DRAGON’S PARTY

STEEL DRAGON™ BOOK SEVEN

KEVIN MCLAUGHLIN

MICHAEL ANDERLE

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

Copyright © 2020 LMBPN Publishing

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Version 1.00, January 2022

Previously Published as part of the megabook Steel Dragon 3

eBook ISBN: 979-8-88541-116-5

Print ISBN: 979-8-88541-117-2

THE DRAGON’S PARTY TEAM

Thanks to the JIT Readers

Dave Hicks

Deb Mader

Debi Sateren

Diane L. Smith

Dorothy Lloyd

Jackey Hankard-Brodie

James Caplan

Jeff Eaton

Jeff Goode

John Ashmore

Kelly O’Donnell

Micky Cocker

Misty Roa

Paul Westman

Peter Manis

Rachel Beckford

Veronica Stephan-Miller

If we’ve missed anyone, please let us know!

Editor

The Skyhunter Editing Team

CHAPTER ONE

Kristen Hall had always enjoyed going to the gym. She was athletic by nature, so it provided a place to both exert herself when there wasn’t a sport to play and a way to hone her body for when it was time to go back onto the field.

Being a dragon only heightened that appreciation. Instead of sports, she now hunted criminals, but the drive was the same. This was a place to build, grow, and sculpt herself into the next better version of who she could be.

Although, admittedly, there were differences in being a dragon when it came to exercise. Training her human body had direct effects on her dragon form so she still worked out in the shape of a human, but her abilities could only be described as supernatural.

While before, she might have been able to bench-press a hundred and thirty pounds a few times, she was now well beyond her own weight as a measure. She did reps of hundreds of pounds regularly and currently, did reps of ten with two hundred pounds of weight. Melissa Heartsbane spotted her—not smiling and possibly not helping if she needed it, depending on how she felt in the moment.

Despite her pretty platinum-blonde-girl appearance, Heartsbane was tough. Her namesake came from her dragon power of aura, which was stronger than most. She could overwhelm almost any human’s emotional state and replace their feelings with whatever she wanted them to feel. This ability extended even to some dragons although the two had trained closely together ever since Kristen had been falsely accused of killing a dragon. Heartsbane didn’t trust easily—in her youth she’d been betrayed by her own powers into giving others false feelings too many times—but she’d come to trust the Steel Dragon.

Although that didn’t mean she would help out with a spot.

“Come on, human, is that all you have?” she snapped and flashed her aura so Kristen felt a wave of disappointment surge over her. Heartsbane probably didn’t feel that way but she often seemed to think tough love was the way to strengthen someone. It could be exhausting at times but right now, with two hundred pounds pushing down on her for the thirtieth time, she appreciated it. She wouldn’t disappoint anyone—not Heartsbane, not the rest of her team, nor the humans who’d raised her as their own daughter.

“Yeaaaarrggh!” she shouted as she shoved the weights up and straightened her arms. Heartsbane grinned and guided them to their place on the rack. “Flames on, girl. You did good.”

“Thanks.” Kristen sat, wiped her sweaty brow and the bench she’d lain on, and stood. “But I still don’t see the point of all this. I can lift over eight hundred pounds in my human form and way more than that when I’m a dragon. What does it matter if I can lift two hundred pounds thirty times?”

“Was it easy?” her companion asked.

“No, not at the end, but most of what we do here is more—”

“Practical,” John Emeraldeyes cut in. Everyone called him Emerald and in his dragon form, he was green and gifted with no unusual powers. He could fly, breathe fire, and use his dragon aura, but that was the limit. As a result, he was called a common by other dragons, something of a derogatory term although Kristen didn’t see why. Emerald still had powers beyond what any human had and was committed to training. He was young for a dragon—barely a century—and had spent his life pushing his abilities to the limit. She had abilities he would simply never possess and yet she wouldn’t dare take him on in a real fight.

Although sparring was exactly what he wanted her to do now.

The two teammates donned headgear and light gloves, climbed into a boxing ring, and began their bout.

Kristen had never seen the point of boxing or sparring with gloves. She thought martial arts and especially mixed martial arts made more sense, but much of what the dragons did to train involved limits. It was a necessity given that they could all transform into dragons and simply incinerate any workout gear they didn’t like.

Emerald’s right hook caught her across the chin and made her pay dearly for her wandering mind. Her sense of balance almost failed her, but she caught herself and tried to keep his dreadlocked head in the center of her vision.

“Are you all right?” Emerald asked. He didn’t sound jovial—he never sounded jovial—but there was amusement there.

“I’m fine. Let’s go,” she said and decided she really wanted to punch him in his emerald green eyes.

She pressed an attack and he blocked and let her fists connect with his forearms.

“Good…good attack,” he coached as she tried to penetrate his defenses.

He blocked her blow to his gut and caught her across the head hard enough to knock her off her feet. It was easy to overdo it when one fought with dragon strength. Instinctually, her skin turned to steel.

“Shit, sorry,” she said and pushed to her feet. The limits they applied to themselves included restraining powers and abilities like her steel skin.

“It’s all good,” Emerald said. “Although I’d appreciate it if you turn it off before you hit me.”

“You got it.” Kristen transformed into her regular, pinkish, freckled hue. Her hair changed from steel strands to fiery red. That was her unique ability and why she was known across the world. Not only had she been raised by humans and grown up thinking she was merely a regular girl—albeit unusually fast and strong—but her power had never been seen in dragon society. Kristen Hall—Kristen Steel to the dragon community—could change her skin to steel when she was in human or dragon form.

The steel was malleable enough to still grant her a full range of motion and strong enough to shrug off grenade blasts. In both her bodies, it made her heavier, but in her dragon form, she could still fly while covered in steel, although she was more sluggish and less maneuverable.

“Don’t worry so much about turning your steel reflex on like that,” Stonequest said. He was the leader of their Dragon SWAT team and the dragon she’d known the longest.

“I don’t want to rely on it.” Kristen raised her gloved hands again and resumed sparring with Emerald. Dragons were expected to be able to multitask. She had filed reports while running laps and been drilled on dragon manners while performing aerial acrobatics in her dragon form.

“You don’t. I’ve seen you turn it off many times when it makes sense to do so, but there’s no point in acting like you don’t have the ability.” Stonequest would know. He could turn his dragon body to stone—a beautiful marble, in fact—that granted him some of the protection her abilities granted her. It was real luck that she had grown up in Detroit, where his team regularly patrolled. If she’d had to transition from human to dragon with a different mentor, she could only imagine how much more difficult it could have been. Stonequest continued to give orders despite the fact that her partner continued to strike at her. “If you get hit, turn to steel. Make your enemy have to work to hurt you unless there’s a reason not to.”

“Yeah, like maybe you don’t want me to break my hand,” Emerald said before he swung another punch at her face. She dodged and somehow—miraculously—managed to catch him in his mouth.

She’d aimed for his eye, but she’d take it.

“Damn, Steel.” He spat blood. “Good hit.”

“Thanks.”

Despite all her time with Dragon SWAT, it was still weird to train with them. When she’d been a police officer on the human SWAT team, drawing blood while sparring was definitely considered extreme and was generally avoided. Dragons were different. If she and her opponent went a whole round with neither bloodying the other, it was assumed neither had really tried.

It kind of made sense, though. It could take a human a week to heal from a split lip. Emerald’s was already back to normal. Along with all their other powers, dragons had healing abilities that could mend their wounds in a fraction of the time it would take a human to heal. Even broken bones weren’t much of an issue for dragon kind. A split lip was practically nothing.

“If you knuckleheads are done pummeling each other, join us for some tai-chi.”

Kristen was glad to take the advice from Lumos and step out of the ring. She was exhausted—the bench presses had been the last of a long series of weights that Heartsbane had insisted on—and the bouts with Emerald were always exhausting.

She walked across the gym, chuckling to herself at the absurd amount of weight that seemed to be the default setting for so many of the machines in the gym. The amount of iron they lifted casually in there would have put most human bodybuilders to shame, and yet that was what it meant to be a dragon. It was a privilege, an undeniable privilege, to have so much power when humans simply did not.

No one was more aware of that than Lumos. He was old—thousands of years old—and by far the oldest member on Dragon SWAT. Despite that, he wasn’t arrogant as so many of the ancients seemed to be. He didn’t even seem to be particularly ambitious. He respected Stonequest as their leader and never challenged him for dominance of the group, even though he was literally centuries older than the Stone Dragon.

Lumos cared more for humans than most dragons did, an impressive characteristic given that he—over the course of his long life—had probably seen more die than almost any other dragon on the planet. He had an ability to glow—illuminate was what he preferred it to be called when the other dragons weren’t ribbing him—that was useful against certain other dragon abilities but didn’t seem to have much advantage beyond that. In his human form, he looked like an old, spry white man with an impressive mustache and pointed goatee. Someone might have compared him to Colonel Sanders if the dragon hadn’t been millennia older than the fried-chicken icon.

Currently, he led the last member of the team in a tai-chi sequence.

Erin Timeflash was the member of Dragon SWAT Kristen liked the most despite spending the least amount of time with her. In her human form, she was a caramel-skinned woman with dark curly hair and an affinity for purple. Her yoga pants currently featured a cosmic purple design. In her dragon form, she was a gorgeous purple dragon with the most unusual ability Kristen had ever encountered.

The dragon could restore broken things to the way they originally were. Her powers were limited so she couldn’t fix an entire city and she couldn’t mend anything living, only inanimate objects. Still, her ability was like something from a fantasy movie. If a car had been crushed in a battle, Erin could unwind the damage done to it. If a historical building was demolished by two dueling dragons, she was often called in to put it right.

This ability gave her an affinity for humans because it was their objects she so often repaired. Dragons didn’t build things per se—why bother when there were millions of people to do the work for them?—So Erin was quite familiar with architecture, design, and the pinnacles of human construction in a way most dragons simply were not.

This made her empathetic to people and a soft-spoken champion for the mages who often helped her restore the damage her dragon kin wrought in the world. Because of her abilities, she was away quite regularly so it was a treat when she was around.

Kristen fell into step with her and followed Lumos’s lead. Stonequest, Emerald, and Heartsbane joined the exercises too.

There was a time when the Steel Dragon might have dismissed the movement of energy that Lumos spoke of while he guided their cool-down, but now that she was a dragon, it all seemed so obviously true. Her body possessed rivers of energy. How else would she be able to transform? Working with Lumos and his tai-chi exercises had given her a fluidity of control she had previously lacked, and she relished them now and went through the motions with ease.

A knock at the door to the gym unfortunately disturbed the measure of peace the routine brought.

That someone knocked at all was odd. The gym filled most of the fifth floor of Dragon SWAT Headquarters. As such, it was used by all the dragons who worked there. Even now, others who weren’t part of their team labored away at various machines.

A knock was intrusive and basically conveyed the message that they intended to interrupt, which meant it wasn’t a dragon at the door but a mage.

Lumos ignored it, as did everyone else in the gym. Kristen watched out of the corner of her eye as the mage opened the door and approached their mat. He smiled nervously as he watched them go through the flowing motions of tai-chi. In his hands, he held a package wrapped in brown paper.

He stood awkwardly until finally, one the dragons couldn’t take it any longer

“What the hell do you want?” Heartsbane demanded. It wasn’t at all surprising that she had been the one to crack first. She had little patience and even less for humans.

“A delivery ma’am. For…er, Heartsbane.”

The situation struck Kristen as decidedly odd. She didn’t know this mage but that in itself wasn’t unusual. A vast network of them existed across the United States as well as the world, and they often moved to different places in search of better jobs exactly like regular people did.

What was odd was that he didn’t know he was already speaking to Heartsbane. Practically everyone knew her by virtue of her reputation. She’d chewed out everyone who worked in the paper dungeon—the office that handled most of Dragon SWAT’s paperwork—so it was an unconnected mage indeed who didn’t know who the scowling, platinum-blonde beauty was.

“Yeah, well, you fucking found her.” Heartsbane snorted. Despite the dragon having no love for mankind, she was an undisputed master of their swear words. She often made Kristen think of Hernandez, a previous human partner on Detroit SWAT. Even the thought of what a conversation would sound like between the two of them made her smile. If it played on the radio, there would be five minutes of bleeped-out expletives and nothing more.

“Stop torturing the boy and take your mail,” Stonequest said to Heartsbane before he turned to the rest of the group. “Everyone else, take five and get water. We’ll do stretches after this and move into training in dragon mode.”

Everyone went to retrieve their water bottles while Heartsbane approached the man with her package.

“Who is it from?” she demanded.

That too caught Kristen’s attention. She turned to watch the exchange and after a moment, wandered closer to see that the package was, in fact, unmarked.

Her teammate snatched it out of the mage’s hands, who—now that he no longer had a purpose—began to walk quickly toward the door.

“Wait a second, you little whelp. Get back here in case I need to send this back,” Heartsbane said, finally lost her scowl, and broke into a grin. “Something tells me this is some kind of practical joke from one of you losers. So help me, if there is lingerie in here, there will be bloodshed.”

The other members of the team laughed, but the mage only swallowed nervously—although he did furtively study Heartsbane a little more closely at the mention of lingerie. Not that anyone could blame the poor guy. She was attractive, as most dragons were, but her features seemed to compliment her aura exceptionally well. On top of that, she wore little of anything, as uniforms weren’t particularly conducive to working out.

Still, the mage should have known better. He would have if he had known who Heartsbane was. She cast a cruel smile at the kid, whose emotions were no doubt no longer his own, and ripped the paper of the package.

Inside was a wooden box like something an expensive bottle of wine would come in.

“I gotta say I like this a hell of a lot more than cardboard.” She smiled and opened the lid with a flourish.

In the next moment, the container exploded.

CHAPTER TWO

Kristen was saved by both her dragon abilities and her human training. Her time on Detroit’s SWAT team had teamed her with foul-mouthed demolitions expert, Lyn Hernandez. The woman had tested the team many times on what bombs looked like when they detonated.

At the time, the Steel Dragon had often grown impatient with the repetitive grilling on information she didn’t expect to need very often. Now, however, it paid dividends. She glimpsed a tiny flash and instinctively turned her skin to steel as she flung herself prostrate. The force with which she landed on the mats where she’d done tai chi was such that she actually cracked the floorboards beneath them.

Fire and compressed air rolled across the room, scooped people up, and hurled them against workout equipment or walls.

She used the moment of the explosion to thank God, the universe, her lucky stars, and anything else out there listening for what she was. If she hadn’t been trained by the right people and possessed dragon abilities, she had no doubt she would have been catapulted into one of the walls or wrapped around a piece of workout equipment.

Her next reflex was to survey the scene and make sure it was safe. She couldn’t exactly lead a rescue or check on victims if the roof would collapse on their heads. Dragon SWAT headquarters were located in the Capital Square Building in downtown Detroit, a building that had been built in 1897. It was entirely possible that a bomb would weaken the brick structure to the point where it caused a collapse.

Thankfully, she didn’t think that was likely to happen. The building had been heavily reinforced by its dragon occupants and this floor especially. After all, dragons trained there and often leapt into the sky only one floor above. Steel beams supported the ceiling and although one of them was dented and bent slightly out of shape, none of the others were. That meant the ceiling and the sixth floor of the building wouldn’t collapse onto the scene of destruction that already defined most of the fifth floor.

Kristen moved her assessment to the room itself as she pushed to her feet. Almost every piece of equipment was either upended or damaged. It seemed only the boxing ring had escaped the serious effects and that was probably because the force and shrapnel from the bomb mostly went straight through between the ropes.

Fires had started around the room, though. The top rope of the boxing ring was aflame, as were workout towels, floor mats, and a wicker basket used for dirty rags. The sprinkler system seemed to notice this at about the same time she did. An alarm bleated and water was released to extinguish the blazes and douse everyone in the process.

Her lightning-fast assessment moved to the victims. Instinctively, her first reflex was to check for the mage who’d brought the package. After all, he was human, while everyone else working out were dragons. They had a much better chance of survival than a human did, even a magic one. Dragons were tougher, stronger, and had healing powers, after all.

But there was more than simple concern in her mind. She also wanted to question him. Where had he come from? Where did he get the package? Who had given it to him? It wasn’t unrealistic to think he’d been sent by someone, given how unfamiliar he had seemed to be with Heartsbane’s reputation. Dragon SWAT Headquarters didn’t actually have the strongest security. A building filled with shape-shifting dragons and magic-wielding mages wasn’t exactly a good target for the average criminal. It was possible the mage had snuck in, hiding behind his magic abilities to simply blend in.

She realized she would never get the answer to her questions, though, as she finally found him. He was a bloody smear on the wall closest to where the bomb had detonated. Tatters of his robe and his boots were all that were left to positively identify the man. She grimaced. It must have been quick, which was a tiny comfort and the barest relief, but to go in such a grisly fashion wasn’t what she’d choose for anyone, whether they had been a spy or unwitting accomplice.

Kristen shifted her focus to the dragons in the room. Most seemed to be recovering—they moved groggily, struggled to their feet, and checked on each other—but one was not.

Heartsbane was down and bleeding.

Both she and Stonequest rushed to her side and reached her at the same time.

He seemed fine, protected by good luck and by apparently being behind some workout equipment when the package exploded. A large lump on his head had already begun to shrink as his dragon abilities kicked in. His rapid healing only highlighted the fact that something was really wrong with their teammate.

She was unconscious, for one thing—which was extremely unusual for dragons—but the blood that soaked her workout clothes was of much greater concern. Wounds were visible across her chest, gashes of varying depth that together, released copious amounts of blood from her body. Her face was a mess too but with her eyes closed, it was impossible to see if they had been affected.

“Melissa,” Stonequest said sharply and tried to drag the dragon back to consciousness with his authoritative voice. “Melissa Heartsbane, hear me. You need to focus your healing on your torso. You need to stop the bleeding. You can fix your pretty face later.”

That she wasn’t healing was obvious. Even the smallest lacerations on her body continued to bleed, and the larger ones were a truly fearsome sight.

“She’ll bleed out,” Kristen said without intending to. She had never heard of a dragon bleeding out. It simply didn’t happen. Their healing abilities were quite adept at prioritizing near-lethal wounds. To kill a dragon, you basically had to chop their heads off or destroy their hearts. Even damaging the heart or the lungs didn’t always work. They were simply too powerful and their bodies were quite capable of restoring themselves.

“Heartsbane, damn it—Heartsbane, wake up! Why isn’t she healing?” Stonequest asked the room as if someone would be able to answer him. Kristen had never heard that raw edge in a dragon’s voice before, much less her team leader’s. His freaking out told her how serious this was. He was normally calm and collected, even in the midst of battles with other dragons. But he’d never witnessed something like this—a friend dying in his arms while he could do nothing about it.

“We need to stay calm and we need a mage who knows how to heal,” she said.

Stonequest didn’t hear her. He was too focused on Heartsbane. Kristen had never asked any questions about their past, but she wondered now how long they’d worked together and if there had been more to their relationship than simply a team bond. He seemed to be losing it and going into shock.

“Lumos!” she shouted and flexed her aura to show fear and concern.

He stumbled toward her, clutching his leg. “The cursed thing stung me good. Something’s not right about the wound,” he said through clenched teeth.

“We need a mage who can heal—now,” she said.

“Of course.” He rushed toward the door with a burst of dragon speed. She spared a glance around the room to locate the rest of her team. Emerald held an arm that wept blood. Erin seemed fine and she was checking on him. Okay, so it was Heartsbane they needed to worry about. She knew she should feel some relief that the others were all right, but confronted as she was with the bloody mess that was Melissa Heartsbane on the floor in front of her, it was hard to feel anything but panic.

But she had to stay calm. Stonequest was losing it, which meant she had to be a rock to his crumbling stone.

A mage would be there soon, she knew that, and yet she couldn’t simply sit and watch the dragon bleed out. She had taken basic first aid and seen her fair share of wounded people so she checked the body once more, looking for a clue as to why the woman wasn’t healing.

She noticed a gash on Heartsbane’s shoulder and a piece of shrapnel protruding from it. Carefully, she removed the sliver of debris and made sure to not disturb her battered body.

“What the hell are you doing, Steel?” Stonequest roared and flashed his aura to show her how angry he was. “Don’t touch objects embedded in wounds. Even I know that!”

“It was only her shoulder. She won’t bleed out from her shoulder.” Kristen tried to keep her tone level but it did nothing to calm him.

“You don’t know that. Maybe that’s how it works for a person, but you don’t know that about dragons. You can’t. If she can’t heal from this, you might have permanently damaged her wings in dragon form.”

She didn’t think that was the case, not when she realized what the piece of shrapnel in her hand was. Still, she put pressure on the wound she’d removed it from, hoping to calm Stonequest, as she examined the object.

It was a dragon scale, she confirmed with growing horror.

The bomb had been filled with dragon scales.

That was why Emerald’s arm and Lumos’ leg weren’t healing. Dragons could inflict great damage on each other. Their claws, teeth, and spiked tails were the best weapons against their opponents. Recently, however, someone had learned that even once removed from the body, dragon parts could be used to hurt dragons, especially if repurposed into bullets. She had already seen multiple dragons killed with the lethal tech.

It seemed that it had now climbed to a new level and harnessed the power of bombs.

Every wound on Heartsbane was caused by a piece of a dragon, which was why none of them were healing.

The implications were staggering, but Kristen couldn’t exactly get into them now. It didn’t matter who had made the bomb at the moment. All that mattered was that she was now quite certain that Heartsbane’s wounds could prove to be fatal. She wouldn’t be able to heal until every last sliver of dragon scale was out of her.

Calmly and quietly, she told Stonequest, who only moaned. He knew as well as she did about the dragon-based weapons someone had made. While he’d argued that a dragon had to be behind it, she had steadfastly believed humans were the masterminds. Thankfully, neither had the opportunity to resume the old argument as Lumos returned with a mage.

A short woman in a white robe emblazoned with a blue staff entwined by a single serpent hurried across the room. Her hands were already bathed in blueish light. She was Dragon SWAT’s healer and if anyone could help Heartsbane, it would be her.

“What happened here?” she asked. Kristen couldn’t remember but thought her name was Sarah or maybe Sareth.

“Heartsbane is hurt,” Stonequest told her sharply. “Do something!”

“He’s in shock,” Kristen said. Sareth—it crystallized in her mind now—nodded. She’d no doubt seen this reaction before in people and mages.

“A bomb?” the woman asked and held her hands over Heartsbane. The blue light intensified and seemed to reach out to the gory chest.

“Yes, but the shrapnel is dragon scales,” she replied.

Sareth nodded and breathed deeply. The blue light that emanated from her hands intensified even more. Now, phantom hands shaped by the glow reached carefully into the lacerations and tried gently to remove the pieces that prevented Heartsbane from healing. First, there were only two of these hands made by magic and Sareth’s mind, then there were four, then eight, then more than Kristen could count. Half tried to grasp and remove the shrapnel while the others hovered over Heartsbane’s chest to provide her with some kind of energy.

Unfortunately, neither of these efforts seemed to bring results.

Sareth reshuffled and tried to make all the hands retrieve the fragments, but the glowing fingers seemed to grasp ineffectually at nothing. “It’s dragon, you said?”

“Yes.” Kristen nodded and held up the scale she’d taken from the shoulder wound. Seeing it wouldn’t really do much to help, but she wasn’t thinking completely clearly either.

“My magic can’t get hold of it. I…I can’t feel the difference between Heartsbane and the foreign pieces. Normally, these kinds of wounds are metal.”

“Are you saying there’s nothing you can do?” Stonequest demanded.

“If I can develop a spell to separate one dragon from another, I will!” Sareth spoke quickly with a definite note of desperation in her tone. She no doubt felt his wrath. “But that will take me hours—maybe a day. She doesn’t have time for that.”

“Are you saying she’ll die?” he asked.

The mage stared at him in consternation. Clearly, that was what she thought, but medical training—both magical and pedestrian—kicked in and she shook her head. “No, not if you can get her to the hospital. A human surgeon could get all this out. It’ll be a race against time, though, and she’ll need a transfusion of dragon’s blood, which can be tricky.”

“Can you do it?” His tone was abrupt but she managed to remain calm.

“The transfusion? Yes, but it’ll have to be in the hospital. I don’t have the hands for this kind of work,” Sareth confessed. It seemed an odd turn of phrase given that her healing magic had taken the form of hands, but maybe that was exactly what she meant.

“We’re wasting time, then,” Stonequest said and transformed into his dragon form in a cloud of stony dust.

Perhaps changing into his dragon form—his true form, as he doubtlessly thought of it—did something to calm his mental condition and he didn’t snatch Heartsbane up like Kristen feared. Instead he gently— even tenderly—scooped her up in one of his claws.

“Stonequest, wait a minute! Let’s send Erin for a surgeon and do it here in Sareth’s ward,” Kristen said.

The woman didn’t react, so she’d got her name right.

Emerald grunted and Kristen looked over to see he’d removed the dragon scale from his arm. “I can go too,” he said. He really did have a chip on his shoulder. Despite being injured by an insane technology, he was ready to spring into action. It didn’t escape her notice that none of the other dragons in the gym had been so willing to help, despite the fact that many of them had emerged unscathed. But that made sense too. Kristen and her team were the field team for Detroit. They were all hard-wired to spring into action.

“We don’t have time to wait. Getting a surgeon here from a hospital is two trips instead of one. Plus, we might not have everything they need. We go now.” Stonequest moved to one of the walls of windows in the gym. He could have shattered it with the spikes on his dragon head but obviously didn’t want to subject Heartsbane to that kind of jostling. Instead, he broke a hole for himself in the wall between two of the pillars.

“Stonequest, don’t go!” Kristen tried to show that she was calm with her aura, but she had no idea if he could even feel it over his own that was riddled with fear and fueled by the dragon equivalent of adrenaline. “We have to assume this bomb was made by the same people who have used dragon weapons to target dragons. It was delivered by a mage and they have mages. It used dragon parts to hurt a dragon and also targeted dragons who have a significant influence on human affairs.”

“All the more reason to get Heartsbane to a doctor so we can hunt these apes,” Stonequest retorted. Kristen frowned at the use of the word apes. Dragons referred to humans as monkeys or apes or rats when they denigrated them. He didn’t normally use such language, which was merely more evidence of how upset he was.

“No, Stonequest, think about it. Constance and the team behind her have never relied on simple attacks. They are coordinated, understand how dragons think, and know how to use our actions against us. This was a bomb, but we know they have dragon bullets. If Constance and her mages can afford to spare dragon parts for a bomb, think of what else they could be armed with.”

“Now is not the time for your damn conspiracy theories!” Stonequest turned from her and faced the aperture. “We have to save Melissa.”

With that, he leapt through the hole he had created. No sooner had he cleared Dragon SWAT headquarters than gunshots rang out.

Illuminated as he was in the sun, she clearly saw blood erupt from his chest and holes appear in his wings as bullets struck home. Instead of flying away to safety, Stonequest plummeted with Heartsbane still cradled in his claw.

CHAPTER THREE

It was Kristen’s turn to spring into action, heedless of the danger posed to her. Part of her thought back to the conversations she’d had with Constance. Few and tense though they had been, the woman had consistently displayed a reluctance to kill her. She’d said she thought of her as her own daughter, that she wanted the Steel Dragon to join their side, and that she could be an ally to the mages who threw themselves against the status quo of hidden rule by the Dragon Council.

But would that still hold true? After all, the last time she had seen the woman, she’d actively stopped her from killing a dragon who had admitted to eating dozens of mages during the second human rebellion. Would Constance forgive her for that, or was it finally enough to turn the Steel Dragon into a threat?

And did any of what had happened between her and Constance truly matter? She still didn’t know for certain if the assassin was truly in charge of the cabal of mages who seemed so intent on killing dragons. She might only be their weapon, a powerful killer with ideas of her own that weren’t supported by the rest of her organization.

It didn’t matter. Right now, she had to stop her teammates from plunging to their deaths. With dragon shrapnel—and now dragon bullets—in their bodies, the impact with the street five stories below could be enough to kill them.

She vaulted from the window in her human body and transformed into a dragon.

It had happened without conscious thought and although she’d transformed quickly before, she’d never attempted it like this.

To onlookers below and those lucky enough to catch the entire process on their smartphones, it appeared as if a human leapt from the window in pursuit of the dragons and was then enveloped in a cloud of silver from which a dragon emerged. Kristen would be dumbfounded later when she realized the speed with which she’d transformed. The videos would make it look like she’d vaulted into a cloud of silver and that a dragon had come out of it.

Obviously, all that tai chi with Lumos had helped.

At the moment, though, none of that was important. What mattered was that she had to reach Stonequest before he struck the tarmac.

The only thing in their favor was that he wasn’t completely unconscious. His wings tried weakly to catch the air, which was enough to slow his descent.

Kristen pumped her wings once, then tucked them as she dove after them and gained speed like a peregrine falcon. Over the roar of the wind and the pounding of her own heart, she heard more gunshots. So much for Constance convincing the rest of the dragon-killers to spare the Steel Dragon.

But the shots missed—or worse, weren’t aimed at her at all and had instead been an attempt to wound Stonequest even further—and she was able to ascertain more or less where they were coming from even as she plummeted toward her teammates.

Her talons lashed out and grasped his wings before she spun them into a barrel roll. She weighed more than he did in her steel form so had the momentum to swing him above her as she tried to guide the three of them around the building and out of the shooter’s line of sight.

They cleared the corner as a fusillade of gunfire followed them but now, she was completely upside down and essentially trapped by Stonequest’s body above her. There were dragons who could have performed the same maneuver she had and pivoted into a clean landing, but she was definitely not one of them.

Rather than right herself, she only pumped the air and achieved nothing since she was inverted. In moments, she plowed into a row of cars parked along the sidewalk. Her steel body was long enough that she was able to crush three separate vehicles.

She registered the contacts as the metal frames and broken glass scratched her steel skin, but they were tiny superficial wounds. They’d heal by the time she was back on her feet.

Carefully, she rolled onto her side but didn’t release her hold on Stonequest’s wings until he sprawled on the street. Only then did she let him go and clamber off the damaged cars. With luck, the owners would have them repaired by Timeflash, but given everything else that had happened, she hoped the people had insurance.

“Stone, are you all right?” she asked the crumpled form of her team leader.

“Heartsbane… We have to help…Heartsbane,” he mumbled. He was delirious and clearly losing blood virtually by the gallon.

“We will, Stonequest. We will help her, but I need you to transform into a human right now,” Kristen implored.

“No chance…hospital… Get Heartsbane to…hospital.”

“I will, Stonequest. I swear to you that I will, but I can’t leave you here for those bastards to harvest. I need you to transform. Otherwise, I won’t be able to carry you to the hospital.”

He groaned an agonized protest but slivers of stone flaked from his body and he began to change. It took a long time for him—almost half a minute—and as he shrank, his body seemed to drag across the street which exacerbated his injuries. His healing abilities did nothing at all for his chest wound, and the scrapes he earned from the street showed no sign of fading. But at least there were two human bodies in the street instead of a human and a dragon. Stonequest passed out from the effort, but he’d finished his transformation. She could work with that.

Timeflash flew overhead, no doubt to come to their aid, but more gunshots forced the dragon to veer away. She understood the danger as well as anyone. Most of their team was now injured and she couldn’t risk being hurt any more than Kristen could.

Although it seemed that not getting hurt was no longer an issue as the gunmen who’d shot Stonequest rounded the corner and began to fire at her.

Still in dragon form, she reacted instinctively and used her wings to envelop and protect the two wounded human-shaped dragons. It seemed the right thing to do, even though she knew that if their attackers used dragon bullets, they’d tear through her steel skin like a normal bullet would through a human.

Kristen also brought her tail up as Stonequest had taught her. Against dragons, it was a formidable weapon as it gave her reach and power and was tipped on one side with an ax-blade and spikes on the other.

To her surprise, the spikes launched free and rocketed toward the two gunmen at a speed only her dragon-enhanced vision could see.

The spines drilled into the shooters—as well as the car they’d come to stand in front of—and they fell.

Nothing like that had ever happened to her before. She’d never seen another dragon use anything like it either. It was fortunate that it had eliminated the gunmen, but if there had been innocent bystanders around, it could have really hurt someone. If a new ability had manifested, she’d have to train with it, but now was obviously not the time. There could be other gunmen, and Stonequest and Heartsbane were losing more blood by the second.

Kristen took each of them carefully in her back talons, called to Timeflash to bring Sareth to the hospital, and took to the air.

She wanted to get above the city and take a direct route to the hospital, but she couldn’t. Unfortunately, her precious passengers meant that she had to remain low between the buildings and make sure no more attackers could target her.

Her path was both hasty and a little frantic as she veered between buildings at breakneck speed and dodged unseen attackers. Every car backfiring sounded like a gunshot to her, and she wondered if every gust of wind was caused by hidden mages determined to eradicate this team of dragons who had so diligently thwarted them.

In her dragon form, she couldn’t really check on her injured friends. She held them in her talons but didn’t dare lift them to her face for fear of aggravating their injuries. Furthermore, it wasn’t like she’d be able to hear them breathing over the rush of the wind or feel their pulses with all the banking and turning she had to do.

She located the hospital and circled a few times before she summoned the courage to land—her paranoia might have got the best of her for a moment—and reminded herself to do so as gently as possible. With extreme care, she transferred the wounded to her fore talons to free her legs to take her weight.

It occurred to her that she had never taken a dragon to a hospital before. Now that she considered it, she wasn’t sure if anyone had besides her friends when she had been injured. She also had no idea if she could land on the roof like she did at Dragon SWAT Headquarters. Rather than take the chance, she chose the front door instead and a little old lady who had walked out at the wrong moment screamed and passed out. She dearly hoped she hadn’t given the woman a heart attack.

“I need help!” Kristen roared in dragon form, her voice so loud it shattered the glass of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the building.

Three figures hurried out with a stretcher. The nurses appeared professional but the doctor looked perturbed that a dragon had bellowed loudly enough to shatter glass and obviously intended to ignore the line in the waiting room for the ER. When she saw the condition of Stonequest and Heartsbane, however, she seemed to forget about the inadvertent destruction completely.

“Get them both on stretchers and straight to surgery. Call Doctor Chakrabarti. We’ll need his hands.”

“Yes, Doctor Gilead,” one the nurses said, retrieved a cordless phone from his pocket, and hurried into the ER for another stretcher.

Kristen laid Heartsbane tenderly on the one they’d already brought out and the nurse and Dr. Gilead both secured her. The gurney was already on its way to surgery by the time the other one returned to transport Stonequest.

She lowered her team leader carefully onto the stretcher and the doctor and male nurse secured him.

“We’ll contact you when we get them stabilized,” Dr. Gilead said. She was a middle-aged white woman with short, light-brown hair who looked like she was quite used to confronting dragons.

“That won’t work,” she said and promptly shocked herself and them when she transformed into her human form in the blink of an eye. One moment she was a dragon, and in a flurry of silvery glitter, she became a human once more. Her training with Lumos really had made a difference. She now felt she could transform as fast as dragons who had changed shape for millennia, not that this was the moment to gloat.

Dr. Gilead didn’t even blink. “Ma’am, don’t tell me how to do my job and I won’t tell you how to protect your friends. They’ve clearly lost considerable blood. We’ll stabilize them and go from there.”

Kristen almost admired her boldness and wanted to tell her so. It took guts to face a dragon and tell them they’d messed up, but there was no more time for that than there was for anything else. “You have to operate now. They are both dragons and were injured by—” Her mouth suddenly went dry. Stonequest wanted the details of the weapons kept secret. He didn’t want the world to know that dragon body parts were being weaponized, but she couldn’t simply say nothing either. “Heartsbane—the woman—was hurt by shrapnel from a bomb, and Stonequest by a gun.”

“I’ve seen victims of explosion and guns before. We’ll make sure they don’t bleed out before we move on to treating the injuries.” Dr. Gilead turned to go.

She put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and flexed her aura to implore her to listen to the words and to make her feel like she needed to know what was being said. “Dragons have healing powers, right?”

