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“I said they sponsored it, not that they were running it. Come on, I want to check it out.” I nudged Connor’s side with my elbow—there would be no head cracking on my end—then started edging down the street.
It was hard to get close as the festival attendees also drifted towards the new fireworks. In the end we had to slip out between two stalls and use the sidewalk to go out and around.
The fireworks were on the smaller scale with red, gold, and blue sparklers that the workers whirled through the darkening air to make glowing figures; pink, green, and purple fountains that spat colored flames nearly eight feet high; tiny popping fireworks that made whirling noises and glowed bright blue and green while they spun like tops; and a couple of roman candles that I was pretty sure broke the city noise ordinances, but shot off clouds of red and orange sparks.
The crowd oohed and ahhed as they flowed in and out of the festival, and soon the sulphureous smell of the fireworks filled the air more than the scent of popcorn.
“What did I say? Underwhelming,” Connor said. “Not even full-sized fireworks.”
“I still think it’s fun.” Although it had been warm during the day, the temperature was falling rapidly as the sun set. I rubbed my arms as I watched a volunteer light the last roman candle. “They’re pretty, and the kids are enjoying it.”
The roman candle spat sparks as the fuse burned down, then it abruptly went out.
Connor tilted his head. “You were saying?”
The firework exploded with fire. Not colored sparks that were quickly snuffed out, but actual flames that engulfed the roman candle.
Someone screamed, and the relaxed crowd instantly turned into a panicked stampede as the festival attendees tried to back away from the burning firework.
The flames reached three feet high—which shouldn’t have been possible given the size of the firework—and then it started belching balls of flame into the air.
That’s not good.
I pushed forward into the stampede trying to make my way towards the firework.
“Andwheredo you think you’re going?” Connor held me by the elbow and effortlessly tugged me backwards.
“Someone has to put it out,” I said as I tried to squirm free.
Connor was unrelenting. “Someonewillput it out—someone who isn’t a delicate human,” he said.
I was going to argue but a panicked dad carrying his kid plowed into me knocking me into Connor’s chest.
I braced myself to be squashed further, but I felt Connor’s shoulder move and nothing else touched me.
When I peeled my head off his chest, I was able to get a look around and I realized he had his left arm out and curled around me—not touching me but acting as a wall so that when humans rammed him they bounced off his unrelenting strength.
“Have no fear, humans!” Two wizards wearing coats in House Tellier orange and yellow broke out of the pandemonium. “We will save you!”
The taller wizard dramatically held his hands out and created a volleyball sized globe of water. He lowered it over the burning firework, encasing it in water.
The tall flames sputtered, then went out. The taller wizard popped the ball of water so it splashed across the street, while the shorter wizard grabbed the firework and tossed it in a bucket of water the volunteers setting the fireworks off kept on hand.
The two then turned and bowed as the crowd started to settle down enough to clap in appreciation.
I was pretty sure the taller wizard was the House Tellier Heir—the wizard who would one day inherit the house and become the House Adept, after his parents died, leading all the wizards that belonged to the House. I couldn’t remember the heir’s name, but his face had a perpetual sour lemon look that made him easy to recognize. However, he wasn’t wearing the sour look at the moment. Instead, he had a toothy smile as he took another bow.
I guess it’s a good thing he was hanging around…but there’s something I don’t like about him.I unconsciously tightened my grip on Connor’s shoulders.
“There, there,” Connor patted my back twice, about as soothing as a cactus. “I’d say you must be frightened,except! You ran toward danger like a deranged carrot!”
That was odd enough to draw my attention from the preening wizards. “Carrot? Is that a dig at my hair color?”
“A firework blows up, you try to run towards it, and you’re concerned I was making a joke about your hair?” Connor actually scowled at me. “I no longer wonder why you work for the Cloisters: it’s because you lack common sense.”
I patted Connor’s shoulders, then released him and stepped away. His arm briefly grazed my midback before he relaxed into an appropriately casual pose that would have delighted a fashion photographer. “I would have been fine,” I said.
Connor snorted. “The assurance of the delusional. Are you satisfied with this firework display?”
