CHAPTER 15
Abigail
Abigail gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Maybe it was pointless, and hopeless, and reckless and stupid and a terrible idea in so many ways— but she was going to do it. Even if she knocked on his door and he didn’t answer. Even if he sent her away.
She’d had all the chances in the world to change her mind. Putting chains on the tires of her crappy old car had been a mission and a half; at any point, she could have given up. But she hadn’t. Sweaty and greasy, she’d pulled out of the apartment garage with her stomach in knots.
She was going to find Jasper.
The streets were busy. That gave her more chances to back out. Every excruciating inch was another opportunity for her to decide this was all a mistake, that reaching out like this was no better than throwing herself off into thin air with no parachute. She rapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She didn’t want all these chances to change her mind.
Because you’re afraid you might take one of them.
That was why she had decided to go in person, rather than call on the phone. A phone call could be missed; face-to-face, there was no way to hide.
At last, an opening appeared in the traffic. She edged forward, heaving a sigh of relief. No escape now. She was stuck here until the great traffic-beast spat her out on the mountain road a few blocks away. And then she was going to find Jasper. He’d told her where he was staying; one of the private lodges, up one of the private roads. She’d never explored that far into the mountains, but now she had a reason to ignore the Restricted Access signs. And when she got there…
Christmas Eve. Abigail’s heart leapt into her throat. Jasper loved Christmas. And she was going to go up there and beg for him to take her back, empty-handed? What was she thinking?
A shop up ahead caught her eye. It wasn’t the sort of place she usually went, but today— today, it might just be perfect. Horns blaring around her, Abigail inched into a parking space and raced inside.
Half an hour later, she was on the mountain road. The town traffic had dragged at her patience, but out here, it was like a weight had lifted from her shoulders. There were only a few other cars on the road, and they soon disappeared ahead of her. It was like she was alone in the mountains; just her, her crotchety old car, and the parcel burning a hole in her jacket pocket.
The roads had all been cleared since the last snow, but she was still glad of the chains as she drove deeper into the mountains. Her car barely had four-wheel drive, and— now that she came to think of it— she hadn’t actually told anyone she was heading out here…
She checked her phone. One bar of signal.
Stop it. You’re not backing out, remember?
She reminded herself of this again when she pulled to a stop in front of the gate that led onto the Heartwells’ private road. It was closed— but not locked, as she discovered when she trudged out to check it. She drove through, and then stopped to close the gate after her. Her skin prickled.
You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re visiting a, a friend. And it’s not like the gate was locked, or anything.
She looked around, wrapping her arms around herself. It was a gray, dull day. Heavy clouds smothered the peaks. Maybe if it was clear, she would have been able to see up to the Heartwell lodge, but instead she felt like she was standing under a dome of fog. She shivered.
I hope Jasper has a fire going, she thought, and immediately shook her head. If he even wants to see you.
“Well, I’m not going to find out by standing around here,” she said out loud, and turned to trudge back to the car.
A noise stopped her.
Abigail froze, ears pricked. What was that? It wasn’t the creak of ice-bound trees, or the crash of snow falling from an overhand or branch. It had sounded almost like some sort of animal. Like a groan.
Are there bears around here? was her first thought, and then: Should I run?
But she didn’t move. Whatever that noise was… it wasn’t like anything she had ever heard, but she wasn’t afraid. And she wanted to know what had made it.
She turned away from the car. Silence. The only noise was her footsteps as she took one, two steps forward. There was a stand of pines near the side of the road, thickening to dense forest that swept up the hillside beyond. But there was something wrong. The trees seemed to thin out again partway up the hill. And while most of the trees were thickly blanketed with snow, the branches around that one spot were bare. Like something had shaken all the snow off them.
Abigail waited. The only things she could hear were her own breath, and the crunch of snow underfoot. She realized she was still walking forward and forced herself to stop. What was she doing, wandering into a forest in the middle of nowhere? If one of those trees dumped its load of snow on her, that would be it. She’d be dead of hypothermia long before anyone noticed she was missing.
She bit her lip. No more noises. But she hadn’t heard it the last time until she’d spoken out loud to herself. So, maybe— well, maybe it was an echo, but she had to be sure either way—
“Hello?” she called out.
The forest sighed back. Abigail swayed on her feet. She had heard it. Whatever it was. A sigh, a groan— like something in pain. Or someone.
The hairs on the backs of her arms stood on end, even under all her layers of clothing. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to leave here without investigating further.
She made her way slowly through the trees, choosing each step with care. She didn’t dare call out again, in case the sound of her voice disturbed any of the snow piled up on the tree branches. Skin prickling with anticipation, she picked her way up the hill.
It was easy to tell when she was getting close. Shattered branches covered the ground, and even some of the massive pine trunks were broken off. It’s like something huge fell out of the sky, Abigail thought to herself. Has a plane crashed? Wouldn’t I have heard about that on the news, though?
Except she didn’t listen to the news. Not at Christmas. She would have missed—
Abigail frowned. No. Even if I missed a news bulletin, I would have seen search and rescue teams on the road. There would have been something. This is…
She squeezed around a thick layer of brush and gasped. This is something else.
