Page 28 of Bound By Fire and Magic
Kirin inspected the bubbled flesh of her palm. “You’re getting blisters.”
“It’s a bitch of an orb.” Yeah, the singed flesh was starting already. She met his gaze because he wasn’t looking at her hand anymore, but at her.
He still loves me.
The thought tightened her chest, and she pushed it from her head before she did something stupid, like lean forward and kiss him. The orb disappeared as her concentration splintered.
Focus.
She conjured the orb again, telling herself she could handle the pain. But she didn’t want to wear her magick out before she really needed it. She extinguished it and watched Kirin work through basic fighting moves for a few minutes. He flicked his hair out of his face as he rolled and came up ready to fight, his focus on an imaginary enemy. He checked his bare skin, and his expression darkened. It was odd to see him without the Dragon across his chest. After the third futile check, he kicked the side of the building and dented the corrugated metal.
She checked her watch. “It’s not quite time yet, you know.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “But with every minute that passes, my pop could be dying in there.”
The thought crushed her chest. “As much as we hate that creature, we can’t go all kill-crazy on it.”
He stared at the building, his hands flexing at his sides. “Hell, you’re right. My pop’s inside that thing. What happens to him if we incinerate it?” He turned to her. “Another bit of information that crafty son of a bitch Goron didn’t tell us. I’m sure he knew someone was inside that tulpa.”
“The face you saw was in the tulpa’s midsection, right?”
“Yeah.” He raised his fist. “So, we blast it in the head.”
“But remember what he did tell us. We’re supposed to send it positive emotions to throw it off.”
He grunted. “Positive. Yeah, I’ll be thinking nice, happy thoughts…while I’m slicing off its head. And that’s if Goron can be trusted. Sounds like something he’d make up just to screw around with us.”
He looked down at his chest again. “What if he changed his mind? Or planned to keep my Dragon all along?”
“Let’s not go there yet. Remember, happy energy.”
He gave her a forced smile, but she still saw the fear in his eyes. He stared at the building and absently rubbed his chest. “Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.”
A faint discoloration beneath his fingers caught her eye. “I see something!”
He looked down. “It’s tingling.” Relief saturated those words.
Faint red lines began to appear across the ridges of his stomach, along with goose bumps.
He threw his head back, the tendons in his neck going taut. “Feels like it did when it first appeared. Do you remember me telling you about it?”
She nodded. Crescents Awakened at puberty in a ceremony that honored their deity essence. He’d told her the Dragon came out during the ceremony, changing the cells of his skin as its essence opened a doorway into the world. He’d described it as amazing, but it had sounded scary and painful to her. Now the blood-red Dragon slowly came alive, expelling flames from its snout and stretching its wings. Then it opened its mouth in a silent roar, and Kirin dropped to his knees. His muscles bunched and tensed as he grimaced, his hands clenching.
She knelt beside him, gripping his arm. He was burning up. “Kirin. Are you all right?”
With a shudder, he opened his eyes, still breathing heavily. He looked at the pissed-off Dragon that was glaring at him. “I had to find answers,” Kirin said to it. “I’m sorry, but trading you was the only way I could do it. Besides, it was only temporary.”
The Dragon calmed a bit, its angry expression softening.
Kirin got to his feet and shucked his pants and briefs in one move. He Catalyzed, his body stretching to beast in an elegant blur. His scales shone blood-red, sliding into smooth interlocking armor. Black wings tucked close to his back. He was terrible and beautiful and shocking all at once.
He raced toward the front door with Elle right behind him. As they entered the large space, her light orb barely penetrated the murky depths of darkness.
Kirin paused, his nostrils flaring. “Something’s different about it.”
“It feels heavier. Bigger.”
She made the orb brighter and cast it into the air as they entered the gaping space. The tulpa stood in the middle, huge arms akimbo. Waiting for them. It didn’t look different, but it sure felt different.