“Sure.” The doctor nodded. Obviously, her aura had affected the woman.

“Well, neither one of them can heal until you get every last sliver of that shit out of them. Besides, if they need blood, it’ll need to be dragon blood.”

Dr. Gilead nodded and apparently took the information at face value. “It sounds like we’ll need you in a bed then. Nurse!”

A staff member responded with alacrity and approached them.

“Get this woman in a bed and go ahead and take two pints and bring them to surgery. I’ll page you if I need more.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to save your friends’ lives.”

Kristen nodded and sighed as Dr. Gilead hurried away along the same hallway that Stonequest and Heartsbane had vanished down.

The nurse guided her to a different part of the hospital, sat her on a bed, and began to take a pint of blood. Excitement and the loss of her friends still had her on overdrive, so she filled the bag quickly. The nurse put another one in to be filled but she didn’t manage to watch that one.

By that time, she’d already passed out, exhausted from the events and a little lightheaded from the bloodletting. As she lost consciousness, her mind swirled around her friends and her mad flight. She had made it to the hospital without incident, but only time would tell if she had made it in time.

CHAPTER FOUR

Kristen was awakened much later by a doctor. She wanted to reach for her phone to check how long it had been, but the urgent look on his face told her she needed to wait to satisfy what was really her own unimportant curiosity.

“Hello, I am Doctor Chakrabarti. I don’t know if you remember me, but I removed a bullet from your shoulder a while back.” The doctor wore scrubs and a surgical mask around his neck, but the appearance of him being human ended there. His hair was disheveled and almost looked like spikes, and he had a mustache even more impressive than the one Lumos sported. More than that, though, she sensed his aura pouring off him in an attempt to make her feel calm. Chakrabarti was a dragon and she had thought bringing her friends to a hospital would only work because there would be human surgeons.

“I…we never met,” Kristen said lamely. “But thank you.”

“Your friends are not healing. I need to know why,” he said matter of factly.

“I told the woman—”

“Her name is Dr. Gilead and your friends would be dead without her, so I suggest you show her some respect,” he snapped and revealed a little of the ferociousness many dragons possessed. At the same time, he clearly demonstrated that he was unusual in that he defended people. Dragons continued to be more diverse and less culturally homogenous than Kristen had assumed.

“I told Dr. Gilead that you guys need to get that shrapnel out of them or they won’t heal.”

“Lady Steel,” Dr. Chakrabarti said placidly. His use of her dragon name told her very clearly that he knew exactly who she was. “We have removed most of the shrapnel from their organs and major veins. Every dragon I have ever treated would already be healing, yet they are not. I even tried to introduce some of your blood to Heartsbane, and she will not take it. I still have the two pints on hand but would prefer not to waste it so need to find out why before I try again. If you choose to give me the runaround, I will not argue. Stay here while your friends continue to bleed to death.” It wasn’t exactly the Hippocratic oath, but he was a dragon and maybe that was how they interpreted it. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised.

Still, she hesitated. Stonequest had been so clear that the bullets were classified. Surely the bomb was an even bigger deal, as it seemed an even larger waste of dragon parts. He believed knowledge of these weapons reaching the public would cause a panic in dragon culture and could precipitate a war. She didn’t see how a room full of surgeons, nurses, and hospital staff knowing about these things could stay a secret.

His aura shifted and she felt a touch of his fear and concern for his patients but nothing more.

It was enough to convince her to tell him. Her friends’ lives were more important than keeping this all secret.

“The bomb that injured Heartsbane was filled with dragon shrapnel. Scales, I think. Stonequest was shot with a bullet made of dragon parts as well, similar to the one that shot me.”

Dr. Chakrabarti seemed genuinely surprised as she felt his aura pulse with shock. “The bullet I removed from you was quite different from the one we took from Stonequest—a composite between lead and something else. Are you telling me it was dragon and that this one is too?”

“They were used by different shooters, merely parts instead of the whole thing. Was the bullet you took from Stonequest cream-colored?” He nodded. “That’s what we saw last time.”

“Last time?”

Kristen cursed. She hadn’t meant to say that. Keeping this under wraps was not going well. “Stonequest was shot in the wing as well as the chest. You’ll need to get both out for him to be able to heal.”

“And Heartsbane?”

“She was actually holding the bomb when it detonated. I think if you get all the pieces out, even the ones that are only superficial, she’ll be all right.”

Her mind raced as soon as he had left. Had she done the right thing? Of course she had. Stonequest and Heartsbane were more important than a secret, she told herself but apparently, she didn’t believe it. Dread crept constantly into her mind at the thought of the whole world knowing how easy it would be to kill a dragon.

Her nervous anxiety had driven all thoughts of the time from her head and she was only pulled from her reverie by another knock on her door. This time, she glanced at her phone. It had been four hours since they’d started their workout. Was that enough time to know the fate of Stonequest and Heartsbane?

It seemed she wouldn’t get her answer immediately. Instead of Dr. Chakrabarti as she’d hoped, the dragon inspector Windlock entered her room.

“Steel,” he said by way of introduction. “Do you have time for a few questions?”

“Yes, of course,” Kristen said and straightened. The last time she’d seen him, she hadn’t really had a good look at him, what with them being at a crime scene and everything. Now, she took in his features without making her scrutiny too obvious.

He was handsome with a strong nose and hard mouth or he would have been if his face wasn’t pockmarked. It immediately made her think of Heartsbane. Hopefully, she wouldn’t end up with scars like that. It was a petty thought and she pushed it away. Windlock’s eyes weren’t cold, exactly, but certainly calculating and he looked like a man who didn’t miss much. He wore the same long trench coat he’d worn when she’d last seen him, although he removed his hat and held it in his hands while he worked at the brim in what looked like a habitual fidget. She wondered how many of those he’d gone through.

He was almost a complete opposite of the man who poked his head into the doorway behind him.

“This is my associate, Larry Brockton. You remember him.” Windlock said it as fact, not a question, and yet Kristen nodded.

“It’s nice to see you again, Lady Steel. It’s not often we talk to living dragons if you see my meaning—on account of all the dead ones we see.” She had forgotten that one of the man’s magical abilities seemed to be able to speak endlessly without any need for oxygen.

The inspector appeared about as impatient with it now as he had the last time she had seen the two investigators—or investigator and servant. She didn’t know the nomenclature for dragons and their human assistants. “Damn it, Brockton, get the scroll going and save the poor woman’s ears.”

Despite the harsh words, Brockton complied immediately and without complaint. A roll of parchment streaked into the room, followed by a floating ballpoint pen. She had the sense that the two of them had worked together a long time and that the mage tolerated Windlock’s standoffish nature as much as the investigator tolerated Brockton’s non-stop talking.

“All right, first things first. How did Heartsbane get hurt?” the inspector asked.

“It was a bomb filled with dragon scales.”

“How do you know that? Are you a forensics expert or a doctor?”

“No, sir, actually…” Kristen dug in her pockets and pulled out the scale that had been in Heartsbane’s shoulder. “I have a piece right here.”

“This came from the bomb?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Brockton, bag this.” No sooner had he given the order than a plastic evidence bag darted into the room and swallowed the piece of dragon scale.

“Are Stonequest and Heartsbane okay?” she asked.

“I’m asking the questions,” he said.

At almost the same moment, Brockton launched into a response. “Yeah, they’ll be fine. That’s what Dr. Chakrabarti said and I’m inclined to believe him seeing as he did the surgery himself. Stonequest is doing good. Apparently, he only had the two wounds and once both bullets were out, he began to heal, although the doctor made it very clear that it’ll take a while. Heartsbane is stable but still unconscious. She might be dead already if you hadn’t given her that pint of blood. At first, her body rejected it, but with most of the slivers out, they were able to transfuse it successfully and they have the last one on standby if it’s needed.”

“Enough, Brockton,” Windlock said and effectively silenced the mage, who winked.

The interaction between the two definitely had an amusing side. The man could have told Brockton to shut up at any time during his explanation, yet he hadn’t. Logically, it meant he wanted him to tell Kristen about her friends and by extension, that he wanted her to know they were okay. It also meant he wanted to appear as a gruff investigator burdened with a chatty mage. She realized that the pretense made him both seem meaner than he really was and less competent, which in turn would distract the people he was questioning and make them more likely to say things they otherwise might not. Honestly, it was all very clever. She couldn’t help but like this team of near opposites who played their roles so well.

“Next question. Who delivered it?” Windlock asked and betrayed no hint that he had purposely let Brockton say all that he had.

“I didn’t know him but it was a mage, I can tell you that. He had the tattoos and robes of a mage anyway, but he didn’t work in our building.”

“And he’s…” He raised an eyebrow to prompt her to continue.

“Dead.” Kristen confirmed the unfinished question. “He might have known what was inside the package because he did try to make a fairly rapid escape. Honestly, though, Heartsbane has that effect on many people, so I don’t really know. She called him back and I guess he, uh…well he wasn’t as strong as a dragon.”

Windlock nodded as Brockton used the ballpoint pen to write this all down. She wondered about that too. Surely digital notes would be better, so was the scroll also designed to make criminals feel this team wasn’t as sharp as they actually were?

“What about Emerald and Lumos? Both of them were hurt.”

Again, it was Brockton who answered, although this time, Kristen paid closer attention. The inspector flashed his aura at the mage to make him feel something like consent.

“They’re all right, Lady Steel. Both had a few gashes but nothing serious. The mages at the station are working to get it all out of them.”

“When I saw Emerald, he’d already removed a shard. Is he healing okay?” Kristen cut Brockton off and felt a little bad about it, but that seemed the only way to get him to stop talking.

“He had a few more but nothing fatal. Although…well, uh…” Brockton glanced at Windlock, which essentially betrayed the whole act for what it was.

“They’re healing but it’s slow going.”

Brockton—permission granted—took it from there. “We’re worried there are still tiny pieces of…the foreign contaminant in there and don’t want them doing anything for a few days, but they’ll probably complain about it more than anything else. Dr. Chakrabarti said that based on what we saw, they don’t need to come in.”

“How long for Heartsbane and Stonequest?” Kristen asked.

The two men shared a glance and Windlock answered. “We can’t say and simply don’t know. But I can say they wouldn’t have had a chance if you hadn’t stepped up. You’re a very brave dragon, Lady Steel. Risking your life after you saw those gunmen do that kind of damage to Stonequest is above and beyond the call of duty.”

“What about those two gunmen? I…uh, I hit them with spines from my tail.”

Again, she sensed the pulse of aura from Windlock to his assistant to tell the mage to unleash his floodgates of words.

“Eyewitnesses said they were dead,” Brockton began and rapidly gained steam. “But their bodies were gone by the time we got there. So were your spines, by the way, but we did see the punctures they’d made in a car. That’s quite a tail-hook you have there.”

“Do you think they were dead?” Kristen asked Windlock.

Unsurprisingly, Brockton answered. “Based on the amount of blood we saw? Yeah, they’re dead. Wicked dead. Maybe if they were dragons, they could have sustained that kind of damage, but there is no way humans could have.”

“And you’re sure they were human?”

Windlock stepped in. “Of all people, I’m surprised you’d ask that question. I’ve spoken to Stonequest about your pet theories on all these dragon murders. The way he says it, people are behind all of it.”

“And yes, we know they’re people. Dragon and human blood are different enough that I can sense it,” Brockton explained. “Which is why Heartsbane really does owe you one. Without that blood, she’d be in a bad way.”

Kristen looked from one to the other and wondered how much Stonequest had told them and if she could trust them. Still, she felt like she already had the answer to the second question and couldn’t help but trust them.

She decided to enlist their help. “I can tell you some theories but first, I want to point out that someone went to tremendous effort to incapacitate the entire Dragon SWAT field team. That bomb was a huge risk, and I have a feeling that the mage knew something about what was happening. He seemed too nervous to think it was a gift or whatever inside. Beyond that, they had gunmen ready outside the building. That means they were hoping we’d flee or wanted to be ready if their first plan went wrong. They lost lives and risked revealing their dragon bullets and the dragon bomb.”

“Do you have a name for me?” Windlock asked.

“There’s a woman…Constance Vigil. She’s been involved in these cases before.” She looked at his face. He didn’t seem surprised and she said as much.

The inspector shrugged. “It’s not my job to make theories without facts. However, I am interested in what you think.”

Kristen almost told him there and then that Constance had called herself her mother and had refused to kill her on multiple occasions despite having the opportunity to. She didn’t want Windlock to think she was involved—at least that was the reason she told herself—but really, she felt like she owed something to this hidden assassin who was so willing to upset the order of dragon culture.

Pushing that aside, she continued. “Whether it’s Constance or not, I think this was more than simply an attack. They took massive risks to hurt most of Dragon SWAT. If it is Constance, this is a level she and her team have never attempted before, and if it’s someone else, they have even more resources than she does. I think eliminating Dragon SWAT was merely the first step of something big. My guess is that whoever did this is planning more, and now that none of dragon SWAT is dead, they’ll act soon before the team is on its feet again.”

“How would you like to work with me for a while?” Windlock asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Kristen was flabbergasted and momentarily speechless.

Brockton was more than willing to fill the void in the conversation. “He’s saying your theory makes sense and he’s impressed that you came to the same conclusions we did. Not that any of it’s proven, of course, but it seems that if a group wanted to hurt dragons, the last ones they’d choose would be those trained in self-defense and who regularly mete out justice to the dragons who hurt people. It doesn’t make much sense as a target unless they needed something else to happen. So anyway, what do you say? Your team will be out for a week and like you said, it’s more than likely that if anything happens, it’ll be soon.”

“Are you sure?” she finally managed to ask and felt a little foolish.

Windlock shrugged. “Nothing’s ever sure in this line of work. Except for putting a body into the ground.”

“It’s only…you’re way senior to me. You’re above Stonequest if you’ve read all his reports. Those were classified and he’s hounded me to not say a damn thing outside official channels and you seem to know it all.”

“Are you scared?” the inspector asked and flashed a smile.

“Think of it like prom. Did you go to prom?” Brockton asked and continued without waiting for a response. “Sure, it’s weird to have a senior ask a freshman out and can be creepy too, depending on the people involved. But it’s kind of an honor—a chance to see into a world you wouldn’t otherwise have access to for years. Plus, there’s no obligation to make out, not as a freshman unless the guy is a real creep, and we’re not.” Brockton smiled as if he’d paid her some kind of compliment.

“The fact is I could use your help. You have experience with all this, and with a human background, you might notice things we don’t,” the dragon added.

“I resent that,” the mage whined. “I’m human.”

“Brockton, if you use magic to open bags of potato chips, you don’t really count as a normal human anymore.”

“That’s only because I spent so much time working in a convenience store. Do you know how many bags of chips I opened for kids and old ladies? More than a man should have to open in his life, that’s for sure. I used to have bad dreams about them, in fact. I’m only trying to level the playing field. If anything, me opening bags would make me more human!”

“Okay, I’ll help,” Kristen agreed hastily and didn’t bother to even take time to think about it. For one thing, she knew she had to do it—she was too curious and besides, whoever had done this, Constance or not, they had targeted her and her friends—but she also wanted Brockton to shut up.

Windlock smiled and nodded. He seemed to know exactly why she had made her mind up so quickly.

“Well, if you’re ready, let’s go to the crime scene and have another poke around,” he said.

“Right,” Kristen said and stood from the bed. “Wait—there’s something we need to do first. You said Heartsbane used a pint of my blood. As in only one?”

The two men exchanged a glance. Finally, the inspector nodded and unleashed Brockton’s gift of the gab.

“Yeah, I believe that’s what the doctor said. I’m sure of it, in fact. He said they only needed the one and that she was stable and he didn’t think she’d need more.”

“Can I get the unused one back?” she asked.

“Do you feel weak or something?” Windlock asked in reply.

“I went to prison because there was a ninety-percent DNA match to me on multiple dragon crime scenes. You tell me two men are dead because of my spines—a power I might point out I didn’t even know I had—and the spines are gone as well, and you expect me to leave a pint of blood lying around? Yeah, right.”

“She has a point,” the mage said.

“I know she has a point, Larry,” his boss replied.

They sent for a nurse who protested the odd request but ultimately acquiesced. After all, it wasn’t every day that two dragons and a mage demanded blood. Honestly, it didn’t seem like a good time to say no.

When it was placed in Kristen’s hands, she thanked the nurse and went to see Stonequest and Heartsbane.

Windlock had said they were okay, but she had to see them for herself. It turned out to be something she regretted. Heartsbane was still unconscious and severely injured. The traces of dragon scales had all been removed from the wounds but it was still hard to see her like that, lying under a sheet like a human who’d been hurt.

It was the weakest she’d ever seen the fierce dragon and she didn’t like it.

Stonequest’s condition was better and he was conscious at least. When she told him what she planned to do, he didn’t argue like she had thought he would.

Instead, he told Windlock to mind himself because she was as tough as nails and didn’t take shit for an answer.

“I’m counting on it,” the gruff investigator said, which only made Kristen like him even more.

Once outside, the older dragon waited while she transformed and incinerated the pint of blood with dragon’s fire.

She would help them solve this case but in doing so, she had to be damn sure no one else would be able to use her against her friends. It was already very possible that the shrapnel in Heartsbane would match her DNA by about ninety percent. There was no way she would leave anything her enemies might be able to use while she tried to rescue her sibling from Constance and her cabal of mages.

That done, they took to the sky. It was time to catch the people brazen enough to attack Dragon SWAT.

CHAPTER FIVE

They returned to the scene of the crime without delays or detours. Kristen and Windlock were in dragon form and Brockton rode atop the investigator’s back, thus cementing their relationship in her eyes. Dragons didn’t let people ride their back unless they respected them, liked them, or wanted something from them. He could have carried the mage in his talons and the fact that he was allowed on top meant they were partners.

When they reached Dragon SWAT headquarters, the entire block was cordoned off and dragons—many of whom she recognized as staff from her building—scoured the area for evidence. At first, she didn’t think they would allow her in as this was well above her pay-grade, but when Windlock flashed his badge, they gained admittance without question.

They walked down the street, beyond where Kristen had defended Stonequest and Heartsbane from gunfire, then past the two red stains from the men she had inadvertently killed with her new powers.

By this time, they’d taken human form and walked beside Brockton. She didn’t understand the full extent of his powers. When it came down to it, she didn’t understand much about mages at all as she’d been so focused on learning her own dragon abilities and navigating dragon culture that she hadn’t spent much time with them. Brockton could control a parchment and pen and seemed to be able to lift things from a distance, but he also seemed to have some kind of forensic ability.

When they moved past the bloodstains, Brockton paused, held his hands out, and cast a faint but visible light over the area.

“Magic?” Windlock grunted and waited.

The man shook his head. “I sense the presence of a dragon—Lady Steel’s spines I think—but nothing else. If these guys were mages I—wait, wait. I’m getting something. Yeah, there was magic here but I don’t think it was combative. No…no, I think maybe magic was used to remove the bodies? We never got a lead on how they left and maybe that’s because the mages whisked them away.”

“Is that common—for a mage to not use their powers in a fight and then use them after?” Kristen asked.

Windlock only shrugged but nodded to his partner to explain as they continued past the area.

“It all depends, really,” Brockton said and took a breath before he launched into one of his explanations. “You see, every mage has innate gifts. My ability to sense magic and auras is kind of unusual. It’s why Windlock keeps me around, I think.”

“It’s definitely not for your banter,” the investigator said, flashed a badge at the dragon who stood at the entrance to headquarters, and led them onward.

“So mage powers are like dragon powers? Like every mage is born with certain things and training can only enhance them? Your ability to sense magic is like my steel skin?” Kristen asked.

“Eh, not really,” he corrected quickly. “Any mage can basically learn any power. Some of them are really difficult—healing, for example, can be wicked hard. That’s why I’m not much good at it, but I could learn it if Windlock didn’t keep me so busy. Most of us can do the simple things—illusions, levitate objects and maybe some basic elemental stuff like gusts of wind, make water flow uphill, flashes of fire, or whatever. It takes practice to hone one’s skills, though. I can’t do much beyond sense stuff because that’s all I ever do.”

“Because you’re lazy,” his boss quipped.

“Because I’m lazy,” he agreed with a grin.

“So you’re saying these mages not using any of their powers in a fight with dragons doesn’t mean they didn’t have any?” Kristen tried to assimilate the important facts so she had something to work with.

“Don’t make assumptions,” Windlock warned.

Brockton nodded in agreement. “Be careful about guessing at motives for individual actions—one of Windlock’s rules. It’s better to look at the big picture and remember that people can make mistakes. These mages might not have powers that can kill dragons or they might have wanted to make us frightened of their guns. They could have powers that might be used to safely remove their people and maybe they even intended to but were…uh, surprised by your spine attack.”

She nodded and tried to keep up with the thought process her two companions seemed to follow. It probably made sense to not guess at motives but at the same time, she didn’t think she’d listen. After all, the two men both were quite capable of distancing themselves. There really was no point in her doing the same given that she would be less experienced with it. They’d asked her to join their investigation for her perspective, not theirs, although she would try to keep her opinions to herself in mixed company. That seemed especially important in light of the fact that somehow, the mage who’d done the delivery had entered Dragon SWAT with an unmarked package.

They reached the fifth floor and went to the gym, now full of mages being led by Timeflash.

“Erin—oh, thank goodness you’re okay!” Kristen said and hugged the only dragon on her team who hadn’t been hurt.

“How’s it going in here?” Windlock demanded.

“It’s going all right. We’re looking for clues about what dragon sent the package via that mage. I don’t think it could have been my team, but I have to assume someone could have had a contact. It’s a nightmare, honestly. I want to put everything back into place—it feels so wrong to have been attacked in our headquarters—but haven’t done so yet because I assumed you would want to investigate.”

Kristen didn’t say that she was almost certain that people were behind this. She hadn’t said much about her theories in front of Erin, mostly because the other dragon was away so often. But Stonequest had also never wanted her to talk about her theories with anyone and she respected him enough to comply.

“Do you guys have any leads?” Timeflash asked and sounded exasperated.

Windlock shook his head and glanced meaningfully at Kristen. He obviously didn’t want her to say anything either.

The woman nodded, either unsurprised that they didn’t know who it was or accustomed to the higher-ups keeping their investigations under wraps.

Brockton wasn’t able to find anything other than what they already knew. It was a bomb, not something magic, and had been filled with dragon scales turned into shrapnel. No other evidence of magic existed as far as the explosive was concerned.

They moved to the sixth floor once the investigator had seen all he needed to and set up interviews with the mages.

While they waited for Brockton to fetch the first one, Kristen used the moment to ask why Windlock wanted to continue the pretense of dragons being involved. “I simply don’t understand. You told me not to make assumptions and yet you’re comfortable with the fact that everyone assumes dragons are behind all this.”

He nodded, obviously unsurprised by the question, and held a finger up. “One reason. There is no guarantee that a dragon isn’t behind the humans doing this.”

“But there’s also no guarantee a dragon is involved.”

“Right, which is why we brought you on. The human angle is one I’m interested in but I see no value in collapsing other avenues of investigation, especially if they’ll rule our theories out at any point.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to have them working with us?”

“Maybe, if we were sure, but Lady Steel, I’m still not convinced. Humans and especially human mages have done dragon bidding before, remember. But that’s not the only reason I want you to keep this all hushed.” Windlock held up a second finger. “I’m sure Stonequest made it clear that spreading the word about humans with dragon-killing weapons would inspire fear and panic in dragon kind. We’ve come a long way from people trying to get into our castles and cutting our heads off.”

“But surely dragons can’t be that afraid of people?”

“You’re right, dragons aren’t that scared. They don’t like to be that scared either, and that’s the problem. If they are even a little spooked, they’ll be pissed-off. And pissed-off, skittish dragons are no fun to be around when you’re small, pink, and squishy.”

Kristen sighed. “Do you really think they’d hurt people without knowing for certain what’s going on?”

Windlock laughed darkly. “I do. Dragons hurt each other without knowing their reasons, as do people. I don’t want to throw fuel on that fire. If you’re right, we’ll have to go public with this, but the only way I see that working out for people is if we come to the dragons with the people behind this already apprehended. If we expose the threat and prove it’s been taken care of, there won’t be retribution. If we do only the first part—” He mouthed the word “boom” and mimicked an explosion with his hands.

She nodded although she didn’t like it, but it made sense. Obviously, she also wanted to avoid a war, which meant the investigation should be done as quietly as possible. And yet, even the logic failed to ease her concerns.

“But the word is getting out. Think about today. Those gunmen took Stonequest—a battle-hardened dragon on SWAT—out of the air with two shots, plus we have a trail of dead dragons leading us to this point. More will hear about it with every new attack.”

“Which is all the more reason to find these killers soon,” Windlock said to end the conversation when Brockton arrived with the first of the mages.

The team garnered little information of any value from those interviewed. Kristen knew most of them, but she didn’t reveal this until after each interview. Nevertheless, he drew the same conclusions she had. Those who worked in the building were loyal to the dragons who employed them. It seemed unlikely that any of them were part of the attack and it would have been virtually impossible to lie, given that both Windlock and Kristen probed their emotional state as they spoke with them.

What was interesting was that the mages confirmed that all the scales came from the same dragon—or seemed to anyway as they were all the same cast-iron color. Dragon scales were fairly homogenous. In other words, one’s scales all looked much the same, and none of the pieces retrieved stood out.

One mage was a little more nervous than the others, though. When he walked in, his gaze seemed drawn to Kristen but at the same time, he wouldn’t look at her directly. He glanced continually at her and then away.

“You’re in charge of DNA forensics, correct?” Windlock asked.

“Yes, sir. That’s correct, sir,” the mage said far too quickly.

“Have you run any of these scales yet?”

“Yes, sir. Only one but I’m working on more as we speak.”

“Well?”

“It’s…uh… That is, it…uh… Well, it matches the DNA from the…uh, samples found in the other deceased dragons. It might not be identical but it’s close—real close. Above ninety percent.”

That immediately explained his behavior. She smiled sweetly and focused on him. “Was it you who discovered that my DNA was a close match for the dragon bullets?”

Now, the mage was visibly sweating. “Yes, ma’am. And I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Really. It’s merely that ninety percent…well, that’s extremely high. We normally don’t get that and…well, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, you absolutely did the right thing,” Windlock said. He smiled a little. “Stop smiling at him like you intend to eat him, Lady Steel.”

Kristen laughed and the mage managed a response that was more a grimace than a smile. It was painfully awkward and he wiped his brow.

“It’s fine. I know you were only doing your job. We’re doing the same to you guys, after all. It sucks when this stuff looks like it’s internal.” She stopped smiling with her teeth visible, which seemed to help.

The mage sagged and the tension leached from him. “I didn’t want to lie about it so I told Stonequest and that was that. I’m sorry, I really am.”

“It’s fine,” she said.

“But we’ll need you to run a closer analysis,” Windlock said.

“Sir?”

“A ninety percent match isn’t good enough. I want to know the color of this dragon’s eyes and if it shares the steel ability with Lady Steel. Hell, I want to know if his mother’s father was colorblind. Do I make myself clear?”

“Uh…well, that is—”

“You did good,” Kristen said. “Now do better.”

That seemed to be the mage’s language as he nodded enthusiastically.

Windlock dismissed him, the mage thanked them—Kristen wasn’t sure for what but maybe not eating him?—and he returned to work.

“Right,” the investigator said briskly. “What are your thoughts?”

“I thought you said to not make assumptions,” she replied.

“Not in the open on a crime scene. But now, we’ve gathered evidence. It’s time to swap theories and rip each other’s ideas apart. So, your thoughts.” His tone brooked no argument.

His focus on her didn’t make her uncomfortable at all. She had theories and might as well share them. “The mages confirmed that the bomb used C4. That’s generally a military-grade explosive. I know there’s newer stuff out there but still, it seems to point to a certain kind of background.”

“How so?”

“Well, it’s possible that whoever did this obtained C4 without a military contact, but I find it unlikely.”

“Because of the C4?”

“Partly, yes, and because those two men I hit with my spines didn’t have pistols but military-style assault rifles.”

“This is America. Everyone has military-grade assault rifles,” Windlock countered.

“Right, but the weapons plus the C4 point to the military. I could be wrong, but I’d definitely say military weapons if a little dated and old. Whoever was involved might have contacts in the armed forces.”

The investigator nodded. “I’m impressed. You might be wrong, of course, but we’ll have to disprove you at the very least. Do you have any other points?”

“That whatever will happen now will be soon.”

She wished he had told her she was wrong on that count, but he only clenched his jaw and nodded agreement.

CHAPTER SIX

From there, they went to where the gunmen had probably waited for those dragons who survived the bomb. There were two locations—possibly more, but Windlock seemed confident that the team that scoured the scene had done a good job of confirming the positions of all the shooters.

What surprised Kristen was that the two areas were on opposite corners of Dragon Swat headquarters. Each watched two sides, so no matter which way Stonequest might have chosen to exit the building, he would have been visible. It showed a level of coordination even more efficient than she had imagined.

“How do we know they were here?” Windlock asked one of the dragons they found guarding one of these locations, a room in a nearby building.

“Based on where he was shot, we extrapolated their positions. It took a little time but we’re fairly sure this is the place,” the dragon explained.

“Fairly sure?” The investigator frowned and looked around.

The guard grimaced. “There’s nothing left behind, sir. No fingerprints, no bullet casings—nothing like that.”

“How do you know this is the place, then?” Kristen asked.

“It smelled like gunpowder when we arrived. I know it’s not much but it’s all we have. Plus, this is downtown Detroit—fifteen years ago, this entire building might have been abandoned, but this is the only apartment on this floor facing HQ that doesn’t have a tenant. The previous one moved out last week—in something of a hurry, apparently, and cited only a family emergency as the reason.”

She nodded as the apartment was, in fact, completely empty. It could have been simply fortuitous, but her instincts told her otherwise. While they had no idea how or why, it was possible that the tenant had been compelled to vacate or simply been frightened enough by something to leave. Or it could simply have been rented by one of their team who moved out on schedule. In turn, it meant that Constance—if that was indeed who was behind this—had possibly planned this attack very carefully and taken steps to ensure the location was vacant and accessible.

“And the other location?” Windlock asked.

“It’s much the same as this—the middle floor with good coverage of two sides of the HQ. There was no gunpowder there, of course, but that fits with no shots being fired. We found it unlocked. I’m reasonably sure those two monkeys you killed were the guys from that building,” the dragon said with a sneer.

“Don’t call them that,” Kristen said in response to the slur.

The dragon startled. “Do you prefer murderers?”

“Attackers is the most accurate,” Windlock said, although he didn’t sound like he cared. For all Kristen knew, that was merely part of the character he played so she chose not to read anything into it.

“Whatever you want to call the bastards is fine with me,” the guard said, obviously annoyed.

“Brockton, do you sense anything here?” the investigator asked briskly.

The mage extended the silver glow from his hands in an attempt to sense if magic had been used in the room. After a long minute during which tendrils of light from his fingertips scoured the entire room, he shook his head. “No magic was used here, sir. I have a feeling that if these were mages, they were given very specific orders to stick to pedestrian means.”

“Do we have anything else?” Windlock asked. He didn’t sound frustrated, at least not to the casual observer, but Kristen could detect something beneath his gruff veneer. This whole situation worried him. It didn’t feel good to be outsmarted by two dead men.

“Actually, sir, yes.” Brockton sounded excited. “While you were asking questions, I managed to catch Lady Steel’s little exchange with these fellows on a closed-circuit television one of the other dragons commandeered from a downstairs store. It gave me a little peek at how those spines work, Lady Steel, and I gotta say you are a dead-eye. You were a good fifty yards away and still managed to fell them both with one shot! It’s not easy, that. You must have played sports, huh? Baseball? Lacrosse maybe?”

Kristen sputtered a yes, but it was Windlock who steered the conversation in a meaningful direction. “Where’s the footage, Brockton?”

“Right here, sir.” He handed his boss a tablet.

It was a low angle from a convenience store so it didn’t show everything, but it did show Kristen catch Stonequest and Heartsbane seconds before her teammates struck the ground and her twist to impact with the parked cars. Gunshots followed the dragons but almost too quickly, two men emerged from around the corner. That seemed to indicate that once she had come through the side of the building—or maybe when Stonequest had—these shooters had already begun to move. Obviously, they were in contact. It was annoying to think she might have been able to overhear them if she’d had a walkie-talkie.

The camera was located behind the men, so no faces were visible. One guy had light skin and the other dark, but that meant next to nothing in Detroit.

Kristen sucked in a breath as she saw herself beg Stonequest to transform. That moment had truly been the most pivotal of the entire fight. If she hadn’t convinced him to change, she could never have carried him to the hospital and would have either had to abandon him or stay and let Heartsbane bleed out—an impossible decision.

The men on the screen interrupted her thoughts when they drew their weapons and fired at her. She squinted to focus more clearly when she responded with a flick of her tail that eliminated the enemy and wedged spikes in the car.

“Your file doesn’t say anything about you having projectiles,” Windlock said.

“I didn’t know I had projectiles,” she replied.

“Really? You really never practiced with them before?” Brockton demanded excitedly.

She shook her head.

If Windlock was surprised, he didn’t show it.

The footage continued as she scooped Stonequest and Heartsbane up and took off. She was about to declare it useless from that point, but tires squealed and a black van drew up beside the two men as soon as she rounded a corner and vanished from the feed. Four people poured out of the van, their motions smooth and practiced. They were dressed entirely in black with ski masks. These seemed more careful than the shooters had been. One of them leaned down to check the pulses of the dead men and shook their head, obviously disappointed to lose their soldiers. The motion dislodged a lock of blonde hair that protruded from the bottom of the mask.

“That’s Constance,” Kristen said, touched the screen, and paused the video so Windlock could see the blonde hair. The quality of the footage was poor but it was obvious the hair was blonde or perhaps silver. “That’s the woman who has assassinated the dragons.”

“How sure are you?” the investigator asked.

“Damn sure. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Who else could it be? A Russian spy with a ponytail?” she retorted.

“You’re jumping to conclusions. Think it through—how does this match your perp’s description? The hair is one thing. Do you have anything else?”

A little irritated, she touched the screen to continue the feed and watched the person shake their head and get back in the car. She rewound it to watch another two times. “I guess… I guess I can’t be sure. The size is about right and the figure works. Constance is slim and that body fits, but we’re talking about a woman of middle height with breasts small enough to hide beneath tactical gear and long blonde hair. It isn’t exactly the rarest human shape.”

“What about her movements?” Windlock enquired.

“I don’t see any ticks or anything, but she’s obviously in charge and obviously cares. That fits Constance, in my mind. She’s always been involved but she’s also been…empathetic?”

“How do you mean?” he pressed, his eyes sharp with the kind of interest that probably made him good at his job.

Kristen decided she had to tell him. “She’s had chances to kill me and hasn’t. I think she doesn’t really want to hurt people and truly believes she does this to make the world a better place. The person in this video looks like they regret those deaths, that they weren’t simply nameless soldiers with no value. That seems like Constance to me but you’re right, I can’t be sure.”

Windlock nodded. “Now you’re talking like an inspector,” he said. “We can’t be sure it’s this Constance of yours, but the details you identified are good clues.”

“Watch the rest of the video.” Brockton sounded excited.

They resumed play of the footage. After the woman—Constance, Kristen was convinced it was her—checked the bodies, she got back in the car and the others with her rushed forward, bagged the two dead men hastily, and pried the spines from the car they had struck. They loaded them into the vehicle with little ceremony, slammed the back doors, and accelerated away.

“Do we have leads on the other people?” Windlock asked.

Brockton looked at Kristen and raised an eyebrow, obviously pleased that the dragon investigator had missed something so very visible to human eyes. He seemed to be playing his own little game of cat and mouse, though, as he said nothing in response to the question. It was, she decided, as if he were waiting to see what she would say or if she would notice.

