24: why didn't you arrest the dragon?

I guess I should mention that Midge didn't exactly go back upstairs. She was planning to, and I was planning for her to, but then we just kind of fell asleep there in a heap on the couch. Which would have been fine, if someone hadn't kicked down the door the next morning.

Not literally kicked down the door. That would have been terrifying.

Regardless, I'm woken up by ferocious knocking and whole lot of shouting, and I sit up with a jolt, confused as hell. In fact, I forget for a second that Midge is curled against me, and when I move to get up, I accidentally shove her off the couch.

I know. What a gentleman.

She thuds against the wood floor, jarring awake. "Grey!" she wails. "The hell?"

There's more knocking and shouting, and Jamie's stirring, pawing at the floor underneath him like a drunk puppy. If puppies can get drunk. I don't know. Which sums up pretty much how I feel about Jamie—I don't understand the guy in the slightest.

Finally, Midge sits up. She pats her wild hair down, draws her wand from her bra (which I try not to be surprised by), and gives a little wave towards the front hall. There's a thunk as the door strikes the wall, followed by a series of thudding footsteps like a downpour through the hall. I'd recognize those thigh-highs anywhere.

"Get up, morons," hollers Safiya as she struts into the living room, folding her arms across her chest. She pauses a moment to give Midge and I a weird look, but, thank the heavens, doesn't say anything. "We've got a dragon to kill."

I'm not awake yet. It's too early for this.

I roll off the couch, offering a hand down to Midge as I blink the morning sunlight out of my eyes. To Safiya, I say, "What are you even talking about?"

Safiya makes an annoyed snorting noise and plops herself down in the nearest armchair, running a hand through the raven-colored strands of her hair. "A dragon took your little human friend, right?" she elaborates, her round eyes demanding Midge's and my attention. "And the dragon probably answers to whoever's been driving the nonhumans crazy lately, right?"

"Yes," I mutter, settling upon the couch again, "and yes."

"So why the hell are we sitting around? Let's grab that pixie guy or whatever, find that dragon, and slay that thing. Then we'll get your buddy back, too," Safiya announces, waving her hands around in the air. I swear, it's the most enthusiastic I've ever seen her. Probably the most enthusiastic I've seen any vampire, ever. Most of them stay inside and complain about how much better everything was back in 1662, or something.

"What do you care about getting Rocco back?" I ask, casting a wary glance towards Jamie, who still hasn't fully woken up yet. The most I've seen him move is a few weary blinks of his eyes. "And the pixie? You were the one who was just telling me what a dumb idea all this was. You said we weren't getting anything done."

"Yeah, because we weren't. But now we will be. Like I said, demonboy, we have a dragon to kill," snaps Safiya, then points a perfectly manicured nail, blood red, at Midge. "You. Midge. You can do location spells, can't you?"

Midge rubs her eyes, then folds her hands neatly in her lap instead. "Yes, but I need something of—"

A plastic sandwich bag slaps Midge in the face. She peels it away, peering at the glimmering dragon scale enclosed within it.

"There you go," Safiya replies. "Now work your magic, because we're wasting time."

A few minutes and a lot of coffee mugs later, we're all sitting in a circle in the middle of Midge's living room. It's either a weird game of duck, duck, goose or a seance. Either way, I'm not feeling so good about any of this.

Jamie finally came to his senses, and now he leans forward into the center of the circle, his bright eyes watching Midge with intent. I sit beside her, switching my gaze between she and Safiya, wondering what on earth I'm getting myself into.

Midge removes the dragon scale from the bag Safiya threw at her and lays it down on the carpet, as tenderly as if it's a crown jewel. She touches her wand to the scale, then looks up at Safiya and me in turn.

I don't like the fact that she's hesitating. "Midge?" I question, remembering the spell went wrong that resulted in her crashing through a gas station roof. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Yes," she answers defensively. "It was how I found you the night after we met in the Steam Room, remember? My wand was still streaked with your blood, so I just did the spell and—"

"Hold on," Safiya cuts in. "Why did your wand have Grey's blood all over it?"

Midge looks hopefully to me, but I just sit back, folding my arms. "Yeah, why did it, Midge? Huh?"

She lowers her head in shame, her hair hiding her face like a pastel curtain. "I...stabbed him."

Safiya's gaze shifts from Midge to me, like she expects me to deny it, which of course I'm not going to. She did. The first time I met Midge Osborne, she plunged her wand into my stomach and it hurt and I'm forever going to hold it over her head.

"Lucky," Safiya remarks then. "I've been wanting to do that ever since he moved in."

