Chapter 9 Ginger
Ginger
The days before the start of Miss and Mister Moonvale drifted by like flower petals on the wind, and as they passed, the cold began to loosen its grasp on the town. The breeze no longer sliced at my cheeks, but merely stung.
The eerie feeling refused to release me from its clutches.
As Brambleby grew more confident, committed to exploring and chasing squirrels, I started to dread letting him outside. I could never deny him, though. The second he turned his sad eyes in my direction, I was a goner.
My ears flicked wildly at every sound, my eyes darting to catch the culprit. Again and again, I saw nothing. Found nothing.
My spine stayed ramrod straight where I sat on the park bench. I couldn’t relax.
Even the journal in my lap couldn’t capture my attention and calm my nerves. I was writing down everything. Absolutely everything. The things Bram ate (nearly everything I put in front of him). The things Bram did (mainly slept). Every minute detail.
I wrote what I could about Raine and Ember, too. The three dragons were so unique it was as though they were almost different species entirely.
“Get him, Bram! Go for his back legs!” Linc called from a park bench nearby, watching the three dragons wrestle as he munched on a piece of toasted bread.
“His wings, Bram! Slap his wings! He hates that!” Fiella added.
I glanced at her questioningly. “You’re cheering for your dragon to get taken down?”
She shrugged. “He could use a dose of humility. It would serve him well.”
“Interesting parenting technique,” I mused. “But sure.” Louder, I yelled, “Wings, Bram!”
Fiella strode to the other side of the park to get a better viewing angle.
Brambleby dove, tucking his head down and ramming his little horns right into the base of Ember’s wing. The fire dragon squeaked loudly before whirling, clamping his teeth down on Brambleby’s tail.
The skirmish continued. Raine waited patiently a few paces away, seeking the perfect opportunity to dive in and take down both male dragons.
The beasts plowed happily through a pile of leaves and twigs.
“We ought to start taking bets,” Kizzi murmured as she joined, glancing around at the gathered crowd. She settled onto the bench next to me.
Every day, rain or shine, freezing or tolerable, folk waited for the dragons to come outside and play.
They laughed, joked, called out their bets. It was chaos.
And my little green monster was at the heart of it.
My chest warmed. He was so regal. So impressive. I couldn’t blame anyone for wanting to stare at him.
I glanced at the sky. The two suns, blurred by a thin layer of clouds, were near to slipping beneath the horizon. It would be dark soon, and the darkness made me nervous. Itchy.
I suddenly felt eyes boring beneath my skin.
I subtly glanced around the park. Besides the folk watching the dragons and the folk setting up for tomorrow’s festivities, nothing seemed amiss.
Was I missing something obvious? Was I going to feel this way forever?
Was this just a side effect of motherhood, of having a precious dragon to protect?
That had to be it. For days, the feeling persisted, but no dangers or evils ever presented themselves.
I was losing my mind.
“What are you looking for?” Kizzi asked, voice low, following my gaze as it darted around. “Worried about the little beasts? They’re fine, you know. Probably more protected than the rest of us, even though they’re babies.”
I swallowed past the dry feeling in my throat. I nodded quickly. “Yes. That’s it.”
She turned to examine my face. “Is it?”
I glanced in her direction, meeting her knowing gaze. I sighed. “No. I just have this… weird feeling.”
“Now I’m intrigued. Weird how?”
I closed my journal and picked at my fingernails.
“It’s hard to describe. Just this—this wrongness.
Like my body is always on defensive mode.
Like there’s always something lurking out of the corner of my eye, but it is gone before I can actually see it.
Do you think it’s a ghost or something? Am I being haunted? Maybe it’s just a sprite.”
She nodded slowly. “I’ve had a similar feeling.
I call it the knowing. I always thought it was a witch thing, but maybe it’s just a woman thing.
Now that you mention it, I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, too, but I assumed it was just a lingering side effect of the magic returning to the realm.
Things have felt strange since then. Do you think you’re in any danger? ”
I considered this. The feeling was eerie. Ominous. It stung like a thorn in my skin that I couldn’t quite reach. But it wasn’t necessarily dangerous. It didn’t feel evil. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
She kept nodding. “Hmm.”
“Do you think it’s just the dragons? My protective instincts kicking into overdrive?”
“It might be. Or maybe it’s something to do with garlic.” She glanced across the park and met Fiella’s keen stare. Fiella, who had clearly been eavesdropping with her vampire hearing. She flinched, visibly shivering at the thought of garlic before composing herself.