“We have a license plate number,” Kristen said, amused to see the dragon’s eyebrows raise in surprise, then crease in embarrassment. He’d missed the clue, obviously. Brockton would no doubt have pointed this out, but she was pleased he’d let her have the honor of showing the inspector that he didn’t know quite as much about the world as he thought he did.

“Zoom in,” she said and Windlock obliged. There it was—Detroit plates, no less, and as clear as day.

Obviously, license plates weren’t totally foreign to dragon kind. As soon as he had noted the seven digits, he called the number in and issued orders to both dragon and human law enforcement to be on the lookout for it.

“We have a BOLO going out with all eyes.” Brockton brimmed with excitement. “I have a feeling we’ll catch these bastards before the day’s out. Like a dolphin caught in a net made for tuna, this van will be found.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

With the crime scene fully investigated, Windlock and Brockton moved to the dragon’s office. Kristen was surprised that it was in the Dragon SWAT headquarters building. She had sometimes seen him there but it was a rare enough occurrence that she’d always assumed he was merely visiting. More surprising still was the shabby condition of his desk.

It was obviously pressed wood—something from Ikea—and looked like it had survived a few different owners. The office itself was pleasant—or it should have been since it had windows on two walls—but it was so crammed with file folders and books on law and what appeared to be dragon history that it resembled a real dump. The windows were more obscured than visible, which was entirely crazy in her mind. Her office was located somewhere in the middle of the building with no windows and no natural light, only fluorescents.

“Do you have a problem?” Windlock asked, his tone not entirely friendly.

“No, it’s fine,” Kristen replied almost reflexively.

“It’s a dump in here, Windlock. I’m not the only one to notice it, merely the most patient.” Brockton cleared himself a chair buried beneath paperwork. At least, that was what she thought he intended at first, but she realized he had simply moved a stack of papers so he could sit on the bottom half of the pile. She tried to create a similar place for herself and sat gingerly.

“Is that it?” the inspector asked.

“Yes,” she confessed. “From what I understand, investigator is a fairly high rank. I would think you could have someone clean for you—we have any number of mages who can move papers without even touching them. Plus…well, honestly, your desk looks like it’s one cup of spilled coffee away from collapsing into a pile of sawdust.”

He chuckled at that. She wondered if he would have even shown that much personality if the door to his office was open.

“You’re right,” Windlock began. “Investigator is ranked fairly high and I’ve had various bureaucrats offer to upgrade my desk on the taxpayer’s gold coin. I like to keep it this way to keep them on their toes. It’s fun to watch paper-pushers squirm.”

“I guess,” she conceded dubiously. “I expected more than this, though. It’s not very impressive,” she persisted.

“Well, be that as it may, I like to work here to escape all the other nonsense. I report directly to the Dragon Council of North America and have a fancy Washington DC office with a teak desk and everything else you’d consider impressive.”

“Mahogany,” Brockton interjected, although—thankfully—he kept the interruption to only one word.

“I don’t like working there, though. I’m continually surrounded by politics—all bullshit, to use the human word for it. I prefer being in the thick of things so I use my clout to keep offices available to me in every city around North America. Right now, Detroit is the place that needs me. It’s not every day that we have a team assassinating dragons.”

“You’re saying this is the biggest case in North America right now?” Kristen asked.

“North America?” Brockton sounded incredulous. “More like the world. Windlock is based here but he’s even reported directly to the Council before—the big one. The worldwide conclave of the most powerful and influential dragons in the world.”

“Brockton came too. Don’t let him think he’s doing anything except talking about how great he is.”

The mage stood from his pile of papers and made an extravagant bow as his boss rolled his eyes.

“Will it be a problem that I don’t have real wood to support the paperwork for this investigation?” Windlock asked.

“No, not at all,” she responded quickly when she noted the edge of sarcasm to his tone. “Really, I think I could grow to like it. When I was on human SWAT, I swear I did my best work on my laptop in the lounge so with that in mind, maybe it’s better to spend time being effective than it is to spend time looking fancy. Honestly, if you had a fancy office filled with expensive knick-knacks, I don’t know if I’d be as comfortable.”

“See, I knew we would get along,” Windlock replied, retrieved an aging laptop, and booted it up.

Kristen grimaced instinctively. The device didn’t look like it could run a spreadsheet, let alone stream a video.

“I know, I know,” Brockton agreed and gestured toward the computer. “I get his argument about the crappy desk, but the laptop is another thing altogether.”

“It works.” Windlock waved the complaints away. He struck a few keys and looked proficient despite the aging machine. After a few moments, he looked at them. “We have no hits yet. The van has yet to be located.”

She waited only long enough to take a deep breath before she said quickly, “It might be time to bring additional help in.”

The inspector’s expression clearly indicated that he understood exactly what she intended. And he did, of course, because he was smart and was familiar with her career. He knew her allies and that they were committed to helping her. Hell, the last dragon’s life Kristen had saved successfully was only because her team had arrived to offer assistance. He made no mention of any of this, however, and merely leaned back in his chair instead and asked, “What do you recommend? Your SWAT team is out of commission.”

“Right, and the dragons we have left at HQ aren’t really trained in the kind of thing we need.”

“What do you mean by that?” he pressed.

“I mean that when shots were fired, I was the only one who went to help. Many of the dragons here aren’t accustomed to risking their lives, and despite you wanting to keep everything hush-hush, word will get out.”

“Again, what do you want to do?”

“Well, dragon SWAT isn’t an option but my old human team is more than capable and always willing to help.”

Windlock’s smile told her he’d known she would mention her team long before she said anything.

“These are human shooters, right?” she continued when the silence seemed to indicate that he wanted her to do so. “Brockton didn’t detect any magic, which means that if they are mages—and that’s a big if, given that we don’t want to make assumptions—they’re using regular human tactics. My old team knows a hell of a lot more about dealing with shooters than dragons do. After all, they’re used to taking cover from bullets and don’t care if they’re made of dragon, lead, or goddamn silver. They hurt people all the same.”

Again, the old investigator remained silent. Kristen had the sense that he wanted to know more of what she thought of her team, so she obliged him. “Honestly, we probably should have brought them in sooner. When I worked there full time, Drew knew full well I was a dragon but he wouldn’t let me fight like one. I trained like a human, worked like a human, and faced criminals like a human.”

“Most of the time,” Brockton interjected. “I saw the footage your buddy posted of you wrapping a thief in metal bars like they were twist-ties.”

Kristen chuckled. “Well, I said I received training. I didn’t say I was the perfect employee. The point, though, is that they know how to work in these situations. They’ve defeated dragons and worked under pressure so are the right people for this. Plus… Well, this is rude…”

“Go ahead and offend,” Brockton said. “Windlock can take it. I make sure to keep his skin thick, don’t I, you old dinosaur?”

Windlock shook his head and gestured for her to continue.

“Well, again, no offense, but Heartsbane didn’t know what she was doing with that package. For one thing, it was unmarked. That alone should have been a clue to proceed with caution, and she didn’t. She simply opened that box thinking it was a joke. She even looked directly into it, poor thing. If I hadn’t been trained to evade in that kind of situation, I would have been in much worse shape. My human team won’t make those kinds of mistakes.”

Windlock nodded and at least appeared to not to take any of it personally. Kristen decided she liked him more and more.

She pushed her argument. “You know, if we can’t locate and arrest this group, it might be worth it for my team to train the dragons here.”

Brockton laughed at that and threw his head back with such gusto that he almost fell on the floor. Windlock also smiled, which Kristen decided she would count as a victory.

What he said next surprised her, though. “I think you’re right.”

“You want Drew to train dragons?” She had to consciously close her mouth against her utter stupefaction.

“Well, that might be a somewhat hard sell so we should probably hold back on it for now, but your team is a good idea. I think we could use them for this case. If nothing else, they’ll know what they’re getting into.”

“Uh…well, sure.” Kristen hadn’t been surprised that he had expected her to mention her team, but she was shocked he’d agreed to bring them on board so soon. “What about jurisdictional issues? I thought it was a big headache with the differences in the law between dragons and humans.”

“Not if you’re right and these are humans. Even if there is a dragon in command, these people used human methods to hurt dragons. This seems to fall squarely under human jurisdiction to me. Bringing them in is logical as they have more experience dealing with human criminals than I do.”

“I’m merely…surprised, is all.”

“How come?” Windlock asked.

“Well, it’s refreshing, I guess. Most dragons treat humans like a liability, at best. It’s nice to see a dragon who actually recognizes that we can be helpful too.”

“And that,” he said brusquely and pointed a finger at her for emphasis, “is exactly why I brought you on. You think like a human, grew up as a human, and have human experiences and thus perspectives no other dragons do. I think your team would only be an asset. They’ll give us more access to the minds of the people you believe are behind this.”

She could only agree and they relocated to the SWAT precinct building to further their investigation.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Kristen had made the flight from Dragon SWAT Headquarters to her old Detroit SWAT station many times. She’d often gone over there when frustrated with Stonequest and the other dragons or when she badly wanted to talk after a long day. There were other times she’d flown the distance when she’d simply needed a drink with friends. She’d never visited with a dragon as high-ranking as Windlock, though, and never with the expectation of official police business. While she’d recruited her old team innumerable times, it had always been under the radar.

If the flight felt different, the reception when they walked in the front door was a complete shock.

The woman who worked the front desk stood when they entered and even bowed. That alone was a shock as she usually grunted and relayed orders. This level of respect was something new, and despite her humanness, she discovered that she didn’t mind it at all. The receptionist paged someone—obviously, they had a procedure in place for this because she did nothing more than press a button—and an officer arrived a moment later with a tray laden with coffee.

He saw Kristen, recognized her, smiled sheepishly, and offered to get her a donut. She smiled and recalled a time when she’d had to fight for donuts. Although a part of her felt a little discomforted by the thought, she had to admit that she liked the welcome reception a dragon received when they were actually expected.

Another officer appeared and guided them to Captain Hansen’s office. The woman stood in front of her desk when they entered. “Well, if it isn’t my old firecracker, Kristen Hall. It’s a real pleasure to see you like this.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Captain. I was half-worried you would be mad at me for ditching your team and joining dragon SWAT.”

The captain smiled warmly. “I never begrudge an officer a promotion. Plus, you being out of the office has saved me a stack of paperwork.”

Kristen laughed. Captain Hansen had always been obsessed with dotting her I’s and crossing her T’s.

“And who is your friend?” the woman asked and Kristen blushed a little self-consciously.

“Pardon me. I assumed you already knew Investigator Windlock.” She smiled awkwardly when she realized she’d introduced the dragon without properly introducing him. “This is his investigative assistant. Larry Brockton is a mage who specializes in forensics.”

“It’s a real pleasure to meet you, ma’am. You may be the only person I know who still gives the Steel Dragon nightmares. We appreciate what you did with her training and everything. She has keen instincts and is able to hold them back for more than a few seconds. Our guess is that is your doing.”

Captain Hansen guffawed at the mage’s motor-mouth and turned to Windlock.

“You’re with an investigator, huh, Hall? That’s fast-moving—not that I’m surprised. I was under the impression that an investigator is higher up the dragon chain than SWAT.”

“That’s technically correct, ma’am.” Windlock bowed slightly in greeting to show respect but also to acknowledge that she was, in fact, higher in the hierarchy of human law enforcement. Although the two agencies didn’t often cooperate, everyone knew he held the real power in the room, despite Hansen controlling the most formidable police force in the state.

“Well, good for you, Kristen. At this rate, you’ll soon be a lawyer for the Dragon Council of America,” the woman said kindly.

The older dragon raised an eyebrow at that. “I must say, ma’am, I’m impressed that a human has bothered to learn so much about dragon culture. I don’t know how you find time given that you have an entire city to protect.”

“Well, aren’t you the sweet-talker,” she retorted. “Honestly, it’s all Hall’s fault. Having a dragon working under my command made dragon culture relevant in a way it hadn’t been previously. I had worked with Stonequest before she came on board, but with everything that’s happened since she was hired, I’ve made it a point to learn more. After all, it pays to know more about the folks you work with.”

“Indeed.” Windlock nodded. “I’ve only worked with Lady Steel on a temporary assignment, but the more I learn about her, the more I think a permanent transfer might be in order.”

Kristen turned to him and barely managed to keep her jaw from falling open. This was the first time she’d heard about any possibility of promotion. She said nothing, of course, but Windlock noticed all the same. Most dragons were able to control their auras better than she could and she had revealed her surprise.

“He moves fast,” Brockton said to fill the short but not unpleasant moment of silence. “I had about twenty-four hours to decide before I was brought on board. At least you were on Dragon SWAT’s field team when we met you. When he met me, I worked in a convenience store. Do you know what that’s like? To go from selling bags of chips and scratch-offs to investigating dead dragons and stolen treasure chests? It’s a mind-bender, I tell ya. A real mind-bender.”

“Brockton, you’re doing it again.”

“Ah. Yes, sir…sorry, sir.” He nodded at the dragon and closed his mouth with a snap.

“Well, to what do I owe the honor of your visit? I know you’re not here simply to gush over Kristen. Chatter on the radio says all the roads near dragon SWAT have been closed and mentioned something about an explosion. I gotta say, I wish my team was as good at locking scenes down as your kind is.”

“You see, ma’am—” Kristen began before she felt a strong pulse from Windlock to tell her to stop talking. Dragon auras didn’t use words so she merely felt a strong desire to be alone, but she understood what that meant—be quiet.

“May we sit?” the investigator asked.

“Of course.” Captain Hansen moved to her chair behind her desk. She sat and gestured for her three visitors to follow suit.

Windlock sat, took a sip of his coffee before he set it down carefully, and seemed to transform into business mode. “The first thing I need you to understand is that everything said in this meeting is completely confidential. It cannot be shared with anyone—not loved ones or even officers who might find it interesting. No one.”

“I understand operational and information security very well, thank you very much,” she replied. A glimpse of the old captain—the one who could rip Kristen’s head off if she broke the rules—revealed herself.

“Very good, ma’am. I merely wanted to be clear on that. Here’s the quick and dirty version. An explosive was delivered to dragon SWAT under the guise of a package. Most of the team was injured and only Kristen’s training here saved her.”

Hansen frowned, both in concern and a little confusion. “I’m sorry…but shouldn’t dragons be immune to such things? In Hall’s first firefight, she shrugged a rocket off. I know she has steel skin, but I thought you all had healing powers.”

Windlock clenched his jaw, uncertain of what to say.

Brockton bought him a little time. “You really do know a good deal about dragons. Many people don’t know of the healing ability.”

The captain raised an eyebrow. “Hall worked here, remember? We saw her beaten and bruised, only to heal over a night of pizza. A good captain needs to know things like this about her officers.”

“Again, Captain—and please, I do not say this to cast aspersions on your integrity—I must reiterate that what we share here is absolutely top-secret,” the investigator said.

“Understood.”

He paused and almost seemed to dissect her with his eyes. Finding her trustworthy, he continued. “The attack involved a new type of weapon—a bomb that can injure dragons more than superficially. We were incredibly fortunate and I have no doubt that some of our dragons could have been killed. Obviously, we need to find who brought this into our headquarters.”

“And you think humans delivered or developed this weapon,” Hansen said with no question in her voice. She seemed as certain as Kristen was that people were behind this.

That surprised Windlock and it could even be felt in his aura.

“How did you come to that conclusion so quickly?” Windlock asked.

Hansen’s smile was a little smug. “Because you came here,” she said. “When you arrived, the only thing I could be sure of was that you were looking for a human. Why else come to human SWAT?”

The investigator smiled and nodded. “Kristen’s impeccable instincts and police skills begin to make sense. She had a good mentor.”

“Oh, please,” the woman said and waved the compliment away. “Drew did most of the training.”

“Well, I’m sure he learned from you. I wonder if he also has your sense of modesty.”

“Investigator, you know as well as I do that the best way to do your job is to do it well enough to go unnoticed. Now, enough compliments. How can my team find these people and this bomb they have?”

Hansen asked Windlock the question, but he immediately turned to Kristen and nodded. This was her time to speak and tell the captain what she thought they needed. She appreciated the fact that he was willing to defer to her in this. After all, it was her expertise with humans that made her a true asset in this case so it only made sense to let her lead the recruitment.

“I would like my old team—all of them. Jim Washington too, even though I know he hasn’t worked as long as the rest of them.”

The captain rolled her eyes. She had obviously expected this. “They’re not really a detective team. You know they’re more about breaking doors and skulls. What do you hope to achieve here—that Hernandez will out-bomb a bomber?”

“I know they’re not detectives but I have a feeling that once all this is over, we will need to do a little door-breaking.” She shrugged. “I want people I’m used to working with. We have an investigator and my old team has good reflexes. I could take twice as many other people but I honestly believe they are the best choice.”

Hansen nodded. “You got them, Hall. I merely gave you a hard time for being predictable. I’ll clear their schedule and put them on call for you. Plus, I’ll give them temporary command status so if they need any other help from my office, they’ll get it.”

“Thank you, ma’am!” Kristen was surprised at the generous offer.

“Don’t mention it. After all, if you’re to be the bridge between dragon and human law enforcement, I’m more than willing to build a good foundation on our side.”

“That’s very generous of you, Captain,” Windlock said.

“It’s not because I’m trying to be politically savvy or anything.” The woman frowned as if the very thought offended her. “If these are human terrorists attacking dragons, the sooner we catch them, the better.”

Kristen swallowed hard at that. It was the first time anyone had used that word. Terrorists suddenly seemed even more sinister and dangerous. It was accurate, though. The people who’d done this—Constance and her team, she was all but certain—had used fear and murder to spread terror. The only difference was instead of crashing planes, shooting up movie theaters, or driving cars into protestors, this group targeted dragons. Their goal, however, was the same—to use fear to change people’s minds.

“Are you all right, Hall?” Captain Hansen asked. She’d obviously noticed that she had paled visibly.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s only—” She turned to Windlock but he didn’t shake his head or use his aura to tell her to shut up so she pressed on. “It’s only…okay, I know this is stupid, but I hadn’t really thought of them as terrorists yet. I still called them serial killers in my head.”

The woman clenched her jaw and shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a fair assessment. Serial killers are deranged and possibly obsessed. Plus, they don’t work in groups and given the attacks, you are looking for more than one of these assholes. That doesn’t sound like a serial killer to me. Terrorists, though? Well, it all fits. If this has anything to do with the other dragon murders that have plagued this city—and I’m not saying it does, I’m only saying I’m damn sure your team has considered that possibility—then this has all the hallmarks of a radical group trying to use violence to upset the established order. It stinks of terrorism to me.”

Windlock nodded and Kristen was still amazed that Hansen’s mind worked so quickly. She’d almost forgotten that.

“You’re damn right,” Brockton said. “I hadn’t used those words either—as insulated as I am by dragon culture—but it does fit. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out these crazy bastards think they’re doing the good Lord’s work or some other nonsense.”

“What worries me”—Captain Hansen leaned over her desk—“is that I’ve been studying history.”

“What aspects?” the investigator asked.

“The two rebellions,” she replied conspiratorially.

He nodded. “It must be a tricky endeavor. Dragons aren’t exactly forthcoming with information from those days and of course, you humans didn’t have digital records back then.”

She nodded. “The first rebellion is basically lost to myth. I couldn’t find anything on it other than that mages created dwarves to fight dragons and although their war was lost, the newly created beings won Canada. Even the dwarves don’t like to talk about it. Their history all seems to start after the founding of their country. I suppose they aren’t too keen on the reality that they were made by crazy magic humans.”

“I’m not sure if the first rebellion is completely relevant anyway,” Windlock said cryptically. Kristen wondered immediately what he really knew.

Hansen probably had similar thoughts but she was able to hide it more successfully. “This makes me think of the second rebellion rather than the first. Again, mages were involved, and they created pixies to fight the dragons. It didn’t work, obviously, because the pixies were—”

“Too volatile,” Brockton interjected. “They have more magic than human mages do—as in much more—but those first pixies had a ton. Like, enough that they would light themselves on fire and turn themselves to crystals. From what I’ve read, it was a real mess.”

“I see you’ve read the same records as me, then,” Hansen said and looked at Windlock despite the fact that she spoke to Brockton.

The investigator only shrugged. “The Dragon Council is concerned primarily to maintain the peaceful coexistence of humans and dragons. It’s been their policy for a long time to reveal as little as they could about the rebellions. We know there are humans who don’t like us. Of course there are. Power imbalances are never fun, but the last thing we want is for people to get the idea that another war is in their best interest. To the Dragon Council, that means locking down information.”

“Sure, but…I mean, that’s un-American, but okay,” the woman said and sounded frustrated for the first time in the conversation. “But there are still reports about how the war was fought. Humans could write and we have some of their texts.”

“Not all of them, though,” Brockton grumbled.

If Windlock was uncomfortable with where this conversation was going, he didn’t show it. Kristen wondered if he humored Captain Hansen, was genuinely interested in her theories, or was simply curious about how much a human could really learn. She very much doubted it was the first option.

“The thing is, the mages didn’t wage an all-out war. Even with pixies, they knew it wouldn’t have worked. Dragons are simply too powerful. Flight, near-invulnerability, and breathing fire is a potent combination, plus there are the dragons like Kristen with extra abilities. They knew then that it was best to search for chinks in the armor, to single out weak dragons or potentially important figures and eliminate them as quietly as possible.”

“Which is exactly what this group is doing,” Kristen said and finally saw where her old captain was going with all this.

“Exactly. That means these mages probably know their history better than I do. They could be descendants of those rebels or see themselves as spiritual descendants, which could be even worse as it would mean they’re less interested in facts.”

“You can’t know all that, though,” Windlock said and sounded as if all this had occurred to him long before.

“Of course not, but it occurred to me after a little research into non-classified documents,” Hansen said.

Kristen nodded. She understood and the implications were staggering. “You’re saying that other people could come to the same conclusions you did.”

The captain nodded. “I’m worried these terrorists might begin to radicalize the public. People love looking at the mythic past. If a major newspaper—or worse, a cable news channel—picks up this angle and reports on it, good or bad, it could be disastrous. We all know human and dragon relations are only ever temporarily peaceful. If the public at large began to suspect that another rebellion was in progress, people might choose to participate.”

“But they’d lose,” Kristen said. “There’s no way people could kill more dragons than dragons could kill people.”

“Ah, Hall, you’ve already forgotten what it’s like to be a person.” The woman shook her head.

“That’s bullshit!”

“You still swear like one but you forget what it’s like to live under dragons. People know we’re expendable. Sacrifice is part of humanity, after all. We lionize soldiers and police not simply because they’re brave but because they’re brave enough to risk their lives. They’re willing to die for what they believe in and that means a lot to many people. If you don’t catch these terrorists, I’m afraid people might start to think along those terms.”

“But millions could die,” she protested.

“I know.” Captain Hansen didn’t look happy about the prospect. “But think about our own World War. I don’t know a single American who thinks the lives lost fighting the Nazis were wasted. Sixty million lives were lost in that war—sixty million. They weren’t all soldiers, obviously, and yet most people think winning that war was worth the cost. And they’re right. But what happens when people start thinking about all the lives lost to dragons? It’s far more than sixty million, I can tell you that.”

“Damn, Captain Hansen,” Brockton muttered. “You almost make me want to join these damn rebels.”

“That’s why I want you to catch these killers and bring them to justice,” she said bluntly. “The potential cost to our world if they aren’t caught before they set the whole thing on fire cannot be understated. Of course you can use your old team. You can use the whole damn force if you need it. Anything to stop it all from burning.”

CHAPTER NINE

Ashort while later, Captain Hansen said goodbye and told them that the old team was training in the gym.

Kristen led Windlock and Brockton down the outdated and slightly grungy halls of the Detroit SWAT building. Part of her felt embarrassed to show this powerful dragon and his magical henchman—she regretted that label as soon as she thought of it—around the building that was obviously in need of an upgrade. The Capital Square Building where Dragon SWAT was located was much older yet far more appealing. It was kept in great repair and must have been restored much more recently than her old headquarters, despite its antiquity.

But if Windlock cared at all, he didn’t show it. She reminded herself that his office had literally been the messiest room she’d seen at Dragon SWAT and he was unlikely to be one to wipe a glove on a surface and check for dust.

They reached the gym and she led them in without knocking.

For the briefest of moments, she had the same kind of nostalgic déjà vu one might feel when walking into their elementary school after years away. She recognized every machine and knew the rack of weights better than she knew her own pantry. The punching bag still had dents she’d made and stains on floor mats she’d helped put there. And yet, after spending so much time working out with dragons in their own state-of-the-art facility, this gym suddenly felt like it was for children.

The machines were a little outdated and seemed fragile compared to the ones the dragons abused. There weren’t enough weights in total for Emerald to squat his maximum. She could tell that the punching bag was filled with foam instead of gravel like the one at dragon HQ was. The sparring area didn’t look like an inferior version, though, which was odd because any dragon would be able to obliterate a human combatant in less than a second.

“Well, look what the fucking cat dragged in!” Hernandez shouted, dropped a pair of dumbbells on the floor, and earned a glare from Drew, who smiled at Kristen once he saw that the other woman had recognized and responded to his ire.

“It’s the Steel Dragon!” Keith whooped.

“Well, I’ll be a stuck pig. I was just thinking about you,” Butters said, sat on a bench press, and wiped the sweat from his brow. She thought the overweight sniper might actually have lost weight.

Beanpole waved cordially from the top of Butters’ bench where he’d been spotting him. The two were basically inseparable.

Jim Washington didn’t say a thing. He merely turned his treadmill off, marched over, and gave her the sweatiest hug she’d ever received.

“It’s nice to see you, Hall,” Drew said. “Is this business or pleasure?”

“Obviously not pleasure now that Washington covered her in fucking body odor. Go take a shower. You stink,” Hernandez said to the Wonderkid.

“Hi, everyone!” Kristen called and held the door wider for Windlock and Brockton to enter.

“Business then,” Butters said when he saw her companions. Although the inspector was in human form and Brockton wasn’t wearing anything that immediately identified him as a mage, it was obvious they were professionals. Windlock wore his rank and role like a badge and it was patently obvious that he was there on official business.

“This is Investigator Windlock, a dragon I’m working with on a new case, and Larry Brockton—”

“I’m a mage from Vermont and man, is it great to meet you guys. This is the team that made the Steel Dragon into a power to be reckoned with, huh? The forge, we could say. It’s such an honor to meet you all. Do you know how many dragons can’t stand this group of cops right here? You’ve done more to bring dragons to justice than any human in…shit…since the second rebellion, I guess.”

“Brockton, you’re doing it again,” Windlock said.

“Oh, right.” The mage mimed zipping his mouth shut, locking it, and throwing the key away. The irony of a loudmouth mage who could make things float tossing aside an invisible key he could simply levitate back to enable him to talk again was not lost on her.

“Do we have time for a shower or do we need to go now?” Drew asked and earned uncomfortable looks from his team. They’d all spring into action if he ordered it, but no one appeared particularly excited about sharing the back of a SWAT van at the moment.

Kristen deferred to Windlock on that. He nodded, probably because he didn’t like the smell any more than anyone else did.

The three visitors waited in the lounge for the others to freshen up. She knew it wouldn’t take long. The team leader had drilled them on efficient showers like he’d drilled them on everything else. She was about to help herself to a day-old powdered sugar donut when Windlock cleared his throat and spoke.

“I’d like to include them without telling them everything. We don’t want the word of these weapons to spread any further than it already has.”

Kristen didn’t have to even think about her answer before she disagreed. “It’s not possible, Windlock. They already know about all this shit. Washington knew about the dragon bullets even before I did. They’ve seen me shot multiple times by them, plus saw Death’s corpse, who had been killed by this tech. They were even with me when I was shot at Amythist’s mansion and also saw Obscura’s corpse, which had obviously been killed with a gun.”

“So what you’re saying is that we can tell them anything we damn well please because they already know so this won’t count as spreading anything,” Brockton said in the span of fewer than two seconds.

“Still…let’s limit the information about the bomb. They don’t know about that yet.”

“If you expect the team to be completely ignorant when they walk into a situation I can’t protect them from, we have different ideas about how this entire collaboration is supposed to work,” she said and tried not to snarl.

“Tell them it’s a bomb, then, but not what’s in it.”

“They’re not stupid, Windlock. They’ll work it all out themselves without details from us. And if we don’t tell them, they’ll know we’re hiding something. They might give me shit for that but they won’t trust you if they think you’re making me withhold information from them.”

“Which”—Brockton held a finger up—“you totally would be if you insist that the Steel Dragon not tell her loyal knights about the threat we face.”

“We don’t have knights anymore,” Windlock muttered before he flashed his aura to tell Kristen that he agreed with her. She took that to mean she should tell them everything.

The team arrived less than five minutes later—Drew really was a hard one when it came to schedules—and Kristen introduced them quickly.

“This is Lyn Hernandez, demolitions.”

“And resident shit-talker,” the short Hispanic woman said.

“That’s Keith. We call him the Rookie.”

“Which is totally unfair,” Keith said before he somehow managed to topple the cup of coffee he’d fixed. He tried frantically to wipe it but only made the mess larger.

“Butters may not look it, but he’s the best sniper in Michigan.”

“Even if you count shots per pound,” Hernandez quipped.

“Was that a fat joke? I declare war, young lady, war indeed,” Butters said in his southerner’s drawl.

“Beanpole works with Butters.”

“Cheers,” the tall thin man said with a wave.

“Jim Washington, aka the Wonderkid, helped defeat Obscura a while back. Amythist would be dead if not for his actions.”

Jim nodded politely.

“Dragon kind owes you a debt, then,” Windlock said formally.

“See? Fucking Wonderkid even gets accolades from a fucking dragon! No offense to the fucking dragon, obviously.” Hernandez smiled at Windlock.

“And that’s Drew. He’s the reason I’m the cop I am.”

Drew, tall, muscled, and with a hard jaw, nodded curtly before he said, “So what’s the deal?”

Kristen told them everything that had happened. It was refreshing to know that Windlock now agreed she could tell them about the particulars of the bomb and the guns the assailants had used to attack Dragon SWAT HQ. He didn’t speak or tell her to obscure anything and merely let her explain until she’d said everything there was to say. She even mentioned that the dragons she normally worked with were in the hospital as she knew it would be the first question she would ask in their place.

When she was finished, the investigator cleared his throat. “I would like to point out that this is not even need to know information. These are no one needs to know details. If rumors get out, we’ll have a storm far worse than a few dead dragons.”

“We understand that, sir, and given that no one knows about this tech even though we’ve known about it longer than you have… Well, I think I made my point.” Drew cracked his neck as if in punctuation.

Windlock nodded. “I like this one.”

“He takes no shit, that’s for sure,” Brockton added.

“All right…so, are you guys down?” Kristen asked.

Everyone looked casually at one another and nodded as if she had invited them to attend a party instead of to join an investigation into a cabal of people determined to murder dragons.

Drew finally spoke. “It’s a little outside our purview as we aren’t detectives. Once we find these folk, I have no doubt my team is the best equipped to bring them into custody or eliminate them if necessary, but finding them will be the tricky part.”

“You know, I may have some ideas on that front,” Jim said and carefully avoided the hard gaze of Windlock.

“What is this, fucking charades?” Hernandez demanded in her usual blunt way. “Do you have an idea or not?”

The Wonderkid smiled at that and shook his head, still avoiding the dragon’s eyes. “Well, you guys know that I…uh, I used to have a serious grudge against dragons. I mean to the point where calling me anti-dragon was a fair shake of my politics.”

“Yeah, it still is, except for hot red-headed ones with nice legs and freckles on their tits,” Hernandez quipped and stuck her tongue out suggestively at him.

The Wonderkid blushed at that and now avoided Kristen’s eyes as well. Hernandez had obviously seen her in the showers but Jim had as well. Maybe he’d mentioned something to the demolitionist once and she—as always—used it as a barb against him.

“Well, uh…all that aside. I used to spend considerable time on the dark web and tried to learn about anything dragons don’t want us to know about like pixies’ powers or dragon abilities. I might have found my way into anti-dragon forums back in the day.”

“Dude, I’ve seen your profile. You have a power-ranking.” Keith shrugged.

“Seriously, Rookie?” Jim hissed in frustration, even more embarrassed.

“We all have our biases,” Windlock said. “For example, I’m not particularly fond of dogs. It's fine.”

“It’s really not.” Brockton shook his head. “He doesn’t even like corgis. How can someone not like a corgi? They’re like happiness in a stretched and pointy-eared form!”

“They have cold noses and they stick them in crotches,” the dragon intoned and earned scowls from the entire room. “The point is I won’t hold anything against you. What do you have?”

“Well, after the recent murders, I went back to some of those forums. I thought if there was a pattern, the people there would have recognized it. Also, that the people who did this might very well post there. Many people post fantasies about how they’d like to hurt dragons and that kind of thing.”

“Oh yeah, people?” Butters asked.

“Look, that was the old me, okay?” Jim looked profoundly uncomfortable. “I haven’t been on those sites since Kristen saved my life probably a half dozen times. I only thought that if anyone knew anything about all this, it might show up there.”

“What did you find?” Drew asked, ever the professional.

“Nothing at first, and nothing about the murders. There were theories about various things, obviously, but mainly the regular screwed-up shit. Losers took credit for something they thought was kickass, others came up with crazy ideas about pixies or a hollow earth that hides dragons—all the regular wacko stuff.” Jim looked at Windlock.

“No hollow earth. Sorry, kid.” The investigator chuckled.

“Yeah, I know.” The Wonderkid nodded. “I simply thought that with magic making y’all transform, it might be possible that—never mind, that’s not the point.”

“Yeah, I was gonna ask if you had one,” Keith said. Hernandez looked pissed that he’d said something before she could.

“I didn’t see anything about the murders but I did have a sense that there’s a new presence on the board. A couple of accounts that I, uh…hadn’t seen before posted fairly often. Much of it was the regular anti-dragon crap, but every now and then, there were calls to action. Nothing specific, not like protests or anything, merely asking for help and saying to message them if interested. I had the sense they were recruiting.”

“Forgive me, but it’s hard to keep completely up to date with your human Internet,” Windlock said, which drew a loud guffaw from Brockton. “How were they recruiting?”

“It’s not that complicated,” Keith interjected. “I spend time on the Internet and never post about work because it’s all cop stuff but also because I’ve had people try to recruit me.”

“What kind of people—dork conventions?” Hernandez asked.

“More like terrorist groups,” Keith said and looked more uncomfortable than Jim had a moment before. “They use the Internet for recruiting and usually go to places where discontents hang out and talk, where they look for specific kinds of people. They mostly target those who are hurting, disaffected, or angry. At first, it seems fine. They reach out and offer health tips and self-help, shit like that, but then they ask you to come to meetings or join private threads.”

“How many times has this happened to you, Keith?” Butters asked.

“Only twice,” the Rookie said defensively. “I spend a huge amount of time online and like I said, I never mention that I’m a cop. Anyway, I posted all those videos of Kristen kicking ass, and some people think that means I don’t like dragons, even though I am obviously a huge fan.”

“Who tried to recruit you?” Drew asked and for a moment, curiosity overcame his normally brooding nature.

“You will never believe this, but I’ve been approached by both a white power and a death to America terrorist group. One was called Purify and the other Cleanse. I can never keep them straight. The weird thing is they both used the same damn rhetoric. Both loved posting pictures of their members holding assault weapons in one hand and religious books in the other. They were both nice but batshit insane and even invited me to a few events.”

“And you went?” Beanpole asked.

“No! Once I got in deep enough to realize who they were, I stopped replying and they stopped bugging me. They don’t want doubters because doubt is contagious. Anyway, my point is that’s how it works. They look for people who seem to spend considerable time online instead of in the real world and go from there. It’s never overt, at first.”

“And you saw an anti-dragon terrorist group recruiting on these sites of yours?” Drew asked Jim.

Keith breathed a huge sigh of relief when the team leader turned the conversation away from him.

“Like Keith said, I can’t really be certain,” Jim explained. “It’s not like these guys say we’ll attack a dragon at such and such address, bring a ski mask, and we’ll go out for beers later, you know?”

