To Match A Dragon’s Fire (Sulfur & Spice #1)

1

Ember

Worst. Apocalypse. Ever.

Just when I thought the apocalypse couldn’t get any worse…

“No fries. No oil. Deep fryer is shot anyway. We can burn some frozen patties and that’s it. Word on the street is the government’s been seizing vendor deliveries for their own use. Whatever we might’ve gotten yesterday is gone.” The lights flickered above the kitchen as Marco ran through the notes for today’s shift.

Last week, we’d run out of chicken tenders.

This week, potatoes.

What was this world coming to?

It was truly the end when you couldn’t get cheap carbs at the bar. Mozzarella sticks and flat beer went together like Romeo and Juliet. Margaritas were worthless if you couldn’t stuff your face with nachos like nature intended. Don’t even get me started on how sad life was without onion rings.

And that was only the junk foods.

It was depressing how bad things had gotten.

We weren’t in the true apocalypse yet. Not really. More like the pre-apocalypse. The time leading to the apocalypse. The painfully slow anticipatory years until the end …

I couldn’t come up with a better way to describe it. That wasn’t like me.

I loved words.

But we were basically stuck in a sort of limbo with the economy shutting down while the earth fell apart around us.

Seismic and volcanic activity had increased more than experts thought possible, moving faster than we could predict, and rocked the foundation of our world.

Supply issues were the new normal. Infrastructure cracked with each earthquake. Machines stopped working. Electricity was interrupted. Buildings crumbled. Wi-Fi was always spotty. Water coming from underground sources was questionable.

Chaos was happening around the world, but the most obvious sign was seeing the empty shelves and knowing what we’d have to do without.

We were running low on everything:

Time. Patience. Hope.

Willow was right. We should go.

But we needed more cash first.

I tied my apron around my waist and checked to make sure the lanterns were set behind the bar counter for when the power went out. Keeping the lights on at night was a distant memory. Rolling blackouts were common.

But old habits die hard, and if we could squeeze out some more juice from the useless government, we would.

“What’s on tap?” I eyed the empty bottles on the bottom shelf where we’d moved the glasses so they wouldn’t fall during the shakes. If the moonshine supply hadn’t come in, that meant we were serving—

“The piss Brendon brought,” Marco, the bar’s manager, impatiently cut off my train of thought. He had a crude mouth and a greasy mustache over his lip. His bald head glowed in the flickering fluorescent lights as he glared my way.

He still hated me for getting Garcia fired. Thankfully, I wouldn’t have to work with Marco because he’d disappear as soon as the evening shift started.

Brendon, on the other hand, was a young entrepreneur who’d gotten roped into this job by his uncle. He spent evenings as the bouncer for McKay’s Bar and brewed beer during his downtime. His stuff wasn’t too bad either. Poor kid might’ve done something with his life if he lived in a different era.

Maybe I would’ve too.

Then again, at his age, I’d already been divorced, homeless, broke, and drowning in student debt. English majors weren’t making much money then and they sure weren’t paying the bills now.

So I put on my smile, pulled my curly red hair up into a ponytail, and pushed out my tits as the door opened and the first of the customers came stumbling in for the night.

If there was one thing I’d learned in this life so far, it was how to survive.

∞

“Hands off,” I growled through clenched teeth, two seconds away from smashing the mug into his splotchy face.

“Leave the beer and take a seat,” the drunk slurred as his dirty fingers caressed my jean-covered thigh. “Tips’ll be good if you do.”

I finished setting the mugs around the table in front of his friends, grabbing his beer off the tray last. My feet were killing me. My patience was gone. My vision narrowed as I hefted the mug above the bastard’s head.

“Whoa there, Ember.” Brendon put his beefy hand on my shoulder, moving me a step behind him. “Is there a problem here?”

“No problem,” two of the guys mumbled into their drinks.

The men were dirt-caked, with grease still under their fingernails, coming from a hard day’s work. Most of the customers at McKay’s worked construction crew and had cash to spend.

The majority were decent guys who kept trying to fix the damage happening around us with each earthquake.

But there was always one bad apple in the bunch.

“The thirsty one is grabby,” I said as I took the beer away. His grumbles of protest followed me back across the bar.

