Sandra sank to the floor, trembling with shock, tears on her face. “Dear God. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She burst into racking sobs. Dani slid to the floor beside her and held her as she cried.
Mable
Mable stepped inside the outer door and tripped a black-uniformed guard, bringing her fist across the side of the woman’s neck as she fell. She darted toward the elevators and caught a glimpse of medical types at the entrance to the dining room, some carrying fire extinguishers, all looking confused. She turned and raced up the flight of stairs.
By the time she reached the first landing, her heart was pounding. Her knees ached and felt like small swords were stabbing into them. She broke into a sweat.Thank God for sexor I’d be out of shape. She started up the second flight. Stopped. Breathed.Okay. Maybe I need real cardio.
Two minutes later, her breath finally slowed. There was no way she could do this—save her friends—with brute force. Not even with her martial art abilities and skills.
She went back down the stairs and pulled her power to her. Hot and burning. The stink of brimstone and terror. The ancient human memory of ripping claws, rows of slicing teeth, piercing fangs. Wings spread. Feathers vibrant and rich and tipped with barbs. She opened the outer door and saw birds at the birdfeeder. There were more birds wheeling high overhead. Buzzards. She had never tried to turn buzzards.
She focused her power. “Here there be dragons,” she said, and sent her spell flying directly at the birdfeeder. Tiny dragons began to pop into existence around the birdfeeder. Three. Seven. Nine in all. Looking into the sky, she whispered her incantation and the buzzards gliding overhead snapped into dragons.Yes. Two of the buzzards were gold. The goldies were the queens, just like in Anne McCaffrey’s Pern world.They’re the dangerous ones, she thought.They don’t always come.
“Come,” she whispered to all the birds, putting all her power into the request. And come they did. Mable held the door open and they whipped inside, then followed her into the stairwell.
Mable started back up the stairs. She slowed, stopped several times, and finally at the third floor, she rolled against the wall, blowing hard, her heart slamming inside her chest. “I’m not fifty anymore,” she gasped. A dozen breaths later, she rocked her head back and said, “Okay. I’m not sixty anymore either. Damn it.”
The dragons were zooming up and down the stairwell. They made the most amazing peeps and trilling calls. They were having a ball.
When she had her breath back, she continued up the stairs and cracked open the door to the hallway with all the commotion. The place was a mess.
“Breathe fire at anyone in a black uniform,” she said to her dragons. “Herd them into rooms. And if any of them try to hurt you, cook and eat them. They’re yours.”
The two queens raised their heads and trilled-roared, the sounds too deep for the long, narrow throats. Their mouths gushed flames.
Slowly, predatory, Mable pushed open the stairway door and stepped into the hallway. Dragons flew through behind her, shooting flames from their mouths. Small fires started everywhere.
People in scrubs were suddenly darting here and there, in a panic. Screaming.
Mable, queen of the dragons, raced down the hallway, preceded by red, green, blue, and gold mini-dragons. She pulled a fire alarm as she ran. The wail rose, hurting her ears. The dragons flew around a corner and instantly darted back. Cowering. Hovering behind her.
She stopped. A mob of emus raced across the hallway intersection ahead, along the passage, long, hairy, bony legs striding. Stumpy wings flapping uselessly. Beaks clacking and grunting. a weird booming hurt her ears.
The tiny-brained birds disappeared, and an instant later some raced back.
Sandra. Sandra had used her power.
“Well, dang.” Mable blinked. “Four of you round up the birds,” she said to her dragons. “You may not believe it but you’re smarter and more powerful than they are.”
The two queens trilled and looked at each other, then at the stampeding flightless birds.
“Put ’em behind the nurses’ desk. The rest of you, herd the people wearing black clothes in with them.”
The dragons flashed away.
In short order, the emus were in a tight mob in the small space, pecking and snapping and grunting at each other. And one man dressed in black, his pants smoking, his sleeve in flames, raced by, pursued by dragons. He barricaded himself in a storage room. Mable had a good laugh over that.
From outside, she heard the mixed sirens of firetrucks, police, and ambulances.
Some first responders wore black. “Dang.”
Mable sat on the floor, the wall at her back, legs out in front of her. She had seldom been able to practice with her power, so she had only done this once and it had taken everything out of her. Better to be sitting.
She called her babies to her. The dragons flashed close and fluttered around her, the two queens settling on her shoulders, ignoring each other. The other dragons rested on her legs and arms, and on the floor around her according to a pecking order she had never understood. “Fire-breathing stops. We won. Good dragons. Fresh meat for supper.” The queens preened.
Sandra
The FBI, SBI (State Bureau of Investigation), FeBMA (Federal Bureau of Magical Affairs) and various local fire and law enforcement agencies made nuisances of themselves all day. They blocked traffic, had to get into every room and start the identification process of every patient, carted away dozens of computers, confiscated dozens and dozens of cell phones, questioned every employee in what they called a prelim Q and A,held multiple press conferences, and tried to blame TriDevi for the situation.
