Fireball

  Fireball

  N. E. Conneely

  Copyright © 2017 N. E. Conneely

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher or author. Requests for permission to copy part of this work for use in an educational environment may be directed to the author.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. References to historical events, real people, or real locales are made fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Fireball

  Also by N. E. Conneely

  New Release Newsletter

  About the Author

  Fireball

  My eyes darted between my silent phone and the clock. It was still 10:47 in the morning. Finally the clock grudgingly ticked over to 10:48. So far day three of officially being in business was going just like the first two days. A lot of waiting, hoping the consulting contracts with the two police departments produced some work, and my phone stubbornly refusing to ring.

  I rolled my eyes up to look at the shelves. Yesterday I’d rearranged the little glass bottles of dried herbs three times. They were perfect. The filing cabinets behind me were waiting to be filled. I even had the $200.00 receipt for office supplies logged in my accounting book. What I needed were cases—and money.

  I couldn’t keep my eyes from drifting back to the phone.

  Please ring.

  Nothing.

  Come on, any call is good. A new client, an emergency, really anything. I needed billable hours to keep this dream alive.

  The clock finally ticked over to 10:49. Today was going to be even more tedious than yesterday.

  My phone’s screen lit up. I blinked, just to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. Then it started buzzing and scooting across my desk. I snatched it up, accepted the call, and tried to sound like a professional. “Oaks Consulting, this is Michelle.”

  “Are you the witch?” a man barked.

  “Yes, I am a witch.” I grimaced. This really wasn’t how I thought my first call was going to go. “May I help you?”

  “You’ve got the contract with the Cherokee County Sheriff’s Office, right?” This time he was downright surly.

  “Correct.” I hoped he got to the point soon.

  He shouted at someone before addressing me again. “We’ve got a problem down here at Mountainside Day Care. Can you come help?”

  “I would be glad to.” I hoped I sounded professional rather than desperate. “Could you give me directions or the address?”

  He huffed, but rattled off a street and number. “You shouldn't have trouble finding the place. It's two miles down Cumming Highway, just past the Baptist church. You'll see a baby dragon flying overhead.”

  “Got it. Find the day care with the baby dragon. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Thanks.” He hung up without waiting for me to say anything else.

  I carefully set down my phone. “Yes! My first case!” Grinning, I leaned back in my chair. I could do this. I could make this work as a career.

  That high lasted a few seconds before my practical side took over. I had to get over to the day care and help them sort out a magical problem. I checked to make sure my wand was snapped into my wrist sheath, shoved my phone in my purse, and headed to my car at a brisk walk. There was a bag of basic magical supplies in the back seat, where I'd placed it a few days ago. I’d tried to figure out what I was likely to need, but I knew there was going to be a learning curve, and hopefully I didn’t lose any clients while I was figuring things out.

  After sliding into the driver’s seat, I put the address into my GPS. While I was fairly sure I knew where I was going, I didn’t want to get lost on the way to my first case. I took a steadying breath, backed out of the parking space in front of the lodge, and rolled down the road.

  It would've been nice if Mr. Grumpy-Pants Officer had told me exactly what I was getting myself into. Then I could’ve worked on spells, figured out a plan of attack, or been able to tell them this was out of my league. Since I didn’t have any useful information, my brain spent most of the drive coming up with its own theories, each of which were less likely than the last. And I made a mental note to ask for specifics next time.

  My GPS cheerfully informed me that my destination was a mile ahead on the right. I pushed aside the wild fantasies and focused on the here and now. The road curved, and I started to worry that I was going to miss the day care. I rolled past the church, and there it was—a big white sign with brightly colored lettering, a wide entrance, and a gravel parking lot with one police car, a van with a big “Caution, children” sign on the side, and an older sedan.

  What I didn’t see was a dragon.

  I got out of the car, shaded my eyes, and looked around. It was a quiet day, with birds chirping, a few clouds in the sky, a light breeze rustling the leaves, but still no dragon.

  “You the witch?” a man grumbled.

  I twisted around, spotting an older gentlemen in a police uniform with a big belly, gray hair, and a wad of chew tucked in his cheek. Stepping forward, I gave him the professional smile I’d practiced in the mirror and held out my hand. “Yes, Michelle Oaks. It’s nice to meet you, Officer . . . ?”

  He quickly shook my hand. “Officer Smith.”

  “Nice to meet you, Officer Smith.” I smiled again. “So, what happens to be the problem here today?”

  At that exact moment, a fireball landed between the two of us. I leaped back, eyes scanning the sky. A topaz dragon, only about five feet from nose to tail, was flapping its wings as it shot toward the tree line.

  Officer Smith pointed up. “That.”

  A slender woman with honey-colored hair falling out of her ponytail rushed out of the day care and yelled at the retreating dragon. “Get back here and apologize, Sinclair!”

  Absolute silence was the only answer.

  I inhaled, held my breath for a moment, then slowly exhaled. “Officer Smith, what precisely is it that you expect me to do?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a witch. Use magic to get that thing under control.”

