The look she gives me could freeze hell. Not magic—just pureMom-force. Soft until she's not, and right now she's definitely not.Fine.She's dealing with a lot, I get it. I'll play nice. For now.
Uncle Edwin gives me a smirk that tries to be comforting. “Don't worry, Brynn. Esme's a firecracker. Probably giving that dragon heartburn as we speak.”
“Come, Ed. We should talk,” Mom says, herding my relatives back toward our creepy-ass lodge. Every window glows with candles—dozens of them—while moths kamikaze themselves against the glass. Super on-brand for the Salems: when someone's missing, light a million fire hazards and hope they find their way home. Like a supernatural airport runway.
I stare down at the patch of grass where my brother isn't quite dead. My heart does this weird flutter thing.
“Can you hear me in there, Jax?” I whisper, feeling stupid talking to dirt. “I know, I know—magical coma, healing trance. But sometimes I swear I can feel you listening. Like you're trapped in the world's worst game of charades.”
If Jax were conscious, he'd already be halfway to Dragon Central with a backpack full of hexes and a middle finger to protocol. He's kind of Esme 2.0, too, just with less cleavage and more dad jokes. He'd probably summon our half-dead grandmother Esther from whatever magical limbo she's stuck in, consequences be damned.
Mom knows it too.
Meanwhile, I'm supposed to play by the rules? Be the good little witch? Take remedial ass-kicking classes with Chad McPerfectHair?
“It's like they want me to be her replacement model here...”
Hot tears suddenly streak down my face, which is just fantastic. Nothing says “powerful darkblood” like sobbing in a cemetery. My chest feels like it's housing a small nuclear reaction. I could never be Esme, even if I wanted to. She’s irreplaceable.
Part of me wants to say screw it—she was confident enough to take on a mission with unknown parameters, she can claw her way out. But... a dragon. Not some clearblood with a god complex. A literal fire-breathing, village-eating monster from the bedtimestories that gave me nightmares until I was twelve. How the hell do you ghost a dragon?
How will she ever make it back to us?
A throat clears behind me. “Didn't peg you for the weepy type, Salem.”
I whirl around, nearly tripping over my own feet. Great. Chad-freaking-Valgrave, because this night wasn't already a dumpster fire. He's standing there with his arms crossed over his chest like some CW heartthrob, his coven uniform stretching across shoulders that should require a building permit.
“What are you doing here?” I wipe my face with my sleeve, hoping it's too dark for him to see the mascara tracks.
“It's a cemetery. Public space.”
“It's our cemetery. Salem's lot. Scram.”
Chad takes a step closer instead, because of course he does. Personal boundaries? Never heard of 'em.
“We can't postpone your training forever,” he says, like we're discussing a dentist appointment.
“It's literally midnight. Can’t your motivational torture wait a few more hours?”
His mouth twitches. Gods, even his smirk is symmetrical. What, did the universe run out of flaws when it made him?
“Couldn't help overhearing your little family drama,” he says.
“Oh, so you were eavesdropping. Classy.”
“Call it strategic reconnaissance.” He shrugs, all casual, like we're discussing the weather instead of my sister's dragon abduction. “Just trying to figure out how the Salem gene pool produced... well, you. Your siblings are practically death magic prodigies, and then there's—” he gestures vaguely at my entire existence “—whatever this is.”
I lower my gaze, heat crawling up my neck like some kind of demonic rash. “I don't have to explain myself to you, Valgrave.”
“I'm just trying to understand.”
“Mom was too busy making sure Esme and Jax didn't turn each other into corpse confetti while we were growing up. Which gave me plenty of time to hide in the library with actual books instead of,you know, practicing how to liquefy someone's organs. There's your Salem family recap. Happy now?”
He cocks his head to the side. “There's a killer in you, Brynn.”
“Yeah, and there's a unicorn in my left nostril.”
“There is. And I will make her come out and join us.”
