Page 42 of Ignited

Karisma liked her on sight. Not least because she had brought more bags of food—breakfast sandwiches, by the smell—and a carrier with more coffees.

“Hey,” she said cheerfully to Karisma, juggling things so she could hold out her hand for a handshake. One of the paper bags slid to the floor, spilling several packs of Twinkies onto the stone pavers. “I’m Michelangela Connors, but everybody calls me Mikey.”

She handed the coffee carrier to Boomer. “One of those is mine. And so is one of the sandwiches, so don’t make me kill you for it.”

“As if,” Boomer said. “I can take you. Where’s DB?”

“On his way.”

Almost before she finished saying the words, the air about ten feet away from them began to sparkle with magic. There was a ripping sound, and a long, bright green vertical slash appeared in the air.

Karisma, still sitting, backed up against the wall. “What the actual fuck is that?”

Mikey grinned. “That’s DB.”

As Karisma watched, mouth open, the slash widened into a doorway, and a man stepped through.

Scratch that. Almost a man—a teenage boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen. He was startlingly good-looking, with wavy black hair down to his shoulders and eyes the same color as the magical doorway. He was dressed all in black—a t-shirt and jeans with a leather vest over them—and had a black leather backpack thrown carelessly over one shoulder.

“Hey, Mikey,” he said. “Boomer. And Tiger Girl.” He caught sight of the bag on the floor. “Twinkies! Sweet. Are those for me?”

A gray leather glove floated out of the doorway behind him. Just one—but filled out like there was a hand inside it. The door closed and disappeared. The hand floated over to the Twinkies, picked up a pack and handed them to DB. “Thank you, Thing.” He ripped them open and stuffed half a Twinkie in his mouth.

A grin spread across Mikey’s face. “Is that Ziggy?” The glove did a little finger wave.

Mikey spread her arms out wide, like she was going to hug somebody. “Come over here, you!”

The glove floated over. Mikey grabbed it and planted a big smacking kiss on the fingers. She let go and they high fived.

Karisma whispered to Boomer, “What the hell is that?”

“I have no fucking idea.” He raised his voice a bit. “Mikey? Someone invisible here?”

“Oh. No. Well, yeah. This is Ziggy. He’s a zefir—a kind of air elemental. They attach themselves to particular dragon families—or people they like—as… helpers. He doesn’t have a body.”

Like that wasn’t weird at all.

“But the glove is new,” Mikey said. “What’s up with that?”

DB rolled his eyes. “Mikah’s kid has been obsessed with the Addams Family lately. Ziggy decided it would be cool to be Thing. But you can’t see his hand, so… glove.”

Mikey cracked up. “That’s awesome.”

Karisma was studying the dragon, who’d dropped his pack on the floor and was chowing down on a second Twinkie. He definitely didn’t look old enough to be able to help her. He looked like he should still be in high school. But dragons lived for centuries, so… maybe he was older?

“So, DB,” she said. “Um, you’re really like, a hundred and fifty with tons of magical training, right? You only look like a kid?”

He grinned. “Nope, sorry. I’m a genius, though. The most powerful Draken sorcerer in a thousand years, worldwalker extraordinaire, blah blah blah, all adding up to I’m cool as fuck. Should we get started?”

Great. Not just a teenager—a braggy, egotistical teenager.

She whispered to Boomer, “You didn’t get me the cut-rate dragon, did you? Because he looks like he’s about twelve.”

Michelangela laughed, almost spitting her coffee. DB frowned. A tiny bit of smoke trickled out of his nostrils.

Boomer said, “Nah. He’s an obnoxious little monster, but—like me in my chosen field—he really is as good as he thinks he is.” He winked at DB.

She took a deep breath. “Okay.”