“Two?” I ask. Of course, I knew they were down one weaver, but this is the first mention that they might have another one missing.
Brogan shoots me a warning look, but I skirt my attention past him, onto Soren, who is now scowling.
“Right. Like I said before, not everyone takes their duties and responsibilities seriously.” His tone is ice cold, and he’s no longer the same man that held my hand or gently reaped that witch’s soul. He’s back to being an iceman.
“Your destiny weaver?” I ask.
I get a curt nod in response, but that’s it. Clearly, this is not something Soren is going to talk about, but I can help wonder what happened to their other weaver. Did she disappear one day, just like Wren? Maybe if there’s a pattern here, we should explore it.
Although, given Brogan’s expression, how his eyebrows are practically doing a warning dance and judging by Soren’s less than stellar mood, I guess I’ll save those questions for later.
“Do they know?” I ask Brogan, keeping my voice low as we traipse back up the stairs. “That they haven’t found their ultimate resting place yet? Or moved on or whatever happens to them?”
He shakes his head, rubbing my shoulder. “Nah, they’re in stasis, babe. Like sleeping but barely dreaming. Don’t worry about them.”
I just nod, concentrating on not falling over my feet as I attack the steps with gusto, feeling my thighs burn. We’re midway up when the air fills with an earth-shattering roar that makes the stone beneath my feet vibrate.
“What’s that?” I squeak.
“We’ve got a breach.”
“Echo, babe, I’m going to need you to find Camellia and stay with her until we’ve sorted this,” Brogan says, planting a kiss on my temple like it’s a totally normal thing for him to do.
He then morphs into his hound form and bounds off up the stairs following behind Soren, who has taken off at a sprint, the massive blue scythe reappearing in one hand.
They both disappear from view into the cave that eats into the base of the cliff and I’m left scurrying away toward Camellia and her little hut, wondering what the heck kind of monster made that noise and is trying to get inside the garden.
7
Finn
There’s nothing worse than having quality time with my lovelies disrupted. I flick yet another dastardly cobweb and scowl, like the force of my facial expression alone can get those dickweed spiders to fuck off and die already. Creepy little shits. I turn my back and they’re at it again, building their nasty little webs.
I crank up the music and shimmy and shake my ass as I clean up my gate until she’s gleaming.
She is the prettiest gate on this side of the afterlife. Sometimes I just like to sit and stare at her, basking in the warm feeling I get when I see just how beautifully maintained she is.
I remember the first time I laid eyes on the gate. It was like my whole life clicked into place. The train of my soul found its track, and I knew I belonged right here, taking care of it.
Dragons need to guard stuff or we go a bit weird and develop intense interests in strange things. Not me though, I have my gate to guard; I have my hoard to maintain. I have a purpose, a place to belong.
“I don’t know how you always end up such a dirty girl.” I chuckle to myself as I give the iron railings a final wipe.
I’ve been guarding the gate for a long time. I started a long time before the reaper even showed up and built his garden around us.
I see little of whatever they’ve turned this place into, too busy down here, always too many things to do. Polishing, cleaning, and guarding takes up a lot of my time. And talking to my gate, of course, so she doesn’t get too lonely.
Too damn busy to leave my den.
Just too damn busy.
I don’t care much for people or company either. That’s just how dragons are. We care about our mates when we’re lucky enough to find them and hatchlings whenever we might be blessed. It isn’t often that we find mates though, our numbers are small, although we live an awful long time.
Many dragons never meet their mate. It’s a known problem that a lot of them get so caught up in their hoards, they forget to leave to find them. And it’s not as though one’s likely to just drop in your lap. My dam taught me that much.
Some dragons can be… strange. That’s why I avoid my kind. Well, that and all the reasons that I avoid all other people.
I’m almost done with the daily polish and shine when I hear the first signs of a breach. I’ve got a complete system in place: a first, second, third and fourth warning so that nothing will ever get past me.
