“Get the hatch open!” he told me as we squeezed into the small metal box. It was a tight fit; two dragons and a soldier definitely wouldn’t have fit, but thankfully Ember had already changed back into human form, her black Viper suit covering her body like paint. Unfortunately, that left her virtually defenseless against the mob of dragons on the other side of the doors. A clone followed us, sticking its head through the crack, baring its fangs. St. George bashed it in the side of the head with his pistol, rocking its head to the side, and it retreated with a hiss. Gritting my teeth, I reared onto my hind legs, ignoring the stab of pain that went through my side, and pushed against the square hatch on the ceiling. It was sealed, or stuck, because it didn’t move. I shoved on it harder, and it rattled, raining dust into my eyes. It still didn’t open.

A flurry of gunshots echoed inside the elevator box, making my ears ring. The clones had crowded the opening, eyes and teeth shining as they surged against the doors, and were starting to push through. They flinched away from the bullets as St. George continued to fire, but there were so many, and they would soon force their way inside.

With a snarl, I rammed my horns into the metal hatch as hard as I could, and the trapdoor finally flew open. “Ember!” I called, dropping back to the floor. She glanced up, and I positioned myself so she could use me as a stepstool. “Go!”

The girl darted from behind the soldier, took two steps and launched herself off my shoulder, reaching for the open hatch. Her arms hooked the edge of the opening, and she slid through as gracefully as any gymnast.

“St. George!” I snapped, but the soldier was already moving, dodging a dragon’s talons as he hurried to my side and leaped for the top of the elevator. I whispered a curse, watching his legs vanish through the opening—too small for me to go through in my present form. I was going to have to Shift.

Sorry, Firebrand, I thought, and forced myself back to human form. There’s no time for modesty now. You’re just going to have to deal for a few minutes.

A clone wriggled its way into the box and snarled at me just as I sprang for the trapdoor. Scrambling onto the roof, I caught a split-second glimpse of the elevator filled with hissing, pale-eyed dragons before St. George slammed the hatch door shut and locked it.

I collapsed on the roof for a second, panting. My side throbbed. Nothing felt broken, but blood was seeping down my skin and dripping to the metal in small puddles. The gashes I’d taken along my back and ribs burned like someone had poured acid in them.