I sighed. “Fiella, you might as well just come on over,” I said, trying my best and failing to sound annoyed.
I secretly loved that she cared enough to listen in.
The vampire donned a sheepish smile and drifted in our direction. She settled next to me on the bench, nudging me with her hip until I scooted over to give her enough space.
It was a tight squeeze—all three of us bumping shoulders—but the warmth was a comfort in the crisp evening.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” she said quietly. “I can’t turn my ears off.”
“It’s not a secret, really.” I shrugged, jostling my friends. “I’m just embarrassed. I’m being paranoid.”
“Do you want me to make you a relaxation tonic?” Kizzi asked helpfully. “I have some mirthroot, too. Smoke a little bit of that and your worries will evaporate.”
I snorted. “I think mirthroot would make things much, much worse. I’m already on edge enough, I don’t need to be loopy on top of that.”
“Suit yourself. More for me.”
“And me?” Fiella asked.
“Fuck no. Drugs make you bite.”
The vampire huffed. “Whatever.”
“Do you think I’m losing my mind?” I asked, glancing first to Kizzi, and then to Fiella.
“Losing your mind? No. Remember when my shop incident happened? I felt weird around then,” Fiella said.
“And I felt strange before Hex came to life. Magic was drenching everything so heavily,” Kizzi added.
My stomach dropped. “So, you’re saying I should be expecting a catastrophic disaster or horrifying magical mishap sometime soon? Great. I feel much better.”
Both women stopped short. I could tell they wanted to reassure me, but they didn’t quite know what to say.
“No–”
“It’s not that—”
They spoke over each other. I interrupted them both. “You can’t explain this one away. Worrying won’t get me anywhere. I guess I’ll just have to keep my wits about me and be prepared for anything.”
“We’re all here, too. We’ve got your back,” Kizzi said earnestly.
“No! That’s not fair! She swept in when they weren’t looking!” Linc’s voice broke through our conversation. He was jumping up and down, pointing at the dragons with outrage painting his face.
Raine had easily pinned both Brambleby and Ember in quick succession, flipping them onto their backs and standing on their wings. They were stuck.
Clever little beast.
Women—always taking the smart path.
Brambleby promptly fell asleep on his back. His snores echoed across the park.
Fiella barked out a laugh. “Is he—is he sleeping? No way he’s sleeping.”
I tucked my journal away and rose to my feet, brushing off my rear with a quick swipe of my palms. “He sure is. He can fall asleep anywhere. At any time. It’s ridiculous.”
“Think that’s his magical power?” Kizzi asked contemplatively.
“Maybe,” I mused. It would certainly make sense. It didn’t seem to fit, though, considering the abilities of the other two dragons were much more noticeable.
“I wonder if he could make us fall asleep. Wouldn’t that be a nightmare? Their powers are supposed to develop as they age, you know,” Kizzi said.
I made a mental note to write that tidbit down in the journal. “Save that worry for another day. There’s enough to worry about right now.” Like this ominous sense of impending doom.
And the darkness in the corner of my eye.
I strolled over to the pile of panting dragons. “Raine, if you wouldn’t mind.” I jerked my head to the side.
Immediately, she flapped her wings, taking off and landing a few paces away. Ember sprung to his feet to chase her, spitting sparks, but Brambleby didn’t move.
Actually, his legs twitched as though he were running in a dream.
I chuckled. “Alright, little man. Time to go.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose again as I bent to scoop the dragon off the ground and into the crook of my elbow.
He felt heavier already. My biceps twinged just a bit as I lifted him.
For some reason, that made me want to cry. He was growing too fast.
I cleared my throat. I resisted the urge to look around again—I knew I wouldn’t see anything damning. “Alright, that’s it for today. Show’s over. This one needs his beauty rest,” I said to the audience.
“Raine wins again!” Linc declared.
Discordant claps and murmurs broke out around the crowd.
“Later, Ginny!”
“See you tomorrow!”
I waved as I departed, forcing my eyes to face forward as I hurried home.
Three daisies rested on my front porch.
Three white daisies, fresh and bright as though they’d been in the ground only seconds before. I whipped my head side to side.
It was still the freeze season in Moonvale—wildflowers weren’t blooming yet.
Maybe it came from Lunette? The druid woman did have a knack for keeping plants alive. I whirled around, trying to catch a glimpse of her signature orange hair, but she was nowhere to be seen.
I hastily scooped the flowers up, stepped inside, and slammed the door shut behind me.