Brendon could handle it.

I placed the full glass in front of April. She smiled at me before sliding it across the counter to another customer—a more grateful one who kept his hands to himself.

“I’m taking my break,” I told April as I exited through the kitchen .

It stunk worse than normal in the back. You wouldn’t think you’d miss the smell of fried food lingering in the air until you caught a whiff of bar bathrooms that hadn’t seen decent cleaning supplies in months.

Who knew bleach was such a hot commodity?

At least we still had toilet paper.

“Do you want dinner, Mija?” Sofia asked as I hung up my apron and grabbed my purse, planning to spend my break in the alley where the smells weren’t as strong.

“If you’re making it.” I winked at the chef.

She had the gift of turning garbage into something edible. It paid to be on her good side.

“For you.” She smiled. Her soft brown eyes always seemed to size me up with worry. I wanted to squeeze her in a hug, but Sofia had a strong no-touching policy and a mean swipe with the spatula.

“You’re the best.” I took my burnt burger dressed with extra pepperoncini peppers.

She clicked her tongue in disgust, yet still piled them on for me. I missed jalapenos, but my heartburn had been unreal the past few months.

Along with my lower back pain and aching heels, everything about my body seemed to be falling apart lately. I wanted to find cushioned shoe inserts if they were even selling them anymore.

But I’d make do with my worn shoes for now.

I just needed to get off my feet for a minute.

The alleyway sat between McKay’s Bar and the pawn shop in the single-level building that still stood mostly upright. Like every other remaining structure, cracks lined the foundation and the support walls were reinforced in patchwork .

I liked being outside.

It felt less like the ceiling was going to crash down any minute.

Where I was from, you could go for miles without seeing a single manmade building. My claustrophobia started a year or so before the earthquakes did. Moving away from my childhood home to the big city for college was my first culture shock of many.

Small towns were less crowded with better resources and not a lot of tall buildings waiting to crush you.

Willow was right. It would be safer there.

Soon. My heart started thumping harder as it always did when I thought about going back home. Logically, I knew we should’ve gone already, but there was still some time. A week or two at least.

We’d held out this long.

What was a few more days?

It wasn’t like we could leave without Riley.

I sat on the crate by the dumpster, moaning with relief as the weight came off my feet, and bit into the burger as I pulled out my phone.

Service was hit and miss most of the time with cell towers not designed to withstand the earthquakes, but I downloaded books whenever I had full signal.

As soon as I pulled up my library app, the streetlights went out, shrouding me in the dark except for the glow from my screen.

A collective groan came from inside the bar.

I took another bite of my burger and started reading right where I’d left off. Seconds later, the noise started again as the lanterns turned on .

The backdoor of McKay’s swung open. I kept reading as Brendon strolled over, enjoying my Greek mythology retelling. Hades was just about to teach Persephone a lesson when—

“You got a light?” Brendon asked.

“Why is it that everyone thinks you can interrupt a reader? If this was any other hobby, you’d wait until I was finished to bother me.” I dug into my purse.

I hadn’t smoked since my early twenties, when all my big mistakes were made, but I always had a lighter and pocket knife for emergencies. Plus a hatchet in my vehicle and my concealed carry pistol when I wasn’t on the clock.

Small-town paranoia never quite left me.

“You know those things will kill you,” I said half-heartedly as I handed over the lighter, cringing a bit when the words left my mouth.

Who was I to judge?

I’d made plenty of bad decisions at his age.

He might as well live a little while he could.

Brendon lit his cigarette. “What are you reading?”

I was definitely not going to share those details with him, so I slid my phone into my purse. “Nothing now.”

“I see.” He blew out a plume of smoke and the cloud hung heavy in the humid summer air. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you were doing all right.”

Brendon was okay. If I was into the motorcycle club look with slicked-back hair and a smooth baby face, I might’ve even thought he was cute.

It’d been a while since I’d gotten laid, which usually meant I could ignore a red flag or two, but I’d sworn off men for the time being. He was also too young and interrupting my one break of the night.

“I’m fine.” I popped a pepperoncino into my mouth.

“You know you can call me to step in before you waste my beer by dumping it onto someone’s head.” Brendon flicked the ash from his cigarette. “Marco doesn’t want another incident.”