I let out a startled gasp despite myself. "Safi!"

Safiya waves me off. She says to me, "Shut up, Grey," and she says to Midge, "Do the spell, Midge."

Midge gnaws at her lip, but obeys, beginning to mutter something under her breath that's certainly not English but doesn't precisely sound like Latin either. From watching Sybil do her thing, I know that most spells are in Latin, but not all. There's some in Greek or Arabic, even some in Mandarin, apparently. Whether I want to admit it or not, witches are pretty cool. I mean, they can do all this jazzy stuff with magic, and the most interesting thing I can do is make a shadow puppet without using my hands. Shadows are only handy for so many things.

Midge's muttering ceases suddenly, and she makes an unnaturally sharp movement that looks a little like something out of The Exorcist, her shoulders straightening and her head flinging backwards. I start to reach out to her, but Safiya slaps my hand away.

"Is she okay?" asks Jamie before I can, cocking his head a little.

"Yeah, she's fine," Safiya says, and though she's speaking to Jamie, the scowl on her face is directed at me. "The two of you need to chill for once."

Midge's dark eyes have lit with an odd, golden tinge, but it flashes and goes as fast as it came. Midge shakes her head once, and then she's up on her feet, grabbing for her shoes.

"So?" I ask, picking up the dragon scale and rubbing it warily between my fingers, trailing Midge as she moves. "Where's our culprit?"

"I don't think you're gonna like it," says Midge after a beat, already heading for the door, "but that dragon's hiding out in Lenox Mall."

Midge is right: I really don't like this.

It's not even just this. It's multiple this's. It's the fact that the dragon's in a place where there's a lot of people, and it's the fact that we're bringing the pixie, too. Like, what can he even do? Give the dragon a bouquet of roses? So what if he can track the city's energy—he's no use to us in combat.

At least, he doesn't know what I am yet. As long as it stays that way, maybe we'll be okay.

On the subway to Lenox, I sit next to Midge and across from River, and I glare at him the whole time. He's not looking at me, though. He's paging through a gardening magazine, every once in a while lifting a hand to push a curl back behind his pointed ears. He only looks up once, and I don't soften my glare.

He shudders and continues reading his magazine.

Yeah, that's right. Don't try me, flower brain.

While River's over there trying to find the right fertilizer, I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to make it out of this alive. Maybe I'm not as highly combustible as Safiya, but I will still burn. I mean, it's fire, and it's not like I'm made of steel. Likewise, dragons are not small creatures. Stabbing him once may not do the trick. Yes, it's not like I'm doing this on my own, but regardless, what use am I if I'm a pile of ash?

God, I don't like this.

At our stop, the subway doors slide open. There's no crowd to get out first, and I'm confused, until I realize that all the humans have shrunken back a bit to let us go ahead of them. They're watching us with careful stares, and it's the first time I've ever felt so...I don't know, noticed. It dawns on me that—whoever's behind this—this is exactly what they want. Fear, as Mrs. Osborne said.

I frown. Fear's winning through all this, and I can't say that I feel alright about that.

"Keep your eyes peeled," orders Midge as the five of us surface at the street, a broad span of cement parking lot between us and the giant Nike store. We start down to the mall's entrance, the four of us following Midge like little ducklings. "And don't be too obvious, either."

"About what? That we're searching for a dragon?" I mutter, falling into step beside Midge. We've reached the edge of the parking lot, where the crowd thickens again, thousands of shoppers milling about, shopping, like there's not a dragon somewhere waiting to burn their brains out. I catch multiple whiffs of cologne and perfume, mingled with body sweat, and it makes me want to throw up.

Rich people. They get on my nerves sometimes.

"Yes, Grey," Midge says to me with a scowl, "that we're searching for a dragon. People are scared of us enough as it is. Let's not make it worse. River?"

I glance over my shoulder; River's snapped to attention, his eyebrows risen in question. "Yeah?"

"Are you sensing anything?"

He frowns, glancing around for a moment, but then shakes his head. "No. Everything's pretty dull around here."

Midge's gaze shifts toward Jamie, who walks cautiously beside River, his nose lifted in the air. "How about you?" she asks. "Picking up on anything?"

"Yes," he says.

Midge and I glance at each other, then stop walking, coming to Jamie's side. Everyone's gathered around him, our nerves all on edge. "Okay?" I say, brushing his shoulder. "What is it? Where is it?"

Jamie's eyes shut, and he takes a long sniff of the air. Then he tells us, "Burritos. In the food court."

