around the bonfire.

Chole was so certain this place would help but I didn’t belong here.

It was Torvan’s fault that I wasn’t one of these grievers.

They grieved people who had lived decent lives – shifters with decent morals at the very least. I grieved an asshole who wanted to kill me.

Being here felt like robbing them of some safe space to celebrate those people and it changed nothing.

All these good people would die alone too.

They’d live and be sad and get hurt in a million little ways and then they’d die.

I couldn’t stand being around them. Maybe I should hangout with assholes.

I didn’t have a problem with assholes dying.

A floorboard creaked inside the cabin, and I sprinted down the path, hoping to slip by the lingerers at the bonfire without being noticed.

The last thing I needed was Cutter to start with his questions.

I didn’t owe him any answers but if he asked, I’d try to explain it.

Hell, maybe I should be more of an asshole.

A roar tore through the camp. It was the same roar that startled the queue when I offered to carry Cutter’s bag.

“Fuck me!” I swore under my breath and sprinted in the other direction.

Thankfully the cabin doors didn’t lock. When the door sprung open I was greeted by Cutter on the floor, straddled over a nearly translucent man wearing a bandana over his face. An equally transparent gun lay next to them on the floor as Cutter punched the man over and over with a clawed hand.

“I TOLD YOU TO STAY DEAD! I’M TIRED OF KILLING YOU! STAY DEAD! STAY DEAD! STAY DEAD! STAY DEAD!”

I let out a roar and fire followed. I’d promised Cutter I wouldn’t intervene, but I was shit at keeping promises these days.

“STAY DEAD! STAY DEAD! STAY DEAD!” he punched over and over as the fire singed the feet of the ghost warrior he had pinned underneath him.

The feet turned to ash, scattering across the floor and the body burnt up underneath Cutter until he was on his knees, straddled over nothing, and sitting in a pile of ashes.

“Are you okay?” I asked as something thumped outside.

“PINKY!” Sherry scolded as if the statue could hear her as others crowded in our doorway.

Instinctively, I blocked their entry, giving Cutter a few seconds to gather his wits. He would’ve beaten that damn ghost back to wherever he came from given a few more minutes and his way might’ve left behind less mess.

“I’m okay!” Cutter said, panting for air. “It happens all the time. Just a ghost attack.”

I stepped forward and shut the doors on the ‘rescue squad.’ Muffled voices asked baffled questions of each other as I walked across the room and squatted down next to Cutter.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you handle it,” I said, fighting off the urge to touch his shoulder.

“It’s okay. No one got hurt. That’s the important thing,” he said, pushing himself upright and glancing around the room in every direction. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt. I didn’t know dragon fire burnt ghosts up.”

“Me neither, honestly. I was afraid it would get you but apparently, he was a wick and didn’t know it,” I said, looking around for a broom to sweep up the ghost ash.

“I’m sure Sherry has a vacuum somewhere,” Cutter said as if reading my mind.

“You’re a badass,” I said.

“No, I’m not. It’s still war for us. If they’d just stay dead life would be so much easier,” he said. “Do you mind if I shower first? I know I should let you go first because it’s my fault there’s a mess in the first place, but I think I have ash in my buttcrack.”

“Go ahead, man,” I said, wondering if some greater power of the universe moved me to Camp Air to solve Cutter’s problem. A better man than me would’ve called Crilus. He was part elf and knew more about ghost shit that I ever cared to.

“Knock, knock!” came Sherry’s too-cheerful voice from the other side of the door.

I almost told her to go away but unless we wanted to breathe in ash all night, we needed something to clean up the mess with.

“Hey,” I opened the door just enough to stick my head out. “Gotta broom?”

“What happened?”

“Nightmare,” I told her.

She gave me a suspicious look, raising one eyebrow higher than the other until she looked like she was trying to impersonate a cartoon character.

“Who was Cutter beating up? All the campers are accounted for. I was told that he was in danger of attack.”

“Look, Sherry, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. If you could just get me a broom and maybe a dustpan, I’ll get it squared away, and you won’t have to bother with it.”

“We all heard him call out. Pinky had turned to face the cabin’s porch. Are you in danger? Is the attacker still in there with you?” she asked, trying to squeeze her head through.

“Sure. Why not? The attacker is a witch who needs your damn broom to fly away!” I rolled my eyes.

“Some witches do fly on brooms. You shouldn’t be so insensitive,” Sherry said, stepping back and crossing her arms. “Are you the one the attacker was looking for?”

“No.”

