“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, wondering if he was just trying to be nice. But no, he looked completely sincere. And suddenly a weird feeling of pride started to flutter deep within her. Which was crazy, of course. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt proud of her dragon self—if ever. She thought back to all those loser kids at school. If only they could see her now. Side by side with the coolest ex-angel in Hell.
Julian smiled at her. “Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded, feeling her own smile flash across her scaly face. “Let’s do this.”
And so they did. Spreading their wings, taking to the skies. And soon Ashlee found herself enjoying that delicious feeling of the wind whipping at her face as her wings found the air currents, riding them like a wave. Julian kept up easily, flying by her side and though they must have looked like a very unlikely pair, she soon began to have too much fun to care.
She didn’t fly very much at home—it would be too embarrassing if she were seen by any of her friends. But here she didn’t know a soul. (Er, non-soul.) Here she could just enjoy the ride.
Not to mention the company. As they flew, they chatted with one another. The conversations ranging from gas guzzling SUVs (the guy who invented them was now evidently peddling a bike around the ninth circle of hell) to a lively debate on whether Heaven would be a red or blue state. They even shared a laugh over the fetching antics of Satan’s dog Cerberus. (The woofer had apparently gotten excruciatingly fat, having the ability to beg for scraps from three different tables at once.)
In all, Ashlee couldn’t remember having such a fun evening. And soon she’d pretty much forgotten all about her mission to kiss.
That was, until they finally settled back to the ground, in front of Julian’s house. He folded his wings and she forced herself back to human shape. He smiled at her. “That was fun,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time I had anyone to fly with.”
She nodded. “Same here. Back home we have a few fairies who can fly. But they’re total snobs. If I fly, it’s always just been me.”
“Well, not anymore,” he declared. “Anytime you want to stretch your wings, just text me.”
“Awesome,” she said. And she meant it, too. Then she glanced at her watch. “Oh! It’s late. I had no idea!” She’d been having so much fun she totally missed curfew. Her mom was going to kill her.
“Sorry,” Julian said. “I didn’t notice the time. Do you want me to call you an Uber to cross the River Styx?”
“That’d be great actually.” She rose to her feet, feeling suddenly awkward. Julian busied himself with the Uber app on his phone. Then he looked up.
“All set. He should be here in five minutes.”
It was then that she remembered her mission again. Her whole point for being here in the first place. After the whole dinner and flying and great conversation she’d almost forgotten. But now—she had five minutes to get the job done. To score that first kiss—once and for all. Her heart pounded in her chest. She could not blow this again, not after all the trouble she’d gone through to get here. If nothing else, Sarah would never let her hear the end of it!
And so, drawing in a breath, she took a step forward toward Julian. He raised an eyebrow, giving her a look that she decided was cautiously interested as she took another step forward, her heart hammering in her chest. Their faces were now inches apart, and she captured his eyes with her own, as if daring him to turn away.
He didn’t.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Um, hi,” he whispered back, a small smile playing on his lips. He reached out, running his hand through her blond hair, his fingers lightly scraping her scalp. It felt so nice she almost purred with pleasure. And the heat inside of her began to build in the most pleasant way.
But just as she was about to close her eyes, tilt her head, get this over with once and for all, Julian took a quick step backward. Out of her arms. Out of her reach.
The effect was like jumping into a cold shower. “What’s wrong?” she demanded, hating how desperate her voice sounded. Play it cool, she scolded herself.
He shrugged, his face reddening a bit. “Nothing,” he assured her. “I just think … well, maybe we should slow things down a bit.”
She squinted her eyes at him. “Slow down?” she repeated, confused and concerned. “But …”
He gave her a rueful look. “I’m sorry, okay? I know why you came here. And believe me, I was totally willing to help you out. Before I met you, that is.”
Ouch. Disappointment dropped to her stomach like a rock. And here she thought the night had been going so well, That they’d had such a great time. Made a real connection even. Had it all been only her imagination?
