Page 29 of Virgo Queen
But we do have a huge bucket full of ice and longneck beers just waiting to be pressed into service.
That bucket’s way too heavy for me to lift, but I only need to tip it over. There’s an extremely sketchy speakeasy-era rug lying right here. Soaked with water, that big rug will smother any blaze short of the Great Chicago Fire.
Moving as quickly as possible while the fire alarm rings merrily, the smoke continues to thicken until it makes me cough, and the last panicky students scatter into the night, I pull out the remaining longnecks and set them safely aside.
When there’s only ice left inside, I strain to tip the big bucket.
I’m not a particularly strong person, I’m kind of a wimp, and it’s hard to work with my eyes watering and my lungs burning from the acrid sting of smoke. I hunker down near the floor where the smoke is thinner.
But I’m determined as heck.
Draco, Jae, Zara, Ronin, even Max the dragon shifter need my help.
When I finally manage to tip the bucket, sending a bone-chilling cascade of ice and melted water over my bare feet to saturate the rug, a thrill of satisfaction rushes through me.
I give a happy little hop, the rug squishing underfoot, and exclaim, “Yay!”
Finally, I’m making progress.
Now if I can only get someone to help me drag this sopping wet rug to the fire—
The night splits under the rumble of a deep bronze bellow. I shoot to my full height with a cry. That’s aJurassic Park-like sound I’ve heard before, we all have, cowering at midnight in our dorm room beds with the blankets pulled over our heads.
To be precise, that roar is the sound of the witching world’s last fully manifested male dragon shifter—Maxim Rasputin—in a towering rage.
Wow.
I guess Max is airborne. In dragon form.
There’s a window in the den, or at least, thereusedto be. That has to be how he’s escaped—
A second scream soars over Max’s and makes the night air quiver. Higher pitched, more melodic, less tyrannosaur, more Hogwarts phoenix. That’s a dragon too, has to be (because there’s no such thing as a phoenix in my witching world textbooks).
But there’s only one other dragon shifter on this entire island…
“Zara!” I gasp and spin toward the outside door. Clearly she’s airborne too, also in dragon form. That den window is definitely history, and maybe the other guys—including my two—are using it to get out.
Except I’m pretty sure Draco and Jae would never leave me behind in a burning building. They’ve been weirdly protective, both of them, since our threesome—
Another dragon scream almost splits my skull.
Ouch.
That scream is shrill with rage, punctuated by a flare of ultraviolet lightning that lights up the night like a nuclear blast.
Oh my gosh, that’s Zara for sure. The Gemini queen is famously (or infamously) both a lightning witchanda lighting dragon.
Clearly, she’s in real distress.
I spare one last agonized look toward the den, where an industrial-grade hiss and the reek of chemicals tell me someone’s at least figured out how to use the extinguisher.
Attaboy, Jae. Thanks for not letting me down.
Then I sprint for the outdoors.
I need help anyway. With the rug. So I need to deputize someone from the actual fire brigade to help.
And I really need to understand what’s going down out there with Zara.
