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“I don’t remember when it came on, but yes, at some point, I was self-aware. We mature in the egg, you know. There was a time when I became aware of what I was and I knew that the world outside existed. I can’t explain what my thoughts were like—but at one point, I sensed you nearby and I knew you were my person. I knew that I needed to be near you. I called for you for a while before you heard me. But then you found me and everything worked out.” He reached out and pressed his beak against my forehead. “And that’s all that matters.”
Still in awe of how dragonettes developed, I let it go. Maybe some expert had studied them and I could find a book on the subject to understand on a deeper level. And if not, did it matter? Fancypants was here, now, and my life had shifted because of him.
“So, what do you like to do? Or do you think you’ll want to do, now that you’re out of the egg?” Hearing my question, I snorted. “This has to be one of the oddest conversations I’ve ever had.”
Fancypants snorted, too, turning away just in time to keep from blasting me with two small jets of fire. But I could feel the heat—it was very real, and I suddenly realized how dangerous it could be if he did that in my face.
“Pardon me! I didn’t mean to do that!”
“Hey, be careful, okay? I don’t want to lose my sight or deal with third-degree burns.” I stretched my neck to the side, frowning.
“I said I’ll be careful. I have no intention of hurting you,” he said.
“Also, be careful shooting off fire inside. I like my house and want to keep it.” I groaned, imagining him catching the curtains on fire. “Is there a way you can put a stop to breathing fire unless you consciously will it, or something? I’m now having visions of you setting the curtains on fire and burning down my house!”
Fancypants flew off my shoulder and settled on the coffee table. “I’m capable of controlling my flame, but if it makes you feel better, perhaps there’s a process in which we can prevent accidental bursts.”
I grabbed out my phone. “Maybe May’s still up. She had a dragonette. She must have dealt with this.”
may, is there a way for a dragonette to stop snorting fire? i’m afraid that fancypants will burn down the house without meaning to.
A moment later, she texted back.yes, there is—i had that problem with melda. we figured out a way to make it a conscious act rather than involuntary response. mugwort and jasmine will lessen the production of fire.
mugwort and jasmine?
yes. mix four drops of mugwort tincture with two drops of jasmine tincture and feed it to him twice a day, morning and night. they’re water-based herbs, and the mixture will quench the random occurrence and he’ll have to think about creating fire in order to do so. it won’t put a stop to the production, but will make it a conscious act.
I thanked her. “Well, we have an answer, but I’ll have to either make the tinctures or buy them, if I can. Until then—just be careful?”
“Of course I’ll be careful.” He rolled his eyes. “Your house is safe.”
“What do you want to do? I need to go to bed soon, but…do you need food?” I paused, then added, “If you have any questions about me—”
“No, I saw what I needed to see during the bonding.” He stopped, crooking his neck to look at me. “I know everything I need to know, and I will tell you this: I chose well.” He paused, then added, “Elphyra, you deserve to be alive. You weren’t the one to blame.”
As he spoke, I knew—on a gut level—that he knew about Rian and what had happened. I caught my breath, trying not to tear up. Biting my lip, I tried to force the tears back, but they were so close to the surface that I was struggling to keep them at bay.
“His death isn’t your fault. The blame belongs to the vampire.” Fancypants’s voice was surprisingly soft.
“I… I…” I didn’t want to visit my pain on Fancypants. But he took wing, landing by my side. Awkwardly, he reached out and patted my hand. I stared down at him, wondering how someone so young and small could comfort me, but his touch was soothing. As the tears slid down my cheeks, he flew up and landed on my shoulder.
“You know what it’s called,” he said.
I nodded. “Survivor’s guilt. My therapist explained it to me. But knowing something logically is different from being able to accept it on an emotional level. We were both tipsy, we both decided to walk home. It’s not like I said, ‘Let’s go that way’…but it still happened and he sacrificed himself for me.”
“He loved you,” Fancypants said.
“I loved him, but I’m alive and he isn’t.” I hung my head, staring at my hands.
“Have you spoken to his spirit?” The dragonette fluttered his wings, wafting a strand of my hair back from my face.
I took a breath. “No. Why?”
“It might set your mind at ease.” Fancypants frowned, or at least a good imitation of a frown. “You should eat. Your energy is disrupted by whatever happened this evening, and by your emotions right now.”
I inhaled a long, slow breath, then counted to eight as I exhaled. The breathing exercises I’d learned as a girl stood me in good stead; they helped me calm myself when I felt on the edge of falling back into that abyss.
“You’re right. Tonight was stressful and I was worried about the women I was trying to help. And then, getting punched didn’t help matters any,” I said. “You’re right, I need some food.” I stood and, with Fancypants leading the way, headed into the kitchen. I pulled out a can of tomato soup, the bread, butter, and cheese, to make soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, while the dragonette prattled. A few minutes later, as I was cooking, he had me laughing. I wasn’t sure how, but he’d managed to lift my spirits in the matter of a few minutes. I prepared another meal for him and we sat together at the kitchen table, eating. And as odd as it was, everything felt perfectly normal.