I fight the urge to slap him, but Safiya doesn't; I catch her arm just before it makes contact with his face. Shooting her a warning glare as I do, I say to Jamie, "No, Jamie, we meant the dragon. Do you know where the dragon is?"

"Oh!" he exclaims, then points at something behind me. "It's right there."

Confused, I whirl, following his finger. He's pointing at the fountain in the center of the mall's main atrium, which, yes, is in the shape of a dragon spouting water, but is also made of stone. People are walking by it without a care, even a few toddlers begging their parents to stop and throw a coin in.

I sigh, turning back towards Jamie. "Jamie, that's a fountain."

"No," cuts in Safiya then, grabbing me by the shoulder to turn me around again. "The kid's right."

I hear the screams before I see it: the fountain, or at least what I thought was a fountain, has shaken off the stone around it to reveal shimmering green scales, its eyes a burning bright red. Shoppers scream and run as the dragon flaps it massive, leathery wings, its jaws dripping with steaming saliva. I watch, my mouth open, as the reptilian bird thing unfolds itself, nearly bumping the mall's giant rotunda.

I'm half-afraid and half-exhilarated.

"Hey!" I shout. Its head snaps towards me, and Midge hisses at me to shut up, but I ignore her. "What did you do with Rocco, you big bastard?"

The dragon's eyes narrow at me, its slitted pupils slimming even further, and I have just about five seconds to think, well, crap, before he opens his mouth to hiss a stream of fire at me.

Midge screams, and I yank her down to the floor with me, the two of us hitting the cold tiles just as the flames sail over us. Heat barely presses against my back, and I squeeze one eye shut, praying to anything, anyone. Coughing the smoke out of my lungs, I ask Midge, "You okay?"

She nods, catching her breath. "You're an idiot, Grey."

"I just saved your life and that's what you have to say?"

"Sure, you saved my life, but you endangered it first!"

I roll my eyes, hopping to my feet, then offering a hand to help Midge to hers. I glance over my shoulder; looks like the dragon hit the jewelry store instead of any of us, which is good for us at least, but probably not good for the clerk that was working there.

"Alright, Safiya," I yell, turning over my shoulder,"time to reveal your master plan! How are we gonna kill this thing!"

Safiya opens her mouth to reply, but then her eyes go wide. "I think—fire!"

"Fire?" I repeat, then hear the dragon roar, and know just what she's saying. The five of us hit the floor again, rolling out of the way of the flames.

On my hands and knees, I crawl cautiously over to Safiya. Man, the look on her face. She wasn't even this afraid when we were facing down Ricky that time in the park.

"I think," she whispers to me, "we've just got to—you know."

"No, I don't know, Safi. That's why I'm asking," I repeat, gritting my teeth as a rush of wind from the dragon's wings nearly blows me off the ground. My mind's in about a million different places. Yeah, I've got to get this dragon out of the way. But where the hell is Rocco?

"Jesus," Safiya mutters, pressing herself further against the ground as another stream of fire barely misses us, "we've got to cut off his head. Okay? I mean, no, I've never done this before, but that's the only thing that makes sense."

"Cut off his head? That's it?" I repeat, a plan already forming in my head. Safiya looks at me like I'm positively insane, but I shush her before I can say anything. "Just stay out of the flames, Safiya, and keep Midge safe. I can take care of this one."

I hear her call my name, but I'm already up, making my way towards Jamie and River. I point to River first, watching the dragon out of the corner of my eye. "You. You grow things, right? Like, plants?"

River nods briskly, stunned. "Yes."

"Good," I say, then turn to Jamie. "And you're good at fighting. I know that already. Okay, do me a favor, you two, and do exactly what I tell you."

Our dragon friend burns the hell out of a chocolate shop next. At this point, the mall's a wreck, shattered glass littering the floor, the walls all singed black and ruined. Smoke hangs heavily in the air, pricking tears from my eyes and caking soot on my face. I cough, stationing myself around the corner, where I'm hidden.

I've made a plan. All I have to do now is not fail.

Easy peasy, right?

Jamie goes first.

I don't have to see him; I hear the howls echoing from his throat, the rapid beat of his claws against the tiles as he moves. There's a growl, and then something that sounds a bit like someone biting into an apple, and the dragon lets out an agonized wail. That's it, Jamie. Gotta admit. The kid never passes up a fight, even with something twenty times his size.

I peer around the corner, and just as I thought, the dragon's too occupied with Jamie to notice River moving in behind him. River moves to a squat, planting his hands on the ground.

I whip back around, exhaling. It'll be my turn soon.

