The Lix’dorian was instantly transformed into a living torch. Shrieking and screaming curses, he wheeled across the stage, knocking over potted plants, their clay pots crashing to the ground in sprays of pottery shards and soil.
“Come!”
The voice from above startled Iyanna. She’d been staring in horrified fascination at the sight of the Lix’dorian drug dealer burning to death. It was something you only saw in movies, she thought faintly. But when you were watching a movie, you couldn’t feel the heat of the fire or smell the burn victim’s skin crisping…
“Sweet Lord,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Oh my Jesus…”
“Come!” The voice was more urgent this time. Looking over, she saw that Dra’vik was beckoning to her. “We don’t have much time,” he rumbled. “And I can’t carry you, little girl—I’d burn you if I touched you right now.”
“Okay! All right!” Iyanna nodded and scrambled to her feet. She felt light-headed with shock but she knew she had to get going. The wooden stage was catching fire now as Baronet Sin’estor blundered across it, spreading flames as he went. If they got cut off from the stairs…well, the stage was at least two stories high—she didn’t want to jump from that height!
She was about to run when she looked back and saw the pleasure plants, still sitting to one side in their glass box.
“The plants—the pleasure plants!” she gasped. Running over to them, she attempted to lift the box. But the terrarium was too heavy—made of thick glass and filled with damp soil—she might as well have been trying to lift a concrete block of the same size. After trying for a moment, she stepped back, shaking her head. “I can’t!”
“Move.” Dra’vik stepped in and gripped the box in both arms. He lifted it easily but the glass must have been more fragile than it looked, or else maybe the intense heat his body was giving off was too much for it. Either way, it shattered in his arms and plants, soil, and shards of glass fell to the wooden stage with a splat.
“Shit! A pot—I need a pot!” Iyanna looked around wildly. Rolling on its side not far from her was one of the clay pots the dreaming vines had been in. It had fallen off the table but somehow hadn’t shattered and it still had the charred remains of the plant and the stick which had held it in place.
Iyanna grabbed for it and dumped the dead plant and singed soil and stick out on the stage. Then she began scooping up new handfuls of damp soil, trying to avoid the shards of glass, as she jammed it into the pot.
Lastly, she scooped one of the vagina plants into the pot and then she transferred the penis plant too. It seemed stunned, waving its heavy head around in confusion, like a drunk man trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, guys!” Iyanna muttered to the two plants she’d been able to salvage. The vagina plant wasn’t looking so good either, it was drooping on its stalk. But there was no time to do anything else for them, because the fire was spreading rapidly and Dra’vik was shouting at her.
“Come on!” he yelled urgently and Iyanna was up, clutching the pot to her chest. Then they were running, scrambling down the long, curving wooden steps. They pushed past the curtain—which also caught fire when it came into contact with Dra’vik’s red-hot skin—and ran through the echoing stone banquet hall and lobby.
Finally, they burst through the double doors at the front, leaving a scene of flame and destruction behind them as they left the banquet hall and ran out into the night.
FORTY-FIVE
“How are you alive?” Iyanna panted, looking up at the big Drake as they walked quickly down the wide sidewalk. His stride was so long she had to almost run to keep up with him, which wasn’t easy with the heavy flower pot in her arms. It was like walking next to a huge, living furnace, she thought, his body was still red-hot from all the fire he’d breathed—little wisps of steam were coming from his nostrils and seeping out from between his scales as he slowly cooled in the night air.
The raging fire inside the huge, stone Botany building hadn’t been discovered yet but, as Dra’vik had pointed out, they didn’t want to be anywhere near it when it was. The pot in her arms was heavy and both plants were drooping but all she could do was keep walking as they tried their best to get away from the “scene of the crime.”
“I mean it,” she said, looking up at him, staring at the shiny patch with no scales over the left side of his chest. “I saw you go down—that shot took out your heart! How are you alive?”