“How close is he to firing me?” I took another bite of the burnt burger.

“So fucking close.” Smoke billowed from his nostrils as he laughed. “If it wasn’t for Sofia being April’s tía, I’m not sure you’d still be here.”

I hummed my agreement as I finished the last of my specialized burger—one of the perks of standing up for April when the old manager tried to grope her. Sofia found out I’d kneed Garcia’s crotch after he’d cornered April one night and she’d taken me under her wing and fed me well.

Marco hadn’t wanted Garcia to get fired, but somehow the owner of the bar got involved. I was pretty sure Sofia had a hand in that.

Word to the wise:

Don’t ever piss off the kitchen mafia.

This wasn’t my dream job or anything, just a means to an end, but I knew I was replaceable and walking a thin line. Work was scarce when the economy was crashing.

There were rumors the government was shutting down local business that wasn’t deemed essential. I was lucky to have a job at all. And I liked the people I worked with.

Most of them at least.

“I’m not that bad, am I?” I teased .

Brendon snuffed the butt of his cigarette on the asphalt. “Sure, you’re great. But hotheaded waitresses are a dime a dozen and you’re getting past the age where it’s cute.”

Stomp the brakes.

He did not just say…

My eyes bulged as I snatched my lighter out of his hand. “How old do you think I am?”

“Forty.” He shrugged.

I took it back. Brendon was a dickhead.

“I’m thirty-four,” I cried.

“Close enough.” He smirked.

I about had it with this kid. “And what are you? Twelve? Can you even grow facial hair?”

I can’t believe I’d given sleeping with him a brief thought. I wasn’t that desperate.

“Hey now.” Brendon rubbed his chin. “The ladies like it smooth.”

“Sure they do.” I rolled my eyes as I pulled out my phone to check the time.

My heart leapt to my throat when I saw the missed text message.

Riley: Can you come get me?

It’d been sent a minute ago, and I silently begged for the one bar of cell service to be enough as I hurried to respond.

Ember: Where are you?

Three dots hovered while she typed a reply. I threw my trash in the dumpster, ignoring Brendon when he asked if everything was all right.

I rushed back into the bar, heading straight for Marco’s office with Brendon hot on my heels.

“What is— ”

“Shh,” I cut him off with my finger raised as the next message came through.

Riley: Home. It’s over. Don’t tell Willow yet. I just need a ride.

I let out a little cry of joy.

She did it. Finally.

But fear snaked its way down my chest and squeezed, making my breath come short.

I needed to hurry. She could be in real danger this time.

Ember: Should I bring a shovel?

I was half-hoping she’d say yes as I pushed open the door to Marco’s office.

“Hey boss, I’ve got to clock out early.”

He glanced up in surprise. From his slumped position and disoriented expression, I assumed I’d caught him napping. Or maybe he was high.

“Tonight?” He leaned forward to look down the hall. The kitchen was in full swing and the rowdy noise from the bar had Brendon heading that way.

“Yes, tonight. There’s an emergency.” I turned to leave.

“If you walk out, you’re fired,” Marco called out as he scrambled to his feet.

I had a moment of panic while I quickly calculated the tips I’d earned this shift, knowing my final paycheck would be short. But I had enough.

This was it.

The universe was falling into alignment. No more excuses. Willow had been ready to go for months.

Maybe I should…

I straightened my shoulders.

It didn’t matter if I wasn’t ready to face my demons. My friends needed me to get over my issues. I couldn’t leave Riley alone after everything she’d been through.

She wouldn’t do that to me.

Riley and Willow were all I had in this world. I’d die before I let them down.

“Thanks for everything, Sofia.” I dropped my apron into the laundry bin.

“You’re done?” She stood at the grill, watching as Marco fumed while he marched down the hall, shouting at me for being a lousy bitch. Tears filled Sofia’s eyes as she swatted her spatula in the air. “Go on. Get out of here then.”

I nodded, trying not to let the anxiety and emotions overwhelm me as I stepped into the alley.

Marco slammed the door shut after screaming a few other choice words at my back. I left my lighter on the crate by the dumpster for Brendon and had almost made it to the parking lot when her next text came through.

Riley: We might need the shovel this time.