Fire in His Blood(6)

 

He looks over at me and his gaze skims down my body.

 

Ew.

 

Oookay. Things just officially got worse. I swallow hard. Think of Amy. Lots of women make a living servicing guards. Sometimes it's for petty crimes, sometimes it's for a bit of food. Sometimes it's for protection. It's a way of life now. I can do it if it means taking care of my sister. I can.

 

I … hope.

 

Mayor Lewis looks up at the guard and rubs the weary crinkles around his eyes again. "What is it, Captain?"

 

The captain glances away from me and back at the mayor. "She's young. Fit. A good age, and strong. We can use her." He glances over at me quickly, and his voice lowers. "You know. Bait … for the experiment."

 

Bait?

 

Wait.

 

Bait?

 

My clasped palms get all sweaty. My heart picks up a new and anxious pulse. "Um?"

 

"Bait?" The mayor frowns at that, giving the captain a revolted look. "You need more girls for that? You already had five."

 

Five bait girls? Past tense bait girls? What is this?

 

The captain grimaces, an expression that drives a sliver of terror into my soul. "They're gone, Mayor. Just … gone. Don't ask. This is different, though." He moves toward the mayor and leans in, whispering.

 

I can't hear what they're saying. I watch them, frantically trying to read lips, but the only thing pulsing through my mind is five bait girls. They're gone.

 

And he wants me to be number six. Maybe I should take my chances on exile.

 

After a moment, the guard looks up, and both he and the mayor re-focus on me.

 

That's not good.

 

The captain bends his head again, and the two men whisper for a while longer, but the mayor seems implacable. He really, really wants to exile me, it seems. He shakes his head again, then picks up his whiteboard. "Her crimes are serious, Captain. Exile it is. She must be made an example of to the Fort, and your experiment has proven that it does not work. I'm sorry, but my decision is made."

 

"We need her," the captain insists.

 

My gaze flicks back and forth between them. I don't know what to hope for-exile or bait? Exile or bait? "Um, do I get a say in things?"

 

They ignore me.

 

 

 

        

          

        

         

 

"This is a massive list of crimes," the mayor says, stabbing his finger at the yellowed board. "And it's not the first time she's been sent to jail! We must make an example of her! Scavenging is running rampant!"

 

"And we will make an example of her," the captain soothes. "One way or another, we succeed. If it takes her, great. If not, well … " He shrugs.

 

"If what takes me?" I call out.

 

"We need to do something," the captain says in a hushed voice. "We-"

 

A large shadow passes over the sunny windows. The lanterns hanging on the walls make a metallic jiggling noise, and the ceiling shudders. A roar cuts through the air a mere moment before the dragon alarm blares to life.

 

My entire body grows cold.

 

"Fuck!" the captain shouts. He grabs the mayor and they scramble away from the windows as an enormous golden flash of scale and wing swoops entirely too close. The entire building shakes, and the dragon roars again.

 

I fling myself flat on the ground, terrified. I jerk at my handcuffs, but where would I go? How is this happening? The dragons just attacked last night. We should be safe … shouldn't we?

 

The room bursts into action. Guards are everywhere, grabbing materials and cases as the dark shape soars overhead again, blotting out the light coming from the windows.

 

A guard remembers me and pulls me to my feet, then pushes me along with the others as we head into one of the dugout rooms below for safer shelter. We crowd into the tiny room, and someone closes the door.

 

No one speaks as we huddle together. The room is suffocatingly hot, the air still and musky with sweat. It's dark, and I feel a bead of sweat roll off of my nose and drip onto my arm as we wait for the all-clear alarm. Someone shuffles in the darkness, and I feel a sticky arm press against my own. I don't complain. When a dragon's overhead breathing fire, you're grateful for shelter, any shelter.

 

Another ear-splitting roar sounds over the alarm, and the room shakes with the force of the sound. The smell of hot char and ash fills the air, along with smoke.

 

"Is it the big one again?" the captain asks in a low voice.

 

"The gold one," the guard next to me agrees. "I saw his wings before he dove."