Page 12 of Red Dragon’s Flame

Oh, sure. That would help.

Instead, he’d messaged her an hour early, asking if she were okay.

She hadn’t answered, although that didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like she had nothing to do but sit around waiting to hear from him.

But the churning feeling in his gut paid no attention.

It’s not time yet, he tried to tell himself. She’ll be here.

Michelangela wasn’t even here yet—she had said she’d rustle up some snacks for them and bring her gear up in time to set it up.

Feeling like an idiot, he messaged again. Look, I don’t want to seem like a stalker or anything, but I’d just appreciate it if you’d let me know you’re okay.

But she didn’t. Fifteen more minutes went by. Twenty.

He was still staring at the empty space below her message when Michelangela burst into the room, arms full of controllers, headsets, snacks, and energy drinks, and already talking.

“Can you believe Zak wouldn’t let me have any beer, even though I told him it was for you? So I cleaned out his snacks, the disbelieving jerk. I mean, look at this face!” She put on an exaggerated innocent face, looking exactly like her dad when he was about to totally fuck with someone. “Is this the face of a girl who would steal beer?”

“Yes,” Mikah said absently, still looking at the screen. Why did he have such a bad feeling about this?

Michelangela stopped in her tracks. “What’s up with you?”

“What? Nothing.”

“Huh.” With a disbelieving snort, she deposited her load of stuff on the floor between the gaming chairs. “Try again, because you’re a sucky liar.”

Mikah turned the screen towards her, scrolling up so she could read Shadow’s earlier messages. Her eyebrows went up. “That’s weird,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“What time are we supposed to meet her?”

He checked the time at the bottom of the screen. “Ten minutes.”

“Well then, we might as well set up and open the snacks.”

She busied herself plugging in her headset and controller, and opening bags of chips and Cheetos. Nobody could put away food like a teenage shifter.

Mikah got himself a beer out of his own fridge. Michelangela had totally been trying to steal Zak’s for herself, since she knew perfectly well Mikah had his own. And wouldn’t let her drink it. But he found himself just rolling the bottle back and forth between his hands, not drinking.

Time ticked by. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty.

The cursor still blinked accusingly at him, as if he were supposed to be doing something.

The bad feeling in the pit of Mikah’s stomach got worse.

He said, “It’s probably nothing. She probably has a husband, and six kids who need help with their homework or some shit. Some people have lives, you know.”

“As opposed to us?” She was watching him intently. After a minute she added, “But you don’t think that’s it. You think it’s something more.”

“There could be a million reasons why she’s not here. Are you eating all the Cheetos?”

Michelangela refused to be deflected. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re worried.”

Just as she said it, there was a notification noise, and a message appeared on the screen.

Things are coming crashing down. You won’t see me for a while. I wish you could come in your fur loincloth and smite the dark angels, but I know you can’t. And I wouldn’t want you to—I don’t want you mixed up in my mess. I want you to have your nice normal life and be happy—