Page 125 of Spark of Sorcery
“The scents of the cunts that attacked our little kitten.”
The professor’s eyes flash a blood red and his magic soars in the air. “You recognized the scents?”
“You didn’t?”
He places his hands on his hips. The dude looks rough, something I only just noticed. “I don’t have your sense of smell. Don’t get me wrong, mine is good. But it’s mostly just prey and blood I can smell … and her. Most human scents all smell the same to me.”
“Well,” I say, rubbing my hands together, “I recognized some of them for sure. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Briony
I open my mouth to speak, but Thorne holds up his finger to his lips, then weaves his hands through the air.
When he’s done, he says, “The professor has a very good sense of hearing.”
“Oh,” I say, considering this for a moment. All this new information has fried my brain. I need to sit with it, marinate in it, before I can work out what it all means.
But I don’t have time for that just yet.
“Blaze,” I say.
“Where is he?” Thorne asks.
“I was taking him out for his evening flight when I was attacked. I managed to get him to fly away before they got to me. I told him to hide, but I don’t know if he understood or whether he’s okay or whether he thinks I abandoned him or–”
“Briony,” he says, “it’s fine. I’ll find him.”
I chew on my lip. “But he might not come to you.”
“He likes me.”
“Hmm,” I say; if he’s scared, I’m not sure there’ll be anyone but me he’ll come to. And even then, after what happened, he might not come to me either. I imagine him out there alone in the cold, dark forest. I don’t exactly have a choice. “Fly knows about Blaze now too.”
“You told him,” he says, his face emotionless.
“I needed some help and you weren’t here.” I chew my lip some more. “Have you told Beaufort and Dray?”
“No, you asked me not to.” He gives me a look and for once I can tell what he’s thinking – I’m not allowed to tell my best friends, but you get to tell yours.
“Good,” I say, nibbling at my lip. The revelations this morning are enough for today. I don’t want a barrage of questions about the small dragon on the loose. A scared little dragon who probably thinks I hate him. A sob bubbles up into my throat from nowhere. I’m not someone who usually cries and I sniffle and wipe at my face, puffy and sore from the beating, despite whatever they’ve been doing to me at this clinic.
“We’ll find him, Briony. You don’t need to worry.”
“Thank you,” I say. I lift my hand to take his and squeeze it, then remember that isn’t possible. Instead, my hand hangs in mid-air between us and we both stare at it, aware of the invisible wall that hangs between us. One we can’t break through. “I will find a way …” I whisper.
“You don’t think I’ve been trying, that I haven’t tried?” he says, although not unkindly.
“Yes, but have you met me?” I smile at him, something he examines with as much intention as my hand. “I’m pretty determined and pretty stubborn.”
“You also have other things to worry about.”
“Yeah,” I say, “a dragon and my sister’s death.”
“No, getting better. You must have taken one seriously big beating, Briony.”
“I … I honestly don’t remember.” He shakes his head as if he finds that hard to believe. “My mind sort of just floats away when the pain gets too much. It’s … it’s like it’s protecting me.” I smile flatly. “And then there’s unconsciousness which is also quite handy.”