“Don’t you …?” She struggled for the words. “Want me?” she spit out at last, feeling stupid and hot. And not in the ‘turned on’ kind of way this time.
To her surprise. Julian started to laugh.
A scowl crossed her face. “What’s so funny?” she demanded, now feeling a little sick to her stomach to boot. Was the idea of him wanting her that ridiculous?
“Sorry,” Julian said, shaking his head and giving her an apologetic look. “It’s just … are you kidding me? I can’t imagine any red-blooded angel or demon not wanting someone like you.”
“Then why are you rejecting me?” she demanded, finding it hard to speak past the lump in her throat. Don’t cry! she scolded herself. Whatever you do, don’t let him see you cry.
“Wait—is that what you think?” He looked surprised. When she shrugged he took a step forward, reaching out to place his hands on her arms. Then he met her eyes with his own.
“I assure you, Ashlee Firebreath” he said in a low voice. “I am not rejecting you. Not even close.” He paused, his eyes twinkling. “But I’m not going to kiss you. Not tonight anyway.”
“Why?” She could barely breathe at this point.
“Because then it’d be all over,” he said simply. “You’d get your kiss. And while I’m sure I’d enjoy the hell out of that kiss—no pun intended.” He grinned wickedly. “What I want from you is so much more.”
She stared at him, hardly able to breathe. Definitely unable to speak. The way he was looking at her now—with such affection in his eyes—it was hard to even describe it.
He reached out again, this time slipping his hand into hers. His fingers moving across her skin, sending shivers down to her toes. Then he gave her a cautious smile. “Ashley, you’re smart. You’re funny. You’re amazing. You’re the first girl I’ve met in this god-forsaken place who could make me forget we were thrown out of Heaven.” He squeezed her hand in his.
It was then that she felt it. Not the cheap, raging fire she normally felt rise within her at a boy’s touch. The kind that made her want to explode and shift and spout flame. But rather a slow burn. A tender warmth.
And suddenly she understood. Being kissed wasn’t the important thing here. It was just a technicality that would someday take care of itself. Here, in the strangest place, with the most unexpected guy, she’d found something better. Something she hadn’t even realized she was searching for.
Ashlee Firebreath, were-dragon of Brackinridge Falls had not just found a guy who could take her heat. She’d found a guy who could keep her warm.
She looked up at Julian. All earlier self-consciousness fading away. Then she smiled. “Fair enough,” she said. “But someday soon I’m going to get you to give me that first kiss.”
He grinned back at her. “I’ll hold you to that.”
And, at that moment, she knew, without a doubt, that he would
And that it would be so worth the wait.
Mari Mancusi always wanted a dragon as a pet. Unfortunately the fire insurance premiums proved a bit too large and her house a bit too small—so she chose to write about them instead. Today she works as an award-winning young adult author and freelance television producer, for which she has won two Emmys. When not writing about fanciful creatures of myth
and legend, Mari enjoys traveling, cosplay, anything Disney, watching cheesy (and scary) horror movies, and her favorite guilty pleasure—playing videogames. A graduate of Boston University, she lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband Jacob, daughter Avalon, and their two dogs.
The Fragrant Feast
Sarah Lyn Eaton
Evening birds trilled their last songs as Louise walked through the woods, struggling with the heavy basket in her arms. It wasn’t her first time carrying the feasting supplies across the yard, but she had never done it wearing an antique Civil War era gown. How did women wear these every day?
Young Louise took her time, fearful with every step that she’d trip on the hem hidden beneath her heavy bundle. She was grateful that the long skirts hid her trusty Vans. The old woman had said the dress was important. Even the old-fashioned curls in her hair had been necessary, but she’d said nothing about shoes.
Odie had said it was time. The stars had told her so. And Louise prepared as she was instructed, carrying the necessary ingredients through the old oak grove.