“Did you ever message any of them directly?” Kristen asked him.

“No, and like I said, I’m not too sure about any of this. I never wanted to go completely down that rabbit hole. If it got out that an officer of the Detroit PD was involved in that kind of crap, it could ruin the reputation of our entire force.”

“Not to mention get mud on the Wonderkid’s face,” Hernandez said with a smile.

Jim’s expression said that this too was a concern, even though he didn’t verbally agree.

“You really don’t have to worry about that if you use a properly encrypted machine,” Keith said.

All eyes turned to the Rookie, who blanched.

“I never joined the assholes. I swear. I’m only saying that encryption is encryption.”

“Well, Jim, it’s good to know we have one smart mind on the force anyway,” Drew said and glared at Keith. “It was the right thing to not get involved, obviously.” He sent another glare at Keith. “But now, this is an open investigation with clearance unlike anything we’ve had before. You have permission to investigate this recruiting drive and make yourself some friends.”

The Wonderkid shook his head. “Sir, really, with respect, I don’t want to do that shit anymore. Humans and dragons need to work together—hell, everyone needs to work together be they dragon, human, mage, black, white, gay, whatever.”

“Once this is all done, I’ll be happy to pull my guitar out and sing ‘Kumbaya,’ but until then, your job is to get recruited. That’s an order,” the team leader said.

CHAPTER TEN

Ten minutes later, Jim was at a computer while Kristen, Windlock, Drew, and Keith all hovered nearby. The Rookie had insisted on cramming into the tiny room when he’d realized how woefully unknowledgeable the rest of them were about cyber-security. When the Wonderkid had asked if they should go to a library so they couldn’t be tracked, Keith had lost it and refused to let them log on without him first giving the machine a once-over.

The other members of the team were still in the break room with Brockton. Kristen hoped the mage was getting along well with them, but she was sure he was. He seemed to get along well with everyone as long as they could keep up with how much he talked. That wasn’t important, though. Right now, they had to keep their eyes on Jim and their mind on whoever was on the other end of his Internet connection.

“I want to remind you guys that this won’t be a one-and-done,” the Wonderkid said. “I haven’t been online in a while and don’t know how active my old circles are.”

He logged in and scrolled through a few of the more recent posts that made vaguely disparaging remarks about dragons.

“Is this really what people think about us?” Windlock asked in real surprise. “Humans are afraid we’ll eat you?”

Jim shrugged and grimaced a little awkwardly. “No…I mean, not exactly. We know dragons don’t eat people anymore but that seems to sum up the whole sentiment. It fits with the cattle metaphor and the power imbalance. Look, man, I don’t believe this shit anymore. I’m merely trying to sound like my old self.”

“Your old self really had a thing for comparing napalm to dragon’s fire,” Keith remarked after his teammate added another comment to a meme showing dragons flying in a fighter jet formation.

“Yeah, well, the screen name is burnedblindsoldier7 for a reason, right? I saw shit in the war that wasn’t supposed to happen. Men versus dragon flame is a hard thing to unsee. I’m only trying to stay consistent.”

“You were in Central America in the late nineties?” Windlock asked, seemingly out of the blue.

“Yes fucking sir,” Jim said.

“That was a real mess down there and totally inappropriate. If it makes you feel any better, we caught the dragon who did that to your friends. He’s behind bars now.”

“He should be six feet under, but I guess it’s good to know I’m working with the dragon who saw an end to that shit,” he stated.

The inspector looked like he intended to say more, but Keith interrupted.

“You have a reply. Who the hell is dragonzsuckmydick420?” he asked.

“He’s an old anti-dragon acquaintance and has been on these boards longer than me.”

“Do you think he’s involved?” Kristen asked.

“I have no idea, but he’ll know what I’m talking about for sure.”

Jim replied to the other user. Wish there was something we could do, you know? Sick of reposting memes.

Dragonzsuckmydick420 replied a minute later. Times are changing. Check out some of these. He posted a few memes that were all more or less of groups of people injuring dragons in increasingly violent ways.

“I don’t get it,” Drew said.

Kristen was repulsed by it all and Windlock also looked rather uncomfortable.

“They are all posted by the same user,” Keith said before Jim could. “Can you message him directly, do you think, or is that too forward?”

“It looks like I won’t have to. I think Dragonz must’ve told him about me.” The Wonderkid pointed to his private messages. He’d received a new one from humanpatriot2020, the user who’d posted all the memes.

“See if he has anyone you can contact in Detroit. Tell him you’re worried about working online,” Drew said.

“No way,” the other man protested. “That’s way too fast, even with my history.”

“Are you sure about that?” Keith asked when another message appeared in the inbox. Humanpatriot2020 asked about meeting in person.

Jim told him he was in Detroit and received a smiling emoji in reply. A few seconds later, humanpatriot2020 asked if he was busy or if he could meet that week.

“This is going too fast, seriously,” Keith said. “They would usually romance me a little before asking me out on a terrorist date.”

“Could it be a trap?” Drew asked.

“It could be.” Jim scratched his chin thoughtfully. “But I don’t know. Some of the people on here know who I am. When I first got on, I was only a pissed-off soldier and I told people that. I posted a little when I first joined Detroit SWAT too before…well, you know, Kristen saved my ass, so they might be hoping to get a cop on their side too.”

“Or they might want you to get to me,” Kristen said.

“Either way, we need to act on it,” Windlock said.

“Not right now we don’t. Tell him you have to check your schedule,” Drew said and immediately betrayed his complete lack of understanding of how people used the Internet.

“I don’t want to pull rank but we don’t have time to dither on this,” the investigator protested.

“We’re talking about one of my team’s lives here, sir. With all due respect, we can take a few minutes.”

“We’ll say yes even if it is a trap,” Windlock said. “These people attacked Dragon SWAT at our own headquarters. Lady Steel and I agree that they were merely paving the way for something bigger—something dragons would have been able to prevent. They probably wanted them all dead but they have to settle for incapacitated. It’s a perfectly reasonable assumption that they also know about dragon healing speed, so they will have to work against the clock. All this simply means we don’t have time to waste.”

Drew turned to Kristen. “Is that really what you think?”

“I’m sure they’re planning something. I don’t know what, but Windlock’s right. It’s gonna be big and it will happen soon.” She wished it wasn’t true but that was what she believed.

“All right, then. Let’s walk into these jaws,” the team leader said. “Washington, are you all right with that?”

“Risking my tail to join an anti-dragon group now that I finally don’t have a grudge against all dragons? Yeah, that’s why they call me the Wonderkid.” The sarcasm in his voice was palpable.

“It’ll be fine,” Windlock said. “We have wires that are beyond human tech. It’s one piece of technology we got out in front of.”

That didn’t calm the man, though. “Oh, great. So not only will I try to meet potentially magic terrorists, but I’ll have a nice little button so they know I’m a snitch?”

“We won’t let you get taken,” Kristen assured him. “We might not be able to hold sightlines, but we can be close.”

“You can’t,” Windlock said.

“Huh?”

“Mages can sense auras. Not all of them, but there are many like Brockton who can sense a dragon as easily as you can smell a pie. You and I will have to keep our distance. Brockton too, probably.”

“How is any of this supposed to make me feel better?” Jim grumbled.

“We’ll be close,” Drew said. Keith nodded enthusiastically.

Finally, the man nodded and agreed to meet humanpatriot2020. The next message asked to meet him at Comerica park, at the Detroit Tigers home game they’d play the next day.

“Well, at least we’ll be able to watch the game,” Keith said.

No one else was particularly excited about the situation.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jim enjoyed baseball. Some said it was slow but that was what was so great about it. The sport let you relax, drink a beer or three, enjoy a hotdog or a pretzel, and merely watch a game. He loved the sounds of the crowd alternately cheering and jeering, depending on who was up to bat, and that it was hard to miss a play. If you heard the crack of the bat, you focused your gaze on the field. It wasn’t like basketball where a blink could make you miss the game’s best dunk, or football, where if you fell for the play fake you didn’t know what was going on. Baseball was simple and even pure, a true American pastime.

Currently, he felt none of that, however.

He held a beer that had already gone warm as he couldn’t bring himself to drink it, and his hotdog was unpleasantly cold. He sat in the mezzanine as that was where humanpatriot2020 had told him to meet, but even these seats—far from the action below—were crowded. The Tigers played the Toronto Bluejays, so the stadium was packed. In recent years, the two teams had developed something of a rivalry, and Toronto’s proximity to Detroit meant that many fans had packed the stadium until it was almost unbearable.

Jim had assumed that humanpatriot2020 would have him wear a Bluejays hat as that was the other team in the stadium, but he now saw it would have been a mistake. While he couldn’t say half the stadium wore the bluejay and maple leaf, maybe a quarter did. If he’d worn that, he would have blended in enough to be all but invisible.

Instead, they’d told him to wear a New York Yankees cap.

It meant that not only did the Tigers fans hate him, but the normally polite Canadians also stuck their noses up at him. There was no good reason to wear a Yankees hat to this game. It was arrogant, rude, and plain insulting to the two teams playing, which made it even weirder that he wasn’t the only person with one. Apparently, Yankees fans liked their team so much they even went to games in which they weren’t playing.

Jim truly was in lousy company, as a man beside him was now quite drunk and had taken to simply insulting every batter who came up. Every. Single. One. And this despite them being so far away that there was no way any of them could hear a word he said.

Every time the inebriated lout yelled, people shouted in response and some even began to turn their ire on the innocent spectator beside him.

He was beginning to wonder if he should simply give up the entire endeavor—after all, he wouldn’t be able to infiltrate anything or gather any information if he was assaulted by Tigers and Bluejays united in a common cause—when he noticed a woman moving toward him in a Tigers cap.

“I have incoming,” he mumbled to the tiny hidden microphone he wore.

It was the seventh-inning stretch, so the mezzanine was about half full as many people had gone for snacks and beer. The woman sat beside him. He knew it was his contact right away and suspected it was the woman named Constance Kristen had talked so much about. Something in the way she held herself—like she was a viper ready to strike—set her at odds with everyone else in the stadium who simply tried to have a good time despite the Tigers being down two runs.

“Hey, how are ya?” he said to her by way of greeting and hopeful to keep things looking realistic.

For a moment, the woman said nothing and merely sat and stared at the field. Jim was beginning to wonder if she was the wrong person—maybe she was merely a wound-up Tigers fan—but before he could decide one way or the other, she spoke.

Her voice was as sharp as a razor blade. “Well?” she asked.

The Wonderkid wasn’t sure how he expected a recruitment meeting to go, but this wasn’t it. The woman was supposed to be the leader in the meeting. She should take charge and give him somewhere else to meet or an assignment—something beyond a single word that seemed to suggest the roles were reversed.

When she said nothing further, he finally asked, “Well what?”

“You asked for this meeting, Jim Washington. Former Marine and current member of Detroit SWAT. You worked for many months with Kristen Hall and even accompanied her on missions to protect dragons. So what did you want?”

Jim began to panic. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He had hoped to appear as a random guy who wanted to rebel against the dragons. That was what his history on the anti-dragon corners of the web supported, after all. But that story obviously wouldn’t work given that humanpatriot2020 was Constance herself.

From a crazy tangle of thoughts, he drew an idea. It would be a gamble and a big one, but what else could he do? She knew who he was and who his allies were, so he wouldn’t be able to play dumb.

“I know who you are too—Constance Vigil.”

“If you hope to arrest me, I assure you it’s impossible. I have agents throughout the stadium—and none of them are wearing a Yankees hat.” She sneered, which really pissed him off as she had told him to wear the offensive headgear. “Why are you here, Washington? Is this some ploy of Hall’s?”

“No, well…okay, kind of. Look, I used to hate dragons. I saw them do horrible things, but Kristen changed that.”

“Now you like them?”

“I like Kristen. She doesn’t treat humans with any less respect than dragons. She treats everyone the same. I’d never seen that before—I’d never even heard of that before. I still have a few problems with what she does—protecting dragons is wrong in my book—but Kristen herself is a good person…or dragon. Whatever.”

“I was there when you took Amythist Skyjewel to safety. I could have killed her if not for you.”

“Believe me, I wanted her to die. But if you know anything about Kristen it’s that she believes in justice for everyone. That means no executions on someone’s front lawn. Besides, what was I supposed to do? Say no to her? She could merely use her aura to make me change my mind.”

“Do you believe she’d do that?”

Jim let himself smile because it was an honest one. “No, I don’t. But I respect her.”

Constance sighed and looked at the field for a few moments before her gaze returned to him and bored into him like a falcon’s. “You’re right, of course. Hall is different than the rest because of how she was raised. Honestly, she’s forced some of us to change our opinions on dragons and their place in the future. Her sympathy lends credence to the nature versus nurture argument. I won’t lie to you more than I have to. We’ve had an eye on you for a while. Your connection to Hall means you could be a real asset.”

“Asset for what?” he asked and attempted to sound ignorant but not too ignorant. It was an uncomfortably delicate place to walk.

“You know you’re not alone in your dislike of living beneath the boot of dragon kind. There are others like you—many others. And I’m not only talking about kids yelling at each other over message boards.”

“I knew it!” The Wonderkid deliberately injected a trace of excitement into his tone. “I guessed that you couldn’t be working alone. You’re too good for it to be a one-man—pardon—woman operation.”

Truly, Jim was relieved. This was more like the script he expected for this meeting. The Kristen angle was interesting and he would have to use that—obviously ignoring it or denying it would be folly—but he’d hoped to play the part of the disgruntled cop who’d seen too much injustice to let it slide. It seemed she expected that of him as well.

“How can I help?” Jim asked.

“You’re an interesting case, Mr. Washington. Having a member of our organization on Detroit SWAT would be valuable. After all, we wouldn’t want any humans to get hurt unnecessarily, but I see more for you.”

“I want to do as much as I can. I don’t think we need to hurt Kristen, though. She knows how people struggle, but the other dragons need to stop treating us like cattle.” It was easy to let his rage come through. He had been angry about what he’d seen dragons do to people for a very long time.

“I don’t want to hurt Hall either, not unless we have to. Ideally, you could use your relationship with Kristen to win her over to our side. Our mission is not about hurting dragons at all. It’s about equality. We don’t want to make them live beneath our boot and only want them to stop doing that to us. If we have to go to that extreme, we will, but it would be better for everyone if the world saw this was about injustice. Hall on our side would not only give us a powerful asset but would help our optics.”

Jim nodded slowly as if deep in thought. “It makes sense.”

“It won’t be easy. I can tell you that. I’ve tried myself multiple times and have not been successful. I think perhaps it’s because we operate outside of the law.”

“I think I can help with that,” he cut in and hoped he sounded eager. “Kristen trusts me but you know that. I’ve been with her on raids to stop dragons before. I think if I brought this to her, she might listen to me.”

“Very good,” Constance said and nodded. “As soon as we saw you contact us, we came up with talking points for you to use on her. It’s exactly what we tell everyone but we think it would be far better coming from you.”

“Great. We have two innings and maybe overtime. Do you want to get started?”

The woman smiled and again reminded him of a snake. “We won’t simply sit here and risk being seen. I think I can trust you given your history with dragons. I know you don’t like them, but that doesn’t mean I can trust Hall. We haven’t sensed her nearby but I know she might be spying on you. If you really are interested in helping us, you’ll have to pass a test.”

“Anything to make the dragons respect us.”

“Good,” she said and promptly stood. “Your first mission is to keep up. We have to lose anyone who might follow us. If you make any attempt to contact anyone, we’ll know you’re not genuine so no funny business. You can let yourself fall up to three people behind me. If you get farther away than that, we’ll assume you’re waiting for someone. Got it?”

Jim nodded and followed her from the mezzanine. He tried not to grin. How hard would he be to tail? Constance had outfitted him in a Yankees cap.

His mood fell when he saw that was the first thing to go. As soon as they exited the mezzanine and stepped into the hall filled with people, a man snatched the cap off his head and gave him a Tigers one as well as a matching light windbreaker.

His guide didn’t even slow. “Keep up.”

The Wonderkid cursed inwardly as he put the items on and hurried after the assassin whom he might have once idolized if his life hadn’t changed so radically.

What followed was the most convoluted walkabout he had ever undertaken. Constance first led him down a flight of steps, then into the stadium again. Jim—careful not to play his hand and betray the fact that members of his SWAT team were following him—located Drew, who easily kept pace. When the woman pushed through to force a group of drunk people to make way for each of them in turn, his team leader had to drop away.

From there, the Wonderkid was led inside, up another level, and past a corndog stand. As he attempted to navigate the thick crowds—despite the seventh inning stretch being over not every concession stand customer had been served—someone kicked a fridge filled with canned beer open.

“Free drinks!” a man in a Tigers hat shouted and two Bluejays fans started the stampede. Jim barely made it through the crush of people eager to empty the cooler.

Constance had paused to wait for him and had no doubt planned the distraction. How many people are in this organization? he wondered as he hurried after her.

From there, they turned to the expensive seats. His guide flashed two tickets to a security guard and pointed at Jim. When he reached the man, he let him through. It was clear that if anyone still managed to tail him, they wouldn’t have tickets for this section and flashing a badge would only serve to blow his cover.

A ticket wouldn’t have cost a ton of money, but it still begged the question of how many resources the group had if they could buy tickets for probably a few hundred bucks simply to avoid being followed.

Finally, the two exited that section on the ground floor. He knew that anyone who’d tailed him had obviously been lost, but his team had anticipated that and he immediately noticed Beanpole looking at a display of baseball cards. Even though Constance had gone through all the complicated evasions, she hadn’t been able to find another exit from the stadium.

No matter how rich or well-connected someone was, anyone who wanted to see the Tigers still had to enter the stadium through the ground floor. For a moment, Jim had wondered if she had a helicopter to make their escape but of course, that wouldn’t work with dragons as an enemy.

Still, they had her. Constance led him to an exit with Beanpole nonchalantly in pursuit. His height enabled him to keep his teammate effortlessly in sight and he even had a good cover story. One of the Tigers had emerged to sign autographs—no doubt against his Coach’s wishes and also no doubt to the delight of the fans—and the tall spotter used the opportunity to gain ground on his quarry. He’d even managed to get one of the player’s cards.

The woman didn’t seem to realize that she was leading both men exactly where Jim needed the other man to go. Despite the extravagant measures to evade the others, they might actually have her.

The baseball player vanished into a hallway leading to the locker room, and Jim expected to move past the corridor and toward the exit. Unfortunately, it seemed that once again, he’d underestimated this meeting.

Constance led him directly into the hallway leading to the locker room and past a guard who nodded at her and said nothing at all.

The Wonderkid was allowed to pass so he did. He stole a backward glance to see the guard holding Beanpole as well as the fans at the end of the hall.

They had been thoroughly thwarted.

Still, he wore a wire. This wasn’t over, especially since he transmitted everything he said and most of what Constance said provided that she was in range.

“We’re almost there,” she said as the crowd roared. The Tigers had scored and the noise made the game seem that much closer. He wracked his brain as to whether he’d seen anyone on the field when they’d cut through. If the Tigers had scored two runs and tied the game, it was virtually guaranteed that the halls of the stadium would be empty as every black-and-orange-blooded Detroiter would watch the game to make sure their team won. He merely couldn’t be sure if that would work in his favor or against it.

“Are we close to implementing your plan?” he asked in the hope that he might glean something from the woman.

“Our plan has many parts and you’re sure to be instrumental in it,” Constance said as she led him past the door to the locker room and down another hall.

He followed but decided to press for more concrete details. “But what are you trying to do? How can I help?”

They were outside now and stood beneath two massive tiger heads holding baseballs in their mouths that, in turn, stood beneath the two massive tigers that prowled the top of the structure.

Absolutely no one was anywhere even close to them despite the stadium being filled to absolute capacity.

His gaze settled on a homeless man—the only other living soul—who stumbled toward him.

Jim thought it good that the space was empty. He was on the wrong side of the stadium for Butters to be able to see him, but the lack of crowds meant he’d be easier to locate.

“You got some change sir?” the newcomer asked.

“No, sorry,” he said almost by reflex, turned away from the man, and focused on Constance. It was a Detroiter’s reflex to ignore the destitute when they were busy and a bad habit as it cost him dearly in that moment.

He sensed movement and spun as the homeless man drew an electrified baton from beneath the blankets he wore. Jim reacted instantly but the baton struck his hastily raised hands and his muscles seized.

Still, he was a trained cop and could overcome the stun attack and overpower his assailant.

That might have been true if Constance hadn’t used that opportunity to kick him in the back of the knee.

The Wonderkid landed hard and her accomplice struck him again.

The last thing he saw was the woman standing over him, four massive tigers surrounding her like heralds of his own demise.

“Thanks for volunteering, Mr. Washington. We have no doubt you’ll be a great help to us.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Damn it, we need to move now!” Kristen roared as soon as Jim’s audio feed went dead.

Brockton jumped, ready to obey her because of how much of her aura she had pumped into him.

Windlock shook his head. “We can’t. Not until we have confirmation from the humans. Two dragons at this point would ruin everything.”

“Then I’ll go myself.”

“Not if you value your friend’s life.”

She might have rushed off anyway but her phone rang. The display confirmed it was Drew and she answered quickly.

“Those motherfucking, piece of shit, lizard-fuck dinosaur-killers got Jim! They fucking got him!”

“Are you sure?” she asked, even though she had known it was true the minute the audio from the wire went dead.

“We stuck close but lost them when we couldn’t enter the more expensive seating area. Beanpole had them in the end, but he lost them too. Goddammit. I think they’re better connected than we fucking realized. No, Hernandez, I’m not fucking proud of my language. Shut your goddamn mouth!”

Well, that answered her as yet unspoken question as to whether the team had been reunited.

“Drew, I’ll come in. We need to go after Jim.”

“Negative, Steel Dragon. If we knew where he was, I’d be all for it, but we don’t have a damn clue. If you take to the sky now, they’ll know this was a play and they’ll go deep into hiding.”

Kristen looked at Windlock, who maintained a passive expression. It was obvious he agreed.

“What about the tracker and the mic?” the team leader asked, his voice suddenly hopeful.

“It’s dead. I have no idea what that means other than that we can’t track him.”

“Goddammit. This means those dragon-killers have a cop as a hostage. Shit!” Drew roared. Kristen had never heard him so furious.

“Tell them to collect any video footage and return to base. We’ll review it and go from there. We need to know if they knew about our device or if it was an accident that turned it off. For all we know, Jim might have ditched it,” Windlock said.

“He will not betray us,” she told him furiously.

“I intended to say to protect himself.” The dragon held his hands up to protest his innocence.

“Windlock wants you guys here with the video footage but I think you should keep looking for Jim,” she told Drew and really hoped he’d agree with her.

“No, he’s right. Jim knew what he was getting into. He can take care of himself—he’s the damn Wonderkid, after all—and besides, he’s probably too valuable for them to kill him. A former-Marine cop with connections to the Steel Dragon? He’d be a perfect asset,” he said and sounded dejected.

Kristen clenched her teeth, but she didn’t know what else to do. It made her mad—no, it made her furious—but they were right. There simply wasn’t anything they could do right now.

While they waited for the team to arrive with the footage, she went to the old gym in the vague hope that she might blow off some steam. It wasn’t a good idea and by the time the others returned, she’d already destroyed the punching bag and two resistance machines.

“Damn, girl, you’ve been working out,” Hernandez said. Kristen promised to replace the gear and the woman only laughed. “God knows I’ve blown shit up when I’m angry.”

She nodded. It was good to have someone who understood. Windlock and Drew were both annoyingly professional. Kristen appreciated that they were already pouring over the video footage but was so pissed that they’d all suspected this might have been a trap and had still walked into it.

The exercise helped somewhat and her anger had dissipated slightly when Keith burst into the gym and told them Drew had found something.

They gathered in an office with a bank of computers.

“What do we have?” she said.

“Not much,” the team leader said, “but we know where Jim went.”

A screen displayed a frozen image from a camera at the front of Comerica Park. At first, she had difficulty identifying where it was and saw only a sidewalk and street.

“Is that a tiger tail?” Keith asked and pointed to an odd white shape that seemed to float in the frame.

Drew nodded. “This is the camera from the front, the only one we found with anything, and well, even this—”

“Play the clip,” Kristen ordered.

Drew nodded and obliged her. In the footage, Constance led Jim to the front of the building. They seemed to be talking about something but of course, the camera didn’t pick up audio.

Windlock pointed out that they had the audio for this point but it didn’t reveal any clues.

A homeless man moved past Jim, then withdrew a stun stick and struck him with it. Constance kicked him in the back of the knee, her accomplice delivered another strike with his weapon, and the woman stood over him and said something.

“We think perhaps that weapon disabled our tech. The audio is garbled at that point,” Windlock explained.

A van pulled up and Kristen managed a smile. Maybe they’d get another plate. Whether it was the same or different, it would be a clue.

But Jim’s kidnappers didn’t allow them that advantage.

The man dressed in rags shed the blankets he wore and climbed up so his face was directly in the camera. He mouthed the words, “Fuck you, fucking dragons,” and sprayed the lens with paint.

“For fuck’s sake!” Kristen roared. “What is the point of this?”

“The point is they obviously had a plan,” the inspector said and sounded as cool as she was angry.

“Yeah, so they outsmarted us. How is that a good thing?” she demanded.

“They didn’t outsmart us, though, not really,” Brockton said. “They out-planned us, sure, and obviously had an escape route ready to go. They intended to evade us and leave us grasping at their tail.”

“They even had access to the locker room.” Beanpole sounded flabbergasted. She realized then that he really was a baseball fan. He hadn’t acted when he’d attempted that autograph. Perhaps that meant Constance wouldn’t have recognized him.

“Exactly!” Brockton exclaimed and sounded far too excited. “See, they out-planned us but that doesn’t mean they’re smarter. They merely had more time to work it out.”

“How is that a good thing?” Drew asked.

Brockton settled his attention on the brawniest member of SWAT. “I’m getting to that. See, if they have plans, it means their plans can go awry. So far, both their attack on Dragon SWAT HQ and their kidnapping have been elaborate. My thought is that if we can manage to determine what they plan before they do it and throw a wrench in it, they might be screwed. They seem like the type of people who need every detail to go their way, which makes sense, given how they’re trying to out-do dragons.”

What he’d said had some merit, but it didn’t seem like enough for Kristen. She told them all as much and Drew and Keith vowed to pour through the footage and the audio from Jim’s wire to find any more clues they could.

She thanked them but realized she was still pissed. “First Dragon SWAT and now Jim. Who else will these bastards hurt?” That only made her realize how worried she’d been about Stonequest and Heartsbane. She looked at Windlock, who obviously understood what she was thinking.

“Call us if you find anything else, even if you think it’s nothing,” the inspector said before the two dragons left to visit her injured friends.

When they reached the hospital, Windlock asked for the dragon surgeon who had operated on Heartsbane and Stonequest. Kristen knew the man probably had information about their injuries and even details about the bomb but she couldn’t bring herself to care enough to talk to him.

No, that wasn’t accurate. She did care but she trusted the other dragon enough to know that he would get all the information out of the doctor she would have been able to, plus more. Besides, she realized she had far more important reasons to come to the hospital.

She asked a nurse to show her to the Intensive Care Unit. At first, the woman gave her something of a run-around about how only family could visit but her Dragon SWAT badge plus the slightest flex of her aura were enough to convince the staff member that she should let the angry redhead through.

They proceeded to a room, where the nurse explained that the door would remain locked, no matter what Kristen did to her. It surprised her that the woman had obviously been aware of the dragon aura she had used on her but she simply nodded when told she was welcome to look through the window for as long as she wished.

Kristen hardly even heard her. Her gaze was locked on her friends inside the room.

Both were in beds with their upper bodies slightly elevated and were either asleep or unconscious. For some reason, that struck her especially hard. The last time she’d seen Stonequest, he’d been able to talk. For some reason, to see him resting humanized the dragon to her.

It was merely the whole effect, she decided.

She noted the bandages—Stonequest’s on his chest, Heartsbane’s practically everywhere. IVs were inserted into their arms and catheters protruded from under the sheets. Both were wired to a variety of sensors and resembled regular people who’d barely managed to survive a horrible car crash. She had never seen them—or any dragon, for that matter—look so frail. Their color was all wrong, and although she couldn’t see their wounds, she couldn’t help but think of them in the same bloody condition in which she’d last seen them. She told herself they were past the worst of their injuries. If they were in there resting, the doctors surely expected them to get better, but it was hard to see all the same.

It was all so frustrating. Since Kristen had become a cop, she’d felt her confidence—and later, dragon powers—had only grown. She had expected to reach a point where her people simply wouldn’t get hurt because she would be able to protect them.

And now, Jim was missing. He’d given so much to her and she’d let him be snatched like a mouse taken by a hawk. Seeing Stonequest and Heartsbane only added to the feeling of not being able to help the people she cared about—her people.

That actually brought a tremulous smile to her mouth. When did I start thinking about Stonequest this way? She tried to pinpoint the moment and failed. Or Heartsbane? Now that was a funny thought. Her old sense of gallows humor—honed to a keen edge when working on Detroit SWAT—forced a laugh from her. The idea of Heartsbane’s reaction to her pining for her on the other side of this window was simply too funny.

Although maybe it wasn’t really that odd. After all, Stonequest had said that when she’d been falsely sent to prison, it was Heartsbane who had wanted to free her. Loyalty, friendship, or whatever it was that made people care so much about others that it physically ached was an interesting thing.

Kristen had always felt it. She’d gotten into fights for her brother Brian too many times to count. With Detroit SWAT, she’d risked bullets for her team because the idea of them getting hurt was far worse than any pain a bullet could cause—and no one knew better than her how much the damn things could actually hurt.

She wondered if Stonequest felt this way about everyone on his team. Maybe that was why he’d been so adamant that she join Dragon SWAT. Perhaps he’d started to feel that ache of loyalty and desire to protect her, to make sure that if she was hurt, at least it would be on his watch so he could do something about it. She knew Stonequest treated his team like family and possibly more than family. He was committed to them, which made it hurt all the more that she had let him get shot.

It was possible that it was a dragon characteristic—this desire to protect others—but even the briefest thoughts about Drew made her realize that it wasn’t.

He had treated her as someone he needed to protect and help, especially before she’d known she was a dragon. But really, even after she’d come into her powers, he’d continued to try to protect her. Why else had he worked so hard to make sure she could use her human form as successfully as she could?

Drew had recognized that he couldn’t protect her in the same ways she could protect the rest of the team—he couldn’t deflect bullets like she could, for one thing—so he’d found ways to make sure she could protect herself. It was almost the same thing her parents had done for. Her mom had said they’d taught her to stand so she could run, even if it meant away from them. Did Drew, Stonequest, and her mom all share that same desire?

In that moment, Kristen realized that she’d looked at dragon protectiveness the wrong way. She’d thought of it as the possessive nature of dragons, but everyone felt it, really. Whatever the differences between dragons and humans, there was a correlation between how much someone thought they could do to help another person and how much they felt that feeling and desire to care for another.

That’s why her mom—and indeed, all parents—felt so strongly about helping their kids. There was no relationship with a more obvious power imbalance. Babies—even dragon babies like she had been—simply couldn’t survive without the tender love and care of their parents. There was something to that. That was why teachers were willing to take bullets for kids and why firefighters were so willing to rush into a burning building.

Maybe that was why she had always felt such a desire to help others, even once she’d joined the world of dragons. Even in dragon society, she was powerful and could turn her skin to steel. She’d always felt a desire to protect those who needed it, and as her powers had grown, the number of people she’d felt obligated to protect grew as well.

She’d felt like she should have been able to do something to protect Heartsbane. Thanks to her training, she’d recognized that something was wrong with the bomb. If she’d only said something sooner, maybe her friend wouldn’t be in this situation, fighting for her life in a way that she couldn’t even begin to help.

All Kristen could do now was hope. That was all that was left. She was glad she had that at least, but it was hard to have nothing else. It had been a long time since she’d been reduced to that level.

The situation was also a reminder about how many people lived on nothing else. Refugees, cancer patients, and the survivors of wars they hadn’t started all had that in common—hope. It was a desperate last wish, a desire to help those one couldn’t otherwise help.

More than anything, she wanted to dismiss the feeling. Her nature drove her to do something, but there was nothing at the moment. Still, she couldn’t stay there forever either. So, when Windlock texted her, she said goodbye to her friends, vowed to do her best to help them, and wished for them to get better.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kristen had reached the main desk on the floor she was on when Windlock caught up to her.

“It’s good you checked in on your people but we need to go.”

“Did something change?” she asked as he followed her to the elevator.

“We have a destination,” he said when they stopped to wait. “I’ll tell you more once we have privacy.”

“Good.” She pushed the down arrow and her companion responded with a small smile before he pressed the up arrow instead.

She winced at her mistake. “Sorry. I guess I’m still used to going to the first floor of a building to leave. Even at Dragon SWAT HQ, I sometimes leave that way. And that has—had—a roof designed for takeoffs and landings.”

An elevator door opened—and thankfully, indicated it was heading up—and the two stepped inside.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Windlock said kindly. “Your life experience with humans is one of the most fascinating and valuable things about you as far as I’m concerned. It changes one’s perspective on being inside a building to think that the only way out is from the ground floor. It must be a constant state of dread for humans.”

“I wouldn’t say constant but as a cop, the ground floor is a place of concern. That’s where people go in and out unless they’re ninjas.” Kristen chuckled.

“Or mages,” he added. That stopped her laughter. It was a reminder that she had to be more creative in her assumptions. She had somehow been stuck on the idea that they were tracking humans, but she knew that at the very least, Constance had some mastery of magic. It wouldn’t do to assume the perpetrators they were tracking would have the same limitations as a regular team of criminals.

The elevator dinged and they stepped onto the top floor of the hospital. Windlock located a stairwell labeled with a glowing, red, exit sign, as always. Kristen liked that at least they’d both looked for the same indicators to leave the hospital. Exit meant exit. It was merely that dragons went up and humans went down.

They took the stairs to the roof, stepped into the warm afternoon, and transformed into their dragon forms. It occurred to her that she felt like she was transforming out of her true form and into a kind of temporary one, while Windlock had to feel the opposite. He—as well as every other dragon on the earth besides her—possibly thought of his dragon body as his default body and the human shape as the false form.

It was also possible that dragons viewed both forms as equal parts of their identities. After all, a dragon’s human face didn’t change any more than their dragon features did. Both bodies were immutable. She realized it was possible that they actually did view both as equally valid.

The only thing all dragons seemed to have in common was that they viewed themselves as more powerful than humans. This was true in either form. As dragons, they were obviously god-like in the scope of their powers and in their human shape, they were as well, with even the weakest of them possessing superhuman speed and strength. Kristen realized she felt this way too, especially with her steel skin. Humans weren’t less than her but they did need to be protected in a way that dragons didn’t. Was that feeling the beginning of where the social inequality of the two species came from?

If it was, all that might be thrown out the window soon as humans actively tried to murder dragons.

They flew higher into the sky, above skyscrapers, and into the clouds. It was there, far away from anyone who could possibly be listening, that Windlock finally spoke.

“We have their target,” he said but offered no further explanation at first.

Kristen craned her long dragon neck to look at the investigator. “Just like that?”

“There’s a ball planned for tonight.”

“Wonderful. Do you think the mages are throwing themselves a party?”

He chuckled. “Not at all. It’s a ball for dragons.”

“Oh.” She was surprised as she hadn’t heard anything about this. Normally, that kind of oversight didn’t bother her but it surprised her all the same. “I guess you’re more connected than me. I hadn’t heard about that.”

Windlock chuckled again. “I hadn’t either. I assume it’s simply part of being a cop. We never get invited to any of the fancy parties. Stonequest sometimes manages it as he’s better at politics than most of us, but it’s rare that I am included.”

“Well, if cops aren’t on the list, who do they invite?”

“This one’s fairly exclusive, actually. It’s only for the oldest and most powerful dragons in North America.”