  “You do understand my contract is for magical emergencies?” I clamped my jaw shut before I said the rest of what I was thinking. This was the day care’s problem, not mine.

  He spat on the ground, tucked his thumbs in his belt, and rocked back on his heels. “Everyone else is split between a bomb threat at the school and some problem between elves and dark elves. The day care staff has the flu and is down to Ann over there, who’s as human as I am. The dragon’s parents have been called, but no one can reach them until they land in Wyoming, and then it’ll be another four hours before they can get back here.”

  I glanced at Ann, whose shoulders were slumped and whose face showed traces of tears as she headed back to the door of the day care, where eight little faces pressed against the glass. Then, focusing on Officer Smith, I did my very best to be patient and professional. “So you would like me to get the young dragon under control?”

  “Sounds right,” he drawled as he started walking to his car.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “Going to turn in the car and get home. I’m an hour over the end of my shift, and that makes me officially retired.” He opened the driver’s side door, plopped into the seat, closed the door, and started the engine. I stood there, mouth agape, as he pulled onto the road and drove off.

  A fireball smacked into the gravel
three feet to my left, sending hot rocks flying into the air. Glancing up, I saw Sinclair spit out another fireball and inhale as if he were getting ready to produce a third. Ducking down, I scrambled forward, heading for the day care’s doors. A fireball hit the ground behind me, sending hot rocks bouncing off my calves and thighs. The next fireball crashed into the awning, burning a hole straight through it. I yanked open the door, darted inside, and pulled it closed.

  Panting, I looked through the window, trying to figure out where Sinclair had gone. The awning blocked most of my view, but I saw the tip of a topaz wing disappear behind the fence into the playground.

  “So, you’re the witch that’s going to help me deal with Sinclair?” Ann brushed her fingers through her hair, pulled it up, and quickly wrapped the hairband around it. With her ponytail back in place, she leaned against the wall and looked me over.

  “Well, this is the first time I’ve been on a case like this.” Nothing I’d done in school had prepared me for this.

  “Back inside.” Ann's reprimand was directed at the two boys peeking around the edge of the doorjamb. Giggling, they retreated. Ann rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing these kids mostly get along since I've been trying to figure out what to do about Sinclair.”

  “If you don't mind me asking, how did a human end up taking care of a baby dragon?” I kept my eyes on the playground. So far I hadn't seen Sinclair leave.

  “Oh, well, normally we have a fey and an elf on staff. Yesterday the fey got food poisoning. She thought it was from some leftovers she had for breakfast, but this morning the elf got sick, so now we think it was the Thai food they had for lunch yesterday.” Ann closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. “I usually work late evenings and fill in when someone is sick. It works fairly well for the three of us, but with both of them gone, Sinclair has been causing problems."

  “What kind of problem made you call the police?” Because as far as I could tell, this wasn’t a problem that needed a witch.

  Ann looked down at the floor, took a deep breath, and met my gaze. “Sinclair hurled a fireball at me while I was helping one of the kids pick up crayons. I got both of us out of the way. Then I told Sinclair that wasn’t acceptable behavior and tried to put him in time-out. He knocked me down, sent another fireball in my direction, and by the time I could go after him, he’d somehow gotten through the front door. I tried calling for him. He wouldn’t come back.”

  I looked out the doors, but just like before, Sinclair was nowhere to be seen. Turning back to Ann, I tilted my head in the direction of the room the children were in. “Take care of them. I’ll deal with Sinclair.”

  “Thank you.” Ann said softly. She glanced out the window one more time before going back to the children.

  Gripping my wand tightly, I slowly pushed open the door and stuck my head out. The birds were still chirping and the wind was still blowing, like it was a perfectly normal day. I stepped outside and softly closed the door behind me. Stepping as quietly as I could, I walked over to the fence that surrounded the playground and peeked over it. There was a patch of blackened dirt where grass had once been, but no Sinclair.

  Keeping a sharp eye on the sky, including the area behind me, I made my way into the parking lot. I didn’t know what Sinclair wanted, but I knew a few things about dragons, even baby ones. The younger the dragon, the more they were attracted to fire, being used to cuddling up next to their parents. This could be as simple as Sinclair missing his family and acting out while no one here was capable of managing a young dragon.

  I lifted my wand in the air. “Dagaz.” A ball of fire the size of an orange appeared in front of me. I fed the spell more energy until it had expanded to the size of a basketball. That was a good start, but it might not be enough to draw Sinclair. Reaching out with my magic, I created layers to the spell, forming a disk at the bottom that was a very hot, bright blue flame. From there the fire cooled as it moved away from the hot center. The final layer, which brought the ball of flames to the size of a large beach ball, was a light red. On the outside surface, tufts of flames moved and flickered with the breeze.

  Stepping back, I went over my work with a critical eye. If I was a baby dragon looking for warmth, this would certainly be inviting. Hopefully Sinclair thought it was as nice as I did.

