The flames went out instantly, leaving me blinking spots out of my eyes. For a horrible second, I thought I’d screwed up, then I realized the flames hadn’t vanished. My father had sucked them in, devouring the fake dragon fire like the greedy monster he was. His smoke form had vanished at the same time, leaving me alone in the bedroom with Yong’s still body.
Sweat dripped down my forehead as the seconds ticked by. Maybe I had screwed up. The Spirit of Dragons had warned me that I could snuff him out if I pushed too hard. I’d thought I’d done it just like before, but it was difficult to read the size of flames accurately, and there’d been that weird pressure to keep going. Maybe I’d gone harder than I’d realized. Maybe I’d killed him! Oh God, it would be just my luck if I killed my dad right after we finally made headway on our relationship. This was a crisis! I had to—
My father’s body jerked on the ground, knocking me out of my panicked thoughts.
“Dad!” I cried, grabbing his shoulders. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
He answered with a coughing fit, curling into a ball on his side. This was a fabulous change after two months of nothing, but it sounded like he was hacking up a lung. I wasn’t sure if the problem was magical or physical, but I figured water couldn’t hurt. Thankfully, there were still plenty of red plastic cups lying around from the summoning ritual for the Spirit of Dragons. I grabbed the least melted one and ran to the bathroom, taking care to rinse the remaining alcohol dregs out thoroughly before filling it with clean water and rushing it back to my dad.
He drank the cup dry in one gulp then downed two more in rapid succession. By the fourth, he’d managed to stop coughing long enough to sit up, wiping his eyes wearily as he looked at me.
“Well?” I asked nervously, touching his shoulder with shaking fingers. “Are you, you know…normal?”
He didn’t look normal. For all that he was awake and moving, his face was still the color of ash, and he was so thin that you could see his skeleton clearly under his skin.
“It’s better than being smoke,” Yong answered in a weak voice. “But I still feel like I’m dying.”
“Crap,” I muttered, reaching out to poke his magic. I could feel his fire now, which was good, but it was so faint. “Maybe I need to put more in?”
He absolutely needed more power. Unfortunately, I didn’t think I could give it to him. Even though I’d been careful to keep things manageable, that last batch of fire had left my already sore soul feeling like a wet dishrag. I didn’t think I could have moved a pea’s worth of magic, never mind a pumpkin. I was scrambling to think of a way we could get him another dose of fire without burning myself out when his stomach made a gurgling sound, and I realized I was being an idiot.
“Dad,” I said, biting back laughter. “I think you’re just hungry.”
His stomach growled again in answer, and I started to laugh.
“It’s not funny,” Yong said angrily. “I haven’t eaten in two months. Do you even have food here?”
I had no idea. Dr. Kowalski always fed me when I was at her place, and I didn’t dare go out in public, which meant no trips to the grocery store. Add in the fact that I’d been basically living with Nik for the three weeks before the DFZ had grabbed me and I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d bought food to prepare myself at home. Sure enough, when I went to the kitchen to check my fridge, the only things inside were a jar of pickles with nothing but the brine left and an expired bottle of ketchup.
I had a bit more luck in the cupboards. All the fancy health food my mother had stocked for me was long gone, either resold or eaten, but I did find a dusty bag of generic cereal that had fallen into the gap between the fridge and the wall. The printing on the bag was so faded that I couldn’t figure out what well-known brand it was supposed to be knocking off, but the nice part about super-processed carbs was that they never really expire. When I presented my prize to my father, though, he looked less than impressed.
“Opal,” he said in a scornful voice. “That is not food.”
“Sure it’s food,” I said, ripping the bag open to release a cloud of sweet-smelling cereal dust. “And before you say it’s past its date, I already checked and there is no expiration date! That means it’s perfectly safe.”
My father’s scowl deepened, and I glared back stubbornly. “Do you want to starve or not?”
With a sigh that shook the floor, the Great Yong took the bag and tilted it up to pour the dusty cereal down his throat. Seeing where this was going, I went ahead and got him another glass of water. He downed that one just as fast as the first four, using the gulps of liquid to keep his throat lubricated as he choked down the sugar-covered cardboard.
“I’ve lived through countless famines,” he told me when he finished. “And that was, without question, the worst substance I have ever eaten.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied, but I knew we weren’t out of the woods yet. Though technically food, the cereal I’d fed him was completely devoid of actual nutrition. He needed something real to eat, and he needed a lot of it. If it hadn’t been so late, I would