“So you’re saying it's invitation-only?” she asked and recalled the last dragon party she attended when she’d brought her human team. They had probably amended the rules for their parties after that.

“Beyond that. Most dragons don’t even know about it. They don’t broadcast these things to most of dragon kind, let alone humanity.”

“How did you find out about it then?” she asked, curious at how the rules of dragon society treated this particular dragon.

“Actually, I have you to thank. We followed up with Amythist Skyjewel after you saved her life at her mansion. She was grateful for the opportunity to talk and really does have a soft spot for mages. Brockton buttered her up, so she let us know she had received an invitation.”

“Are you saying she only received it today?” Kristen asked. It seemed very last-minute for the most powerful dragons on the continent.

“I asked Brockton to make a few calls. You might have noticed he’s extremely good at getting humans and dragons to lower their defenses.”

“It’s something I noticed you don’t try too hard to do.”

“What’s the human expression? Good cop, bad cop?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Kristen shifted her path to follow Windlock. He seemed to be heading somewhere downtown, but she couldn’t even begin to guess where. It was still early so obviously, the ball wouldn’t have started yet. “So, your guess is that our group of humans found out?”

“It’s what makes the most sense,” the investigator said. “I spoke to the surgeon as well as some healers who have worked on your team members. Stonequest should be up and walking perhaps tomorrow. Without a doubt, he won’t be at full capacity yet, but we both know that won’t stop him from getting into a fight. They think Heartsbane should be better the day after or maybe two more if they can manage to keep them there.”

Kristen immediately relaxed. “I’m glad they’ll be all right. When I saw them, they both looked so frail.”

“It’s always odd to see an injured dragon. We rely more on our powers than I think even we realize. But now that all the shrapnel has been removed, they should heal fine. Still, with wounds like that, it takes time and for a while, dragon powers are depleted. That is one reason why Emerald and Lumos cannot join us—they haven’t recovered their full powers or strength. Aside from that, with the threat to dragon SWAT headquarters, they are needed there to at least back Timeflash up. Her strength isn’t combat as much as it is clean-up.”

“And you think our group of people know about their status?” she asked.

“I think it’s virtually guaranteed. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve pushed to get information from that hospital. It would be difficult to infiltrate, of course, but they’ve proven that they are well-connected and have resources to spare.”

“But how would the people find out about the ball?”

“My guess is through mages. They probably have a good number working with them. Some surely know the mages who will work at the party. I think the existence of this ball is what spurred our killers to send the bomb when they did. In actual fact, dragon SWAT being injured instead of dead might make it an even better opportunity. More dead dragons raise alarms but injured ones—well, the powerful have a habit of looking the other way every chance they can.”

“And you think these rich and powerful dragons will simply let us go in and frisk all their mages?”

“No, and we’ll have to be more subtle than that, obviously.”

“But how are we supposed to even make it past the door? I thought you said it was invitation-only?”

“It is, which is yet another reason why dragon SWAT cannot join us. The elite wouldn’t stand for it, and even if they did, their presence would immediately raise warning flags. But I’m an investigator. There aren’t many of us in the world, let alone this continent. They’ll let me in if I arrive. It’d be bad manners not to. I might tell the Dragon Council next time I see them, which would be horribly embarrassing for anyone who cares about these things.”

“What about me? I’m not an investigator.”

“What kind of fancy party wouldn’t allow people to bring a guest? If there are no new faces to show off how exclusive they are, what’s the point in all this?”

“So you’re saying I’ll go as your plus one.”

“Believe me, it’ll be an improvement over my usual date to these affairs.”

“Do you mean Brockton?”

“I have a feeling you’ll look better in your formal gown than he does in his damn bright blue tuxedo.”

Kristen snorted. “My formal gown? Yeah, obviously, I don’t have one of those. How about we simply go in uniform? That might scare these assholes away and save the party.”

“No, no. I’d much rather the assassins think they have an opportunity to kill us. If we don’t catch them tonight, they’ll merely bide their time and attack again, maybe after they’ve done a better job of eliminating SWAT. You’ll need to dress the part.”

“Well, like I said, I don’t have anything that could be considered a formal gown. Hell, I don’t think I have a bra that doesn’t have sweat stains on it.”

Windlock didn’t seem surprised at that. “That’s fine. It’s also the reason why I felt I should ask. Your record doesn’t indicate that you’re the type anyway.”

“Okay. Well then, why are we heading downtown? Isn’t it too early to get to the ball? Plus, we’re underdressed.”

“We aren’t going to the ball yet. First, I’ll take you shopping.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The two dragons plunged past the skyscrapers and landed in front of a storefront in downtown Detroit. They transformed in a blink as people walked past and tried not to stare. Kristen marveled at how much faster she could transform than before. When she’d first begun to exercise her dragon powers, it had taken her almost a minute to change from dragon to human or visa-versa. Now, she could do it almost without thinking and in only a few seconds.

Windlock led her inside. She couldn’t believe they had actually walked into Le Clothier. It held unrivaled status as the fanciest clothing store in Detroit. Real people didn’t shop there, at least that was her impression. That wasn’t to say humans didn’t wear the clothes in this store, merely not regular humans.

Pop divas from Detroit’s Motown past wore gowns from Le Clothier and hip-hop moguls wore their suits. Athletes from the Lions or the Tigers occasionally sported a tuxedo from Le Clothier—although often with sports commentators on the sports cable networks lambasting the person for wasting their money on such ostentation. Previously, she had thought it was too much—and honestly insulting—when a sports commentator went on a tirade about how an athlete wasted their money. After all, it was their money and simply because they were athletes didn’t mean they didn’t know how to spend it.

That’s what she had thought until she saw the prices.

“Windlock…” Kristen hissed a horrified protest through her teeth. “This dress is thirty thousand dollars.”

The dragon shrugged casually and looked down his nose at the garment. “Let’s find something fresher. That was in style a year ago, which is why it's marked down. They’ll sell it to a costume maker for a movie or something.”

“Can’t we—” She unfortunately managed to say nothing more as two tailors stepped forward and began to fawn over their new clients.

She might have called regular people shop-keepers or salesmen, but these two were so obviously committed to their craft that she couldn’t help but think of them as couturiers.

“Darling, darling, darling,” the woman said. “It has been too long.” She spoke in slightly accented English—French perhaps, or maybe Italian? The word “cosmopolitan” popped into her head and stuck.

“You know I don’t go in for this nonsense, Ell,” Windlock replied brusquely.

“And yet here you are, Investigator, here you are!” The woman wore black pants, a black turtleneck with black buttons, and black heels that Kristen wouldn’t have ever dared wear. Ell’s hair was short, longer than a buzz but not by much. She was breathtakingly beautiful in an austere kind of way. The only color on her body came from the yellow measuring tape around her neck and a line of silvery pins with yellow balls on their end that were stuck into her shirt in a vertical line with the buttons.

The man was almost the complete opposite. His long hair was braided in what Kristen thought as a very feminine style, yet she had to admit it looked good on him. Instead of black, he wore a purple suit encrusted with sequins. His shoes looked like they cost more than her car. “Please, my love, let me take your overshirt,” he said and extended a hand toward her.

“All I have beneath it is an undershirt and bra,” she protested.

“Pay no attention to Vee,” Ell proclaimed. “He is as harmless as a chai latte and as accommodating as a feather bed. We only wish to take your measurements. Come, darling, come!” She clapped and apparently expected her to strip without embarrassment.

“It’s only—" She glanced hastily at Windlock. He had to understand that they’d been working. It wasn’t like she was exactly fresh.

He winked at her and removed his coat and shirt. Although his undershirt was worn, neither Ell nor Vee seemed to care or even notice.

Kristen forced herself to relax. Their job was to make clothes for the fabulously rich so they’d probably seen all kinds of weird stuff.

Finally, she removed her shirt to reveal her slightly stained white tanktop. Neither of the hovering attendants even glanced at it. The woman simply measured her arm length, waist, bust, hips, inseam, plus a hundred more measurements she hadn’t even known existed. She’d never been much of a dress girl and more of an athletic pants and sports bra kind of person.

“So tell me, my darlings, tell me. What is the event and more importantly, when are you expected to look as fabulous as we will make you look?” Ell asked.

“I hate to do this to you, Ell, but we’re crashing an invitation-only dragon’s ball tonight.”

“Tonight? Ha!” Vee blurted.

“Hush, you little bitch, hush!” the woman chided. “That is more time than the investigator normally gives us. This won’t be easy, though, not at all. That ball is hush-hush, you know. Only those in the know actually know anything, darling.”

“Will that be a problem?” Kristen asked.

“More like a challenge,” Vee replied. He also spoke in slightly accented English, but his was even harder to place than Ell’s. Her choices ranged between Hungarian and Vietnamese, so she obviously didn’t have a clue where he was from.

“It only means that we cannot make you something from scratch, my darling, and for that, I am truly sorry.” The woman sounded heartbroken. “You will have to select one of these rags and we will attempt to make it worthy of your exquisite frame. Vee!” she snapped.

“Yes, my love?”

“Why did no one tell me that the Steel Dragon had such perfect breasts?”

Vee scoffed and continued to measure Windlock.

“How did you know about this ball?” Kristen asked.

“Windlock, your friend insults us,” Ell whined.

“Are we under investigation?” Vee asked.

“Half the dragons at the party will wear Le Clothier,” the investigator explained. “The other half will wish they did. Ell always knows everything there is to know about parties.”

Vee showed him two suit jackets and he nodded at one.

Kristen nodded and let herself be measured and fawned over for a while. The two treated them like royalty. Ell brought her dress after dress, nodded and clucked in approval when she liked one and cursed when she was less than approving, regardless of how polite she tried to be.

“Rags, darling, all rags. Let me find you something more to your taste. I swear much of this should be burned but surely we can find something to satisfy your absolutely exquisite tastes.”

Fortunately, it seemed the duo had a natural ability to know what she liked. She didn’t know what she wanted other than the practical aspects. It had to cover her legs so she could strap a pistol to her thigh, and she wanted it fairly open on the top so she could move quickly if needed. Ell seemed to understand even better than she did herself. Each time Kristen said yes and no, the dresses began to follow a certain style that covered her legs, while most revealed her shoulders as well.

When the woman brought out one with a bodice encrusted with gorgeous beadwork, Kristen couldn’t help but grin at it.

“Oh, thank God. Thank God, darling. I’m so happy we’ve found something that might actually suit you!” Ell gushed.

Kristen nodded. It was a beautiful gown, the color of Lake Superior, rich and blue and deep. The glass or jewels—or diamonds, although she didn’t know—worked into the front made her think of ice floating in cold water. She wasn’t really one for fashion but even she could see that the color would look great on her and contrast perfectly with her red hair.

Once she’d made her selection, Windlock chose a tuxedo with a vest and bowtie that matched the color of her dress.

“If she is your plus one, it will do to match,” Vee said and nodded in approval.

“How do you two know so much about this party?” Kristen asked, glanced at Windlock, and flexed her aura to convey caution.

Vee noticed the glance between them “We would never say a thing, Lady Steel,” he said—his obsequious veneer cracked to reveal terror hidden beneath. In an instant, though, his usual expression was restored and he continued to work. She didn’t want to push it as he seemed fine again, but she found she no longer enjoyed the treatment they were given. It was almost a relief when Ell brought them each a glass of champagne, apologized, and vanished into the back room once she told them they’d need no more than an hour to get everything done.

“You can trust them,” the investigator said after a moment and once they were alone. “They only mentioned the party because I mentioned it first. They’re very good about that.”

“How can you be sure?”

He shrugged. “You saw how Vee reacted. They know their place.”

“Their place?” Kristen demanded and let her aura get a little away from her.

“They know we’re dragons. I’ve been here before and it’s not like people don’t know your face, Lady Steel, especially people who know dragon culture.”

“And that’s enough to what? Keep them tame?”

Windlock frowned, apparently bewildered. “It’s natural for someone to act that way around a being that can eat them or incinerate their entire livelihood.”

“But that’s horrible.”

“They live very well because they know how to keep dragon business to themselves. I assure you, they’re not a leak. If they were, dragon parties would be crashed more often all the time. They don’t even tell other dragons about these parties. They know if they did, they’d lose their place and the trust they’ve earned. I don’t see how these human assassins could have used them.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but don’t you think it’s problematic that you trust them only because they’re afraid of being eaten?”

“That’s not why I trust them. They are very well connected and understand dragon culture extremely well.”

“And their place at the bottom of it.”

Windlock smiled. Kristen thought she’d pissed him off but once again, he only seemed amused. “Here I was, thinking that of all people, Vee and Ell had it good, but I’m learning otherwise.”

“How could you think living in fear is good?”

He indicated the area behind the counter with a quick glance and she understood his point. She’d let herself grow too loud.

“I always assumed all humans lived in fear. I honestly thought that was the natural condition, given how powerful dragons are and our less than illustrious past with mankind,” he continued quietly.

“It’s a little different to be concerned about getting caught up in the destruction of a dragon duel and having to face them every day, keep their secrets, and hope everyone likes the clothes they make.”

“I see that now,” Windlock said. Kristen could almost see him trying to internalize all this. It was yet another reminder of how different she was from the rest of dragon kind. She’d thought he would understand it as he worked with a mage and spent his time hunting dragons, but his job really was to protect dragons, not people. It seemed he’d given less thought to how people lived than Stonequest had.

Still, it was something that he at least tried to do, she decided and reminded herself humans were also quick to assume things and slow to accept change. She thought of Jim and his belief that all dragons were nothing but rabid killers until she’d proved otherwise by her actions. His change had come about because they worked together and he’d faced it every day. Perhaps he might never have adjusted his perceptions if not for that. The investigator might not wholly subscribe to what she believed was correct, but he was better than all the dragons they would meet tonight—the dragons whose lives they were supposed to save.

For a moment, she felt resentful that all this effort was simply to protect those who seemed to epitomize everything that was wrong with dragon-human relations. Practicality won through, however. They couldn’t change if they were dead, for one thing, and she wasn’t like Constance, who was willing to sacrifice lives—dragons, humans, and mages—to pursue her agenda.

Kristen forgot about that when Vee came out and gave Windlock a leather folder.

He nodded in thanks, accepted the folder, and opened it.

“Jesus, Windlock, that’s a bill for over a hundred thousand dollars!”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I guess it is.” He retrieved a credit card, slipped it into the folder, and put it on the counter before he sat.

“I can’t afford that. It’s more than I make in a year.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not expected to spend your own money on work. I have an expense account for such things. I won’t send you a bill or anything.” He chuckled and she had the feeling that maybe Brockton had once had a similar reaction.

“It might as well be a zillion dollars. I think that’s more money than I’ve spent on all my clothes in my entire life.”

“Dragons spend that much all the time.”

“I was raised human, remember? Let me choose a different dress. The one I saw in the beginning was maybe a quarter of that price.”

Windlock waved her protest aside. “That bill was for your dress and my suit. Yours was only about seventy K.”

“Seventy thousand dollars is still way too much money.”

“Not for the expense account. Besides, if you choose a different one, you’ll make Ell feel bad. She’s always proud to select something nice for a client.”

“I only…it’s so much money.”

“You’re really making a big deal over nothing,” Windlock said firmly. “To put it in perspective, a dragon duel can cost millions in damages. Hell, seventy thousand isn’t even a nice car. Plus, credit cards have a funny way of making numbers look big. That dress wouldn’t cost more than a hundred gold coins or a small chest of silver.”

“Do you even hear yourself? Gold coins? A chest of silver?” Kristen was flabbergasted.

“That’s where dragons have historically held their wealth. We only use banks and credit and all that to make it more convenient for people. You saw Icebreeze’s mansion. You know he could afford a dress like that.”

“Yeah, I guess so. And I suppose it’s good that at least Vee and Ell make good money.”

“Correct. Trickle-down economics, right?”

Kristen didn’t think she’d ever heard a better argument against trickle-down economics than that. How was wealth supposed to trickle down when one group of people could afford clothes that cost tens of thousands of dollars while people only a few blocks away went hungry? While it worked for Vee and Ell, they both obviously knew that if they pissed off the wealthy dragons—hell, if they poked them with a pin—their livelihood would be over.

“It’s merely shocking to see you spend that much and not even flinch.”

“It’s only money,” Windlock replied.

She shook her head and remained silent, although the words echoed in her head. Only money. It was only money. Maybe to dragons, those sums were only money, merely another chest of silver, another few gems, or pieces of gold, but to humans, that was more than most people spent on the down payment on their house. It was a college education and more than many would ever have in their bank accounts—even more than most people’s retirement fund. For a dragon, it was an outfit for one night.

No, not only the dragons, she reminded herself. There was the human elite, that small but powerful echelon of society that thought nothing about spending money like it was water. They also knew that so many people lived on the breadline or were actually starving. Were they any better than the dragons who didn’t have the same moral obligations to their own kind?

After a few more minutes, the duo emerged with the clothing. The two dragons retreated to dressing rooms, accompanied by Ell and Vee. Ell helped her dress, then wound a necklace around her neck that sparkled like the stars.

“Don’t lose that one, darling,” the woman said. “but with that dress and your breasts…” She sucked at her teeth and smiled.

Kristen had to admit that the fashion designer had done an amazing job. The dress fit her better than anything she’d worn before. The beadwork was amazing and the necklace complimented it perfectly. Between all the sparkles, she could understand why the attendant continued to compliment her chest. The fabric hung perfectly off her hips and yet didn’t cling to her legs, which allowed her to easily hide a gun.

“Please tell me you like it, darling. It would be criminal to think I’ve dressed you in something you hate. We’d burn it, of course—burn it to ash—and get you something better.”

“I love it.” She at least felt honest saying that.

“Excellent, darling, excellent. Now, let us show Windlock. I would like to see his jaw hit the floor if you don’t mind.”

Kristen nodded and followed Ell out into the main room. The investigator looked great in his tuxedo, but everyone understood that she was the most beautiful person in Le Clothier, perhaps the most beautiful to come through in a while.

The dragon whistled appreciatively. “Do me a favor?” he asked.

“What?” Her tone was a little sharp as she hadn’t appreciated the whistle.

“Turn to steel.”

That was rather unusual for a catcall, so she obliged him.

The combined sharp intake of breath from all those present made her look in the mirror. Her steel skin gleamed like chrome while the gems on her neck and beads on her dress seemed more vital and vibrant. The hue of her skin reflected the blue of the dress and she smiled. She really did look like something out of this world and her transformed flesh tone was beyond striking. There was no disputing the fact that she’d make quite an impression. Still, there was one tweak necessary.

Kristen shook her head and changed her hair from steel to its natural red color.

Windlock smiled. Vee and Ell gasped audibly.

“Perfection, darling. Absolute perfection,” the woman gushed.

“A goddess. We have dressed a goddess!” Vee added triumphantly.

“Thank you. I knew we could count on Le Clothier,” Windlock said.

“Always, darling, always. Now, we have an appointment and you know how it is. We can’t reveal these things too early. Clients don’t like their dresses to be seen before they should be seen. That’s simply how it is.”

“No problem. Steel, do you want to wear that to the station and watch your human friends’ faces when they see what real clothes look like? We need to go to Detroit SWAT next.”

“God, no!” Kristen blanched at the thought of it. “I guess this is fine at a party…uh, I mean obviously, it’s more than fine.” Almost seventy thousand dollars more than fine, she thought but she didn’t say it. “But I can’t wear this to the station. The force would never let me live it down. I’ll change into my uniform, thanks.”

“But of course,” Ell said and led her to the dressing room. “Although there is nothing wrong with turning heads,” she added as she helped her out of the gown and gave her the Dragon SWAT uniform.

“No, I guess not, but my business is cracking heads, not turning them.”

“And we’re thankful to have you, Lady Steel,” the woman said and her accent slipped into something any Detroiter would have been proud of. “It’s an honor to have helped you get ready for whatever you plan to do. I and Vincent are big supporters. We’re proud that you are from our city. I can’t wait to tell everyone about all this.”

“It’s confidential,” Kristen reminded her, shocked that the woman had maintained such a complete persona for so long that even Windlock appeared to have been fooled.

“I know, I know. By can’t wait, I mean we won’t tell a soul for years. But if you can change things, of course, maybe we won’t have to wait for decades.”

Kristen thanked Ell once more, then said farewell in the lobby. She looked at Vee—Vincent?—and wondered if he also played a role for the benefit of his dragon patrons. She felt a surge of confidence in the two tailors who were Le Clothier. If they could deceive so many dragons, maybe people really did have a chance at equality.

She also felt that the chances of Constance ferreting any information from them were slim. How frightening was a mage when one was expected to dress fire-breathing dragons?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The two dragons flew to the Detroit SWAT building to meet with the human contingent of their team. Hernandez noticed the dress bag right away but before she could demand that Kristen show it to her, Windlock asked about the status of the search.

Keith threw his hands up in frustration. “It isn’t going great. The first time we see the guy who hurt Jim is in that video we showed you guys. We managed to track Constance from when she first entered the stadium, but it doesn’t give us any clues.”

Drew scowled with visible displeasure. “She enters with a ticket and goes directly to where Jim is waiting.”

“There’s no way they let the entire thing happen unmonitored, though,” Butters said.

“Agreed,” Beanpole added and for once, his mild manner had given way to irritation.

The two of them—Butters and Beanpole—seemed particularly annoyed, but she understood why. After all, these two were their sniper and lookout. It was their job to maintain perimeters and keep their people safe and they’d failed. They appeared to take that failure personally and no one could blame them for that.

“My guess is they had at least another five people scattered around the arena, maybe ten,” Drew said. “I don’t see how else they could have watched all the areas. Obviously, they hid in Tigers and Bluejays gear—in plain sight as it were.”

“What about the audio from Officer Washington?” Windlock inquired. “Did you find any clues there?”

Again, Drew shook his head. “Nothing we don’t already know. Constance must have known they were being watched—or assumed it, anyway—and everything she said was fairly nebulous. The only thing we’re sure of is that they want you, Kristen.”

She sighed. That meant Jim being in danger was all her fault.

“And what did you two turn up?” Hernandez asked and stared pointedly at the dress bag.

“There’ll be a dragon ball tonight—extremely exclusive and by invitation only—on the roof of the Penobscot Building.”

“Penobscot?” Butters asked. “It doesn’t have a single roof—more like twenty.”

“And the dragons will have every single one of them done up fancier than the last,” Brockton exclaimed as he entered the room. “Penobscot? This will be great. Nothing gets the dragons going like Penobscot. Did you know the lobby was designed by dragons, too? Oh, and that roof! The very top will be the fanciest, of course, but the last party we went to there had different decadence at every level. My favorite was the—”

“Pixie brothel, yes. You say this any time we so much as fly past the building,” Windlock said to silence him.

“How can they have a party there?” Drew asked. “That’s an office building. People work there.”

“Not tonight they won’t. The building will be cleared long before the party begins. That’s protocol, anyway, but given the recent string of dragon murders, I’m sure dragon security won’t be lax. The only humans present will be the servants of the dragons attending and the catering staff.” The investigator peered around the room and made his meaning clear despite not having to say anything.

“Man, this is bullshit!” Keith whined before anyone else could speak. “The last time we went to a dragon party, we went as guests. Now, we have to pretend to be butlers?”

“We’ve done worse things in the line of duty.” Drew glared at his teammate as if willing him to shut up.

“This party will be a level above the one you attended, I can assure you of that. The last one was thrown in Kristen’s honor—almost a nod to humans—but this one will be the opposite. The only reason we’ll go is because of my rank, and it’s not like I was actually invited.”

“Do we have to be waiters, though?” Keith complained. “Is this because I didn’t wear a tux last time?”

“I think humans will be better at discerning human villainy than I will, and I think that would work best if you are all undercover.”

“Yeah, but—”

“That’s enough, Keith,” Drew said sharply.

The Rookie frowned but said nothing further.

“Does anyone else have problems with doing our job and saving lives?” the team leader asked.

Everyone shook their head except for Hernandez, who grinned. “I can’t really tell what’s in that bag of yours Kristen, but I see sparkles and have a feeling they’re not for Windlock. I wouldn’t miss seeing the Steel Dragon in a fancy gown for the world.”

“Good. It’s settled then. Until this evening, I want to keep looking for clues to help us to find Jim,” Drew said. “We have no leads and…” He didn’t have to finish. They all felt the weight of the reality that they’d let one of their own be taken. The team had been outsmarted, and the person most willing to sacrifice himself and risk his life was the one in danger because of it. It wasn’t something pleasant to think about.

“We haven’t turned up any leads either, but I’m reasonably certain that if these people attack tonight, we can use them to lead us to Officer Washington,” Windlock said.

The team leader nodded. “It makes more sense than anything else we have, but what if they don’t attack tonight?”

“Honestly?” the dragon responded. “I hope they don’t. I’d prefer this to be a false alarm. This event is…well, calling it exclusive doesn’t even begin to cover it. If these human assassins—or terrorists or whatever they are—decide to attack there, it means they’re far more confident than I had previously assumed. I’d prefer this to be a red heron, but I don’t think it is.”

“Red herring,” Keith corrected without thought.

Drew ignored the Rookie. “Okay, but why this event in particular?”

“Nothing else is scheduled in the next twenty-four hours,” the investigator explained. “We checked on Stonequest and Heartsbane. They should be recovered soon, and our original assumption was that they attacked SWAT to give them an opportunity to strike at something larger. This is larger.”

“What Windlock’s trying to say is that occasions like these are often the biggest events of the year, let alone the week. This will probably be the most spectacular party to happen in North America this month,” Brockton interjected.

“And you weren’t invited?” Hernandez asked.

The mage laughed before Windlock could answer. “Good ol’ Windlock is never invited to the nice ones. Believe it or not, dragons don’t like an investigator snooping around their fancy parties, which are supposed to be private affairs. They honestly have all kinds of morally gray shit going on. The last thing they want is Windlock writing them up.”

“Right, pixie brothels,” Hernandez said and earned a grin from him.

“Like you would not believe.” He winked at her.

“They’ll have to let me in, though,” the investigator said, “and I’ll be able to pull some strings to get all of you undercover. After all, that’s the point of my role. My bosses will be there, and they all know they can trust me.”

“What he’s trying to say is that they all know that despite him being a total wet blanket and complete buzzkill, he’s committed to his job. They’ll let him in to protect their own scaly hides,” Brockton said.

“Larry, you do realize Kristen will be my plus one for this, correct?” Windlock asked.

All the pep and enthusiasm drained out of his assistant’s face. “What? You mean I have to play penguin with the rest of these regular people?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“This is a goddamn tragedy. It's offensive to my corpus. How am I supposed to simply serve trays of food at a party like this? You can’t do this to me, Windlock! We never go to the nice parties.”

“This is our only choice. And we can’t exactly expect a world-famous dragon to go undercover while my mage bumps elbows with the rich. Maybe I can get you on the entertainment team.”

“Oh, come on. That’s even worse!” Brockton whined.

Windlock shot him a warning look and he subsided resentfully.

“If there’s nothing else, meet on the first floor of the Penobscot in an hour. You need to wear all black, even down to your socks. Tame your hair, and make sure you look disinterested at all times.”

“Will we meet there too?” Kristen asked.

“There will no doubt be a landing strip for us on the roof, but you mentioned the importance of first floors to human security, plus—”

“Plus, there is nothing like the entryway to that building for a dragon party,” Brockton interjected. “You won’t want to miss it. I swear.”

Kristen nodded and hoped the dragon was right. It felt horrible to leave Jim hanging, but their best lead was the people who took him. And it made sense that they would attempt an attack. This party was the perfect target for the anti-dragon group of terrorists. If they were emboldened enough to strike at dragon SWAT HQ, they were probably ready for an assault of this magnitude.

The worst thing, though—the absolute worst—was that she didn’t think they’d catch them by surprise. Constance had known who Jim was and everything about him. They’d intended to trick the assassin and her clandestine group but had failed. What if the dragon-killer expected them to be at the party? What if she’d finally run out of patience with Kristen and her growing allegiance to dragons—or if not allegiance, then at least commitment to the idea that dragons shouldn’t be killed any more than humans should?

What if this whole thing was a trap not only for dragon high society but for her too? And if that was the case, what role did Jim have in this? Why take him at all?

She was wholeheartedly afraid of learning the answer to that question.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jim awoke terrified. He was on a piece of canvas stretched taut between springs—a cot, he realized. A fucking cot. He was back in the Marines, about to be incinerated by dragon fire for doing nothing other than following orders.

He opened his eyes and sat quickly, ready to run and hide in the jungle. Somehow, he needed to live long enough to fight these monsters who could kill humans as easily as he could crush bugs.

His mind seemed to slowly click into motion, and he realized it had merely been a horrible fucking dream. The imagined jungle was, in fact, a pleasantly decorated room with a bed, a small desk, a curtain that could be opened with a plastic stick, and a TV. The absence of a kitchen and living room told him he was in a hotel and a little confused, he moved his hand to confirm the frame of the cot. That hadn’t been a dream, then.

But if he was in a hotel, why wasn’t he in the bed?

He looked around the room and his gaze settled on his answer. Constance Vigil smiled at him and the events of the last few hours came back in a flood.

“You were out hard,” Constance said and passed him a glass of water and a small packet. “I know how shitty it can be to wake up from a jolt of electricity like that and you needed more than one.”

“I didn’t need shit,” Jim retorted but speaking made his head pound and he winced. He took the water and checked that the Tylenol came in a sealed package, so he doubted it was poisoned or drugs. The water could have something in it, but he’d been unconscious while this woman apparently sat and watched him. They could have put anything they wanted in his system—hell, they could have killed him—and they hadn’t. He tore the packet open, swallowed the two pills inside, and washed them down with the water.

“More,” he demanded as a test to see exactly what the power play was and how he fitted into it. Was he being recruited in a bizarre way? Was he a prisoner? Constance’s reaction would tell him everything he needed to know.

“You can get it yourself. This room is yours so help yourself from the sink.”

That response wasn’t exactly what he had expected—which really was one of two options. If she fetched it herself, it would indicate that she still wanted him to join and she’d pretend the shock stick had been some kind of initiation or personal protection or whatever. Or she’d deny him, thus cementing her position of power. To allow him to get it himself seemed an odd middle ground, he thought until he pushed to his feet.

His temple pounded a few times when he stood and at first, he didn’t notice the weight around his ankle. As the sensation receded, he looked down, fully expecting to see he was shackled to the wall and that the woman was playing some kind of mind game. He did not expect to see a bomb.

But that, unfortunately, was the only thing it could be.

“Explosives?” Jim asked and looked from the metal anklet to Constance.

She nodded, her expression almost apologetic like a teacher who had wanted him to do better on a test but had to give the grade he’d earned. He didn’t like the look or what it might suggest.

“This isn’t the way I expected to be treated,” he said and did his best to maintain a cool exterior despite the way his heart thudded. This was no worse than speaking in front of a crowd, he told himself—if he could forget the bomb, that is. He merely had to stay calm and not let her see how freaked he was. Unfortunately, if he fucked up, he’d blow up. Carefully, he sat again. Despite his mouth being bone-dry, he’d forgotten about wanting to get a cup of water.

“I do apologize, really.” The woman smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t want to have to hurt a human.”

“But you’ll shoot a dragon cop?” He tried to goad her although he wasn’t sure it was the best idea or what he’d gain from it.

“Dragons aren’t people. I know they might sometimes act like they are when it’s convenient, but they’re not. They’re inhuman—monsters. To call them fallen gods would be a kindness.”

“No one knows more about the horrors they can do to people than me,” Jim protested.

“I know.” Constance held her hands up as if to emphasize her claim that there was nothing she could do. “Believe me, I know, and I also know what you’ve faced. We’ve read your reports and know what you saw. We know about your PTSD and given what you’ve been through, it’s all the more impressive that you work in Detroit, a city with more than a few dragons.”

“There are dragons everywhere,” the Wonderkid responded and clenched his teeth to evidence restraint. “They build their mansions even in the most rural places. There’s no escaping them and that’s why we have to stand against them. It’s why I wanted to join you.”

“I must say I agree. And I hope that after tonight, you’ll still be serious about joining our merry band of revolutionaries.”

“What do you mean, after tonight?” Jim demanded.

“You’re insurance, for now,” Constance explained, her tone placating. “I don’t want to hurt a human but currently, the ends justify the means. We all knew people would die in this revolution—potentially millions. It’s not something pleasant to think about but it’s better than the millions who have already died at the whim of dragons and the billions who live as unknowing slaves as we speak.”

“So the dragons make slaves but you make explosive insurance policies?” He knew he should try to walk the anti-dragon line but it was damn hard to pretend you wanted to join a terrorist when they had secured a bomb to your leg.

“Only because I think you’re our best means to stop Kristen Hall from interfering with us. We believe she’s the only one—dragon or human—who might actually stop us, but we now have you to make sure that doesn’t happen. If she screws our plans up, you lose a—” She glanced at the bomb, then at his face as if to measure his height. “Well, certainly a leg but maybe more.”

“Great. So I’m simply supposed to sit tight and wait for you to kill the only dragon we can trust?”

“I know. Believe me, I do.” The woman shrugged and retrieved the remote control. “But that’s simply the way it is.” She clicked the TV on. “We paid for all the cable packages so there are movies you can watch and we also ordered you room service. I didn’t know what you liked so we got you a little of everything. There should be more than enough left for breakfast too.”

“Oh, wow. Thanks so much.” Jim knew he sounded caustically sarcastic, but he couldn’t help himself. “You’ll use my fucking leg as collateral to make Kristen do what you want but I’m supposed to be grateful because you ordered me a pizza and a burger? You’re fucking crazy!”

“You’re not supposed to do anything but stay where you are. We took the cord from the phone and your cellphone, obviously. The bomb is set to a proximity trigger. If you step outside the room, it blows up. If anyone else but me comes inside, it blows up. And, of course, if you try to take it off, you’ll lose your hands in addition to your leg.”

“This is not how you make allies,” the Wonderkid said and tried to sound reasonable, but it was patently obvious that he was angry.

“I understand your frustration,” Constance intoned politely. “And I realize that this probably has a very negative impact on our personal relationship, but we simply can’t allow Kristen to intervene. If everything goes as planned, you’ll go home tomorrow knowing you helped to make humans a little more free.”

“And how do you know I won’t try to blow you up like you did me?” he snapped. He regretted the words but nothing would affect her decision so he had nothing to lose, after all.

“If our plans come to fruition, a pissed-off cop will be the least of our problems. By the way, if I were you, I’d pay attention to the news channels, especially in a few hours and after dark. We’ve worked for years and we’re finally on the verge of something great. You could very well go down in the history books as an instrumental part of what we’ll accomplish tonight. I know you’re frustrated, but once you see our plans, you’ll realize how much good we’re doing. Monsters will face the music tonight. For the first time in centuries, dragons will taste fear.”

“Goddammit, I want to stand up to dragons too!” Jim roared when he finally lost any remnant of control he’d clung on to. “I want equality for humans. I want equal rights and real freedom. But killing dragons is not the way to do this! Killing dragons won’t help humanity. It’ll only piss them off and make them fly above our cities and incinerate people.”

“This is the only thing the dragons have left us—the only way forward. We’ve groveled at their feet for so long, the only way to show humanity there’s another way is to stand against them. Yes, people will get hurt and those monsters will kill innocents, but that is necessary if we are to reveal their true nature.”

“You’re talking about war!”

“Exactly!” Constance grinned wickedly, took a breath, and calmed herself. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. The only way to inspire the masses to fight is to let them see what dragons are truly capable of. We won’t kill innocents and you’re the only human life directly under threat tonight—well, the only human who hasn’t sworn fealty to a dragon, anyway. All we’ll do is show the dragons they’re not invulnerable and that people—real human people—are strong enough to fight them. Once we do that, the dragons will start this war themselves.”

“As soon as they start a war, it's over!” he yelled.

“No, it’s not. I would have agreed with you a decade or even a year ago, but not anymore. A war will let my people come out into the open and defend humanity. We’ll show the world what our weapons are capable of.”

