Light Dragons 01 - Love in the Time of Dragons

Carefully, very carefully, I shook my head. “It’s not time for one; I shouldn’t have one for another six months. Oh god, you’re not a deranged madwoman from Australia who lies to innocent people, are you? You’re telling me the truth! Brom! Where’s Brom?”
    “Who is Brom?”
    Panic had me leaping to my feet when my body knew better. Immediately, I collapsed onto the floor with a loud thud. My legs felt like they were made of rubber, the muscles trembling with strain. I ignored the pain of the fall and clawed at the bed to get back to my feet. “A phone. Is there a phone? I must have a phone.”
    The door opened as I stood up, still wobbling, the floor tilting and heaving under my feet.
    “I heard a—oh. I see she’s up. Hello, Ysolde.”
    “Hello.” My stomach lurched along with the floor. I clung to the frame of the bed for a few seconds until the world settled down the way it should be. “Who are you?”
    She shot a puzzled look to the other woman. “I’m May. We met before, don’t you remember?”
    “Not at all. Do you have a phone, May?”
    If she was surprised by that question, she didn’t let on. She simply pulled a cell phone out of the pocket of her jeans and handed it to me. I took it, staring at her for a moment. There was something about her, something that seemed familiar . . . and yet, I was sure I’d never seen her before.
    Mentally, I shook away the fancies and began to punch in a phone number, but paused when I realized I had no idea where I was. “What country is this?”
    May and Kaawa exchanged glances. May answered. “England. We’re in London. We thought it was better not to move you very far, although we did take you out of Drake’s house since he was a bit crazy, what with the twins being born and all.”
    “London,” I said, struggling to peer into the black abyss that was my memory. There was nothing there, but that wasn’t uncommon after an episode. Luckily, a few wits remained to me, including the ability to remember my phone number.
    The phone buzzed gently against my ear. I held my breath, counting the rings before it was answered.
    “Yeah?”
    “Brom,” I said, wanting to weep with relief at the sound of his placid, unruffled voice. “Are you all right?”
    “Yeah. Where are you?”
    “London.” I slid a glance toward the small, dark-haired woman who looked like she could have stepped straight out of some silent movie. “With . . . uh . . . some people.” Crazy people, or sane . . . that was yet to be determined.
    “You’re still in London? I thought you were only going to be there for three days. You said three days, Sullivan. It’s been over a month.”
    I heard the note of hurt in his voice. I hated that. “I know. I’m sorry. I . . . something happened. Something big.”
    “What kind of big?” he asked, curious now.
    “I don’t know. I can’t think,” I said, being quite literal. My brain felt like it was soaking in molasses. “The people I’m with took care of me while I was sleeping.”
    “Oh, that kind of big. I figured it was something like that. Gareth was pissed when you didn’t come back. He called your boss and chewed him out for keeping you so long.”
    “Oh, no,” I said, my shoulders slumping as I thought of the powerful archimage to whom I was an apprentice.
    “It was really cool! You should have heard it. Dr. Kostich yelled at Gareth, and told him to stop calling, and that you were all right, but he wouldn’t say where you were because Gareth was always using you. And then Gareth said he’d better watch out because he wasn’t the only one who could make things happen, and then Kostich said oh yeah, and Gareth said yeah, his sister- in-law was a necromancer, and then Ruth punched him in the arm and bit his ear so hard it bled, and after that, I found a dead fox. Can I have fifty dollars to buy some natron?”
    I blinked at the stream of information pouring into my ear, sorting out what must have been a horrible scene with Dr. Kostich, finally ending up on the odd request. “Why do you need natron?”
    Brom sighed. “ ’ Cause I found the dead fox. It’s going to need a lot of natron to mummify.”
    “I really don’t think we need the mummy of a fox, Brom.”
    “It’s my hobby,” he said, his tone weary. “You said I needed a hobby. I got one.”
    “When you said you were interested in mummies, I thought you meant the Egyptian ones. I didn’t realize you meant you wanted to make your own.”
    “You