Fire in His Blood
Page 8Unease sweeps through me. “What’s in here?”
No one answers, of course.
We enter the building, the broken floor littered with rubble and rock. There’s shattered glass everywhere and dead leaves scattered in every corner. The breeze whistles through the broken windows.
“Up the stairs.”
Why? What’s up the stairs other than more broken stuff? Do they plan on flinging me off the top of the building? If so…why? Try as I might, I can’t figure out why they’ve brought me here, but I know it’s not good. I can guess that much. But I don’t have much of a choice, so when they nudge me forward, I go with them. A guard props open the double doors with a rock and gestures that I should head up the debris-covered stairs. I do, but the uneasy feeling in my gut grows.
We climb. Up endless flights of stairs, we climb in silence. The guards tromp alongside me, and the only sound is that of the birds outside and the flick of leaves on the floor when a breeze cuts through a hole in the wall. The wind whips the dress about my ankles, and once again it strikes me as a weird choice of clothing for a prisoner.
We get to one of the top floors, and one of the guards pulls open a metal door. Everyone steps through, including me. All of the windows have been busted out of this floor, and birds fly overhead. It feels a bit like we’re out in the open, with nothing but twisted metal and broken frames to separate us from the sky. The place smells like dust and outdoors and a hint of char. There’s warped, faded furniture scattered about, and a few metal beams stick up from the floor at weird angles.
The captain looks back at his men. “This is a good enough spot, I think.”
“Good enough for what?” I ask.
They ignore me again, and the uneasy feeling grows. This place sure is…open. And very high up. Are they going to throw me off the edge and make it look like an accident? If so, why the stupid dress? Why the bath?
One of the men grabs me by my handcuffs, jerking my linked hands forward. He drags me across the room, leaving me no choice but to follow.
Use this one for what? Before I can ask, the guard nods at another, and then I’m lifted off my feet. My arms are dragged over the end of the pole, and then I slide down it and am set back on my feet again.
“Wait, what?” I jerk at my hands, but I’m stuck to the pole. I’m too short to be able to lift my hands and bring the cuffs back over again. “What are you doing?”
A manacle is locked around my foot.
“No!” I scream, terror locking my throat. I tug at the cuffs, but they hold fast. I’m stuck here. The wind whips around my face, fright making my entire body shake. “Please!”
I know what they’re going to do now… They’re going to abandon me up here. Leave me.
I’m…dragon bait. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but the only things that come this high up are big, scaly, and full of fire.
The soldiers move away from me, and I continue to jerk my arms, sobbing. One of the soldiers shifts on his feet, looking over at the others. He seems miserable. “Captain,” he begins, clearly torn.
“No,” says the captain. His face is a grim mask. “It has to be done. Just remember that she’s an outlaw.”
“Even an outlaw doesn’t deserve this, Captain.”
“We don’t have a choice. Either it’ll work and save us, or we’re all doomed.”
No one answers me, again. But this time, two of the guards open their packs and draw out long banners of bright red cloth.
My mouth goes dry.
Red.
Oh, fuck me.
Red is the color of bait. No one uses it for anything. Even the crushed, melded cars that make up the walls of Fort Dallas don’t have a single red auto in their midst. Dragons are drawn to red like a charging bull, and that means red things are dangerous things.
I watch the red cloth unfurl with a sick churning in my stomach. That fear gets even worse when the soldiers tie the lengths of fabric high and let them flap in the breeze like two loud and hideous flags.
“Please don’t do that,” I whisper. They’re calling a dragon over to me. I know they are. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but it’s not because I stole a few things. “Please. I have a sister.”
The captain hesitates and then approaches me. I hold my breath as he pulls out the keys to the cuffs and unlocks my hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
Then he grabs my dress by the shoulders and rips it from my body.
I shriek loudly, grabbing at the fabric that pools at my feet. “Hey!”
“Hey!” I scream again, clutching the torn fabric to my breasts. The men turn and begin to file out the door. “Wait!” I yell. “Don’t leave me!”
“I’m sorry, Miss Jones. It’s no longer safe here.” The captain gives me a sad look, then squints at the red banners. “You know as well as I do that those are going to draw every dragon in the area.”
“But why?” I squat, no longer caring about modesty, and claw at the cuff on my leg. “Why are you leaving me for the dragon?”
“Because we’re out of options, and because as a criminal, your life is forfeit anyhow.”
“Please don’t leave me,” I call out again as the captain turns to leave. “I’m going to die if you leave me up here!”
He turns one last time, pausing at the top of the stairs. The look on his face is haunted. “There is a rumor out of Fort Orleans, Miss Jones, that a dragon found a human woman and she…” He swallows. “Well, she tamed it. And rumor has it the tame dragon fought to defend Fort Orleans.”
“What?” My breath leaves my body. “T-tamed a dragon?”
“Yes. We’ve sent a runner to Fort Orleans to find out more, but we have not heard back. We might never hear back. You know as well as I do that runners almost never make it…but we’re trying anyhow. It’s worth the risk.” His smile is thin. “You’re as good as dead anyhow. At least this way, you can help those that survive in Fort Dallas. You said you have a sister? Tell yourself you’re doing this for her.”