Four dragons stared at me from the other side, pale eyes shining in the darkness. Another two perched on the roof of the security hut like gargoyles, and a third crouched on a stack of crates nearby, wings partially flared for balance. Seven pairs of flat, emotionless eyes fixed solely on me.
“Gentlemen,” Ms. Sutton said, sounding triumphant. “I believe we have our answer. What do you think, Mr. Hill?”
I looked around, seeing myself reflected in those flat, alien eyes, and smiled.
“Yes,” I said, as the lead dragon watched me with the expression of a statue. “I think they’re ready.”
EMBER
Annoyingly cheerful birdsong penetrated my comfortable sleep.
Nostrils twitching, I opened my eyes, then squinted at the sunlight coming through an open window. Raising my head, I peered at my surroundings, letting my mind catch up to the present. I was in dragon form, lying in the same small room I’d been shown to last night by men in orange robes. I remembered a flurry of movement, the shuffle of bare feet around me and the babble of voices speaking in a language I didn’t know. I recalled one smiling monk kneeling at my head, talking to me throughout the removal of the bullet in my leg. And though I hadn’t understand a word he said, his voice had been low and soothing, and the fingers against my brow cool, even through my scales. He was, I reflected, very brave to sit at the head of an injured dragon while his companions dug a bullet out of its leg, with the patient hissing and growling in pain through the whole ordeal.
Carefully, I sat up, bracing myself, but though there was a dull ache at the site of the wound, my leg felt strangely numb, almost tingly. Craning my neck around, I examined my flank. A gauze square had been taped over the wound, so I couldn’t see the injury, but it felt clean and taken care of, certainly better than when I’d had a piece of lead jammed under my scales. Although the bandage gave off a strong herbal smell that made me flinch and pull back.
At least it doesn’t hurt much. Yay for painkillers, in whatever form they come. I’ve really got to stop this whole being-shot thing. I pushed myself upright and stretched, shaking out my neck and wings, and looked around. Wonder where everyone is?
Memories of the night before came back to me: gunfire and soldiers, the smell of smoke and fear, being trapped underground with men closing in on all sides. Cobalt’s fervent whispers, huddling behind a counter, waiting to die. And then, his sudden arrival, and the way my heart stuttered when I realized who it was.
With a sigh, I pushed those thoughts away before the tide of emotion behind the gates could smash through and overwhelm me. Sooner or later, I would have to face him again, and I was both anticipating and dreading that encounter, but I wasn’t going to think about it now. Spotting a pile of neatly folded clothes on a cot, I padded over to examine them, finding loose jeans, underwear and a T-shirt. At least someone had been prepared for the eventual Shifting back, though as always, I was reluctant to return to human form after being myself for so long. But on the bright side, I wouldn’t have to mince around the temple in a slinky Viper suit or orange robes eight sizes too big.
As I forced myself back to human form, my leg gave a weak throb, making me grit my teeth. But whatever numbing salve had been smeared on the wound did its job. After peeling out of the Viper suit, I changed carefully, sliding the jeans over the bandages, grateful that the denim didn’t rub against my skin. After pulling on the shirt, I raked my fingers through my hair, wincing at the snarls. Ouch. Why in the world is it always so tangled after a Shift? It’s not like I’m flying around with my hair blowing in the wind. Briefly, I wondered if I could borrow a brush from someone, then realized how ridiculous that was. Bald monks, Ember. This place probably hasn’t seen a comb since the day it was built.
When I was convinced I looked at least halfway presentable—harder than it sounded, since the room had no mirrors—I pushed open the door to my room and stepped out into the hall. A monk coming through another doorway instantly stopped and bowed to me, hands pressed under his chin. Slightly uncomfortable—I wasn’t used to being bowed to—I offered a weak smile and raised my hand.
“Um. Hi.” He nodded pleasantly, but his gaze remained intense, as if waiting for me to ask him something. “I’m looking for my friends,” I continued, wondering if he understood a word I was saying. “Do you know where I can find them?”
He silently lifted his arm, pointing behind me. Bemused, I turned around...