Flight of Dragons(51)
Her mind worked furiously. Ti’s arrival was imminent, but so was Balthazar’s death, and she hadn’t exactly promised that she would stay in the house. “What does Balthazar’s dragon scale look like?” she asked innocently as Lancelot locked the door and placed the key on a hook above the frame.
“Dark blue. I suppose it’s similar in shape to a snake’s, and much larger of course. Why?”
She stared at both of them. “Because I’m going to look for it.”
***
Eva silently walked to the front door and pulled her sneakers on. She wanted to see for herself what Balthazar was going through. Even though he was locked in a cage, she knew better than to take chances—she didn’t know what to expect. She looked around the door but didn’t see a security alarm. She stifled a laugh—like Balthazar needed it.
She managed to open the door without a sound and walked quickly to the side of the house. She didn’t see anyone and turned the corner. She continued moving down the width of the large home, her hand staying in contact with the stone wall to keep her on course until, in the faint starlight, she saw several ground-level windows covered with slats of wood.
From the inside.
No one was around. Eva stepped close to the wall and kneeled at a window farthest from the front of the house. The glass was cold as she pressed her hands against it, and angled herself so that she looked through a small gap between the wooden boards.
The room was lit with a dull orange glow.
Balthazar squirmed on the floor. His skin was covered in burns and blisters, and as she continued to watch, the flesh split. He raised his head and screamed, his expression contorted with torture.
Flames licked from the open wounds, and he cursed in an unintelligible language. His fists pounded the floor, and Eva felt the vibrations shiver through the wall. She plastered her face against the glass and watched as he crawled in circles, as his fingers dug into the earth and left long deep furrows, and streaks of blood, in their wake.
Suddenly, fire covered his body, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to swallow the scream that came unbidden to her throat. But her analytical mind observed the scene. The fire didn’t spread or fall to the floor, and though it burned through his wounds, it didn’t spread across his body, as if he had control over it.
Balthazar screamed again, and fire exploded from between his lips, dancing through the air and scarring the wall in front of him before he collapsed, his body unmoving despite the flames that continued to lick his skin.
Oh God, please let him be okay. She made a fist and pounded on the window. “Balthazar! Wake up!”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
***
As soon as Balthazar heard the bolt slide into place on the other side, he screamed in pain and doubled over. His dragon soul roared in fury as it tried to transform, and Balthazar shivered. A thick sheen of sweat covered his skin and dampened his clothes. He fumbled out of his pants, but the heat was relentless.
His shoulder throbbed with excruciating pain, the shameful reminder of his missing scale. As his dragon heat threatened to consume him, Balthazar wrapped his arms around his chest and hugged himself tightly, while his legs kicked out as if against an unseen opponent.
This was a fight he had to win. If his dragon soul escaped the mental barrier he had erected, they would both die. If the dragon fire escaped, it would burn him to ash and leave his dragon a tormented soul without a being strong enough to contain it. It would wander the earth or enter the kingdom of its long dead brothers and sisters.
Balthazar refused to let that happen, but his dragon wouldn’t listen if he tried to reason with it. The dragon only knew that its time was near to emerge and would do everything in its power to reveal its true form.
Shadows moved across the floor and crawled up the wall as the afternoon faded into darkness. His dragon soul had finally quieted, and Balthazar managed to sit up and lean against the cage. Its thick metal bars divided his view of the room beyond into small squares. He hated the cage, but it had become a necessity when Thorsson had opened the basement door too soon and almost got himself killed.
He stretched to relieve his cramped muscles and wrapped himself in the thick wool blanket he found folded in the corner of his prison. He had no idea how long the battle would take, but recently his dragon soul fought with more ferocity than usual. It scared him that it could only be a matter of time before the inevitable happened, and he would die alone, his dragon soul homeless.
However, as he sat shivering, waiting for his dragon to renew the fight, Balthazar had time to think. Mr. Fuentes worked for Ti, and Ti would be on his way here when he hadn’t heard from the strange shifter, or he was already in the city, waiting for his opportunity.