Copal smoke sweetly thickened the night air as Louise reached a break in the trees. In a private cemetery, the old woman walked among the tombstones, some of them so old the inscribed words were illegible. Wrinkled hands struck match after match, lighting candles as beacons. The old woman stopped at a last tombstone, where metal-framed photos had been set around the base. Louise watched the elder light the final rose-scented candles, nestled in a peppery marigold wreath. The candle flames flickered in the growing greylight.
Louise took a deep breath at the entrance. She was the youngest ever to be called to host the family feast, but she was ready. When she stepped through the gate, she stepped into the part she had trained to play. This year, she prayed, everything changes.
“Odie,” Louise dropped the heavy picnic basket on an empty table. “I have the pan de muerto.”
“You made it as instructed?” The old woman’s voice challenged.
“I followed your recipe to the letter,” Louise assured her, “though it was not the same as making it with you.”
“It takes me longer every year to set up this feast,” Odie exhaled sharply. Her bones cracked as she righted herself and stretched. “Besides, it’ll be your kitchen soon enough.” The woman named Ordelia turned. Her jaw unhinged softly. “Ghosts alive!”
“Do I look all right?” Louise kept the skirt low and gave a slow twirl.
“Beautiful.” Tears glistened in Ordelia’s eyes. She touched her heart. “You almost sent me into my next life. Like you stepped out of another era.”
Louise closed her eyes. She knew the old woman was seeing into another time. Odie was old enough to have known the original owner of the dress she wore. Louise scowled.
“That face won’t do,” the woman frowned.
“Then stop talking about dying,” Louise countered.
“Could be anytime now.” Ordelia shrugged, polishing a dining table carved from the first oak in the grove to fall by lightning strike.
Louise unfolded a black tablecloth, pursing her lips together. Odie is going to be around for many years yet, she muttered. Over the cloth they laid colorful settings of fuchsia, orange, and green. Each plate had a set of silverware as old as the cemetery itself. Louise laid candles out, lighting all but one black pillar.
Around them, colorful picnic quilts waited for the other invited guests. A small table near the wall was covered in warming catering trays. The heavy fragrances quickened her heart. Smoke grated against the back of her throat, and she coughed into a stream of incense.
“You have to be able to taste the air,” Ordelia reminded her. “If you cannot, the spirits cannot, and they will not come to feast.”
“Will our guest?” Louise wondered. She dug her thumbnail nervously into her fingertips. She would be the one to welcome him. The thought made her lightheaded, and she clutched the back of a chair.
“It is not just the food that will entice him,” Ordelia snorted, staring again at the dress. She had modernized it slightly for Louise’s body, taking the mulberry wool in, but the effect was stunning. She lowered the shoulders on the bodice a little more, her hands hesitating inches from Louise’s cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”
Louise pressed a softened hand to her face. “I would do anything for you.”
“There’s no guarantee it will work,” Ordelia warned sadly.
And no guarantee I’ll make it through alive, Louise finished. She’d known that from the beginning. They both had.
“He will come,” she grinned breathlessly, adrenaline pulsing through her muscles. “He cannot refuse us.”
The old woman lashed out and slapped the feverish glint from Louise’s eye. Louise covered the sting with her hand, flushing angrily. “You hit me!”
“Keep your wits about you! That dog is dangerous.”
“But you said he can’t hurt us.”
“Not tonight. But don’t go looking at his pretty face and forgetting that tomorrow comes soon after today.” Ordelia glanced up at the darkening sky with sharp eyes. “Our guests will be on their way soon. It’s time.” She thrust a large clunky bottle into Louise’s hand and disappeared into the edges of dark.
“That’s some pep talk.” Louise’s full hands trembled. She returned to the entrance, her long skirt teasing the ground. She pulled energy up from the earth as she moved. It surged up through her muscles into her stomach and into her heart. The excess fluttered there, battering against bone.
In the iron gateway of the small family plot, Louise pulled the old cork from the rum bottle, gently swirling the liquor in the bottle. It’s aged, pungent perfume added to the sensory dance. Thick smoke took shadow forms as spirits stirred around her.
