Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
D awn painted the sky in watercolor strokes of pink and gold as Sabine walked toward Katz ‘n Things, her boots crunching softly on the frost-covered sidewalk. The crisp morning air carried hints of woodsmoke and pine, reminding her of Ren’s distinctive scent. Her phone buzzed in her pocket—probably Ylan running late again—but Sabine couldn’t bring herself to check it. Her mind drifted to last night’s texts instead.
“That ‘82 Bordeaux pairs wonderfully with solitude on mountain peaks,” Ren had written.
“Sounds lonely,” she’d replied.
His response came quickly: “Perhaps I need better company.”
Now, remembering their playful wine recommendations and the deeper conversation that followed, Sabine touched her lips. They still tingled from yesterday’s kiss, when he had warmed her skin and their magic twined together like old friends reuniting.
“Earth to Sabine!” Romi’s voice pierced her daydream. Her cousin jogged up, carrying two steaming travel mugs. “You walked right past me, lost in that dreamy expression. Thinking about a certain brooding dragon?”
Heat crept into Sabine’s cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please. You’re practically floating.” Romi handed her one of the mugs. “Pumpkin spice chai, extra cinnamon. You’ll need the caffeine boost after all that late-night texting.”
“How did you?—”
“Clover saw the notifications lighting up your phone at dinner. We have a betting pool on when you’ll finally admit you’re perfect for each other.”
Sabine rolled her eyes, but her protest died in her throat as they reached the shop. Something felt wrong. The early morning shadows seemed too thick, clinging to the windows like oil. Her tigress stirred uneasily, hackles rising.
“Romi.” Sabine thrust her mug back at her cousin. “Get Clover. Something’s not right.”
“What—”
“Now. Please.”
The bell’s cheerful jingle grated against Sabine’s nerves as she entered. Display shelves rattled, their protective wards flickering like dying fireflies. The air felt heavy, oppressive, tasting of metal and old magic.
“Hello?” Her voice echoed strangely. Magical artifacts hummed with restless energy—crystal balls vibrating in their stands, enchanted jewelry boxes rattling, prime examples of why Ylan always said they needed better security spells.
A discordant note pierced the silence.
Sabine whirled toward the sound. Near the register sat an ornate music box she’d marked for special handling yesterday. Dark wood, brass fittings, labeled with three separate “Caution” tags because something about its magic signature felt unstable. Now its lid creaked open, releasing a tune that set her teeth on edge.
Black mist coiled from its depths like ink in water.
“Oh, that’s definitely not good.” Sabine backed away, channeling magic into a defensive ward. The mist writhed, condensing into a creature of shadow and spite. Red eyes opened—dozens of them—and hunger rolled off it in waves.
It struck faster than thought.
Sabine’s ward shattered like glass. The impact sent her flying into a display case of enchanted mirrors. Pain exploded across her back as shards sliced deep. She hit the ground hard, head cracking against the floor.
Blood soaked her shirt as she scrambled up. The creature’s next strike caught her shoulder, claws raking through muscle. Sabine screamed. Her tigress roared to life, golden power blazing from her hands, but the shadow-thing absorbed each blast like a black hole devouring stars.
“Playing hard to get?” Sabine spat blood, forcing herself to stand. “Fine. Let’s dance.”
She shifted partially, letting tiger strength flow into her human form. Claws extended from her fingers. Her vision sharpened, pupils slitting. But before she could strike, darkness wrapped around her throat, lifting her off her feet.
Can’t breathe . Her lungs burned. Spots danced in her vision. This is bad, this is bad, this is?—
Dragon fire filled the room.
The shadow creature shrieked as scorching light met darkness. Through blurring vision, Sabine saw Ren burst through the door, power radiating off him in waves. His eyes blazed solid gold, scales shimmering beneath his skin.
The thing dropped her. She crumpled, gasping, as Ren’s magic reached for hers. Their powers recognized each other, weaving together in perfect synchronization. The resulting blast obliterated the shadow creature in a spectacular flash that shook the building’s foundations.
Silence fell. Broken artifacts clattered to the floor. Sabine tried to push herself up, but her mangled shoulder gave out. Blood pooled beneath her, too much blood, and the room started spinning...
“Sabine!”
Strong arms caught her before she hit the ground. Ren’s face swam into focus, his usual stoic mask shattered by raw fear. “Stay with me, little tiger. Stay with me.”
“Not... going anywhere.” She coughed wetly. “Just need a minute.”
His hands shook as he examined her wounds. “These are deep. Why did you come in alone? Why didn’t you call me?”
“Phone’s... in my pocket. Bit busy getting thrown around to make social calls.”
“This isn’t funny.” But his voice cracked on the words. Dragon fire sparked at his fingertips as he pressed them to her worst cuts. Heat sank into her muscles, accelerating her natural healing. “You shouldn’t handle these things alone?—”
He cut himself off, jaw clenching. Before Sabine could question that slip, footsteps approached.
“Ren.” Kaito appeared in the doorway, expression grim. He surveyed the destruction, nostrils flaring at the lingering dark magic. “We need to talk. That signature...”
“Later.” Ren didn’t look up from treating Sabine’s wounds. He produced a small jar from his pocket, hands still trembling slightly. “Dragon-fire salve. It will help, but this might hurt.”
The ointment burned like liquid sunshine, drawing a hiss from her throat. Ren murmured apologies, his touch impossibly gentle. This close, she could see the fear lingering in his eyes, the way his dragon essence rippled beneath his skin in agitation.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, catching his hand. “Really. Shifter healing, remember?”
His fingers laced with hers, squeezing tightly. “When I felt your pain through the wards... when I saw you bleeding...”
“Ren.” Kaito’s voice hardened with urgency. “A word. Now.”
Ren’s jaw tightened, but he helped Sabine settle against the wall. “Don’t move. Please.”
She watched him follow Kaito to a quiet corner, their hushed conversation drifting back in fragments:
“—magical signature like George Sunil’s?—”
“Impossible. He was executed for killing?—”
“Someone’s using his methods. The shadow magic, the music box trap?—”
“He’s dead, Kaito. I watched him die for what he did to?—”