“But you’ll lose.”

The woman shook her head, although her eyes revealed that she knew it was a possibility. “We won’t because we’re not a monolithic group with a central structure. We’re grassroots so you can’t tear us all out.”

Jim scowled. “Grassroots still burn.”

“Even if we do, humanity will see we have weapons capable of hurting dragons. When that knowledge is out there, the paradigm will have shifted. Once people see dragons as a threat—one we can stand against—they’ll respond to the branches of our organization that are focused on outreach. We’ll give people the tools they need to protect themselves.”

“You’re not a community activist. This is murder. What’s your plan—to arm every high-schooler with a gun to fight the dragons?”

“Our high-schoolers already are shooting each other,” she retorted but remained cool. She’d had this argument before. “We live in a country dying from anxiety because the powerful have their boot—their claw, rather—at our throats. We’re desperate people. If we gave people— even high-schoolers—the tools to stand against the powerful, we’d do it. I’d rather live in a world where the angry can turn their frustration against the monsters who truly enslave us than each other.”

“Arming kids cannot change everything,” Jim said and tried to make his tone reasonable.

“It might make the dragons fear us but no, it won’t change the world. Nothing will change the world besides letting them all see—in high definition and on their own social media—what dragons are capable of. Once people see they are monsters, they’ll come to us.”

“You’re crazy. People can’t stand against them!”

“No. People can’t. You’re right. But militaries? Cops? If we arm our government and every other government that doesn’t want to live in the palm of the dragons with the tools to say no, what happens then?”

He shook his head. “I’ve seen dragons fight.”

“So have I.”

“No. You’ve fought dragons. That’s different. You’re strong enough because of your magic, your team, and your beliefs. You’re a person who can kill a dragon. But I’ve seen dragons who kill people by the dozen. If you do whatever you have planned to do tonight, it’s their blood on your hands. All you’ll do is start a third failed rebellion.”

“What we’ll do is start the first revolution,” she countered and stood from the bed. “The last two rebellions failed because people tried to have others solve their problems. Yes, mages made dwarves and pixies to fight the dragons, but that was a mistake. We made a weapon that operated out of our hands and our control. This is different. A human revolution will have a chance—a real chance. We’ll be the spark that will ignite the war for our freedom.”

Jim sighed. “All you’ll achieve is to ignite the dragon flame that burns everything.”

“I hope, for both our sakes, you’re wrong about that.” She stepped out of the room and locked the door behind her.

The Wonderkid clenched his fists and dragged in a deep breath to calm himself before he stood to get the cup of water. He sat wearily on the bed and looked at the TV. Even though he knew nothing could happen yet, he began to flip through news channels. For the moment, he had nothing else he could do.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kristen hadn’t been to the Penobscot building since she was a little girl, so genuine astonishment filled her face when she walked into the entryway to the almost hundred-year-old skyscraper.

Outside, it looked like business as usual. Security manned the door—mages as well as regular muscle—but that wasn’t particularly unusual for an evening in downtown Detroit. Drew and the team were able to get in through the back once they’d provided the required credentials arranged by Windlock so Kristen felt confident when she entered the building.

The Detroit SWAT contingent had access, and security had been alerted to a possible incursion. They might be walking into another trap but this time, their eyes were wide open. Even the security force had been heavily vetted. If any were undercover agents working for Constance, they’d done so convincingly for decades and if that was the case, even the investigator had to admit they were all screwed.

She therefore felt at ease when she entered the building. If anything happened, they were alert and prepared to deal with it. This let her relax enough to enjoy what was most likely a once in a lifetime experience. The building had been decorated with sparkling ethereal garlands that rained gold and red sparks that evaporated moments before they reached their heads. Pixies flitted overhead to provide a decadent light show that somehow only enhanced the ornate entrance.

The building itself was elaborate. Within moments, they entered a massive and gaudy hall, the walls and ceiling decked in gold, red, and white tile that sparkled under the lights of the pixies. She had seen photos of this room and vaguely recalled visiting as a kid but being there now, it was obvious that it had always been a dragon stronghold. It seemed perfectly logical that an incredibly elaborate evening in honor of the continent’s most powerful dragons would be hosted there.

The colors were garish and rich to represent the powers of gold and blood and the room was spacious and commanding. It dwarfed a human body but was strangely comforting to a being who could transform into a dragon at any moment.

Most of all, the painting at the end of the room served as a reminder of who had funded the structure and what their goals were. A massive map of the mitten-shape that made up most of Michigan was rendered in gold. A glowing figure was depicted at the center—a dragon flexing either their aura or perhaps a special ability only available to the most privileged of their kind. Connected to this were multiple ancient and esoteric symbols. At the bottom of the mural, people labored to harvest grain and pour molten metal. It was a depiction that could be read as a call to action, as a critique of the decadence that balanced on the backs of the hard work of others, but also as a hidden message. Dragons ruled there and no one should forget it.

Kristen thought it was the perfect painting for the entrance to a decadent dragon party for the most powerful beings on the continent. If she was being honest, though, it was also a good place to start a rebellion.

If there was any doubt in her mind that tonight would prove decisive to either start or prevent a war between human and dragon kind, it was washed away by that sight.

They entered an elevator and rode to the top floor of the building.

“What did you think?” Windlock asked.

“I was impressed with the care they took to make sure we weren’t interrupted this evening,” Kristen said. They’d talked about trying to downplay any investigation they were doing. He’d had to alert a few people to their presence so he could arrange for Drew and the team to work at the event but other than that, they planned to keep their real purpose very confidential. Their cover story was that they’d met on their last investigation, bumped into each other again, and Windlock had invited her out in an effort to impress her.

He nodded, obviously in agreement with her answer. “They do an excellent job to keep out those who don’t need to be here,” he said.

The truth of that was proven when they stepped from the elevator and were stopped by two more guards.

Thus far, the security members had been human, some magic and others not. These two were dragons in human form.

“Invitations?” one of them asked.

“I am Kristen Hall, Lady Steel, known as the Steel Dragon of Detroit,” she said politely.

The guard obviously recognized her. She’d learned to be able to tell when someone was either a fan, the opposite, or simply a regular person who’d never heard of her, and this dragon was obviously the second.

“Sorry, ma’am. Entrance is by invitation only.” His tone made his disapproval clear.

Kristen nodded. They’d talked about this beforehand too and she agreed that this was good. It meant they wouldn’t let random people in without proper authorization, which was something she most assuredly did not have.

Windlock did, however. He flashed his badge at the other dragon, who nodded and stepped aside to let them pass. “Welcome, Investigator Windlock. Please try not to disturb the ambiance of the evening as you have in times past.”

“How could I possibly?” he said and gestured to the party around them.

She immediately decided it was ultra-elaborate. The rooftop on which they now stood was canopied by more sparkling pixie magic. Beautiful and sometimes sensual portraits of famous dragons floated around them. Elaborate tapestries depicted decisive moments in dragon history, often scenes from the first and second human rebellions. Ice sculptures shaped beasts of all kinds, men grappling with each other, and nude women. A massive table—utterly gorgeous and impossibly difficult to get there without magic—was covered with food the likes of which she had only ever heard of.

Bread and rolls had been baked to resemble gems, treasure chests, and weapons, and flaming bowls of dips enabled guests to ignite their treasure with imaginary dragon’s flame. Racks of roasted chickens were surrounded by roasted ducks, quails, doves, and a few other birds she could only guess at. Three pigs and an entire cow spun slowly above magic fires that burned in golden braziers completely devoid of wood, charcoal, or any other fuel. Mages stood nearby, the perspiration on their brow either from concentration or the heat.

There was also a roast pig with a grinning pumpkin in place of its head. A chicken-headed octopus had sausages for tentacles, while a pig’s head with an apple in its mouth and the body of a woman was made of fruit. Dozens of smaller and no less bizarre edible amalgamations of creatures were on display.

Innumerable varieties of finger foods floated for easy access. Each gravitated to a dragon after it received the slightest of glances.

All this, however, was simply window dressing compared to what rested at the very center of the roof. The largest cake imaginable had been placed beneath a towering scaffold of gleaming steel.

Her quick scrutiny confirmed ten tiers covered in fondant and it was absolutely breathtaking and as tall as she was. It looked like it had been carved from sandstone and primarily detailed dragons—in flight, perched on what she thought of as hordes of gold but dragons thought of as their hard-earned treasure, or battling with knights from times past. The only indication that this wasn’t an ancient honorific artifact was that all the dragons were rendered in elaborate colored icing. While the people, treasure, and buildings in the background were shades of brown, tan, or yellow, the dragons were bright and vibrant in blues, purples, greens, and reds. The entire effect was awe-inspiring and remained so because, as one walked around the cake, a new scene was continually revealed.

Suddenly, Kristen’s dress no longer seemed so decadent. The cake must have cost as much as the gown she wore and it would be ruined as soon as someone took a single mouthful.

Windlock kept his arm on hers and led her to the edge of the main ballroom. They looked down on all the other rooftops of Penobscot. There were perhaps twenty of them, and each seemed to have a theme of its own with different decorations, appetizers, and servants to match.

“We’ll never search it all,” she said, dumbfounded at the scale of it all.

“We’ll taste a little from each corner,” he said and elbowed her in the ribs to remind her that they would be more successful if they at least pretended that they intended to enjoy themselves.

“Champagne ma’am?” a butler asked and she turned to catch Drew’s gaze. He gave her the faintest of smiles, probably the only expression acceptable to the dragons he served drinks to.

“Of course, and thank you.” Kristen accepted the champagne and downed it. For the moment, she was able to enjoy the way it calmed the nerves that had begun to creep in.

“This way,” Windlock said and gestured to a floating staircase that had appeared in front of them where they stood near the edge of the rooftop. Stairs was a generous term as it was merely four large tiles—each as wide as a step—that formed the start of a path. As he guided her down the steps, the tile behind them vanished and moved to float in front so they were gradually led to the next level. It would be a vertigo-inducing experience for anyone who couldn’t simply transform into a dragon the moment they wished to.

“Check in,” her companion said, and Kristen nodded.

She had an earpiece disguised as an earring. Fortunately, all the non-magic waitstaff were expected to wear earpieces so they were able to communicate without drawing unnecessary attention.

“Checking in,” she said.

“I’m on drinks, particularly empties,” Drew said.

“They like to be served by floating magic. That’s where you need people like me,” Brockton said.

“I’m working the coat check, which is dumb because these fire breathing-assholes don’t need coats and yet they still bring them,” Hernandez said acidly.

“I’m on breads,” Butters said.

“Me too,” Beanpole added.

“So you’re telling me I’m the only person on this goddamn stakeout who has janitor duty?” Keith demanded. “Do you know what dragon puke looks like? Because now I do. I thought you guys had stomachs that could digest a horse. Why the hell is everyone throwing up so damn much?”

“Human stomachs have human limitations,” Windlock replied and barely contained his laughter. “We can eat a horse as a dragon but not as a human. The thing is, if we change to dragon and back to a person, our body remembers what we ate so we’re still full. That won’t do with a menu like this.”

“Then why not throw it in the Detroit River?” the man demanded.

“Environmentalists. Do you have any idea what dragon bile does to an ecosystem?”

“Yes, I do,” Keith said. “It’s doing it to half the damn trashcans here!”

“We’re heading to one of the satellite rooms. Let us know if there’s anywhere we need to be or anyone who looks out of place. We’ll have to approach, not you humans,” Kristen teased. Never was their discrepancy of power more apparent than when they worked in dragon society.

They took the last floating step and joined one of the satellite parties. It was immediately clear that these areas were simply an excuse to display more power. Two mages actively melted and refroze ice sculptures so that the figures depicted moved in extremely slow motion. It was an intriguing concept but seemed like a terrible waste of human potential. No one watched this performance as this roof was empty of guests. That aside, the sculptures moved so slowly there wasn’t much to watch except the two mages who sweated as one worked at the ice with his fire while the other refroze the drips.

It was odd, but the two dragons turned away and pressed on.

On the next roof, incredibly lifelike sculptures drew her attention. The detail on the skin was so realistic that Kristen couldn’t help but touch one.

She almost jumped off the roof when she poked actual skin instead of marble. “Ah! She’s real! She’s real? You’re real,” she exclaimed in a rush.

The woman didn’t say anything and the only part of her that moved was her gaze. It flicked from her to the other dragons on that particular roof. The other guests also touched the statues to see if the people would break their perfect posture. While no one did anything overtly abusive, it was still extremely uncomfortable to watch dragons prod someone in the shoulder or brush their hair back, while the human simply stood frozen and lifeless.

Obviously, the area provided nothing of interest in terms of leads as these humans weren’t hiding anything. They all wore nothing but paint.

As they walked to the next roof—again on floating tile steps that she realized were provided for them by a single mage—Kristen couldn’t help but point out how uncomfortable the frozen people had made her.

“You mean the living art?” Windlock asked. “I must say, those were exceptionally good. At some parties, you can see them breathing but these were really like sculptures.” He kept his voice low despite their relative privacy. They ascended floating steps now toward another rooftop.

“You like that you couldn’t see them breathing?” She also kept her voice low—and her aura under control—but she couldn’t help a frown.

“Excuse me?” he said asked, clearly confused.

“Do you think it’s good for people to ignore their human biology for your amusement?” It was a struggle to keep her voice calm.

“It’s part of the art form—like figure skating or a circus performer or something. They’re good at what they do and have obviously put considerable time and effort into the craft and are well-compensated for it. There’s no slavery here,” he explained.

“Here?” Kristen asked, her voice like ice.

“The North American Dragon Council doesn’t allow dragons to enslave humans. They didn’t have to fight a war over it, either. Actually, they ended slavery in eighteen fifty-seven, so dragons have been slavery-free longer than humans have.”

“To be clear, dragons were always free. It was the humans who were enslaved.”

“That’s what I meant,” Windlock said but sounded slightly defensive. “But the North American Council has been consistent in their enforcement of that rule. Some dragons still break it, of course. It can be hard to follow up on every single dragon-human interaction, especially when dragons so often provide humans with all they need and all they could want but a paycheck.”

“That’s slavery,” she said.

“Right. And it’s rare. The Dragon Council takes it very seriously. It’s not like other continents.”

“Wait—what?” She stopped their walk on the floating steps.

“Not every continental Congress enforces an anti-slavery stance. Europe, Africa, and Australia all have those rules on the books, but Asia and South America don’t. And Europe gets tricky the farther east one goes.”

“It’s legal for dragons to have slaves in Asia and South America?” She couldn’t believe she only now discovered this.

Windlock shrugged almost apologetically. “It’s often brought up at global meetings, but a number of the dragons find it simpler to have slaves somewhere in the world, especially with sex work. Many find it awkward to have to compete with a web camera for their concubine’s attention. Asia has a stranglehold on brothels and some humans see it as an honorable profession.”

“Says who? Their fucking dragon masters?” Kristen demanded. Part of her felt she was overreacting, but then she realized that she felt the same about human systems of slavery. It also reminded her that there were parallels—after all, humans had also committed some of the most unpardonable atrocities all on their own without dragon help or encouragement. Still, the sudden revelation was horrifying and it triggered an instinctive anger that she needed to try to quell if she didn’t want to compromise their operation.

The investigator clenched his jaw, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, yes, I suppose so. I’ve never actually talked to any of the concubines. I see myself as a North American so don’t support slavery, even if they do seem to be well treated.”

“I cannot believe you’re saying this shit right now. What’s the slavery like in South America? Do they have kind masters too?” She pushed back the thought that there were numerous human trafficking rings based in South America—and elsewhere—that had no connection to dragons at all. She’d face that if and when she had to but for now, this triggered her inner conflict between her human and dragon self. While she loved being a dragon, she didn’t want to accept the less palatable sides of that heritage.

“Your human government is as much to blame there as dragons are. The dollar has devalued many of the currencies in the region. Any number of people choose to work for food, lodging, and creature comforts rather than currency that might be worthless in a few years.”

She was so angry she couldn’t speak. Creature comforts? Windlock was all right with slavery because some of the slaves allegedly enjoyed creature comforts? How disassociated could someone be? She couldn’t comprehend how someone could be that lacking in empathy. Kristen often felt bad when she used a drive-through because it wasn’t customary to tip and she knew those people didn’t make good money, but Windlock hadn’t even considered what it was like to be enslaved.

“I simply…I can’t believe you’re defending slavery.”

“I’m not defending it. I’m merely telling you the state of affairs. I think it would be better to not have it. It would certainly help with the way dragons are perceived by humans. Maybe we wouldn’t have to face these assassins if our counterparts in South America and Asia took a more proactive approach.”

Kristen shook her head, furious, livid, and fuming mad. She knew he was right and that she was, in effect, attacking the messenger. He’d not said he agreed with it and she didn’t believe he’d bother to pretend. It was simply that he was there, was a dragon, and had made her confront something she hadn’t known about at all. Her emotions distracted her and she stepped off the tile steps they’d walked on and immediately plummeted.

There was a time when that would have terrified her but now, it was liberating. She let the wind pull at her gown and her red hair before she transformed into a dragon and caught the air. Her fall arrested, she pumped her wings and flew up and around the Penobscot building. Other dragons were airborne as well, so she wasn’t totally out of place. She used the opportunity to think.

Yet again, she’d been presented with a dark facet of dragon culture she’d been ignorant about and yet again, it had been presented in an offhand, second-thought kind of way. It was a reminder that dragons simply didn’t think of people the way people thought of themselves. Humans would always be less, inferior, and a lower species. She knew that part of this was because of the power differential. It was simply hard to respect something when it was essentially defenseless. But at the same time, not all dragons kept slaves. Once again, a minority created the problem, and the majority did what they could which was, more often than not, ineffective.

Constance attempted to change that and prove that humans could have a place at the dragon’s table. The purpose behind her actions was laudable if one looked no further than the surface.

The Steel Dragon still didn’t approve of her methods, though. Going into people’s homes—dragons or humans—and shooting them wasn’t the way to change hearts and minds. And yet, with this new revelation, she wondered if a more subtle approach was even possible. Some dragons apparently believed that slavery was right or at least tolerable. How could they ever be convinced to change if not shown they must through violence? Then again, surely the Civil War provided the lesson that violence didn’t always change attitudes, at least not right away, and that it demanded a terrible cost in lives. It often simply exacerbated the problem to include hate and greater discrimination.

It was frustrating that dragons continued to not fill her in on the state of the world because apparently, slavery—or indeed any inequality—was fine and normal and not a concern for them. At the same time, though, why was she so offended that the dragons were guilty of exactly what many humans perpetrated? Was it because she believed on some level that they were somehow better and so should know better? She recoiled at the thought and sighed heavily. Perhaps if Windlock had told her sooner, she would have had time to work through some of these feelings and come up with a larger plan on how to confront the dragons who viewed humans as little more than useful cattle. Perhaps if dragon attitudes changed, those humans who condoned the practice might change too.

But she didn’t have that kind of time so instead, she convinced herself that they needed to find out what Constance was up to in order to make sure Jim was all right and that the rest of the team didn’t get caught in the proverbial crossfire. In that moment, saving dragons had assumed secondary importance.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Kristen landed on another of the satellite party roofs and gave it a quick scrutiny. This soon proved to be a poor choice given her mood as a group of pixies performed magic on the guest’s bodies. Hedonistic grins were plastered on the dragons’ faces and moans of pleasure issued from their mouths.

She transformed quickly, moved toward the edge—and shooed a pixie with glowing fingers away as she did so—and stepped out onto another set of floating tiles. As she climbed, she checked in with the team. “Any leads?”

“It’s gotta be a bomb,” Hernandez responded in immediately. “They’ve already demonstrated that they know how to make them, and what else could be used to fuck up a party full of dragons?”

“Have you seen any evidence in the coatroom?” she asked.

“No, of course not. There’s nothing here but a pile of furs from dead and probably endangered or even extinct species. One woman had a rhino pelt cloak—I mean, why the fuck would anyone want that?”

“Anyone else?” Kristen asked as she approached the main ballroom, the largest roof in the center of the Penobscot.

“I had the building swept very thoroughly before the party began,” Windlock said over the earpiece. “Given the bomb at dragon SWAT, we made it a high priority, but we didn’t find anything. I can assure you that if there was something, Dragon SWAT Forensics would have found it.”

“Still,” Hernandez insisted obstinately, “it has to be that!”

Everyone else had to fight for airtime on the channel as they all protested more or less the same thing.

Butters might have summed it up best, though. “You always think it’s a damn bomb.”

“Yeah, well,” the woman retorted once the chatter died down. “It usually is.”

“Facts, Hernandez. We’re talking facts,” Drew reminded her, always cool-headed. “Have you seen any actual evidence of a bomb?”

“No, dammit,” she grumbled. “But if it’s all right with everyone, I’ll leave the coatroom to poke around. This would be a dumb place for a bomb anyway.”

“That’s fine,” Windlock said.

“Anyone else?” Kristen asked.

“Dragon barf continues to be gross,” Keith stated gloomily.

“I haven’t seen anyone armed and waiting in the wings or anything like that,” the team leader said. “Although I’ve been busy with drinks so haven’t been able to take a real good look. Anyone else?”

She had almost reached the roof and realized that the crowd was coming to meet her. Murmurs of “Steel Dragon” were audible and she knew it was about to become far more difficult for her to do any searching. Apparently, arriving uninvited had a way to make someone seem especially interesting, whether at human or dragon parties.

“I think I’m about to be MIA in this hunt. Everyone, use the next twenty minutes to really search. I’ll work the crowd,” Kristen said and would have happily traded places with any of them. She’d rather look for a bomb—hell, she’d rather wipe barf up—than pretend to enjoy talking to all these powerful and apparently slavery-complicit dragons. Unfortunately, this was the role she could play to help the team and their case, so she had to do it. Also, she hadn’t seen dragon barf and had to admit, at least to herself, that it sounded worse.

She stepped onto the roof and was immediately surrounded by a circle of doting sycophants.

“Lady Steel, how fortunate we are to be able to steal you away from Investigator Windlock. He can be so dull, although of course, you seem to think otherwise. Tell me, how did you two meet?” a dragon in the form of a human woman asked her. She wore a red dress that Kristen thought was covered in sequins until she realized it was actually entirely encrusted with rubies.

“We met through work, actually.”

“How delightfully macabre!” The woman giggled.

“Tell me, Lady Steel, do you have much of an investment portfolio? Detroit’s industry is on the rebound and we’d love to take whatever gold you have and do something with it,” said a man with a mustache who was obviously a dragon.

“Are you enjoying the party?” an androgynous dragon asked. In their human form, they wore a flamboyantly colored tuxedo with tails with an elaborate floral arrangement in the lapel.

Kristen tried to answer their questions with a smile, but it was difficult. She wasn’t interested in any of this crap while her human team gathered intel without her.

“I’m checking the halls but there aren’t any suspicious characters,” Drew said. “If someone’s planning an ambush, they have to already be undercover.”

“Beanpole and I have checked the waitstaff,” Butters interjected, “and I don’t see any weapons. I know they’re mages but this group is all about the guns, right? We’d have seen something, I’m sure.”

“I stopped wiping barf up and found some naked painted people,” Keith said. Kristen could practically hear his smile over the connection. “I don’t see guns here either.”

She giggled but had to quell it when she was joined by two dragon women in gowns even more beautiful than her own.

“So did you enjoy Ell and Vee at Le Clothier?” one of them asked. Kristen realized she’d tuned out. She couldn’t do that again, not if she wanted to keep their eyes focused on her.

“I did. They were—”

“Eccentric, no?” the other woman said. At least it wasn’t hard to keep people interested in her at this party. All she really had to do was keep smiling and pretend to be interested in their conversations.

The woman continued, “They dress us and act like their opinion matters! It is lucky they have such good taste or I think they would have come to an end long ago, no?”

She imagined the woman trying to eat Ell and choking to death and was thus able to make herself laugh.

“What about the catering plates?” Hernandez asked over the earpiece.

“Not happening,” Drew replied. “Too small.”

To test the theory, Kristen captured a platter with a lid floating past her. It was one of the only dishes capable of hiding even a grenade. Predictably, it held only oysters on ice.

“What about the food?” she said aloud.

“Oh, it is absolutely divine,” a man in the crowd said. “I used a bread sword to chop off one of those chicken’s tentacles. Such a delight, was it not?”

“Absolutely. I think I might have to help myself to more.” She nodded, excused herself, and walked toward the food. Butters poked around furtively but it was already obvious he didn’t need to. Most of the food was stripped clean. What platters remained were merely remnants of the feast and only the cake was untouched.

A cold hand of dread clutched at her insides.

She snatched a roll up so she could hide the fact that she was talking. “Windlock,” she said into her earpiece “When did the cake arrive—before or after the bomb check?”

“Hold up,” he said. A long minute passed during which she spoke to those around her in a casual way. Yes, the salami was divine and yes, it truly was one of the best parties she’d ever been to. Finally, when her patience seemed worn to the very edge, Windlock responded. “It was sent in with the rest of the food, which means after the bomb sweep.”

“I’ll take a closer look.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

She knew she had very little time. Within moments, someone would approach with yet another inane question and she needed to reach the cake before that happened. It seemed sensible to try to use her aura to indicate that she was overwhelmed—not terribly difficult given the situation—and it did seem to dissuade anyone from accosting her for now.

Her instincts pushed her to run but she forced them down and instead, approached at a slow and steady pace and tried to look at it from an investigator’s perspective. For starters, it was huge. It could easily hide a few people inside if they were willing to crouch. If there was a bomb in there, it certainly could be a big one. Plus, the intricate fondant icing meant no one would dare to touch it. Dragons were arrogant, self-absorbed creatures and the last thing any of them would want to do was smudge their likenesses on the masterpiece. Plus, even if someone did stick a finger in the icing, it would be easy enough to create a couple of inches of cake to complete the charade.

Now that she studied it without her initial amazement, it seemed obvious. It was too perfect, something designed and created to keep everyone at a respectful distance until the ceremonial moment when it was cut. That moment, she realized, would no doubt draw every dragon guest within range. Hopefully, she was wrong, but she had a cold conviction in her gut that she wasn’t.

Kristen glanced around and saw an enormous pile of plates as well as a large serving knife on a nearby table. It wasn’t time for cake yet—the more important guests had yet to arrive—but the human servants were ready for the dessert to be served.

She thought about all the bizarre questions she’d been asked and how disconnected from human society all these dragons were. What would they think if she cut the cake before the time? After all, she was seen as an ignorant human bumpkin by many so might as well use that for cover.

Furtively, she glanced around, saw no one, and reached for the knife.

A familiar voice stopped her in her tracks. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Constance stood directly behind her and she turned slowly to face the woman. The assassin had darkened her hair to make her more difficult to identify. The team had searched for blonde and it simply hadn’t occurred to anyone that she might change her hair color. Once again, it appeared they’d been fooled. Her identity was obvious to Kristen, though.

“I’ve watched you since you arrived. You don’t fit in any more than I do,” the woman said.

“It’s a bomb, isn’t it?” she replied. Now was not the time to exchange political beliefs.

Constance took a step closer to her and proffered a floating champagne glass. She was dressed all in black like a caterer and that was obviously how she’d slipped in.

Kristen took the glass from the air and the assassin stepped closer to fill it. Once beside her, she seemed to relax. “Good, now we can talk,”

She scratched her ear and nudged the microphone in her earpiece with a previously agreed code. No one responded.

“I’m wearing a short-range radio jammer. You won’t be able to talk to your team.”

“What do you want?”

“Freedom and equality for all humanity.” The woman spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought it was something you wanted as well. Or have you changed? Has your time spent with dragons made you complicit with all this?” She gestured at one of the living, painted people frozen in place.

“I didn’t know about any of this until tonight.”

“That sounds like something a dragon would say,” Constance countered. “Do you know there are places where dragons can abuse people however they like without paying them?”

That stung because she had so recently learned about slavery still being allowed. Still, this wasn’t the way, she told herself. Calmly, she said, “Blowing people up isn’t the way to change the world.”

“What people? I see a gathering of rich monsters who think it's fine to eat a cake that lionizes how they’ve tortured people over millennia. Why do these…creatures, get to enjoy privileges no human can?”

“You won’t change minds with an explosion.”

“Not dragons’ minds, no,” Constance agreed. “But they’ve made their position on equality quite clear over the last ten thousand years, don’t you think? They’ve had every opportunity to show us respect, and do they?”

“Some do.”

“Yes, I know, and its dragons like that who we need on our side—dragons like you.”

“I’m not on the side of murder,” Kristen retorted.

“Oh? So you’re on the side of the murderers, then? Can’t you see that our rebellion would cost far fewer lives if it’s not dragons versus people? If you join us, the whole world will see that this isn’t about the species but about inequality. It’s not about dragons but about justice.”

“Look, I think… Well…I think your goals are noble enough…” She decided she needed to be honest. “But your methods are not. You can’t use violence to make the world a better place. It simply doesn’t work.”

“You use violence. You killed Obscura and you killed Death,” Constance responded quickly.

“You’re right, but I did those things to stop violence, not to change the world. And killing both of them didn’t make the world better or safer, not as a whole. I can’t let this bomb go off either. The blood spilled here will only be used as an excuse to spill more blood. Can’t you see that?” Kristen sighed. Much as she wanted to believe in this revolution of equality, she knew this wasn’t the way. She stretched her hand toward the knife.

“Don’t do that,” the assassin warned and retrieved her phone.

“You won’t change my mind, not as long as you’re committed to this attack,” she told her calmly.

“No, I guess not. I see that now. But that’s okay because you changed my mind.”

“What are you talking abou…” The question trailed off when Constance held the screen of her phone closer.

Her gasp was instinctive when she recognized Jim. He was in a room—a hotel room by the look of it—and paced constantly. Although apparently unhurt, he seemed agitated.

“Do you see his anklet?” her companion asked.

Kristen clenched her teeth and nodded.

“It’s another bomb,” the woman explained patiently. “It’s linked to the one here and has the same timer—one switch, as it were. If you disable it here, it shunts the command to his anklet and he blows up instead. There’s also a proximity alarm on the door and window. If he leaves the hotel room or anyone else comes in, it explodes. And, of course, if you tell the dragons about the bomb and they jump off the roof or whatever, I’ll simply detonate it immediately. I actually prefer that option. We wouldn’t kill as many as we hoped but it’ll prove you’re committed to people instead of dragons.”

“How does this show that I changed your mind? This is crazy!” she protested.

“You said that sometimes, violence can be used to stop violence. The threat of your friend blowing up will stop your actions tonight. If you foil our plans, he dies. If you let it proceed, the bomb here goes off, the anklet pops off, and he can walk away.”

“This isn’t a fair choice!” Kristen was shaking with rage.

“You’re right. It’s not. You have to choose between a human friend of yours who has literally risked his life multiple times for you and a group of spiteful dragons who see human beings as nothing more than playthings. The choice seems obvious to me.”

Constance handed her the phone, then turned to walk away.

“What is this?” She scowled and forced herself not to look at her friend on the screen.

The assassin turned once more to look at her. “The choice is yours.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Of course, she couldn’t avert her gaze for too long and finally looked at Jim, who continued to pace with evident frustration. Finally, Kristen tore her gaze away and realized without any real surprise that Constance had vanished into the crowd. Strangely, she trusted the woman’s words. Yes, she thought that killing these dragons was extreme. And yes, she thought that using Jim as a sacrificial pawn was horrible, but she didn’t think she would have given her the choice of his salvation and lied about it. The assassin’s goal seemed to be to sway her to their cause and lying to her wouldn’t achieve that.

Hopefully, it meant they still had time.

“Windlock. Come in, Windlock,” she said into her comm device as soon as she was able to hear the chatter of her team again.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“At the cake.”

“Right. I have eyes on you.” In the next moment, he stepped out of the crowd and beside her. The other dragons still kept their distance. They could no doubt still sense the anxiety coming through her aura which she made no attempt to hide.

“This video shows Jim with an explosive anklet around his leg. If we disarm the bomb, it blows Jim up,” she narrated for the benefit of the team who only had an audio link.

“Butters, I want you over here,” Windlock said. “I can see a glimpse out the window. Your sniper’s eyes might give us a clue.”

Kristen snatched the phone from him. She’d been focused on Jim’s pacing and hadn’t noticed that a corner of the curtain was open.

“Isn’t that Lafayette Coney Island?” she said to Butters when he joined them.

“Are you asking me that because I’m fat?” the sniper quipped as he took the device and examined the window in the live footage. “Yeah, that’s Lafayette all right, which means he’s in a room in the Westin Book Cadillac. I’d say the tenth floor judging by the angle and fairly close to the southeast corner of the building. Not the corner room, obviously.”

“How the hell are we supposed to reach him without blowing him sky high?” she asked everyone on the channel. “According to Constance, if anyone tries to enter the room, it’s set to detonate automatically.”

“So it’s a choice between trying to disable a bomb strapped to Jim’s leg and potentially save the Wonderkid’s shiny ass or dig through a cake and try to disarm a bomb that’s supposed to kill dragons. I gotta say, I choose the Wonderkid on this one,” Hernandez said.

“It makes sense to me,” Drew told the channel. “I’ll come too, plus Butters, Keith for any tech we might see, and Hernandez, obviously. “Beanpole, you stay with Kristen, Windlock, and Brockton. They might need your eyes.”

“Understood,” the tall man said.

“We’re on our way now. We’ll let you know if we get him free and if we figure out any of the tech they’re using,” Drew said.

“All right, do we have ideas?” Kristen asked Windlock.

“My first instinct was to throw it off the side of the roof but if it's big enough to kill this many dragons, it could create a hole in the side of the building and bring the whole structure down. I think we can both agree that’s unacceptable.”

“Sure. So we need to disarm it or take it someplace where it can explode without hurting anyone,” she said.

“No easy task in downtown Detroit,” he replied with a frown.

“Why doesn’t Constance simply blow it now?” Beanpole asked reasonably. “I can’t see her but I’m sure she can see us.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “There are already dozens of dragons on the roof and I assume they’re all fairly important when it comes to rank.”

“She doesn’t want to throw a rock at the wasp’s nest,” Brockton said over the comms. “She wants to squash the queen.” He sounded breathless, possibly from entertaining dragons with his magic skills. “The Council will arrive late as they always do. They like to be fashionably late so they make a grand entrance at events like this. You can’t be the most powerful people on the continent and arrive early enough at a party to make small talk about the weather. Hell, I think that’s where most of the power comes from. Those who can’t be bothered with the rest of us make us idolize them. It’s dumb, but there ya go.”

“Brockton’s probably right,” Windlock agreed. “It makes sense that she wants to catch the Dragon Council in the blast. What surprises me most is that she’s willing to sacrifice her plan for Jim. She really wants you on her side.” He studied Kristen for a moment and although it wasn’t necessarily suspicious, she didn’t appreciate it.

Before she could speak, the sparks above the rooftop changed in color and intensity. A murmur rippled through the crowd and the dragons, together with the mages, pixies, and humans serving them, all took a few steps away from the door.

“What’s that?” Kristen asked, but the sound of trumpets playing a fanfare drowned out her question as soon as she asked it.

Windlock grimaced. “Those horns announce the arrival of the Council members. We’re almost out of time.”

It was no relief to her that if the bomb blew the Council up, Jim would go free. She’d admittedly had a brief moment in which her friends had taken precedence, but common sense had reasserted itself. If the Council was killed today, the world at large would be thrown into a war that would make the rebellions of times past look like children playing capture the flag.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“We must have missed something.” She took a deep breath and tried to focus. This couldn’t come down to a choice between who would die. That might be how Constance wanted it, but it didn’t mean it was the only choice. The assassin had planned a situation in which Kristen was forced to make a decision she’d regret either way. The woman obviously hoped she could force her to join them—or at least appear to support them—to protect her friend, but she simply couldn’t do that.

“Maybe we should clear the roof,” Beanpole said.

