Ivore
Violet ran to his side. “Ivore, you need to get up. Please. This whole place is going to burn down around us!”
She shouted for help, but the other contractors had already fled, escaping the flames. He’d seen them go. Hadn’t he? Or was that his imagination. Ivore wasn’t thinking straight. He was also bleeding from his nose, which had been broken in the initial attack, a sort of secondary blow from the hammer as it had torn across his face.
With the walls exposed and so much debris all over the place the fire was spreading rapidly. Soon it would engulf the entire store. Ivore knew they were in danger. He had to get them out. His wits were slowly returning.
“Door,” he mumbled through mashed lips. “Violet, we need to go. ‘S on fire.” He was slurring his words. Shit, maybe he was hurt worse than he thought?
Shaking his head, he tried to sit up.
The entire world went black, and the next thing he saw was the ceiling above him, orange-red flames licking at the exposed joists. How had it spread so quickly?
Violet’s face appeared above his head as she leaned over him. Fear tightened the corners of her eyes, and sweat was pouring down her forehead as the fire pulsed waves of heat at them. “Ivore, you’re awake!”
“’f course I’m awake. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve been unconscious for several minutes now. I tried dragging you to the door, but you’re too big. You need to get up. We have to go. The door is almost blocked!” She pointed.
He turned his head, relishing the cool of the concrete underneath him, wishing the rest of the air could be like that. Cool. Cold. Icy, just the way Ivore preferred.
Focusing on the present by squinting his eyes, he saw that she was right. The door out front was still clear, but the fire was raging everywhere and it would reach all the painters’ rags and insulation stacked near the doorway any moment now. If they were going to escape, then he had to get up.
Ivore put his hands on the ground, wondering why the concrete was still so cold when everything else was just radiating heat, making it difficult to breathe.
Something snapped and a burning beam fell from the ceiling. Sparks exploded, spewing out in every direction, several of them landing in the painters’ bin. The rags soaked in layer after layer of paint-thinner erupted into flames, and in seconds the doorway was obscured by the worst part of the raging fire.
They were trapped.
“Ivore, we’re trapped! What the hell do we do? Please, I need you!”
The words seemed to cut through the fog in his brain as power flowed through him, easing the pain and confusion. It was cool power, a chill breeze that washed over his skin, standing hairs on end.
It was the power of an ice dragon.
Turning to face Violet, he reached up and caressed her face. “I’ll get us out of here, but you have to give me a chance to explain after, before you freak out.”
She frowned, the brown highly visible from the fear. “What?”
“Promise me you’ll give me a chance to explain!” he roared as a piece of drywall fell, too weakened by the fire to stay intact, breaking into pieces as it hit the ground.
“Okay, I promise!
Instantly the area around them grew cooler. Frost covered the ground underneath, and he could almost see her breath in the sudden chill. The change in temperature wouldn’t be good for her, and it might cause her to go into shock, but that was better than burning to death.
“What the hell?” Violet looked all around her in confusion.
“To the lobby,” he said, getting to his feet.
Even despite the power, the pain in his head nearly knocked him out again as he stood up. How hard had he been hit? And who the hell had hit him?
“We can’t go that way,” she protested. “The fire is worse there. There’s no way out.”
He extended a hand in that direction. “There is now,” he stated.
Ice poured from his hand, extinguishing the fire and clearing them a path.
Violet stared, unmoving, as frozen as the ground underneath them. His strength was waning, and he didn’t have any time to wait. Scooping her up into his arms, Ivore walked them out of the fire. Behind him the ice dissipated, fire rushing back into the unoccupied area. He would leave no traces for anyone else to find about their escape method. Answering Violet’s questions was going to be enough.
This conversation was one he’d expected to have. Like everything else with them however, it was all coming at them both far faster than either expected. Ivore had hoped to have at least a few more weeks of earning her trust before he spilled his secret and turned her world upside down even more than he already had.
Outside fire engines finally pulled up, their sirens jolting Violet back to reality.
“How did you do that?” she asked, looking across the lobby at the fire-ravaged remains that had been her shop. “You just…ice just came from your hands. Out of nowhere. You shot it.”
She looked around to see if anyone else was nearby. Then she spoke in a low, hushed tone. “Are you a mutant?”
He laughed despite the seriousness of her voice. “No, not really.”
“So what the hell are you? An alien?”
“No.” He managed not to laugh at that one.
“Well, you’ve been hiding one hell of a secret then.”
“I know. I want to tell you, it’s just…difficult. But, well, the building isn’t called the Dragon Tower for no reason.”
Violet’s blank stare told him she wasn’t connecting the dots between the name on the outside of the building and what he was trying to tell her.
“I’m a dragon.”
She shook her head. “No. Dragons don’t exist. That’s not possible.”
He snorted. “Right, and guys who can shoot ice and snow from their hands do?”
“Well…”
“Exactly. I’m a dragon, Violet, whether you want to believe it or not. But you just saw what I can do.”
“Yeah…” she glanced behind them uneasily. The lobby was devoid of people, giving them complete privacy, but with the firemen now battling the blaze it didn’t seem like that was going to last much longer.
“Are you all right? Are you going to freak out?”