"Alright, don't fail me now," I say, though I'm not one hundred percent sure if I'm talking to myself or the shadows, which I bring up into my hands, feeling a sword's weight cement in my palm. It's heavy enough, sharp enough. I practice a few slashes—upwards, downwards. Yeah. I got this.

I look again in time to see vines climbing up from out of the floor, it looks like, winding themselves around the dragon's writhing body, rendering him motionless. River's the source, his hands pressed into the ground, head ducked.

A final vine latches itself around the dragon's neck; the thing hits the ground with a saddened moan.

And I spring out.

My sword in one hand, I scale the dragon's back with the other, using the vines to pull myself up. "Thanks, River!" I shout down to him, and he gives me a weird look, like he doesn't know exactly what I'm doing.

But hell, neither do I.

The dragon's more colossal than I thought. I can see everything from up here: the scattered debris like dark specks upon the white tiles, the people still watching from a distance, Safiya and Midge huddled in the corner waiting for me to screw up.

The scales are like cobblestone, smooth but uneven, and I slip, catching myself on a vine. Grunting, I pull myself up again, trekking onto the beast's neck. "Alright, big guy," I announce, resting the tip of my sword against an artery. "Time to tell me who raised you, and where you're keeping Edmund Rocco."

The dragon merely chuffs like a horse.

I dig my sword in deeper, until the chuff turns into a cry of pain. "Not satisfied," I say.

I'm about to cut him deeper, but then there's a snap behind me, and another, and another, until I realize just what it is: the vines are all splitting in half.

The dragon moves, pushing itself up onto its legs, and I struggle to keep my balance, holding on for dear life. Midge is shouting my name, but I don't know how that's supposed to help. Grunting, I lift my arms and plunge my sword in like a stake, holding on to the hilt like my life depends on it—because it does.

I start to curse. Not like a one-word thing, but a whole string of them all belting from my mouth, even more so when the dragon's weight shifts and I go sliding. Now I'm hanging off the side, near the thing's ear, my legs dangling at least ten stories up. I'm screwed. I'm so screwed.

Sweat beads on my forehead; I reinforce my grip, laying my head down and squeezing my eyes shut. It's a bad dream. I'll wake up. Won't I?

No, it's not a bad dream—but at least it hits me. I'm not entirely helpless here.

Shadows slither out from dark corners, from alleys between stores. I take a breath, then free one hand, bringing them up, sharpening them into points. I exhale through gritted teeth, my body beyond exhausted, then twist my hand up.

The shadows slice upwards, severing the dragon's head.

I only remember that I was clinging to this dragon's head when I start to fall with it, my arms flailing as I let out a yell. The floor's getting closer, and I'm bracing myself for the impact, my eyes shut—

My back meets something fluffy.

I open my eyes, my hands clutching up something soft and pale—fur. Rubbing my headache away, I catch my breath. "Jamie?"

He turns his head, his eyes watching me out of a wolf's face. I could be imagining it, but I almost think I see a smile before he cranes his neck to lick my cheek. It's affectionate, sure, but it's also gross as hell.

Regardless, I'm thankful. I pat his flank, rolling off his back and onto my feet. "Thanks, kid."

I pivot, observing whatever the heck I've just done. The dragon's head rests in the fountain, its eyes unblinking, red soiling what once was clean water like ink. I grimace, wiping grime from underneath my eyes.

"Grey?"

It's Midge's voice; she, River and Safiya come running around the fountain—well, Midge and River are running, Safiya's trying to saunter and look all cool. When Midge sees me, she visibly relaxes, a tension relaxing from her shoulders. She slows her pace, grabbing both my hands in hers as she reaches me. "You gave me a heart attack. I thought you were gonna fall."

"Well, I did fall," I tell her, and her eyebrows shoot up. I gesture back towards Jamie, who returns to his human skin again, patting his wolf ears down before giving a jovial wave. "Thanks to Jamie here, it wasn't fatal."

Midge goes to ruffle Jamie's hair; he leans into it with a wide grin. "Thank God, then," she says, then looks up at me. "Are you ready to go?"

I look from her to the slain dragon, a frown on my face. Sure, the thing's dead, but I still don't know who raised it, or where Rocco is. We're right back where we started, at a dead end.

I slip an arm around Midge, my eyes shifting towards the floor. "I guess so."

And that's what the five of us are doing—leaving—when a group of people step in front of us, all clad in black and blue police uniforms, their badges held out towards us.

They're blocking the door, and I pause, motioning for Midge and the others to get behind me. "Can we help you, officers?"

"Yes, you can," says one of them. "You all are under arrest for destruction of public property. I'm gonna need you all to come with us."