Free Portia by Christina Bauer Page A

first, I think it might be my dream-self again. I shake my head. It can’t be me. That’s a young boy screaming. Tempest’s mouth thins to an angry line.
    “Do you know who that is?” I ask.
    “I do.”
    My pulse beats at double-speed. “What does it mean?” Please, don’t let it mean that I have to confront another version of myself transforming into the Void. Not sure I can handle that right now.
    “That it’s my turn.”
    The wail sounds once more. Muscles twitch along Tempest’s jaw. Heat and rage pour off his body. Turning, Tempest looks over his shoulder. Where a smooth stretch of wall once stood, there’s now a heavy iron door set into the plasterboard. Dragon runes have been roughly carved into the metal surface. I can translate them easily. They say one simple word: Dungeon.
    Tempest stands. “Wait here. I’ll take care of this.”
    “Not a chance. I’m going with you.”
    “This is the dungeon where my father held me as a child. You know the story?”
    I nod. “Maxon told me.”
    “This dream is a familiar one,” continues Tempest. “Chimera will be in the dungeon with me as a lad. I’m never able to fight.” A low growl sounds in his voice as he adds, “That won’t happen this time. I’ll fight him.”
    I rise to stand beside him. “Good.”
    Tempest scans me carefully. “So, what are you saying?”
    “If anyone tries to hurt you, then I want a piece of them, too.”
    “You sound protective, Portia.” A low growl sounds in Tempest’s chest. I like that growl. In fact, I like it way too much for my own good.
    My cheeks flush red. “That’s what friends do for each other, right? We have each other’s backs.”
    “Right.” He keeps staring at me with such intensity, it’s like I’m the center of the universe. For someone like me, this much attention is intoxicating.
    Time to move on.
    I gesture toward the door. “Lead the way.”
    Stepping forward, Tempest grips the door’s heavy iron handle and hauls on it with all his strength. Little by little, the door swings open, revealing a long and low hallway made of rough gray stone. More iron doors line the walls on either side, separated by burnt-down torches.
    As Tempest and I step down the long passageway, grimy hands grasp at the small barred openings atop each metal door. Desperate voices plead for water, mercy, and even death. The stench of decay and sick assaults my senses.
    “Follow me,” murmurs Tempest. “Last cell on the right.”
    It takes only a few minutes to reach the last cell. The journey seems to last much longer. The suffering and stench of this dungeon is beyond anything I could have imagined. Nausea twists through my stomach.
    We step through the prison door to enter Tempest’s old cell.
    Like in the dream of my penthouse bedroom, the prison cell door disappears the moment we pass through it. Once we’re inside Tempest’s old dungeon, we’re trapped with no way to escape. And when I look around the cell, escape seems like a good idea.
    A scrawny teenage boy cowers on the grimy stone floor. He’s curled up onto his side, his eyes staring forward, unblinking. His skin is mottled with angry red marks. I’ve seen those before in medical books. They’re acid burns.
    A man looms over the boy’s body. It’s Chimera. The bottom half of Tempest’s father is humanoid, wearing simple britches and tall boots. The rest of Chimera is covered in dragon scales. Three different serpent-style heads jut out of his chest. All of those snake-like eyes are now focused on Tempest and me.
    My legs tremble with fear as everything I’ve read about the last Furor Emperor flips through my memory. Chimera has three heads, and each one carries a different kind of venom sac. The first holds poison, the second creates a paralytic, and the third shoots acid. My breath catches as I think about the frozen boy and Chimera’s powers. Tempest’s father shot paralytic at his own son. After that, Chimera dripped acid onto his boy’s