Jolly jerked their wing, sending the two doctors flying off the cars.

  I flung a hand in their direction “Nazid!”

  Jolly thrashed again, moving their wing, the only body part that could move. The big joint lifted up and hit the firefighter in the jaw. He sagged into his harness.

  Taryn ducked.

  The ladder moved back, but Taryn started yelling at the operator to hold.

  I moved through the weave of the spell, tightening the hold spell around Jolly’s wing.

  Jolly twitched but couldn’t move their wing.

  None of this had been designed to hold an agitated, disoriented, pained, and—most importantly—awake dragon.

  “Do something, Pine!”

  “Trying.” I muttered. A tendril of my magic reached the sleep charms. They were dead. Whatever power they’d had, Jolly had burned up. That was the trouble with spelling dragons: it didn’t always work right.

  I couldn’t rebuild the charms from here. I’d have to trying a true sleeping spell and hope it worked. “Mannaz!”

  Jolly roared and twitched.

  “Narzel blast it.” I could do this. Jolly had lacerations all over them. Maybe if I aimed for one of those rather than the dragon as a whole, it would work. Pointing my wand at a japing wound on Jolly’s butt, I tried again. “Mannaz!”

  Jolly grumbled, but it had a groggy tone.

  That was better than nothing.

  “I got it!” Taryn jabbed a needle that had to be the size of my little finger into Jolly’s wing and pressed the plunger on a soda-can-sized canister.

  Jolly whined and sagged into the spells.

  “How long will that last?” I had another sleep spell ready, but I didn’t want Jolly to overdose.

  “Not long. We need to move quickly.” Taryn checked on the firefighter before stepping over him. “Ready to fold.”

  I eased the holding spell, not as much as last time, but it would still give her room to work. “Clear.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Syd was back on top of the car and had the beginning joint refolded and stuck together. Taryn didn’t waste any time in folding the big joint and sticking the wing tip in.

  “Can you move Jolly closer? I need to rotate the shoulder and place the wing along its back,” Taryn said.

  Letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, I twitched my wand, easing Jolly a few feet closer.

  Taryn secured the wing to Jolly’s back. “Get the dragon on the truck.” She knelt down to attend to the firefighter.

  I rotated Jolly around so their head was pointing at the cab, easing them directly over the truck and lowering them until there was a foot of clearance. The two trucking guys had me angle Jolly a bit and move the dragon forward. With the final go-ahead, Jolly touched down with a creak of springs. I took off the levitation spell but kept the other two active on while the guys tossed big padded straps over Jolly and gently secured the dragon.

  With Jolly secured, I released the remaining spells, dispersing the power back into the earth. Then I recast the holding spell, only this one held Jolly in one place as well as on the truck. Satisfied the spells would hold even an awake dragon, I doused the chalk runes in water, erasing them.

  When I couldn’t see the chalk, I looked at the area with my shield down. The magic was gone from the circle, but a glint at the edge of my vision caught my attention. A silver case stuck out of the pile of concrete rubble, all that was left of a chunk of the center divider.

  I walked closer, not sure what I was seeing. Ruby-red magic flared off the case before retreating. Then it was just a case again.

  Magic didn’t just disappear. It was either there or it wasn’t.

  “Pine! We need healing charms!” Smith bellowed.

  My concentration shattered, and the shield that kept me from seeing magic slammed into place.

  I turned to gripe at Smith and saw a cluster of people huddled around a doctor. She’d been tossed off the car when Jolly woke up and probably hadn’t moved since.

  “Sweet bones of Narzel.” I sprinted toward my car.

  Halfway there, icy power curled out of the dead spot on the outside of my left calf, traveling up my knee. It reached out toward the dead woman behind me.

  Slowing to a walk, I shoved the power back where it belonged.

  The cold magic living in me was my biggest secret, and my biggest problem. Witches were forbidden to practice necromancy in any way. If I was discovered, I’d be beheaded, burned, my ashes salted and scattered over different bodies of water.

  Yup, we were that scary.

  No, I didn’t really know why.

  Even though it was pointless, I dutifully retrieved the bag of healing charms.

  Thanks to an old and very scary family book, I knew some of the reasons why necromancers were hunted. Originally, we’d belonged to the Nekro clan of witches. We could raise armies and turn the tide of wars, and we were hated by everyone. No one liked seeing their relatives as undead.

  Then there were some pesky rumors we were impossible to kill. That particular rumor was proven false when we were hunted, nearly to extinction. I would’ve asked more questions about how I managed to have these powers all these years later, but every woman in my family was dead.

  Monique, my biological mom, had deadened the flesh in my leg, binding me to death and giving me these powers when I was a baby. Then word of her necromancy got out, and the clan killed her.

  That fate was one I was doing my best to avoid, which was why I keep my necromancy locked away. I’d do just fine at work if I could avoid raising people. Especially in front of witnesses.

  “I can heal her. I just need a boost!” Lance’s green hands rested lightly against her neck.