For a moment, her mind refused to believe what it was seeing. The— creature— was immense, its body at least the length of a bus and its tail stretching out even longer behind it. And its wings. It had wings. And scales. And a long, lizard-like head with a line of ridges that ran from behind its nostrils up over its eyes, becoming thicker and harder-looking as they went down its massive back.
The creature’s eyes were closed, and the skin of its eyelids looked strangely delicate next to the clear power and strength of the rest of it.
Not a creature. A dragon. She didn’t have any other word for it and her mind rebelled against it— it was impossible— but there it was. A dragon, crash-landed in the snowy mountains above her home.
Its scales gleamed bright against the white snow and dark trees, a shimmering gold-red-orange that danced like flames.
“This can’t be real,” Abigail whispered, so quietly she could barely hear the words.
The dragon opened its eyes.
Abigail felt as though she was floating. The dragon’s eyes were the same colors as its scales, but filled with liquid fire. Gold and red and orange, strange and magical and— familiar.
Her thought broke off as the dragon began to move. Its eyes were locked on to hers, and it moved slowly, as though it was trying not to frighten her. It pulled its legs back and shifted its weight until it was crouching Sphinx-like in the broken mess of trees and snow.
Abigail was so entranced, she almost forgot to breathe. She was drowning in the dragon’s eyes. Drowning and flying at the same time, her whole body alight with wonder.
The dragon hissed with pain, a sharp, bitten-back noise. Abigail stiffened, but didn’t retreat. She immediately saw what was wrong. One of the dragon’s wings was caught on a broken branch in such a way that it couldn’t pull it free.
“Stay where you are,” Abigail said at once. She didn’t bother to wonder whether it could understand her. It must have, anyway, because it stayed frozen in place as she clambered over broken trees and snowdrifts to grab hold of the splintered branch. “Hold still— I’ll try not to hurt you, but…”
She yanked on the branch. Frozen wood cracked and splintered, and she managed to haul it away enough that the dragon could hitch its wing back. She watched, panting, as it folded its wing awkwardly against its side. It hadn’t taken its eyes off her the whole time.
Abigail scrambled backwards until she was on solid ground again. The dragon swung its massive head around, following her. She still wasn’t scared. She thought she probably should be— if not of the massive mythological creature in front of her, then the possibility that this was all a hallucination, and she was seriously ill or injured. But she wasn’t.
Because she knew those eyes. Gold and red and orange, like looking into the heart of a fire. Like embers, burning with passion.
This is impossible. But…
“Jasper?” she breathed.
She bit her lip the moment the word was out. Of all the stupid ideas to enter your head—
The dragon— it couldn’t be Jasper, that was stupid, that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard— the dragon pushed itself up on legs the size of tree-trunks. When it stood up, she could see the damage from its crash into the trees, a thousand cuts and grazes. Some small. Some not so small.
“You’re hurt,” she gasped as the dragon stumbled. It lowered its head until its eyes were level with hers, only a few feet away. Its mouth was just open enough that she could see its long, curved teeth.
But that wasn’t what caught her attention. There was a cut on the dragon’s lip, giving it a cruel-looking sneer. A broken splinter of wood was jammed into the end of the cut.
Abigail reached out automatically, then hesitated. The dragon’s breath flowed over her, warm and spicy-smelling. She took a deep breath. Forget hypothermia. If this goes wrong, you’re going to be burned to a crisp.
Her gloves were too thick and clumsy. She would have to do it bare-handed.
“This is definitely going to hurt,” she warned the dragon after she had stripped off her gloves, and took hold of the splinter. As gently as she could, she began to ease it out.
The dragon’s breath surrounded her, and she could feel its eyes on her, so strange and so strangely familiar.
“Here— just a little more—” The dragon was tense, its breath coming in sharp puffs of spice-scented fog. The splinter was longer than she had expected, and she winced in sympathy as she pulled it slowly from the dragon’s lip. “Almost there—”
Without thinking, she raised her other hand to steady herself against the dragon’s snout. A violent shudder went through the dragon, almost throwing Abigail to the ground. The splinter flew out of her hand and onto the snow, but the dragon didn’t stop shaking— it was shimmering, almost as though its whole shape was changing—
Light filled the clearing. She had grabbed on to the dragon when it started shaking but it wasn’t a dragon anymore. There weren’t scales under her palms, there was skin. Her fingers tangled in curling hair.
She fell to her knees and he fell with her. Not a dragon.
“Jasper,” she gasped, staring up at him. The dragon’s eyes gazed back at her, from Jasper’s face. Red and gold and burning and…
I was right. It is Jasper. The dragon— how is this possible?
“Abigail—” Jasper’s voice was choked. His face was scratched, his hair tousled with snow and twigs, but he was staring at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.
“How— what—” Abigail had too many questions. Then Jasper’s arms closed around her and all her questions dissolved. He kissed her hungrily, desperately, and Abigail clung to him, drinking him in. His kisses. His touch. His tangled hair, the smooth lines of his back under her hands— was he naked?
His injuries. She’d seen the cut on his face, still— was he—
Abigail was still gathering her thoughts when Jasper groaned and sagged against her. She braced against him, pushing them both to kneel upright. Jasper’s head lolled on her shoulder.
“Jasper!”
“’m alright,” he muttered, his voice slurred. “I…”
He collapsed against her, too heavy for her to hold. They both fell to their knees.