Free Embers by Laura Bickle Page A

books and handwritten spell notes. Muttering to herself, Katie plucked a tome from the shelf and flipped through the index.

    “There are five levels of salamander. It’s analogous to the hierarchy of angels: seraphim, cherubim, archangels. . . you get the drift.” Katie handed the book to Anya, open to a page depicting a drawing of a creature that resembled a tadpole. With a long tail, no arms, and big black eyes, it looked like it could star in its own cartoon and have its own line of trading cards. “At the bottom of the list are the efts. Efts are the elemental forces behind candle flames, pilot lights. . . they’re the littlest fish and the most numerous. Paracelsus described them as being like fireflies.”

    “He’s cute.”

    “Yeah, well they get progressively less cute the further you go up.”

    Katie flipped the page. Embedded in the text, a small lizard stood on two legs. Its arms were short, holding a tiny ember like a squirrel holding a nut. “These are newts. Newts are common in home hearths and bonfires. They’re usually the spirits or guardians of houses and they’re almost always tied to places.”

    “Still cute.”

    “Keep going.” Next was a larger creature with familiar proportions: long body, short legs, and loose, speckled skin. “These are the firedrakes, like Sparky. They’re also called hellbenders in some places. They’re evolved enough to have free will, but they don’t speak. They’re drawn to large fires. . . burning buildings, that kind of thing.”

    “Okay, I’ll admit it. Sparky is slightly less adorable than the newts.”

    “More powerful than firedrakes are the basilisks.” Katie turned the page. The creature depicted on the page was much less cute than Sparky. It stood on two legs, dusted in soot. It reminded Anya of Godzilla, covered in bumpy scales and a ridge running down its back. “They’re said to be rare, as large as men, with the power of speech. There are only few dozen of these known to exist and they’re said to spend their free time snorkeling in volcanoes.”

    “Good thing for us.”

    “Most definitely. And this is their daddy.” Katie flipped over the last page. “Sirrush. A dragon.” The image of a dragon churned over two pages, wings outstretched. Its fearsome horned snout leaked fire and its claws raked the air. For scale, a man was drawn the size of a house cat at his feet. Anya didn’t think the man at his feet had much of a chance against the fearsome creature.

    “Shit,” Anya said.

    “No kidding. There used to be dozens of other dragons throughout history in this category. Fables tell of them going underground, but the most prevalent theory is that Sirrush ate most of them around the time of ancient Babylon. The good thing for us is that he’s supposed to hibernate underground and pay humanity little mind.”

    “I’m confused. I thought witches invoked Sirrush in ceremonial magick?”

    “We do, but it’s really just a courtesy. Kind of like when you send your nasty great-uncle Mort who you haven’t seen in ten years an invitation to your wedding. You don’t really want him to show up, but he’ll be pretty pissed if you don’t show him the respect of asking. The vast majority of the time, he just drops a check in the mail and doesn’t show up to family events.”

    “And. . . what happens on the rare occasions when he does show up?” Anya wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

    Katie pursed her lips. “Then, he gets totally wasted and wrecks your party. He gropes the bridesmaids, yells obscenities into the microphone, and falls into your wedding cake.”

    Anya stared down at the page. “Um. He looks more fearsome than any of my relatives.”

    “Yeah, well, Sirrush, like the other elementals, isn’t good nor is he evil. . . like many of our extended family members. Sirrush is like a hurricane, or an earthquake. He’s a force of nature. He can be terribly destructive, but it’s nothing personal.”

    “Shit.”