“Who attacked your roommate?”

“Didn’t his therapist tell you?” I asked.

“His therapist didn’t provide a lot of details because I am not a doctor. I am a peer who is attempting to help.”

“Look, this was paranormal, okay?” I said through gritted teeth doing my best not to snap.

“You look,” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “If no one is keeping you and Cutter inside come out and talk to me. Prove it.”

“Cutter’s in the shower,” I said.

“Fine. I can hear the water running. Unless you have an invitation to join him, come outside.”

“Are you going to fight me if I don’t?” I laughed.

“I’m a boxing instructor on the weekends. I’ll fight whoever is holding you hostage.”

“What are you?”

“The person in charge of ensuring Camp Air runs smoothly and I have all the necessary skills to do that. If you’re not under threat, please come outside and speak to me,” Sherry said again.

Sighing, I stepped outside, closing the door behind me as quickly as I could. As soon as my feet touched the grass the statue fell over again. Sighing, Sherry sprinted over and stood him back up. I followed her but she shrugged off my help.

“She’s had enough of our bullshit tonight,” my dragon chuckled.

“See. No attacker holding me hostage,” I shrugged.

“What happened in there? If Cutter is being pursued, we could all be in danger,” she said.

“I’m not being attacked right now, huh?” Cutter said, walking out onto the porch with a fluffy black towel wrapped around his waist and his pack on his back. “It was just a PTSD thing. It’s gone now, though. Dragon fire makes a mess but no one was hurt.”

The tension fled from her shoulders when her gaze settled on Cutter.

“She thought you attacked me,” Cutter laughed. “Don’t worry. Morvan here wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Sherry gave me a look as if maybe Chole told her how I saved Berry, and she wasn’t sure I was a good guy after all.

“He wouldn’t attack me because I’d eat his face on a plate made from his own scales,” Cutter said, and the statue fell over again.

“Damn it!” Sherry swore under her breath. “Maybe a groundhog or something is tunneling under him! Pinky, you have to stay upright---”

One of the stone arms shifted from by the statues side with a grating scrape to stretch out in front of him.

“What the fuck?” Sherry hopped back as if the statue would drag her into the depths of Frost’s Pit. “What the fuck? What the fuck?!”

“I told you he was trying to look at you,” Cutter glanced at me and shrugged. “Sherry, do you have a broom or vacuum or something?”

“Tell me I’m not the only one who saw that,” Sherry said, slipping behind me.

I couldn’t help it. I smirked. Whatever she was must’ve been smaller than a dragon. Well, maybe. I’ve met some chicken shit dragons in my day.

“Yeah, Pinky moved. That’s what he does. Well, he tries to anyway,” Cutter shrugged. “Why else do you think he kept falling over?”

“But WHY is he moving?” Sherry said, failing to keep the squeak out of her voice.

“Uh…. Because of Morvan, I think. Now about that broom? I hate to say it but I’m a very schedule driven lion and I may have to kill more ghosts at dawn. That one was late tonight but I don’t know if I’ll get that lucky twice in a row. So, can I get something to clean the cabin with?”

Another grating creak sounded through Camp Air and the statue’s other arm stretched out in front of it, turning a peachy fleshy shade. Yep. Leave it to me to come to camp the very day a statue decided to turn into a man.

“Why are you two not freaking out?” Sherry asked, peeking out from behind my back and immediately ducking back.

“Because this is nothing,” Cutter shrugged. “I’ve seen scarier things than a pink rock gaining a soul.”

“Same. Absolutely the same and we’re in the Other World,” I said, squatting down for a closer look at the statue.

Sherry hopped back several big steps as the hand patted the toe of my boot as if feeling me out.

“You okay down there, buddy?” I asked because it felt rude to stare at someone without at least acknowledging them.

The grip tightened on my shoe as one of the knees bent and the tip of the statue’s tail swayed. I wasn’t sure I was the trigger to the statue’s metamorphosis the way Cutter claimed but yeah, this bloody statue was coming straight to life.

“A broom?” Cutter asked again. “I guess I’ll go look for it by myself.”

Sherry blinked, frozen in place.

“Don’t worry, Sherry. If this is the start of some cheesy summer camp movie, I’ll save you,” I shrugged and didn’t add that’s what I did for a living.

The statue lifted its head, its features surprisingly malleable. I met his dark eyed gaze and a second later was flat on my back in the grass with the statue turned horned man on top of me. The position wasn’t all that different from the one that Cutter used to pummel the ghost back into oblivion.