  With the flames taken care of, there were two more things that needed my attention, and quickly. The first was a method of protecting myself. I didn’t know the runes for this spell, so I simply pictured how I wanted the magic to work, lifted my wand, and started forming the spell. Using the tip of my wand, I outlined a large rectangle with rounded corners in the air. It was about three feet tall and two feet wide. I poured energy into the rectangle, keeping it thin but sturdy enough to protect me from any rogue fireballs, or other attacks the dragon might send my way. When the body of the shield was complete, I carefully attached a hand grip and arm strap. Finally, I separated myself from the spell. The magic wobbled, then stabilized. I poked the front of the shield with my wand. It rippled but didn’t let the wand through. Satisfied that it would give me a method of defending myself, I slid my hand through the arm strap and grabbed the handgrip.

  I quickly looked around and saw a small topaz shape skimming along the treetops. I wasn’t going to have enough time to prepare the next spell. I’d have to figure it out once Sinclair landed. Wanting to give him plenty of space, I moved back until I was under the awning and then crouched down, keeping the shield between myself and the big ball of fire.

  Seconds later he glided down to hover over the ball of fire. He stretched out his neck until the yellow flames were just brushing against his nose. Then he heaved a sigh, flapping just enough to stay aloft. A second later, his head jerked back. He inhaled sharply, then sneezed. His wings faltered and he tumbled out of the air, hitting the gravel with a thud. He let out a pained whimper and, using his forelegs, dragged himself until he was under the ball of flame.

  This wasn’t a dangerous baby dragon, but one who was sick. Before I could do anything, he sneezed again. He laid his head back against the gravel, heaving a big sigh.

  He laid there for a moment while I debated how he would react if I approached. Originally, I had planned to use magical bindings to gently hold his wings against his body so he couldn’t fly away. Now that I knew he was sick, I didn’t think that would be necessary. He simply needed someone who understood what needed to be done for him. It was pretty common for baby dragons to be unable to control their flames when they were ill. Odds were he had run away to protect the other kids.

  I sucked the energy out of the shield and tucked my wand back in the wrist sheath. I wanted to approach him as a friend, not someone who thought he was dangerous.

  Keeping my voice soft and nonthreatening, I said, “Sinclair, can I come help you?”

  He turned his head just enough to see me, then started trying to scramble to his feet, his wings dropping so they rested on the gravel.

  “It’s okay. I won’t come any closer unless you want me to.” To prove my point, I slowly sat down on the walkway.

  He looked at me for several long seconds before lowering himself back to the ground.

  “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. My name is Michelle Oaks. I’m a witch, and I’m here to help. Do you want your parents?”

  He moved his head just enough to nod.

  I took a deep breath. “Well, messages have been left for them, and they’ll be back as soon as they can. Until then, I’m here, and I really want to help you. Does the fire feel good?” I watched as he curled into a tight ball, coughed, spitting out a small plume of fire, and whimpered.

  Most dragons could talk by the time they were two years old. At roughly five feet from his nose to the tip of his tail, I guessed Sinclair was about five years old. As nice as it would be if he would talk to me and tell me what was wrong, he probably felt too sick to use human words. Since he wasn’t talking, there was only one thing I knew how to do.

  Re
aching into my pocket, I dug out my phone. I went through the contacts until I found the direct line for the Cherokee County dispatch office. Taking a deep breath, and hoping I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I poked the call button. I held the phone up to my ear as it rang. Poor Sinclair coughed out two more plumes of fire and curled into an even tighter ball before someone answered.

  “Cherokee County dispatch office, this is Richard.” His voice was crisp and professional. “How may I help you?”

  “Hi, my name is Michelle Oaks, a contracted consultant of the Cherokee County Sheriff’s Office. I was called out to Mountainside Day Care and have determined that we need medical assistance for a sick baby dragon. The officer who was on scene left, and I don’t know if someone needs to make an official report or if I can do that.” I closed my mouth, really hoping that hadn’t sounded as poorly thought out to Richard as it had to me.

  “Please verify. Your name is Michelle Oaks, correct?” Rapid keystrokes followed his words.

  “Correct.”

  “How large is the dragon?”

  “Overall, five feet. He can definitely fit on a regular stretcher.” I knew the dispatcher needed the medically pertinent information, but I wanted to tell Richard that Sinclair was small enough to snuggle in my lap.

  “An ambulance is being dispatched.” Richard paused. “Can you describe the dragon’s symptoms?”

  Sinclair whined softly, and I wished he’d let me get close enough to comfort him. “According to the day care staff, he coughed up a fireball, became agitated, and left the facility. Since I’ve been here, he has repeatedly coughed fire. He’s currently curled up under a large ball of fire I created.”

  “Do you have any medical history on the dragon?” Richard asked.

  “No. The day care might, but I doubt it can be located until someone else arrives to help look after the dragon or search for the records. There are several other children here and only one person watching them.” It was probably worth mentioning his parents. “From what I’ve been able to gather, both of his parents were working far away today and are likely still in the air.”