were no grave fairies. They could get jealous of me and start pinching Moriella until she bled. There was one gorgeous stone tombstone that looked more like a king’s bed, decorated with stone roses. I lowered Moriella onto it, and then I landed beside it and took on a beautiful human form. In the meantime, the beauty was nestled comfortably on the tombstone, straightened her purple velvet dress with silver braid. The agate hoop on her forehead gleamed, a reminder of the spells that witches use to heal girls from unwanted suitors. Apparently, Moriella had traveled to such a witch for a reason. The hoop and the necklace were definitely telling her something. I probably wasn’t an unwanted suitor, so all that jewelry didn’t work on me.
Moriella had apparently undergone some kind of witchcraft ritual, because she felt quite normal in the cemetery. I lay on top of her, undid the silver lacing on her corsage, exposing her plump breasts with pinkish nipples, and the night of lovemaking began. It was business as usual. No words but hot girl whispers about how beautiful I was. And every girl promised me I was the only one she’d ever have. I don’t think any of them will keep that promise. To whom are the pretty girls faithful?
“It is only to those whose embrace they die in.”
I didn’t even look back at the snide remark. I didn’t care what grave spirit said it. The familiar act of love had become more fascinating to me than even magic rituals. And Moriella was suddenly the first person I wanted more than just coitus with. A witch indeed! I leaned over her once more and suddenly felt the skin beneath my hands turn to ash. What’s wrong? Moriella’s pupils rolled back, revealing pure whites. Her lips turned to ashes before my eyes, her cheeks blackened and sunken, her hair scattered into ashes that the wind picked up and swirled around. The body on the tombstone seemed to burn from the inside out. A moment ago it had been young flesh, but now it was a handful of ash. Only the silver jewelry remained untouched by the fire. They gleamed over the ashy wreck of a head. The wind blew, and the ashes were gone. I stood staring at the flat tombstone where Moriella had lain a moment ago. What had happened to her after all? I didn’t set her on fire. She burned from the inside out. Isn’t that what happened to all of them? I’d spend the night with them, and the next morning, they’d burn up. Is that it?
To find out, we have to go back to Simonetta at least. Maybe she’s still alive. Then, of course, I was wrong. And Moriella played her own magic to disastrous results.
“Why do you care so much? Why do you care if you kill them or if they burn themselves?”
I shrugged off the annoying voice and went to check for myself. There were ashes at Simonetta’s house, too, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was useless to question the servants about anything, except to find a spirit witness. Usually they fly around and see everything, but I preferred to find out for myself. All I had to do was strain my secret vision and imagine what had happened in that bedroom a few hours ago. I saw it all at once, as soon as I closed my eyelids. The blond mistress was turning into a figure of ash, and she did not realize what was happening to her. Her body was bursting into ash piece by piece. And the fire was burning inside. The fire had gotten into her with the dragon seed.
You don’t have to check any further. I was sure that all my lovers had been subjected to the same deplorable story. So I can’t be with mortal women anymore. So that was the end of the fun! The fairies seemed different, so I’ll concentrate my interest on them.
It’s a pity it doesn’t make up for what I’ve done. I liked Simonetta when she was alive. Now all I could do was put her ashes in an urn.
I was drawn back to the cemetery where Moriella had died, so I flew there. It’s good to be a dragon. I don’t even need a horse to get around. There were even pegasi waiting in my imperial stables.
Dragon, as it turned out, was difficult to be only when it came to love. Especially love for mortals.
How right was the young man who had advised me to buy an urn for Lisette’s ashes. By the way, how could he have known before I did? He was lucky I wasn’t in his way right now, or I’d have had my claws at his throat. I wanted to take it out on someone. That’s when I sought solitude in cemeteries. If you’re feeling down and dreary, it’s better to wander among the graves. Of course, only if you don’t meet there angry and very attractive grave fairies, who always wear black, have an earthy complexion and, alas, are partially rotting. But this does not diminish their beauty.
There were pixies dancing on the graves in the cemetery. I looked at the beautiful portrait carved on one of the headstones. What if she were alive? The dead woman herself must have long since decomposed in the ground. If the body hadn’t rotted away entirely, I could pick her up and rebuild her, but would it be worth it? I’d been wrong once before. That girl was almost intact, but the disease had left its marks on the resurrected body. They would have passed with time, a small dose of dragon fire was enough to banish death and any disease, but hopeless love was too serious an opponent even for magic. Orissa died in agony. The girl lying there under the cedar reminded me of both her and Rose. Dark-haired, very delicate, according to the inscription on her tombstone, she had died on her seventeenth birthday. I didn’t even wonder what it was from. Was it murder or suicide? Was it accident or disease? People die anyway. The strange thing was that the sturdy cedar above the grave had stopped bearing fruit, there were no cones, no nuts, not even squirrels nearby. And the image on the tombstone seemed so spiritualized, almost heavenly. I couldn’t stop looking at it for hours.
What if I took a chance and made a mate out of ashes? If it failed, Henri would rejoice, thinking that I had finally been justly avenged. It would really hurt to lose her if I created her for a short time, or even a century, and then lost her.
For a moment I imagined that in this grave beneath the loose earth lay Rose in a slightly rotten red dress. Just a vision!
Rose herself is sitting at home in Black Magnolia Manor, plotting against her former spouse, that is, me. And I have to find something to do to relieve my loneliness. I’ve decided I will not look at mortal women from now on. My sympathy for them ends too badly. I’d rather concentrate on magical creatures. Besides, there are plenty of them in my Empire.
Peri from the candelabrum
Someone called me from the attic. Who could have taken up residence up there? Certainly it was not a dragon. The voice was definitely gentle. Some fairy locked up while cleaning? As I made my way upstairs, the voice didn’t call out again, and it still felt like there was someone languishing upstairs in the attic. A silent call can be very powerful, too. I could feel it. Only there was no one in the attic. There was no movement behind the door, not a single breath. I opened the old door anyway. Why was it locked in the first place? There’s nothing valuable in the attic that’s worth keeping under lock and key. It’s dusty and cramped. There were only a few chests of junk, and a few unnecessary things: broken clocks, drinking vessels, amphorae, and a rather nice candelabrum. I didn’t remember it. Where had it come from? As I looked at it, candles flickered in the wells. There were nine exactly. A silvery smoke drifted from the yellowish flame.
“Greetings to you, sir,” whispered the melodious voices.
“How good it is that you finally let us out!”
“We waited so long for you to notice us and set us free!”
“We were so eager to serve you and fulfill all your wishes!”
“You are probably tired of everyone around you being unworthy and not knowing how to serve you, but we will fix that!”
“Just
