She kept a few pounds of it around for the lab for a myriad of things, but only really used it in small doses. Tonight, she dumped the entire bag of red-brown dust on the fire and watched, heart in her throat, as the roaring flames changed from gold to vivid, dragon blue with a hiss and crackle.
Tossing the empty bag aside, Paloma raced over to the metal railing. The fire’s heat burned through her clothing to sear her back, but she didn’t care. Her eyes darted over the familiar shapes of the surrounding mountains, searching. In her pocket, her phone buzzed again and again.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Come on. I know you have to see it!”
She only hoped the dragon was close enough to be interested. The blue flames would only last for a maximum of fifteen minutes. If the dragon lost interest before then, the flames would sputter and turn back to their natural yellow and red. Without more copper chloride, Paloma would have no other way of safely getting the dragon’s attention.
The skin of her palms burned with cold as she curled her fingers over the freezing metal of the railing. Paloma wasn’t a pious person. She didn’t make a habit of praying to any of the gods, but she shot a prayer out into the universe anyway.
Please, let this work.
The minutes dragged. Her muscles locked, cramping with the force of her tension as the blue flames flickered behind her. The longer she stood there staring at the endless black of the night, the worse she felt. Come on, she silently begged the dragon. You have to see the flames. Why aren’t you here yet?
Tears pressed hard against the backs of her eyes.
Gods, she just… she couldn’t be responsible for another person’s death. Not being able to help her father as he died on the ground next to their generator was one trauma too many. Paloma didn’t think she could take the guilt of knowing she’d doomed someone else to a senseless death.
Her phone buzzed constantly. She could feel it in her front pocket, the alerts pinging so close together they could no longer be distinguished from one another. The dragon had to be close, but even when she squinted hard, she couldn’t make out anything. She scanned the sky anyway, taking in great sweeps of sparkling stars, until she caught a flicker of movement.
She held her breath. Was that a shape blocking out some of those stars, or was she just seeing things? Paloma leaned over the railing, trying to get closer, but of course it didn’t help. Stars flickered on their own, didn’t they? Surely, if there was a dragon close enough to—
A faint whistle echoed through the gorge, bouncing off of ancient granite walls weathered by time and the slow drag of glaciers, half a second before a huge blast of cold air nearly sent her toppling backward into the flames.
Paloma staggered backward but kept her whiteknuckled grip on the railing as the massive shape of a dragon swept up from under the deck and over her head, wings beating hard enough to send her hair into a wild disarray. Sparks and smoke filled the air, disorienting her as she twisted around to try to keep the dragon in sight.
There was that low whistle again. It was a haunting sound, almost birdlike, and not at all what she expected from a rogue. Weren’t dragons famous for roaring?
And why, of all the things she could fixate on, was she thinking about the sounds the dragon made?
There was a dragon circling her house!
Paloma stared, gobsmacked, as the dragon swooped low over her property again and again. She couldn’t quite make out their face, but she could see the underside of their huge, leathery wings and their reflective belly, the blue flames of her fire flickering against the metallic skin of the purest black. The vague shape of deadly claws curled close to the belly made her palms sweat with the sudden realization that, while her plan was certainly a success, it was also woefully incomplete.
Great, I’ve got the dragon’s attention, she thought, watching with mounting panic as the dragon landed in a crouch on the reinforced roof of her home with a long, low whistle. A huge head lowered over the lip of her gutter to peer at her. Eyes of blazing crimson — almost too bright, like artificially colored candy or a ruby struck by light — pinned her in place against the railing.
Now what?