Louise stared into the spreading inky night, overwhelmed by all the fragrances. She let it wash over her body and shook it off, breathing deeply. She focused her thoughts on one figure, one form, and one name.
“There is a place for you at our family table tonight. I invite you in. I entice you to come with the last of my great-granddaddy’s secret stash, bought off a witch doctor’s back porch in Jamaica when he was young.” Louise heard whispers rising within the walls behind her. She tipped the bottle towards the ground. “Come, old man, or I’ll gift your share to the earth.”
“No need wasting good spirits on those who no longer have lips with which to taste it.” His voice was smoke lifting from the dirt. Louise gasped. Swirling shadows molded a formless shape, but it was a man who stepped into the light. His dark, unmarred skin stretched sleekly over the curves of his bones like silk. He was luminously beautiful, stepping forward into her silence as she fell into the glittering galaxies of his eyes. He grinned. “Just who are you calling Old Man?”
Louise blinked back into her body as a blush crept up her neck. She cursed inwardly, grateful for the sting still on her cheek. Odie was right. She gripped the dark rum. “Hello, Crossroads Man.”
“I’d be glad for a sip of that.” The man chewed on his lip from the other side of the gate.
“So you accept my invitation?” she pressed. The words were important.
“And whose invitation would I be accepting?”
“My name is Louisa Angeline.” Her voice strengthened with the sound of her birth name.
“Louisa Angeline,” he grinned. “How could I resist such a treat? I gladly accept.”
Louise poured the rum into two shot glasses pulled from a nearby column and thrust one at her guest. She thrilled to be face to face with such a being. He maintained eye contact with her as he took the offering, running his pinky finger along the outside of her hand. An electric shock shot down her spine, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Do not be fooled by his glamour.
The man rolled the shot glass across his bottom lip before tipping the heady rum back greedily. His eyelids fluttered, and he licked his lips, reaching for the second shot. Louise shook her head.
“The first one is for the Crossroads Man. The
second one is for the spirits walking the world.” She set the shot glass on top of the column at the gate as he took a step closer to her. His breath smelled like jasmine and mushrooms and salted sea spray.
“Dinner is ready!” Ordelia yelled behind them as Louise jumped away. The man smiled wickedly. He held out his arm until Louise took it. She frowned internally. He knows his magic is palpable.
“A beautiful setting,” he intoned slyly as she pulled him towards the table. “Very intimate.”
“It’s a private cemetery,” Louise explained, taking her hand from his arm. Odie paced them in the shadows. It gave her comfort.
The Crossroads Man bent down to snag a pinch of dirt, which he touched to his tongue. “This land is old.”
“It’s very old.” Louise gestured to the finely carved black chair at the head of the table. “The place of honor belongs to you, Crossroads Man.” She hesitated. “Is there a better name I could call you? Anything I can think of seems to diminish you somehow.” And names are important.
His smile stretched to meet the starlight, as she hoped it might. He pulled smartly at the cuff of his old suit jacket, waiting to be seated. “For such flattery, you may call me whatever you wish. For tonight.”
“What about Frederick?” Louise asked, sweeping behind his chair. A small muscle twitched at his temple but smoothed quickly. She grinned, pulling the chair out. “No, not something so mundane as Frederick,” Louise slid the chair in beneath him with a flourish, leaning low, trying to sound more clever than she felt. “Welcome to our table, Shadow.” The dark man winked his delight, and the old woman snorted from the food table.
Louise turned her back and walked slowly to the other end of the table, scowling. Shadow? She might as well have named him Rumpelstiltskin.
The young hostess smoothed the fabric where the bodice met her skirt, noting how Shadow’s gaze followed her fingertips across her hips. She smiled shyly and picked up a small wooden box. Beneath Shadow’s gaze, she felt far more naked than she did in her normal clothes. Exhaling, the girl born Louisa Angeline steadied her hands and pulled a match from the pewter box, striking the tip on the ornate handle.
Dragons and Witches Page 5