Flame Plan: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery (Witches of Hellforge Hatchery Book 5) by Skye Sullivan

Author:Skye Sullivan [Sullivan, Skye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

First step: mobilize the posse.

Second step: send the pigeons.

Third step: start begging.

I was buzzing with excitement. I had to get home and get this in gear. Time was a major factor. If we took too long getting ready, then everyone would eat dinner, drink their ale or wine and start dozing by the fireplace. I was tempted to grab a broom and fly back to F.L.A.M.E. Farms—and in my frenzied mental state, I really thought that I could. But my better judgment prevailed. I couldn’t help Wilson if I crashed into a pine tree. I settled for half running, half speed-walking back to the farm. All the animals were outside, jockeying for my attention. Nathan dropped a rubber ball at my feet. The carbuncle pointed towards the mine. The basilisks wound a lattice pattern around a tree trunk that, upon closer inspection, spelled out ‘food’ in cursive script.

“Whoa, your vibrations are high right now, I can feel it. Totally cool,” Moonbeam said.

I loved the little ragtag group of animals at the farm, but right now I only wanted to see one of them: Bessie.

She was lounging in the shade behind the barn. All the joy seemed to be sucked out of her. She was a chromamorph dragon—a shapeshifter—and her current form seemed to mirror her state of mind. The shape she most closely resembled was a puddle of mud, her scales the dull brown color of overused dishwater. Her powerful muscles were limp and atrophied from the days of disuse. She was built to run, not to mope around the farm.

“Bessie,” I said. She could barely muster up the energy to lift her head and look in my direction.

I wished I could speak to her, but alas, she was only fluent in Bulgarian. Zippy stuck his head out the window. “Hey, what’s going on?” he called.

“Do you speak Bulgarian?” I asked him.

“Are you planning a river cruise down the Blue Danube?” he asked.

“Bessie only speaks Bulgarian,” I said. “Remember?”

“Then I have just the thing,” he said. “Wait here.”

He was back in a flash, holding a small yellow book the size of a deck of cards.

“What’s this?” I asked, turning the book over in my hand.

“Look,” he said. “It’s a Bulgarian translator dictionary.”

I flipped through the pages. He was right. There was just one problem.

“And you say my horde is useless,” he said. “But when you need a Bulgarian dictionary, guess who came through for you. Me. That’s who.”

“Yes, but this is a Flemish to Bulgarian dictionary,” I said.

“You can’t speak Flemish?” he asked.

“Not as such,” I said.

“Excuse me,” Moonbeam said. “I can’t help but overhear. During my recent trip to Europe, I stayed at a charming little Dutch tulip farm. Oh, they were exquisite. Yellows and reds and the tenderest leaves.” He licked his lips.

“You ate the tulips?” I asked.

“Until they asked me to leave,” Moonbeam said. “Anyway, I picked up a little bit of Flemish.”

“This is like an episode of I Love Lucy,” I muttered.

I told Moonbeam what

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