“Maybe we should try.”
He growled. “A little late, I’m afraid. After today, do you think any of St. George will want to talk to dragons?” My heart sank, and Cobalt tossed his head, gesturing at the scene before us with his horns. “Look around you, Firebrand. This was a massacre. Granted, we’re usually the ones on the other end, but the Order won’t think of it like that. You saw how they reacted when we dared sneak into their compound to rescue one soldier, and we didn’t kill anyone on our way out. What do you think they’re going to do after this? How do you think they’re going to react?”
I swallowed hard. “There’s no right answer, is there?”
“There never is in war.”
Garret hopped from the truck and made his way over, his face still dark and shadowed. “That’s the last of them,” he announced. “The keys are still in the ignition. I’ll drive one truck back. Can either of you...?”
Cobalt grimaced. “Well, I’d do it, but I’d probably stick to the leather, if you know what I mean.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “I’ll drive,” I told Garret, who nodded without smiling, his expression still far away. “I can make it back to the monastery, at least. But, the soldiers...are you sure you’re okay with us leaving them like that?”
He nodded. “There’s no time for anything else,” he said. “The Order will take care of them when they get here. But we need to not be here when they arrive.”
“That gets my vote,” Cobalt said, and began trotting toward the vehicles. “I’ll ride in the back, Firebrand,” he called over his shoulder. “You probably don’t want me in the front, in either form.”
I headed to the second truck and opened the driver’s door, taking a few seconds to brush glass off the seat before I sat down. For a moment, I wondered if the truck would even start. All the windows had been shattered, the seats blackened and charred from where Cobalt had blasted them with fire, and the hood was crumpled from having a dragon leaping atop it. The roof was completely shredded, claw marks and bullet holes raked through like it was made of aluminum foil instead of metal. There’d be no hiding what had happened here. Anyone with even the smallest knowledge of dragons would take one look at this truck and know it had been attacked by something huge that could breathe fire.
Or multiple somethings that could breathe fire.
Thankfully, despite the damage from talons and fire and sheer scaly weight, the truck started easily. I followed Garret carefully up the mountain road, trying not to see into the back of the vehicle in front of me. At the line of soldiers we had killed.
The monks had gathered outside when we pulled up with the trucks, along with Jade and a very stressed-out-looking Wes. The Eastern dragon had Shifted back to human form, though she wore jeans, a jacket and boots instead of robes, signaling her intent to leave. She strode forward as the trucks pulled to a stop, looking grim and determined as Garret dropped from the front seat to meet her.
“I’ve convinced the abbot they need to leave this place,” she told the soldier, who nodded. “St. George will be coming soon—better that a building suffer the Order’s wrath than the people who live there. They have an old van, and almost nothing to take with them, so they’re very nearly ready to go.” She paused, looking back at the cluster of orange robes, then turned back with a frown. “I am going with them.”
Garret didn’t look surprised. “Do you plan to come back?”
“Yes.” Jade nodded firmly. “When I’ve found them a new place to stay, when I’m sure they’re settled in and safe from any further attacks, I’ll contact you. But this is my responsibility. I won’t abandon them now, not when it’s our fault the Order is coming.”
An ancient van, more rust than metal, trundled around the side of the building and lurched to a coughing halt at the edge of the road. The monks began piling into it and, for a moment, I wondered what people passing them on the highway would think, when they glanced over and saw a van full of bald men in orange robes peering back at them. Garret watched them a moment, then turned back to Jade.
“Good luck,” he said. “And thanks. We’ll meet you again when you’re done.”
She bowed to him, very slightly. Though I got the impression that small, simple gesture was huge in Eastern dragon terms. Turning, she strode to the now-full van, sagging under the weight of a dozen monks crammed into the seats, opened the passenger door and swung inside. With a cough and a sickly rumble, the vehicle rolled away down the road, the faces of the monks peering back at us through the windows. I lifted a hand, and several of them waved to me, as well. Then the van cruised over a hill, around a bend in the road, and disappeared from sight.