“Wait—wait, that’s it! Constance said if we tried to do that, she’d detonate the bomb early. That means she has some kind of a remote for it. Whatever device she’s using to set it off might be able to deactivate it as well, right? Hernandez, can you confirm?”

“Yeah, it makes sense to me.” Her teammate’s voice crackled with static, which she took as a good sign. It meant they were already close to the hotel that housed Jim. “I wouldn’t make a bomb like this without a way to deactivate it. She’s obviously a crazier bitch than me, but she did say if Jim’s blows up, this one doesn’t, so there has to be some kind of kill switch.”

“Damn it! We need to find Constance again.” Kristen wanted to punch herself for letting the mage escape but frustration served no purpose. They had to find her.

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be easy. While before, the party had been fairly spread out as guests mingled in loose groups across all the various roofs with their various forms of hedonism, the main roof of the Penobscot was now crowded with dragons.

Everyone seemed to jostle for position and tried to get as close as possible to the landing area where the Dragon Council would arrive. A huge, turquoise dragon landed to the fanfare of more trumpets and the crowd cheered as she took the shape of a human woman.

Kristen knew the assassin would be in there somewhere, plying the dragons with drinks while she kept a close eye on her targets. It was insane to think that the woman had a better idea of who these dragons were than she did, despite the fact that she was a dragon and Constance had sworn to kill them all.

She identified six new arrivals making slow loops in the night sky. The strike would doubtlessly come once they’d all landed and were close enough to the cake to be within optimum range. She was worried—given the size of the cake—that this might mean anywhere at all on the roof.

“Do we have any eyes yet?” Windlock asked as the second member of the Dragon Council landed while the horns played a different tune this time. Apparently, each member of the council had their own theme song. It would be funny if she wasn’t at serious risk of being blown up with the seven of them.

“I have nothing. No one’s looking for my tricks anymore so I’m trying to keep an eye out, but I don’t see a damn thing. This woman’s as slippery as they come,” Brockton said.

“I see her.” Beanpole’s voice was calm, as always.

“Where?” Kristen demanded.

“On the opposite side of the crowd from you. She climbed up the tower, maybe ten feet, and is in a patch of shadow directly above the cake. It’s a good vantage point. I should have thought of it sooner.”

“I’m headed there now,” she said and immediately realized it wasn’t actually possible. The crowd was too thick and she couldn’t cut across the main promenade. She had no doubt if she did something so overtly against Constance’s wishes, they’d all be blown to pieces. “But it’ll take a minute.”

“Wait—wait she saw me,” Beanpole said. “She knew I was watching her.”

“What did she do?” Windlock asked.

“She smiled and climbed down and…she’s walking toward the inside. She might have realized that we know she can deactivate the bomb. I’m moving in.”

“Do not engage, Beanpole. Do you hear me? Do not engage!” Kristen said. “I’m on my way and we can take her together.”

“I can’t lose her,” he said.

His tall frame moved away from the crowd and toward the door. She could see him but she couldn’t reach him with so many dragons between them.

“Damn it, Beanpole. You can’t take her! She has magic to augment her skills.”

The man didn’t respond and vanished inside in pursuit of Constance.

Kristen tried to hurry but the crowd and her dress and heels slowed her progress. In desperation, she kicked her heels off, ripped the skirt from the dress above the knee, and used her enhanced speed to close the distance to the doorway.

She pushed quite a few dragons out of her path and earned scowls in return. Fortunately, no one seemed inclined to make a scene, so she avoided further delays. When she stepped through the door into the Penobscot building, she caught a glimpse of Beanpole as he turned a corner. Without anyone to block her progress now, she raced down the hallway using her full powers.

The first gunshot cracked before she’d gone halfway down. By the time she rounded the corner, the fight was over.

Beanpole slumped against a wall with a bruised eye and bloody teeth from a busted lip, and he held his ribs with one hand. His other hand clung shakily to a pistol until Constance kicked it out of his hands.

“Your turn.” He grinned and displayed his bloody teeth. While he sounded weak and possibly had a bruised rib, the fact that he was able to joke was a good sign. “She has a bulletproof vest so it might slow your dragon abilities.”

It was both amazing and terrifying that the woman had managed to inflict so many wounds on Beanpole in such a short amount of time. Humans shouldn’t be that fast. Only dragons could move like that.

“Don’t worry, Beanpole. I’ve got this.” Kristen appraised her adversary. The woman wasn’t even breathing heavily and the outline of the vest was noticeable under her black server’s clothes.

Constance cursed and moved forward like she intended to attack but stopped. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“It must be hard to fight people more powerful than you. I’m sure Beanpole felt the same way about facing a magic assassin.”

“I hope he thought we should be on the same side,” Constance retorted.

“You kidnapped our friend,” was all Beanpole said in reply.

“I put his life in your hands,” the assassin reminded Kristen.

“His life was not yours to place anywhere. That’s what makes us different. If you ignore the law and hurt people to achieve your goals, you’re no better than the dragons.”

“We both know that’s not true. They’ve been humankind’s tormentors for thousands of years.”

“So what? Are you trying to make up for all the atrocities in a single moment?” She took a step toward the other woman.

“The ends justify drastic means if it means freedom for humanity—true freedom. We don’t even know what equality tastes like. Every civil rights movement has been a charade. Humans fought for the rights of women or blacks and were granted them. It’s a small consolation given the way things work. At no point in history was the table leveled. The powerful—the truly powerful—were never forced to release their hold on the reins of humanity.”

“Maybe not but lighting the entire saddle on fire will only burn the backs of the people carrying it. Give me the control for the bomb and we can work something out.”

“I won’t let you ruin this opportunity to bring justice to the world,” Constance replied and clenched her fists.

That was it, then. She had to accept there was no middle ground to be had. They’d end this not with words or compromise but with combat. She thought of Jim, locked in a room with a bomb strapped to his leg, and decided the woman who had done such a thing deserved to be on the receiving end of the same type of violence she was so willing to dole out.

She drew a breath and raced into the attack.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Kristen vaulted into a flying kick that would have been impossible if she hadn’t already ripped her insanely expensive dress. Constance caught her and spun her into a wall with sufficient force to crack the sheetrock.

The assassin held onto her leg and rocketed kicks at her crotch. Despite the mage’s speed, they didn’t hurt because she instinctively turned her skin to steel. The added weight meant the woman couldn’t hold her leg up and had to release it.

Constance immediately realized she would lose if she faced a foe with steel skin and turned to run. Both combatants knew she didn’t need to win this battle, only keep the detonator out of Kristen’s hands. The Steel Dragon grasped her by the back of her collar, yanked her back, and lifted her above her head to hurl her into the ceiling.

The collision shattered a fluorescent light panel and rained sparks on the fighters but the assassin didn’t fall straight into the dragon’s waiting grasp.

Instead, a blast of wind came out of nowhere and pushed the woman slightly so she landed in front of her adversary instead.

The wind picked up and whipped at Kristen, but she was the Steel Dragon. Of all the magic in the world, wind might have been the least effective.

She lunged forward and punched Constance in the chest with enough force that she sprawled and skidded a few feet.

“The last time we fought each other, you shot me in the leg to even the playing field. I’ve trained since then and this time, I’m defending my friend, not a dragon. You might as well give up.”

The woman appeared to see the wisdom of this and held her hands up in surrender. Kristen straightened, half-shocked at how easy it had been, but cursed when her opponent drew a pistol with astonishing speed and fired.

The dragon dodged the first two shots, then surged forward.

Windlock and Brockton both shouted from farther down the hall.

Constance noticed them too and fired twice more to prevent the pair from approaching. They ducked out of sight behind the corner and Windlock cursed volubly.

“Stay back. I got this. These might be dragon bullets!” Kristen yelled over her shoulder before she pushed into a sprint.

The assassin had wasted no time and was already running down the hallway. It seemed for a moment that it was over as there was nowhere for her to go. Every door was shut, and the time it would take to open one would give her pursuer the scant seconds she’d need to catch up.

Her speed and miniscule head start were enough to enable her to shatter the window at the end of the hall and leap out into the night air.

Kristen cursed and covered the distance to the aperture in seconds, flung herself through, and looked down before a gust of wind whipped at her face. In previous encounters, she’d wondered if another mage had helped to manipulate the wind, but it seemed obvious now that the assassin had exercised her own wind powers to aid her escape.

The dragon transformed almost instantly and used her forward momentum to catch the wind beneath her wings and soar after her quarry.

Constance moved like a leaf in a tornado. Gusts buffeted her and pushed her from side to side as she tried to flee. The problem with wind, however, was that it didn’t exist in or come from a vacuum. Her pursuer was able to catch some of the same gusts and given that they were farther away, they lacked the sharp force that jerked and pushed the woman. Kristen simply felt wind at her wings and used it to get closer.

For a moment, it seemed the plan was to reach the streets of Detroit but instead, an updraft carried the woman to one of the satellite parties on the top of the Penobscot building.

The Steel Dragon landed and changed to her human form so she could fit on the roof. Her adversary was ready for her and threw a punch hard enough to be felt through her steel skin.

She retaliated with even more force, but the assassin was ready and let the force of the blow hurl her off the building. Once again, the wind caught her and carried her to another satellite venue.

Kristen changed into her dragon form and launched off the edge as she reflexively breathed fire after the assassin. She managed to stop it, though, when she realized it might fry the detonator, which in turn would mean they wouldn’t be able to deactivate the bomb. It wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done, and she reminded herself to focus and not let her emotions take control.

Constance wasn’t the only one to notice the fire, however. When the gout of flame lit the night, the pixies who’d provided the sparkling lights that illuminated the party joined the encounter.

It couldn’t be called a battle as none of the short creatures seemed interested in actually fighting but suddenly, the air around her glowed with red and gold sparks.

This, in turn, alerted the dragons at the top of the main building. Many crowded close to the edge for a better view of the spectacle. Their excited and voluble response carried to where she took the shape of a human again and exchanged blows with the assassin on the rooftop of another of the satellite parties, this one filled with dozens of intricate ice sculptures.

Ultimately, it was a one-sided fight. Kristen had steel skin and Constance didn’t. In the glow of the red and gold sparks, the woman’s face clearly said that she understood this too. She sweated noticeably, her mouth hung slightly agape, and a trace of fear shadowed her features.

In any of their previous confrontations, Kristen might have shown pity on her but this time, she couldn’t. Not with Jim’s life at stake. He was one of her people, not because she was a dragon and he was a human but because she cared about him the same way Stonequest or Drew cared about those who helped them. His life hung on the outcome of this fight and clarified things for her.

She pressed her attack while the guests at the party cheered for the Steel Dragon. They obviously thought it was some kind of exhibition and had no inclination to participate.

Kristen landed a few blows, knocked Constance’s legs out from under her with a sweep kick, and delivered a powerful blow to her chest.

“You can’t beat me,” she said.

The woman drew her pistol and tried to aim it, but Kristen kicked it away and it skittered toward the edge of the roof. The dragon watched it for too long—hoping it would plummet off the edge—and her opponent used the opportunity to regain her feet.

“Come on, Constance. You’re done.”

“We’ve come too far to give up. We’re so close,” Constance said and darted away to hide behind an ice sculpture.

In response, she shattered it as if it were hollow. It was as thick as a man but with her dragon strength, it offered no resistance.

Her quarry ducked behind another ice sculpture, this one of a bear balancing on a ball.

She obliterated this one as easily. Shards of ice pinwheeled to catch and refract the light from the gold and red sparks that still illuminated their battle. The dragons on the rooftop cheered enthusiastically. It was very likely they thought it was fake as none of them seemed inclined to leave.

The Steel Dragon marched toward Constance, who continued to bolt behind ice sculptures. This achieved nothing except to buy her a little time as the dragon destroyed statue after statue.

Finally, when there were no more to hide behind, Constance stopped and faced her squarely.

“It’s not too late,” Kristen said. “Give me the detonator, we stop both bombs, and demand a meeting with the Dragon Council. Show them you have restraint.”

“I don’t want to be eaten, thanks,” the woman retorted and lunged into a swift attack, leading with an elbow.

She blocked the blow easily enough—flesh always lost to steel—but the momentum was enough to shift her balance slightly. That wouldn’t have been a problem if the entire rooftop they fought on wasn’t covered in broken ice.

Kristen moved, her foot settled on a piece of ice, and the weight of her steel body unbalanced her and she fell.

The crowd gasped. Obviously, they were rooting for her in this fight they thought was part of the evening’s entertainment.

She found her feet—earning scattered applause—but Constance attacked. Blows pummeled the dragon’s steel face, which did nothing but make it difficult to see, then the woman swept her legs again to force her to move her feet. Once more, she stepped on a piece of ice and sprawled heavily.

The dragons booed and she tried to shut out the distraction.

Kristen stood slowly and again, the assassin used the extra weight of her steel skin to topple her onto the icy surface.

When she pushed to her feet this time, she turned the steel to skin.

The crowd cheered at this and she resisted the urge to flash them a rude gesture. The watching dragons had begun to irritate her with their stupid assumptions that a life and death struggle was simply a choreographed scene for their entertainment.

Constance didn’t waste her opportunity. She attacked with focused fury in a whirlwind of blows. The Steel Dragon was able to avoid some but many got through.

Thankfully, she was able to more than simply block and parry and gave as many as she received. At one point, the exchange was so furious that she wondered if the dragons could follow the action given that it was almost too fast for her to keep up with. She defended and retaliated more by reflex than anything else until the assassin delivered a powerful palm strike to her face. A crunch and instant pain told her that her nose was broken.

Her adversary backflipped off the building as soon she landed this blow—earning more boos from the dragons—and the wind caught her and took her toward the main area of the Penobscot building. The glint of steel in her hand confirmed that she’d retrieved her pistol.

Kristen knew her nose would heal with her dragon powers, so she allowed herself no time to wallow in the almost blinding pain.

Instead, she transformed into a dragon and streaked after her quarry.

Constance landed on a third rooftop and drew her pistol. The dragon changed into her human form before she landed to make a smaller target for her opponent and immediately surged into the attack.

“All I want is equality!” the assassin screamed. It was the first time that real desperation had colored her voice.

She ignored it, pushed for hand-to-hand range, and focused on pummeling her opponent’s thighs and ribs—easy targets where the effect of blows could accumulate. The woman was weakening and rather than fight, she tried to fire a shot. Kristen dodged, caught Constance’s wrist, and crushed it to force her to drop the gun. Before it landed, she kicked it with enough force to careen it off the edge to plummet to the streets of Detroit below.

“No!” the assassin screamed, jerked her hand free, and clutched her wrist.

She seemed to understand that she had no chance outside. If she were to somehow defeat Kristen, the other dragons might join the fight. Rather than prolong the combat, she used her wind to fling herself through another window into a different hallway.

Kristen followed without hesitation. She landed on her feet and immediately broke into a run.

The dragon was hurt. Her nose was broken and she’d suffered a fair number of major blows when they’d fought among the ice sculptures, but the other fighter’s condition was worse.

The pummeling inflicted on her thighs gave her a bad limp. She cradled her wrist, which definitely looked broken, and she darted glances over her shoulder as she stumbled down the hallway and away from her pursuer.

Distracted by her focus on the Steel Dragon, she didn’t see Windlock and Brockton emerge at the end of the hall. Instead, she turned when they were already in position. The inspector was in his dragon form and filled most of the hall, and Brockton’s robes seemed alive with power as he held a bevy of chairs, broken wood, and kitchen cutlery aloft with his magic.

Constance cursed and turned to run past Kristen, who saw the wisdom of Windlock’s form.

The assassin was the last one to know the fight was over. When she approached, the Steel Dragon simply transformed into her larger body. She barely fit inside the cramped hallway but that was the point. The woman made it past a claw and a wing but Kristen leaned her body against her and pinned her to the wall. Constance struggled against her bulk but couldn’t free herself. She was too weak and too injured, and the dragon was so much stronger.

It was over.

Beanpole approached. Despite his still slightly blood-smeared teeth, he seemed in better shape than either of the women. Windlock and Brockton held their position at the end of the hall as Beanpole slipped a pair of handcuffs on Constance.

Now that she was restrained, the inspector and his assistant approached. The dragon changed into his human form and it was evident from the way he carried himself that his guard wasn’t down. The mage brought his arsenal of floating objects with him.

“The detonator,” Kristen said to the assassin once she changed back to her human form.

Constance spat and moaned in pain.

She shook her head and dug inside the woman’s pocket to retrieve an object with two buttons and a timer. A quick glance told her there were two hundred seconds on it.

“How do I turn the bombs off?” she demanded.

The assassin laughed.

“How?” She lifted her by her collar and thrust her into the wall behind her.

In response, the woman laughed even harder until she coughed up a mess of bloody phlegm. She tried to spit it in Kristen’s face but she lacked the strength. The mess of red mucous simply dribbled down her chin.

“How stupid do you think we are? Do you think we didn’t plan for this outcome?”

“What are you talking about?” Windlock asked.

“We knew our greatest threat was the Steel Dragon. Others wanted you neutralized, but I thought maybe here—at this place of decadence and inequality so vividly displayed—you might finally be convinced to join our side. I was wrong, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t listen.”

“How. Do. We. Turn. The. Bomb. Off?” Kristen demanded.

“If you press the red button, it blows up, the anklet pops off your friend’s leg, and he lives. On the other hand, if you press the blue button, you kill your friend but spare the party-goers. It’s your choice. I told you. My preference is to let the clock run out and kill the dragons.”

“Damn it!” she screamed.

Constance laughed weakly. “Why would we have brought a device that could stop our plans? Dragons have made their choices clear over millennia. There was nothing at this party that could have made us think differently. The only reason we were here at all was to try to convince you otherwise.”

Windlock was able to accept this before she was. He clicked his radio on and contacted the other team.

“What’s your status? We have the detonator but it’s still a binary decision. Is your man free? Can we blow his bomb yet?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up unless you want me to blow him up. We’re at the fucking door. Hold tight.” Kristen could almost hear Hernandez sweating over the radio. “Asshole,” the woman muttered.

“You have three minutes,” the inspector said and the demolitions expert responded with a curse.

“What do we do now? Beanpole asked.

“At the very least, let’s join the party and get a look at the cake. I wouldn’t want Constance to miss the grand reveal.”

The assassin only laughed as they pulled her to her feet and dragged her toward the party.

Kristen tried to count down in her head because every time she looked at the detonator, the number was lower than what she wanted it to be.

They burst onto the roof to cheers and applause. She tried to yell over the dragons but they were all determined to congratulate the victor of the exhibition they’d watched. Each time she tried to raise her voice, the guests responded with an enthusiastic chant in honor of the woman who had fought to save their lives as a phony champion. They lost themselves in revelry while the bomb that would kill them all lay silent at the center of it all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Asshole,” Hernandez muttered.

“You have three minutes,” Windlock said.

She responded with a string of curses into the radio before Drew took it away from her.

“We need to get in there and you’re the only one with the skills for the job. If cursing a dragon will help, I will turn this radio back on. But if it won’t, you need to focus.”

“Let me fucking work, okay?” She tried not to sweat but they’d already wasted so much time.

The person working at the desk had been an absolute asshat and flatly refused to answer their questions about which rooms might have the view Butters described. Finally, Drew flashed his badge and told them the Penobscot was about to explode.

That had convinced the dick-weasel, but it had also caused low-key panic in the lobby. Everyone had rushed outside to look at the impressive building or better yet, record it with their smartphone. She had wanted to yell at all of them for not calling the damn cops but remembered she was the cops. Besides, even officers would probably have their work cut out for them when they tried to remove anyone from the scene of what promised to be the highlight of their lives.

Once Drew had made it quite clear that they were looking for a terrorist, the clerk had cracked like a walnut—which had also pissed Hernandez off as he hadn’t asked for a warrant or anything else. He directed them to a room on the fifth floor that faced in the right direction and had been booked by a blonde woman. Apparently, she was the only blonde with a room on that side of the building, so that was at least a little encouraging.

The floor was low enough that Drew said it’d be faster to run. Hernandez wanted to protest, but Butters had nodded with his double chins and headed to the stairs, so she couldn’t exactly complain about having to break a sweat.

Now, though, she wished she had. She had less than three minutes, was breathing heavily from the exertion, and her hands were both sweaty from the activity and shaking from her nerves.

“Constance said the door was triggered to blow. Do you have anything?” Keith asked.

“For fuck’s sake, can you all shut up? I need to actually think about whether I can shut this thing down or not.”

Everyone—wisely, for fucking once—listened to her.

There was a device on the outside of the door with some kind of transmitter. It was a guess—and maybe a bad one—but she didn’t think the transmitter was the switch. She decided that it probably linked the two bombs together so if one went off, the other would deactivate, exactly like Constance had said. There was a possibility that it also had something to do with the door opening, but she didn’t think so. The device was mounted directly beside the door and had a small metal panel that slipped between the frame.

Hernandez’s first instinct was to simply disarm the entire array. She removed the front panel and found it would be impossible. The damn thing had a dead man’s switch, which meant if she killed the whole thing, both bombs would likely detonate. The reality didn’t surprise her much, though. She’d suspected something like this.

“These technomage assholes knew what they were doing when they did this.” Hernandez wiped her brow and tried to focus.

If she couldn’t disarm it, she had to find a way to not activate the switch connected to the door. Her next step, then, was to determine what the weird silver panel did. The wires leading to it obviously couldn’t be cut as that would blow the damn bomb on the other side of the door, but the panel didn’t seem to be a pressure plate. So what the fuck was it?”

“I need a paperclip,” she said.

“You can’t seriously disarm a bomb with a paperclip!” Butters protested.

“Shut your fat fucking mouth and give me a damn paperclip,” she retorted sharply. She normally preferred to insult Butters with stuffing-your-face jokes as opposed to fat jokes—the difference was subtle but it meant something to her—but she was too stressed.

Drew held one out. He was a slave to paperwork, so it was hardly a surprise that he had one.

Hernandez took it and prodded cautiously at the steel plate. She would have used her regular tools but she was worried they’d apply too much pressure while a paperclip wouldn’t have the strength to cause damage. She cursed when she dropped it.

Rather than fall, it simply hung there as if by magic and clung to the silver plate.

“It’s a magnet.” Keith beamed with pride at his observational skills.

She rolled her eyes. He was a great lay—better than most dudes and even some women—but God, he could be dumb.

“Of course it’s a fucking magnet. Now give me a radio.”

“Steel Dragon. Come in Steel Dragon,” Drew said into the radio.

“Did I ask you to do that?” Hernandez hissed her irritation. “Give me the radio!”

Butters passed her his—they all noticed that Kristen didn’t answer the call—and she immediately shattered it on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Drew demanded.

“Saving the Wonderkid’s goddamn life, so please, try to calm the fuck down.”

From the destroyed radio, she selected the copper wire—there wasn’t much but it would hopefully be enough—and wound it around one of her own tiny steel tools. Carefully, she connected the copper wire to the radio’s battery and earned a shock in the process, but she didn’t care. She’d had reactions from chemicals in her work area that would liquify someone’s lungs if they inhaled too deeply. A shock was nothing.

She manipulated the piece of steel—now wrapped in electrically charged wire—to touch the paperclip and picked it up to confirm that she’d made an electromagnet.

“Okay, here the fuck goes. I’ll hold this at this switch and Drew, you kick the door open.”

“Are you sure?”

“Nope,” Hernandez replied. “I’d say sixty-forty we survive, but we have maybe a minute left. I’m fairly sure this is a magnetic sensor so the electromagnet should stop it from exploding when you remove the other part of the switch. If anyone else wants to not blow up, now would be your chance to move down the hall.”

Butters and Keith shared a look but neither fled.

She scowled at the brave idiots but Drew grinned.

“I love the bravery, boys, but you might as well get against the wall. If this thing brains us, it’ll be up to you two.”

Both men nodded at the wisdom of this and pushed themselves against the same wall as the bomb, each a few doors down in opposite directions.

“Drew? If you don’t mind.”

The team leader nodded, took a deep breath, mumbled a prayer under his breath, and kicked the door in.

A scream from within was, thankfully, not followed by an explosion.

“Am I glad to see you guys,” Washington sputtered. Hernandez could tell he’d been crying as there were tear streaks on his dark skin. “If you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate you getting this thing off my ankle in the next forty-five seconds.”

He was still alive and that reminded her that she had to keep panicking.

She raced over to him and grasped his ankle without even saying hello. He fell on the bed to give her a better look at the anklet, but it was already too late.

“I don’t have time for this,” she said.

“Yes, you do. Don’t quit.” Drew said.

“No, I don’t.” She stood slowly and realized her panic had faded. They would all die or they would let Jim die and run to safety. Of course, they were all too stupid and loyal to do that—herself included—so they would die.

“Come on, Hernandez, give it a shot,” the team leader said, his tone encouraging.

“I’ve seen these things on the Internet. It’s like a bomb-head’s wet dream. The screws are custom, so I don’t have the tools to get inside, but even if I did, it’s spring-loaded. As soon as I crack it open…” She made two fists, then opened them to mime an explosion. “Boom.”

“Well, there has to be a code or something. There’s a timer, isn’t there?” Washington pleaded.

“It’s all inside. The timer is all that shows. Seriously. If I fuck with this thing, it will detonate. I might be able to work it out if I had a few hours but…” She shrugged

They could all read and there was no doubt that they only had thirty seconds.

“Steel Dragon. Come in Steel Dragon,” Drew said over the radio.

This time, Kristen responded, although she was hard to hear. It was obvious she was in the thick of the party.

“The bomb is still on Jim’s leg and still set to explode if the bomb inside the cake fails to detonate. We can’t stop it or save him.”

Hernandez loved that Drew said we and not her, even though it was totally her fucking fault.

“Kristen, you have to disarm the cake anyway!” Jim yelled over Drew. “You guys get out of here and let Kristen blow the anklet.”

“We will not let you die,” Drew said.

“I’ll probably only lose a leg.” Fucking Wonderkid. They all knew he would lose more than a leg but here he was, trying to be the hero. “The cake is more important. We have to protect civilians even if they are dragons. I’m a cop, I knew what I was signing up for. They didn’t ask to risk their lives at a party.”

“Jim, no,” Kristen yelled over the radio. She yelled at the dragons to clear the roof but they all laughed.

Hernandez even heard some of them over the radio. “Be careful. The mage in that exhibition might come back. Let’s hear it once more for the Steel Dragon.”

The crowd cheered like drunken buffoons.

“You can’t let them die. Some of them have to be innocent,” Jim insisted.

The demolitions expert was shocked. She’d never liked dragons but Jim had hated them. When she first met him, he had acted as if every single dragon he’d ever met was personally out to get him and now, he was willing to sacrifice his life for a group of dragon strangers.

Hernandez hoped she never grew up that much.

“I will not let you die,” Kristen said before the radio went dead. Hernandez wondered if any of the people on the street below were live-streaming the Penobscot and if so, did they have an angle that would show Jim’s hotel room blow up?

Not that it mattered. They were probably all dead in about fifteen seconds.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Kristen knew she didn’t have time and was basically about to kill herself in spectacular fashion, but she wouldn’t let Constance make this decision for her.

And that’s what it amounted to. It was a fucked-up version of the trolley problem. The assassin had given her the choice to end one human life or end a large number of dragon lives. The trolley problem basically meant it headed down a track where it would run over five people but there was a switch that would let the operator make it run over only one person instead, but with humans and dragons. It was a false choice. The trolley problem assumed that one couldn’t stop the damn trolley and—worse, in Kristen’s mind—it never addressed the asshole who had tied the damn people to a track and left them in front of a train.

It was a false binary, and all it did was give power to the person demanding an answer to the question.

She certainly wouldn’t answer. Instead of hemming and hawing about which switch to push, she dropped the remote and turned her dragon speed on. She raced to where Windlock, Brockton, and Beanpole held Constance.

“If you do nothing, the cake blows up,” the assassin reminded her when she noticed that she had discarded the remote. “I’m glad you made the right choice.”

Her smugness faded and was replaced by a look of horror when Kristen ripped the woman’s bulletproof armor off and threw it on hastily over her dress.

“No! No, don’t do this. You’re too important and that bomb is filled with dragon parts. You’ll be eviscerated.”

Time seemed to slow as she raced toward the cake but she knew she still wouldn’t have enough. From her belt, she heard Hernandez cursing about technomages—a term she immediately approved of in reference to their adversaries but also a term she knew she’d probably never get to use.

She had to end this and show that a dragon could protect both humans and people. It might cost her life, but it was a risk she had to take. No one else could do it.

As she sprinted forward, she transformed into her dragon form and hurled revelers aside with her steel tail and wings. There were dragons there who could beat her in combat, but they were all in human form. She was determined and moved with every ounce of strength and speed she had to barrel through the crowd and part them like the Red Sea.

The Steel Dragon grasped the cake in her front claws and launched herself skyward. She allowed herself one backward glance to where Beanpole, Windlock, and Brockton dragged Constance onto the roof. All four of them watched as she soared upward with the cake that would have killed them all—and still might if she didn’t succeed.

Hard wingbeats thrust her higher with the power of desperation.

Time seemed to tick inexorably in her head but what choice did she have? She couldn’t let Constance control this narrative. If she allowed the woman to force her to choose between which groups of people to kill, she’d be a killer always and forever. This way, the only person who might die was her. It wasn’t a pleasant thought but it was the best she had.

She pumped her wings as powerfully as she could in an effort to get as high as possible above the party. While she had no idea how many explosives were in the cake, she knew that the higher she went, the safer they’d all be. She shifted it to her back claws as she counted down the final few seconds.

Her plan was desperate and she knew she would more than likely die. Oddly enough, she was more remorseful than angry. She had wanted to build a bridge between humans and dragons and she’d failed. A world she’d dreamed of in which her human parents would be safe would never be. She was more than willing to sacrifice herself for others and had grown up with her dad working as a cop for Detroit so knew firsthand what sacrifice really looked like. But if she was gone, she had no idea who would advocate for humans to the dragons or for dragons to the humans.

Kristen reached three in her internal count so she spun and hurled the cake as high into the air as possible with the momentum of her back legs. It careened away from her, but with her dragon senses, she could tell it was already slowing down. It wouldn’t be far enough away, which meant she would be engulfed in the blast.

She proceeded with the last and most desperate part of her plan and transformed into her human body. Her clothes and the armor she’d taken from Constance rematerialized and she pulled the bulletproof vest over her head. She tucked herself into a ball to make herself as small a target as possible and tried to cover her head, heart, and lungs with the protective material.

The bomb exploded a second or so sooner than she expected it to. A shockwave of force surged into her and catapulted her toward the ground much faster than gravity would have been able to do.

Still, if it had only been the shockwave from the bomb, she might have survived because she had a dragon’s ability to heal. Concussions, bruises, and broken bones weren’t the same thing for her that they were for regular humans.

But the bomb had been filled with dragon parts, shrapnel that was deadly to every living creature on earth, even one with steel skin. Chunks of what she knew on some level to be her own species shredded her. Her legs—completely bare since she’d removed the bottom half of the dress—burned with pain as countless slivers of dead dragon slashed viciously through unprotected skin. Her arms still clutched the bulletproof vest to her head and chest but also ignited with unimaginable pain. If she hadn’t already clasped them around her as tightly as possible, they would have flinched and spasmed in agony.

The worst torment came from the shrapnel that managed to catch her in the abdomen. Every one of those felt like white-hot fire, a jagged blade intent only on inflicting cruelty to her midriff. It hurt so badly she wondered if her gut had been punctured. Her entire body screamed for it to end. Kristen remained silent and clenched her teeth.

She had survived the blast.

Now, she had to survive the fall.

Her awareness returned, spurred by her inner warning, and she called her dragon powers. She didn’t have much time but she’d practiced and decreased the time it took for her to transform. All she needed to do was assume her dragon body and use her wings like a parachute. On some level, she was aware that at the speed with which she moved, her wings might break in their sockets, but much of how she flew in her dragon body was instinctual. If she could catch even a trace of wind and redirect her fall, she would survive.

Unfortunately, it appeared that she couldn’t transform.

She called on her dragon powers, dug deeply into the font of strength she’d discovered not that long before, and found the paths it took through her body were blocked. There were simply too many pieces of shrapnel inside her. She began to disincorporate and the beginnings of the silvery glitter surrounded her as she fell, but her wounds were too grievous. Her body couldn’t shed things when it changed and instead, it moved them around and adjusted their relative positions. Doing so would mean shifting a massive amount of razor-sharp slivers of dragon through her body, something it simply wouldn’t allow her to do.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the effort also caused her steel skin to fade into her regular flesh. Like a drunk trying to pound a couple of glasses of water much too late in the night to make a difference, the effort only caused her more pain and rejected this last attempt to save herself with unnecessary retribution.

Kristen tried to regain her steel form. Impact with the ground while in steel skin might still turn her organs into mush, but at least she wouldn’t pop like a water balloon. Her body denied her even this small benefit. She was spent and it took everything she had simply to not pass out from the pain.

Without a doubt, she was well and truly fucked.

Somehow, she managed to rotate her body as the Penobscot raced past and she groaned inwardly. Impact with the top of the skyscraper might have saved her as she’d have less time to reach terminal velocity. Plus, there was the chance that she would plow through a couple of floors—shedding her momentum piece by piece—before she came to a stop. Now, however, she plunged toward nighttime Detroit and could only expect to strike the street or sidewalk.

Ridiculously, Kristen began to cry and her tears whipped behind her with the speed of her fall. In the next moment, dragon talons curled around her body and diverted her into a blindingly fast swoop across the ground.

She came close enough to the streets below that she saw people staring at her, many of them shooting video on their camera phones.

A cheer rose from the crowd—it seemed weird that sound might be one of the few things that still traveled faster than she did at this point—as the city saw their hero saved by a dragon.

She swung upward again and the sensation of changed momentum made her nauseous. Her rescuer continued to climb until she was once more on the roof at the party. The dragon who’d saved her set her down gently and she twisted slightly as he transformed into the human form of Windlock. That was the last thing she saw before she passed out from lack of blood.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

She drifted through the darkness of unconsciousness without dream or thought. Her only reality was the pain that gnawed the edges of her mind in a confusing demand for her to both wake and remain asleep. After a while, however, the pain diminished slightly and Kristen opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the night sky above her. Despite the fact that the lights of the Motor City washed out many of the stars, she could still make out a few of the glowing pinpricks of light. They reminded her of how fragile the earth was, how insignificant, and therefore how beautiful. Her hometown was tinier than every mote of light in the sky, yet it contained humans, animals, and dragons, all of whom had a right to be there. They had to find a way to share their world because the stars would forever remain out of reach, a tantalizing vision from thousands of lightyears away.

Her tunnel vision expanded to register a few glowing orbs of light. At first, she thought they were light bulbs, but the way they bobbed gently made her realize they were lights made by a mage or pixie. The party had been ruined, obviously, so the magic users had altered the quality of light to be more appropriate to what was currently in progress.

And as her vision settled and real awareness took hold, she realized those gathered so closely around her were a medical team.

Doctor Chakrabarti—the dragon surgeon who had attended Stonequest and Heartsbane—was there. His hands were bloody and his face grim but he wore no doctor’s scrubs. A frilly shirt with rolled-up sleeves seemed out of place given his task and only his gloves confirmed his professionalism. He no doubt carried a pair in his pocket. For the briefest of moments, she felt anger toward the surgeon for being at the party rather than monitoring her friends in the hospital. When the man removed a piece of dragon talon as long as her finger from her gut, she decided it was preferable that he was there.

Three other mages stood beside him. Two of them were unfamiliar but the third was Brockton. As always, he harnessed his abilities to move objects without touching them. He held his hands near his forehead and drew a dragon scale the size of a quarter out of her leg. Her flesh squelched slightly as the foreign object came free and she almost passed out again, but she managed to stay calm and mumble her thanks.

“Ah, Lady Steel,” Doctor Chakrabarti said. He sounded surprised to hear her voice but was professional enough that it didn’t show in his demeanor. If anyone needed steady nerves, it was a surgeon. “We’ve extracted most of the larger pieces. Your liver was punctured and a kidney almost decimated, but both are in good enough shape that you should heal once we get the rest out of you.”

