Expensive - Amy Bellows Page 0,51

in the area doing research on your fucked-up situation, and when he called me, I managed to get to him in time.”

“Wait, why are you researching—”

“You asked for our help, remember?”

Our help? Manny works with the woman who saved us from the pits? Why didn’t he tell me?

My phone buzzes.

“Is that Andrew?” Anne asks.

“I don’t know. Probably.”

Anne grabs the phone from the dash and flips it open before I can stop her.

“What in the—”

“Step on it. We need to get back to the Monroe mansion immediately.”

“What is it?”

“Andrew is on his way to The Flickering Candle.”

“What is that?”

“The place where desperate people go for impossible spells. The two most powerful warlocks in the world live there.”

Andrew is visiting a warlock? Why?

Unless a warlock could remove his magical tie to Edward Monroe…

“Would they be able to help him?” I ask. “He has a bond ache—”

“I don’t give a fuck what he has. Going to The Flickering Candle is dangerous. I need to rest for a few minutes before I can shift again. I’m not as young as I used to be. Andrew’s house should have a roof I can take off from.”

I’m confused. “Don’t dragons need their hoard to shift?”

Manny smiles. His lips are finally returning to a pinkish color. “She swallows part of hers whenever she goes on a mission. Just in case.”

She shoves him. “Here you are. Giving up all my secrets.”

“What’s your hoard?” Maybe that’s too personal to ask, but I’m curious.

“The change I get back from a cashier every time I go to a restaurant or anywhere else with my family.”

That seems like a strange thing to collect. Andrew’s hoard is more logical. Books give him a sense of peace, and he feels passionately about them. Why would this woman be passionate about common coins?

“I didn’t take any of my family’s fortune when I left home at eighteen. Not a dollar in my bank account is blood money. When I left, my alpha mother said I’d be destitute. That I wouldn’t be able to feed my children. But I did. And I had money left over. For the longest time, it was just a collection of change. But I always had enough.”

“So… you swallow the change every single time you have a mission?” I ask.

Manny laughs. “Yes. And she has to fish it out of her poop after the mission is over.”

She shoves him again. “Stop telling him classified information.”

“Classified? Are we in the CIA now?” Manny says.

I haven’t seen this side of him before. Despite the fact that he’s still trembling, he’s relaxed—even happy. I didn’t think that was possible.

Sometimes when you meet your heroes, they don’t live up to your expectations, but Anne is far more than what I expected. Not less. If anyone can help me save Andrew from whatever dangerous plan he’s concocted, I think it’s her.

I push the gas pedal down farther and speed toward the Monroe mansion.

24

Andrew

Howard offers to fly us to The Flickering Candle since I’m not close enough to my hoard to shift. Some people can shift with just a fraction of their hoard, but I’ve never been able to do that, so I didn’t bother to bring any books with me.

Unfortunately, I didn’t bring any clothes either. I follow Howard to the landing pads still wearing that terry cloth robe. In my right pocket is a drawing of Frankie. In my left pocket is a drawing of my beautiful library.

Before this night is over, both of them will be gone.

It’s awkward to watch Howard carry a bag of what I assume is part of his hoard to the landing pad and begin to take off his clothes. I turn away from him to give him some privacy.

I wonder what Timber will think when he gets my message. Will he be concerned? Curious? I feel bad leaving him with only a vague explanation of where I am. But he’d never agree to let me do this if he knew, and it has to be done.

I peek over my shoulder to see Howard has already shifted. He’s small for an ice dragon. Merely the size of a car with wings that don’t look large enough to carry him.

It isn’t appropriate for me to see him like this, and it definitely isn’t appropriate for me to climb onto his scaly back and ride him.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I pull my robe tighter around my waist and approach him, uncertain how he wants me to proceed. He pushes an image into