“The rest?” she asked weakly.

He glanced over his shoulder and she craned her neck to where Windlock stood impassively. The dragon nodded. “She can take it.”

The doctor turned to her again. “There were over a hundred pieces of…shrapnel, lodged in your flesh. Quite frankly, it’s a miracle you’re still alive. Based on the sheer number of them in that explosive, if you had not thought to protect yourself with that vest, a few pieces would have surely punctured your brain, lungs, and more than likely your heart. Facing the blast was also wise, as your spine was protected. You’re a very lucky girl, Kristen Steel. You can still wiggle your toes, not something I thought you’d be able to do when I began my work.”

“How long was I out?” Kristen asked.

“Almost an hour—enough time for us to remove most of the larger pieces but there are still dozens of smaller ones. I don’t know how many, exactly, but we need to pull them out before your healing abilities return. While I’d prefer to do this in a sterile operating theatre, I don’t want to move you as some of them could shift in flight. It’s a good thing there’s no chance of rain tonight. We’ll be here a while.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I guess I owe you my life,” she murmured.

Doctor Chakrabarti laughed. “Well, then, consider us even. From what I can tell, you were over a hundred meters away from that bomb when it exploded. If it had detonated in the middle of the party, we’d all be dead.” He shook his head, his expression a little sheepish. “Actually, I had been ogling the cake when you bulldozed through and knocked me over. I would’ve been deader than most if not for that.”

“Well, thanks all the same.”

He nodded and stood. “I need to stretch my legs and get some water but will be back soon. We’re out of the woods but that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy going. I don’t want you to move and the mages will keep working. I’m sure you understand certain…uh, obligations as an officer, but if you get upset at all or your consciousness level changes, they’re all gone.”

“If I yell or fall asleep, you’ll get rid of them. Got it.” Kristen tried to smile. She wondered if her own grin looked as phony as his. They both knew that “out of the woods” was a little presumptive.

Still, he moved away and Windlock approached.

The dragon knelt beside her and studied her with a serious expression. “You know, when you rushed out there with that bulletproof vest, I thought you intended to throw it over the top of the cake. It wouldn’t have done a damn thing, obviously, even if it had been big enough. I thought you’d lost your damn mind. Instead, you picked the damn cake up and tried to fly it to the moon. If that wasn’t the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever seen someone do, I don’t know what is.” He chuckled. “The thing is, though, it was also damn brave.”

“That’s our Kristen,” Beanpole said as he moved behind Windlock and towered over him. His face was a mess of bruises from his fight with Constance. She wondered who looked worse, she or him.

“Wait, Brockton’s working on me, so if you two are here, where’s Constance?”

A stab of pain in her knee suggested that Brockton had startled and jerked while he attended to a wound. Windlock and Beanpole shared a grimace.

The mage spoke first. “I used magic to control her, but she had those cuffs on and…hell, I got sloppy. When you raced out there toward the cake, I think all our jaws hit the floor. I know mine sure did. I recovered after about half a second but when I turned, she had managed to remove one of the cuffs. You had broken her wrist and if not for that, I don’t know if she could have.”

“Are you saying this is my fault?” Kristen challenged, only half-joking.

“I’m saying I don’t want to take full responsibility for how badly I fucked up, so yeah, I guess I’m trying to share the blame with everyone. There are ways to stop mages from using their abilities, but I hadn’t exercised them on account of those handcuffs. That was all me. As soon as she was free, she blasted me with a flurry of broken glass from the door you shattered. I blocked it, but that was what she wanted. She used the opportunity to damn near vanish.”

“And you didn’t see where she went?” she asked Beanpole. The man was a master of observation. There were times when she thought he had eyes on all sides of his head because nothing seemed to escape him.

Except this time, apparently. “She ducked into a room in the hall. I followed but as soon as I went in, she hit me across the head.”

“And you let her get away?” she asked Windlock.

“I checked Beanpole and found him alive but by then, my choice was to pursue her or try to save you from an unpleasant encounter with the streets of Detroit.”

“I watched her in that room. She used magic. We couldn’t have caught her,” Beanpole said.

“We’re sorry,” Windlock said. “It was a rookie mistake.”

Kristen nodded, disappointed as she’d thought they could finally get answers from Constance. If they’d taken her into custody, they could have learned something from her about both her organization and— she thought selfishly—the woman’s role in her life. Strangely, she wasn’t all that upset that the assassin had escaped.

She wanted to be furious with this woman who’d used her friend as a bargaining chip in her quest to destroy dozens of powerful dragons but there was something about the balance that had been struck—one human life versus all those dragons—that challenged it. It was unacceptable to threaten to blow people up, obviously. But at the same time, to think about one human life like that and to understand what one human could mean to someone who cared about them was something she couldn’t help but admire. Except, of course, Constance didn’t really care about individuals. If she did, she would never have used Jim that way. Her focus was entirely on her bigger picture.

Dragons didn’t think about people as someone to care about either. Hell, in actual fact, people didn’t think about people that way. There were exceptions, just as there were dragons who did care—or had begun to adjust their perceptions to work toward that. In general, though, everyone knew not to piss dragons off. If you so much as told a joke about them, it could cost you your life. That had been the way of things since written language had existed. It was still the way of things overall.

But Constance wanted to change that. She wanted to bring in a more just and equitable world. Kristen didn’t agree with her methods and whole-heartedly believed violence would only instigate more violence, but the woman’s vision had appeal. She couldn’t help but share the fantasy of a more equal world—a world where dragons hesitated before killing people and in which not only humans knew the meaning of the word terror.

What she’d come to see, though, was that it wasn’t an entirely one-sided situation. People like Drew and his team needed to care about the dragons before they were able to step in to save them. Yes, they’d looked at the impact the bomb would have had on humanity and that had been their driving motivation, but they could have turned their backs on the dragons.

If they still had the assassin in custody, they could perhaps have come to some kind of understanding. Maybe they could have built if not a bridge, then at least a path forward. It might have been complicated or difficult, but it could have been something positive. Now, the woman was free and doubtlessly already planning another act of terror. Still, they’d at least foiled this plan and avoided war for a while longer.

“What about the team?” Kristen asked Beanpole.

“Jim is fine. As soon as the bomb went off, the anklet bomb released.”

“Constance told the truth about that, then,” she murmured aloud. The looks on both Windlock and Beanpole’s face told her they didn’t share any of the questions she had about their adversary. They doubtlessly thought using Jim as a sacrificial pawn was a terrible thing and she was thankful they did. If the world needed anything, it was people with different opinions to work together.

“They’ve been on the damn radio the whole time. Finally, we had to tell them to shut up and turned the damn thing off. The last thing they said was something about a Coney Island? I gotta say, you inspire people in a way ol’ Windlock doesn’t,” Brockton rambled as he continued to work on her wounds.

“They’re fine,” Beanpole reiterated. “Hernandez is freaking out about how fancy the anklet device is. Drew is trying to use past legal cases to make the dragons let them in here, and Keith, Butters, and Jim are arguing about hotdogs.”

“Coney Islands,” Kristen corrected him.

The tall man shrugged. “We’re all happy you’re okay.”

“Indeed,” Windlock said before he glanced at an approaching cadre of people. His face paled and he clenched his teeth. “Beanpole, if you’ll excuse us.”

Beanpole looked up and frowned in bemusement. He had no idea who they were and their presence meant nothing to him.

“Those are all members of the Dragon Council of North America,” Windlock whispered urgently. “Get out of here.”

The man ignored him and looked at Kristen instead. She nodded. “But first, help me sit.”

“Lady Steel, Doctor Chakrabarti said not to do that,” Brockton protested.

“I will not meet these dragons lying on my back. Now help me up.”

Windlock nodded and the mage finally acquiesced. He told his colleagues to take a short break while Kristen’s teammates helped her into a seated position.

It might have been a mistake, she realized when her limbs and abdomen protested mightily. Pain seared through her legs and reminded her that she’d never suffered like this before and that if she stupidly ignored the doctor’s instructions, she might never suffer this way again.

And yet, if she was to build a bridge, she needed to be strong. She needed to face these dragons who ruled the world and do so from a position of something close to equality. Obviously, she couldn’t do that while staring up at the sky.

After a few moments, the pain eased enough for her to understand that movement was not a viable option given her condition. Brockton used his magic to drift a few pillows from a nearby couch and positioned them behind her back so she didn’t have to maintain her core while she sat.

She wondered briefly why the doctor hadn’t moved her to the couch as it would have been more comfortable than the floor, but she realized almost as quickly that surgeons worked on flat surfaces, not comfortable sofas upholstered in ostrich skin.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, Beanpole,” Kristen said to her friend.

He nodded, sent a glare at the approaching dragons, then retreated to the far side of the roof.

“You too, Brockton,” Windlock told the mage.

“Ah, come on. They love me.”

“They most certainly do not and besides, I do not want you to talk over Kristen’s introduction to them.”

Brockton grinned and complied. He didn’t go as far as Beanpole, though, as he still had surgery to perform.

Five dragons strode purposely toward Kristen. The three men and two women exuded power and their auras were unlike anything she’d experienced in her time with dragon kind. They didn’t tell her how to feel or take control of her but she knew that they could. It was like seeing a whale’s tail protrude from the ocean before it splashed into the water or the tip of the iceberg. The little she could sense bespoke power that was deep and profound.

As they approached, Windlock knelt before them. For an awful moment, Kristen thought he would remain silent and leave her to flounder in the presence of these mighty dragons.

Fortunately, he laid her fears to rest but what he said merely revealed more of the Council’s power. “May I present to you the head of the North American Dragon Council, Decimus Aurelius, a loyal servant of the Dragon Roman Empire almost two thousand years ago. He helped to found this country during colonial times and assisted the United States to establish themselves as an independent nation. In addition, he is one of the founder members of the North American Dragon Council. Hail, Lord Aurelius!”

“Hail!” the other members of the Dragon Council echoed.

Lord Aurelius chuckled. “It says something about progress that these days, I can be both a loyal servant of the Roman empire and one of the founders of the United States. I took considerable heat for that from the Europeans.”

Kristen was shocked to hear this dragon greet her with a joke. It simply didn’t seem possible. He was tall and held himself regally. His gray hair, smile lines around his eyes, and a wide grin could have given him a very lucrative career as an actor—or a politician—she thought. He wore a silver suit and a black tie that would have made her dress look shabby even before she’d torn it to shreds. Her brain struggled to process the sheer impossibility of the situation and decide how to respond to the dragon. He preempted her, though, and she actually gaped and was left utterly speechless when Decimus Aurelius, a being more powerful than the president of the United States, dropped to one knee beside her.

He didn’t kneel a long time, fortunately, and merely bowed his head for a few seconds before he stood again.

Part of her wanted to thank him but the other part seemed determined to protest that someone of his rank would kneel to her, so she played it safe and said nothing at all.

“Lady Steel, I and indeed, everyone on this roof,” he said with a raised voice emphasized by his aura, “are alive because of the selfless heroism you exhibited today. We all owe you a debt.”

Kristen—still speechless—only managed to nod before he turned away from her and pinned the rest of the crowd with his gaze. Many of the dragons still present nodded immediately but that didn’t seem to be enough for him. He remained silent, his stare hard and compelling, and flexed his aura to show them he was serious. Soon, the entire gathering knelt as he had done. Finally, he turned his gaze on the other members of the Council. One by one, each of them nodded. They didn’t kneel but she saw the looks in their eyes and felt the weight of their auras that conveyed clearly that they took this very seriously.

“Thank you, Lord Aurelius, truly.”

“You don’t have to thank us. A dragon debt is worth more than gold—especially a life-debt, which we all owe you now. If there is ever anything you need, you only have to ask, Lady Steel.”

“Well, for starters, you can call me Kristen.”

Lord Aurelius bowed graciously, “And you may call me Decimus. Please, Kristen.” Her name sounded odd in his slightly accented English. She realized he must have spoken Latin fluently as well as various other languages he’d used in Europe. “Tell me what compelled you to be so willing to sacrifice yourself for us? We’ve never even met.”

“Frankly, Decimus, I did it to prevent a war between humans and dragons. If those…” She struggled for a suitable word and recalled the name Hernandez had given them. “If those technomages had been successful, I’m sure dragon kind would have attacked humankind and the world would have been soaked in blood. I didn’t want to die but losing one life is worth it if millions are saved.”

Lord Aurelius—Decimus? Was she really supposed to think of the most powerful person on the continent on a first-name basis?—turned to address the crowd again. “This is the kind of dragon the world needs.” Many of the guests nodded. “Your bravery is admirable and your views on human lives is commendable. It takes a keen mind to break through established ideas. When I helped found this country not by installing a new king but by helping to shape a democracy, dragons and people alike thought I was crazy, but I like to think that it worked out well.” He chuckled. “You may have started something today—a path toward a future that no human or dragon had previously imagined. I will watch you, Kristen Steel, and if you ever need anything, remember that we are in your debt.”

With that, the Dragon Council leader turned on his heel, strode to the edge of the Penobscot roof, and transformed into a resplendent silver dragon. While Kristen’s form was the same color, he looked nothing like her. Her dragon body—especially in its steel form—made her think of chrome. It was bright, shiny, and not too detailed. Decimus, by comparison, looked like a finely worked piece of jewelry. Every scale was outlined in the faintest line of white light. His wings were larger than hers, although his body was smaller, which made him seem both more powerful and more delicate. It was like looking at a king in dragon form. As he launched into the night, she hoped she would have the opportunity to get to know this powerful dragon.

The other members of the Council nodded at Kristen as if to confirm once again, boosted by a flash of their auras, how seriously they took the oath they’d sworn. Silence hung over the rooftop as they stepped off the edge of the skyscraper and were swallowed by the night sky.

Once they were gone, Kristen collapsed into the pillows. It had taken considerable effort and determination for her to sit for that long. Her body was still on fire with pain and every part of her hurt. The mages who’d worked on her knew this, obviously, as they rushed forward and resumed their task.

She knew they were helping her and that she wouldn’t be able to heal until they had removed the dragon shrapnel. Still, it was hard to feel anything but annoyance when even the slightest touch stung and triggered more pain.

“How much of that crap is in me?” she asked and clenched her teeth.

“More than you want to know,” Dr. Chakrabarti replied. Apparently, he’d had his break and now that she had been personally thanked by the Dragon Council, he wanted to make sure they wasted no more time. Unfortunately, no one had any idea how long that would take and she had to simply endure the process.

For the next ten minutes, Kristen forced herself to at least try to relax. It wasn’t easy as every few seconds, she felt the equivalent of a wasp sting somewhere on her body when a mage yanked another piece of dragon out. She did manage to close her eyes, though, so that had to count for something.

“Once this is all out, will I begin to heal?” she asked Dr. Chakrabarti at one point.

“It will take time. These scales interfere with your natural systems, so once they are out, those systems have to reset, so to speak. I hope Dragon SWAT has a decent disability program. I think you will take much longer to heal than your two friends did.”

She knew he was speaking about Stonequest and Heartsbane but her mind immediately went to her human friends. Aside from Beanpole, they didn’t really need to heal so it wasn’t a parallel that made sense. Still, they had helped her to prevent a war.

“Where are Drew and the others?” she asked Windlock.

“I was waiting for you to ask,” he replied and spoke quickly into a radio.

A minute later, the SWAT team raced onto the roof.

“What the fuck happened here?” Hernandez yelled at the sparse crowd. “I was hoping to get leftover grub.”

“Agreed,” Butter huffed.

“Holy crap, Kristen, are you okay? You have to see this video of Windlock catching you before you met the pavement. Ten more feet and you would have destroyed this lady’s phone, but she recorded the whole thing in high def. The video has already gone viral. It has over a million views and it’s barely been an hour.” Keith brandished his phone to show her.

“Good to see you’re…alive,” Drew said and examined her wounds.

“Thanks for saving my ass again,” Jim said.

“No problem,” she replied reflexively, even though it was definitely one hundred percent a problem to have her body riddled with shrapnel from another dragon. A dragon who—if the evidence proved correct—was more than likely related to her.

“Did you get her?” the Wonderkid asked.

Kristen clenched her teeth to bite back an acerbic response.

Brockton replied in his typically verbose fashion. “Kristen did. You should have seen it. They jumped from rooftop to rooftop and she battled in both her forms while the other woman used magic. It was epic! That technomage thought she could use ice against Kristen, but you can’t box the steel dragon in. Oh, man, I should’ve recorded a video. It was too cool.”

“If you beat her, where is she now?” Drew asked.

“That would be my bad,” the mage confessed, his expression ashamed. “She escaped while I was supposed to watch her.”

“I was also unable to stop her,” Beanpole added. It sounded more convincing from him because his face was so bruised.

“Damn,” Jim said. “I really hoped this would be the end of it. I was ready to blow up back there—thanks again, Hernandez, for not letting that happen—but I thought this would be it. We’d beat the damn technomages and stop a war.”

“I’m not sure this will be something we can put an end to so easily,” Kristen said. “This bomb would have killed most of the North American Dragon Council as well as dozens of powerful dragons, and the technomages didn’t even have all their people here. They understand that they’re fighting a long-term guerilla war and that any of their victories can be taken away by a foe who is much more powerful than they are. I think we’ll have to continue to accept small victories and try to capture their leadership.”

“Do you think they’d stop if we had a prisoner?” Drew asked.

Kristen shook her head—a huge mistake as the movement made her entire body scream in pain—and blinked tears away. “No, not at all. I think they are all committed to their cause and probably have contingencies in case someone is taken. Still, I keep thinking that if we can talk to Constance or someone else high up in the organization, we can get a list of demands. Maybe the Dragon Council can meet them halfway.”

“You mean negotiate with the terrorists?” Windlock asked, obviously incredulous.

“I do,” she said. “I don’t agree with their methods but they’re not the disease, merely a symptom. They see real injustice in the world and want more equality. Obviously, blowing people up is always deplorable, but this party was another reminder of how much dragons have and how little so many of the people actually control. Constance and the technomages have chosen to go about it all wrong because their actions will simply cause more bloodshed. I’m sure they see it as vengeance, but—and this is unfair to say—often, the victim has to forgive first. If we can understand their viewpoint, maybe we can do something to help them realize it.”

“I thought their viewpoint was that killing dragons is good,” Jim said.

How weird, she thought, that Windlock—a dragon who investigated dragon crimes—had come together with Jim—a man who had hated dragons with every fiber of his being less than a year before—to express confusion over her idea, but it made sense when she thought about it.

Jim and Windlock were both men who valued evidence. They saw the world through events and things that happened. Motives—other than self-defense—weren’t particularly valuable to either of them. They both saw crimes committed and atrocities performed and wanted them stopped.

The others in the human SWAT team weren’t like that. Butters, Keith, Beanpole, and Hernandez especially saw things through their gut. They felt what was right and wrong, and she could tell that they grasped what she’d tried to say and understood what it felt like to be powerless and so lash out.

She was sure they would need everyone’s perspective to thwart the technomages. Windlock and Jim, however, would have to accept that they’d need the mages too.

“Well, look what got caught on the dragon’s claws.”

Kristen rolled her eyes when Heartsbane walked into her room.

Once they’d removed most of the shrapnel, they’d relocated her to the hospital where Stonequest and Heartsbane had been treated. She hadn’t possessed the energy to ask if either of the dragons were all right and had simply passed out and woken as her teammate strolled in. She wondered—not for the first time—if there were elements to a dragon’s aura she still couldn’t tap into. Had she been able to tell from her aura that she had woken or had she merely entered at a lucky moment?

“I thought I had it bad, but holy shit, they practically took an entire dragon out of you,” the woman said.

“It’s good to know you’re feeling good enough to talk shit,” she retorted. She didn’t comment on her visitor’s wounds, though. Obviously, the other dragon knew she still had a scar on her cheek. Normally, Kristen would have counted such a thing as a blessing, but given that Heartsbane’s powers were about manipulation, she wondered if having her beautiful features marred would damage her effectiveness. She wanted to think things like beauty didn’t matter to beings as powerful dragons but that was obviously naïve. Everyone at the party had been gorgeous and she had never seen a disheveled or unkempt dragon. And, of course, the scar might still heal so there was no point in mentioning it.

“I’m only happy I get to pay you back for saving my ass,” Heartsbane said.

“Yeah, well, you and the Dragon Council.”

“Wait—what?” her visitor demanded.

Kristen grinned as Stonequest walked in.

“You didn’t hear?” he asked. He looked better and definitely stronger, although he was still pale. It seemed that getting shot in the chest slowed dragons as much as it did humans if you used the right bullets. “Kristen earned the respect of Lord Decimus Aurelius last night. Apparently, he knelt before her and promised her a life-debt.”

“The Decimus Aurelius?” The woman’s jaw seemed unable to close.

“No, a different one. Yes, that Aurelius.”

“I…I can’t… I’ve never even spoken to…” Heartsbane trailed off and her mouth appeared to stop moving now that her brain had basically ceased to function.

“We’re proud of you,” Stonequest told her. “And working with an investigator, no less. You should be proud of yourself.”

Kristen shrugged, which hurt. “I think at this point, I’d rather have not been blown up than earn the honor.”

He nodded, but she could tell from his aura that he didn’t believe her. Her boss knew as well as she did that if it happened again, she would do the same thing.

The other dragon seemed to finally pull herself together and her mouth snapped shut, she stood straighter, and her aura fell away. “Lady Steel, I owe you a life-debt.” Melissa Heartsbane—the most cantankerous individual she had ever met—dropped to one knee before her and swore an oath of allegiance.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” she said, both confused and a little uncomfortable.

“Say yes. Otherwise, it’s a great dishonor,” Stonequest said.

“I…yes, Heartsbane, thank you.”

The dragon stood. “I’ll protect your life with my own and do as you ask, but if I think it’s a dumb fucking thing to do, I’ll definitely let you know about it. So yeah, don’t worry. You won’t lose my peppy attitude.”

Kristen smiled. It was a relief that Heartsbane was finally open about how much she respected her and also good to know it didn’t mean their relationship would change substantially. After all, they were Dragon SWAT. Risking their lives for each other was part of the job description.

“She saved your life too, Stone.” The woman directed a venomous glare at Stonequest.

“I know and I’m thankful, but I’d do the same for you—and you know that, right, Kristen?”

She nodded and again, triggered another wave of pain. Note to self, she thought, give up on body language for the foreseeable future.

“I won’t swear allegiance to you because I’m still your boss, but…well, what do you think we should do next?” He raised an eyebrow.

Kristen hadn’t had much time to think about anything. The night before had been a blur and she’d basically passed out as soon as she’d reached the hospital. On the other hand, she’d tried to decide on their best way forward since she discovered that Constance existed and that she had targeted dragons.

In her heart, she knew what they needed to do next if they wanted to prevent a war. They had to prove there were people who fought for both sides of the seemingly irreconcilable divide. Somehow, they had to prove to humans and dragons alike that justice existed for everyone and that neither the powerful dragons nor the humans who operated outside the law were above it. Perhaps most importantly, they had to prove that peace was a path into the future and if they decided to work together—actually work together, instead of merely continue to jostle for power—they could truly remake the world into something everyone could be proud of.

Her previous deliberations had revealed where it would start too. “Did you run an analysis on the shrapnel that came from my wounds?”

“Not yet,” Stonequest said. “But we ran tests on what came from us. It’s from the same dragon used to create the bullets—someone with a ninety percent match to your DNA.”

“That’s where we start, then,” Kristen said. “We find this dragon, whoever they are.”

“And if they’re working with the technomages?” Heartsbane asked. The word had obviously stuck as it seemed everyone now used it.

“If that is the case, it’s all the more reason to find out who they are and release them from whatever deals or bonds they have with Constance. We can show the world that either humans are powerful enough to exploit dragons or conversely, that dragons are willing to work with people to overthrow the world order as we know it. That will prove that people and dragons not only can work together but that we have to.”

“It makes sense.” Stonequest nodded. “But you know your healing powers haven’t even kicked in yet. At this point, you’ll be on your ass and out of commission for a month, maybe more. That might change, and it could be that Doctor Chakrabarti merely missed a piece of shrapnel. But until you start to heal, you’re grounded.”

“I understand,” Kristen said and finally managed not to nod. “But please, keep me posted if you find anything.” She didn’t know if she hoped he found a lead super quickly before she healed or if she would have time to regain her full strength to help. It didn’t really matter, she realized. It would happen when it happened.

“There is one more thing,” she said quickly. “Heartsbane, I think I need to call in that debt.”

“What? Now? Are you fucking serious?”

“I thought dragons took these things very seriously,” she countered.

“They do.” Stonequest glared at the other dragon.

“Yes, of course, Lady Steel,” the woman said in a mock aristocratic accent. “What doth thou desire?”

“Would you mind calling my family a cab, getting them here, and picking up a couple of pizzas and beer for us?”

She had never seen the energy of an atomic bomb in human form before but she saw it now behind Heartsbane’s eyes. After a long moment of silence, the woman nodded, took a deep breath, and stormed out the door. “I won’t get that Detroit-style shit, though!” she hollered from down the hall. The sound of breaking glass suggested that the temperamental dragon had launched herself skyward through a window.

“Is there anything else?” Stonequest asked carefully.

“Nah, I’m fine.” She closed her eyes and let herself relax. One day, she’d bring the world together—two worlds, both dragons and humans, would stand together to save the earth. What’s more, she would do it with beer and pizza and the world would be better for it.

THE STORY CONTINUES

The story continues with book eight: Dragon Rescue, coming soon to Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.

KEVIN’S AUTHOR NOTES

Hi there! Wow. Just...wow.

You are awesome. The Steel Dragon has been a smash success. I am having tons of fun working on it, and clearly folks are having just as much fun reading it! I can't tell you how valuable that sort of feedback is to me.

Well, actually... I can. I can say thank you in the best manner that a writer possibly can, and that's to give you more books. Ideally, a lot more books, am I right?

You've inspired me to get back into urban fantasy storytelling in a much bigger way. It's a genre I left behind ages ago, and I wasn't sure when or if I was ever going back to it. I'd become mostly a science fiction author. Spaceships and ray guns replaced werewolves, mages, and dragons. But the level of enthusiasm folks like yourself have shown for this series has got me motivated to give you more.

I'm in the process of doing an update on the old Blackwell Magic novels. These stories were OK, for my early writing period, but they could use a little love at this point. The new editions will be longer, much more fun to read, and feature everything I've learned about writing in the couple million words I've put in since then. I also have the long-awaited seventh book waiting in the wings; it's done, ready to go, and will be coming out with the relaunch of the first six books. I picked up covers for books eight and nine as well, and plan to extend it to at least twelve books before calling it a day on that tale.

Dragons? Yeah, we definitely want more dragon stories. I have three brand new series in some stage of completion that revolve around dragons. Because they're fun to write, especially when you try to do something interesting and new with them. Kristen's story is just the beginning.

Here's the thing: I love telling stories. I write down the words, pour the books I write out onto the page. The work is a lot of fun for me. It's the kind of job that doesn't make me shudder at the thought of sitting down to work. Ultimately, it's folks like yourself that I tell these stories for. I might still be a storyteller without readers, but I wouldn't be able to write nearly so many. Thank you for that.

You've already met Michael via his author notes in so many books, but here's a little more about me.

I live in Boston these days, but I grew up in Vermont. We moved around - a lot! - so I don't really have a home town there. Because we were moving so often, making friends was a challenge. Books offered the sort of friendship that I could take with me wherever work carried my family. I started reading when I was three, but really took off when I was five. I fell asleep one night listening to my parents and a couple of their friends talking about Middle Earth. It was love at first sight. I was enthralled. I needed to know more.

So I picked up a copy of "The Hobbit" my parents had and tried to read it. Mom was amused at first. After the fiftieth time I asked her what some word meant, she was less amused, and showed me how to use the dictionary. After that I took off like a bullet. I finished "The Hobbit" in kindergarten and read the Lord of the Rings trilogy in first grade.

Not coincidentally, first grade was also when I wrote my first short story. I wrote or told stories one way or another ever since.

It's been a wild ride, and there are so many more tales to tell. I hope you'll continue to join me for them, both the Steel Dragon tales, and the others to come in the future. As always, I'd love to hear from readers. You can reach out to me at author@kevinomclaughlin.com

Thanks for reading!

Kevin

February 14, 2020

MICHAEL’S AUTHOR NOTES

THANK YOU for reading our story! We have a few of these planned, but we don’t know if we should continue writing more after that and publishing without your input.

Options include leaving a review, reaching out on Facebook to let us know, and smoke signals.

Frankly, smoke signals might get misconstrued as low hanging clouds, so you might want to nix that idea.

The first dragon stories I really got into were Dragons of Autumn Twilight by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman back in about 1986. I hate to admit it, but I’m not really a large J.R.R. Tolkien fan. The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy were (for me) too slow in the action department, and I wanted MORE magic than Gandalf produced.

Explosions! Magic! Arrows and swords! That was what I wanted to read, not the descriptions and slow machinations of the Hobbit.

Please don’t send me hate mail. I’m just a person who wants to microwave my reading, not have the story slow-simmer before I read it.

(The real reason I don’t like some of those stories is I hate stress. Anytime a story goes too long before the resolution of the stress event, I will read ahead to make sure I know a character I like is okay and going to live.

Or has died, and I will then put the book down and never read it again.)

Diary Sunday Feb 23rd to Sat Feb 29th. (Mostly the same for all books coming out during this week.)

Well, this is a little early (I’m not quite into the week yet), but I can admit I’m going to be out of the office for a couple of days.

Where are you going, you ask? Why, to the White Label World Expo. I know, it clearly gives you goosebumps up and down your arms just thinking about it, right?

No?

Well, color me surprised. (In case you are super-curious, here is the link: https://www.whitelabelexpo.com)

I’ve now reviewed the list of those exhibiting, and I’m not sure if I’ll last beyond a couple of hours. I’m pretty sure this should be renamed the CBD Conference for those not yet involved.

I did notice there is a class on leveraging Amazon’s algorithm for growth. That looks interesting.

On to other topics!

We have plenty of cool books coming out next week, including Scions of Magic Book 05, Hunter Cadet Book 03 (this series has been extended to 06!) We have a brand-new series WAR MAGE Book 01 (3 in 1) on Wednesday. We finish the week with Goth Drow (3 in 1) on Friday and Steel Dragon Book 03 (3 in 1) on Saturday.

All in, that is about eleven (11) books’ worth of reading. So, I hope you don’t treasure your sleep!

#Sleep Is Overrated.

#Read all Night, Sleep all day.

#Don’t Be A Quitter – Finish the book!

#Your boss will NOT understand, I guarantee it.

I will be editing OpusX Book 06 this week, so if you are in Vegas, you might find me at the Aria Five-50 bar typing into the night, trying to pound their iced tea (I swear that stuff has 3x the caffeine of any other tea) and finish just one more chapter or three of editing.

Today, I visited the Aria barber (in the Spa) for the first time. The barber (a Russian lady, Luba(?)) talked me into a true barber shave.

Dammit, that hurt!

I only ever do a dry electric shave, and my beard was NOT pleased with the experience. It wasn’t too bad (yes, it was.), until the last towel.

Those who have done this are probably chuckling.

You see, the first towel in a barber shave is hot, or at least nice and warm to open the pores. She flicked the first towel back and forth a few times to cool it, then settled it on my chin area (this was going well), then wrapped it all the way around my face leaving an opening for my nose.

HOLY D@#%R that was a bit warm!

But really nice after the shock. The towel was infused with something that smelled spa-ish and very outdoorsy.

The actual shave was a bit harsh (ripping hairs out at the roots it felt like) at times, but I expected that to happen.

It was the last towel, the one to close the pores, that made me bounce out of the chair.

It wasn’t just “a little cold.” No, it felt like she laid ice water in a nice circle on top of my face. As if I were in the sea off of Iceland, with only my nose sticking out above the frigid water.

In short, it sucked.

I’ll do it again, but probably once a quarter. There is very little that can provide such a close shave as a razor blade. Besides, the thought of only one small jerk of the hand to end your life gets the blood flowing, #AmIRight?

Yeah, even I could have done without that last thought. See you next book!

Ad Aeternitatem,

Michael

February 28, 2020

** I went to the White Label event yesterday. Stayed four (4) hours, took one class on Amazon ads, and met a really interesting guy who does tattoos (very talented.) Judith, my wife, and I had lunch with Wayne and Kia, his wife, and I’ll see if we can help them publish their books.

Who knows, you might see future art from him at LMBPN, and we can blame CBD oil .

BOOKS BY KEVIN MCLAUGHLIN

Steel Dragon

(with Michael Anderle)

Genesis Draconis (Book 1)

Scales of Justice (Book 2)

Dragon Rising (Book 3)

Dragon Swat (Book 4)

Terror Obscura (Book 5)

Never Cage a Dragon (Book 6)

Dragon's Party (Book 7)

Dragon Rescue (coming soon)

Dragon’s Daughter

(with Michael Anderle)

Never A Dragon (Book 1)

Dead Dragon New tricks (Book 2)

Thicker Than Blood (Book 3)

Dragon Fire and Pixie Dust (Book 4)

The Cult of Tiamat (Book 5)

The Sum of All Magic (Book 6)

Adventures of the Starship Satori (Space Opera blended with military SF)

Finding Satori - prequel short story, available only to email list fans!

Book 1 - Ad Astra: Book 2 - Stellar Legacy

Book 3 - Deep Waters

Book 4 - No Plan Survives Contact

Book 5 - Liberty

Book 6 - Satori’s Destiny

Book 7 - Ashes of War

Book 8 - Embers of War

Book 9 - Dust and Iron

Book 10 - Clad in Steel

Book 11 - Brave New Worlds (2019)

Book 12 - Warrior’s Marque (2020)

The Ragnarok Saga (Military SF)

Accord of Fire - Free prequel short story, available only to email list fans!

Book 1 - Accord of Honor

Book 2 - Accord of Mars

Book 3 - Accord of Valor

Book 4 - Ghost Wing

Book 5 - Ghost Squadron

Book 6 - Ghost Fleet (2019)

Valhalla Online Series (A Ragnarok Saga Story)

Book 1 - Valhalla Online

Book 2 - Raiding Jotunheim

Book 3 - Vengeance Over Vanaheim

Book 4 - Hel Hath No Fury

Blackwell Magic Series (Urban Fantasy)

Book 1 - By Darkness Revealed

Book 2 - Ashes Ascendant

Book 3 - Dead In Winter

Book 4 - Claws That Catch

Book 5 - Darkness Awakes

Book 6 - Spellbinding Entanglements

By A Whisker (short story)

The Raven and the Rose - Free novelette for email list fans!

Dead Brittania Series:

Dead Brittania (short prequel story)

Book 1 - King of the Dead

Book 2 - Queen of Demons

Raven’s Heart Series (Urban Fantasy)

Book 1 - Stolen Light

Book 2 - Webs in the Dark

Book 3 - Shades of Moonlight

Other Titles:

Over the Moon (SF romance)

Midnight Visitors (Steampunk Cat short story)

Demon Ex Machina (Steampunk Cat short story)

The Coffee Break Novelist (help for writers!)

You Must Write (Heinlein’s rules for writers)

BOOKS BY MICHAEL ANDERLE

For a complete list of books by Michael Anderle, please visit:

www.lmbpn.com/ma-books/

All LMBPN Audiobooks are Available at Audible.com and iTunes

To see all LMBPN audiobooks, including those written by Michael Anderle please visit:

www.lmbpn.com/audible

CONNECT WITH THE AUTHORS

Connect with Kevin McLaughlin

Website: http://kevinomclaughlin.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kevins.studio

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KOMcLaughlin

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kevins.studio/

Connect with Michael Anderle

Website: http://lmbpn.com

Email List: http://lmbpn.com/email/

https://www.facebook.com/LMBPNPublishing

https://twitter.com/MichaelAnderle

https://www.instagram.com/lmbpn_publishing/

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/michael-anderle