Page 3 of To Fall for a Dragon

He stopped suddenly and came toward Hakko. His black eyes were unimpressed. Hakko leaned back from the scowl. “Do you know what I am?”

“Yes, of course.” He pursed his lips and studied the aggrieved man. Maybe he could get a name out of him. “You’re not well either. You have some sort of an agenda. I’d appreciate it if you came along with me, and I could help you with your problem.”

He cocked his head to the side and scrutinized Hakko. He shot glances at Hakko’s home before deciding. He seemed like he was weighing the pros and cons. “Fine. Just for a little while. I’d like to warm up if you’ll permit me.”

Hakko held his hand out for the man to take. “I am Hakko, and this is my home. I permit you to visit me, even though permission isn’t necessary.”

“Shit, right. Names. Umm, Poe. Mine is Poe,” Poe—how intriguingly short—murmured. He patted the grave marker with reverence before following Hakko up the slope. “It’s nice to have it, though. Permission.”

“I will try to grant it to you whenever I can,” Hakko responded quietly. The puzzle pieces clicked together, and now that Poe was close enough for Hakko to study, the telltale signs of vampirism were much more pronounced. His skin was pale like the moon, and his eyes weren’t black so much as bloodred.

“Thank you for doing this. Trying to get to the museum while it was open was going to be a challenge,” Poe admitted. This was the first bit of real information he'd shared, and Hakko was going to hoard it close to his chest.

“There’s a gala evening for a much-anticipated exhibit next week. You’d have to bide your time until then,” Hakko offered. Admitting the truth to Poe was a lot easier than he expected. Having him around in Hakko's private sanctuary was a sweet dream he savoured. Hakko hoped to explore this odd sensation in more detail.

Hakko didn’t understand this urge to have Poe remain nearby, but he accepted it. It was like when he'd discovered the small leather-bound books and decided to reveal the contents as a museum exhibit to Granite residents. Sharing his discovery with the town was important, but the items were still his. Hoarding was a dragon’s second nature. Protection first, hoarding second. Poe required protection immediately. A whisper on the wind warned Hakko that trouble was approaching.

Poe sighed. It was heavy and carried the world with it. “Appreciate the offer, but I’m just passing through.”

“But you can’t leave. You’re not well,” Hakko said. A low whine in his voice had him flushing in minor embarrassment.

“I’m fine. Perfectly fine. I’ve been taking care of myself for years, and this is normal for me.” Poe shot his cuffs with disaffected emotion, though his fine bones gave a tiny tremble. “There’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Come to the house, and I’ll get you a drink or something. I don’t have blood on hand though. Vampires aren’t a known entity in Granite.” Hakko blushed. Oh, this man did something to him. His mouth opened, and drivel poured out. He scrubbed the back of his neck and turned away to focus on the slippery pathway. The snow crunched under his feet, and he thought absently that the walkway required shovelling so people wouldn’t slip and hurt themselves.

“Blood isn't necessary. Any hot drink will do,” Poe said quietly from behind. He was such a silent person. His feet didn’t make a sound as he followed. Hakko frowned at the blasé comment. Poe deserved more than that. “I don’t remember Granite being so cold this time of year.”

Hakko tried to think back to the previous winter, when all the cryptids had settled in. Maybe it had been warmer. He assumed the weather fluctuated as it always did. “I have a fire going in my wood stove, so follow me.”

“You don’t stay in the house of industry?” A dash of naked hope tinged Poe’s voice as Hakko led them to a stone walk at the back of the large building. Hakko’s home was a one-storey addition built on to the museum to house the caretaker. Hakko had taken it over when he claimed the land and building.

“No, of course not. That’s where all the exhibits are. It’s no place for a person to live. It’s so artificial.” Hakko unlocked the door and waved Poe in. “Welcome to my home, Poe. You are always permitted to visit.”

Poe paused over the threshold; his eyes wary as they met Hakko’s. “You don’t mean that. You can never mean that.”

Hakko kept hold of those bloodred eyes, making sure Poe understood every word out of his mouth. “This place will always be welcome to you.”

A swell of magic wove around the two of them as it settled comfortably over Hakko’s shoulders. It circled Poe and caused his shaggy hair to dance in the warm breeze. The words Hakko spoke were a promise that could never be broken. If Poe ever needed a shelter from the storm of life, Hakko’s doors would be forever open to him.

“Honestly, man, you don’t know who I am.”

“I don’t care. Now come in, come in. Get warm.” Hakko paused until Poe was on the entryway. “The outside must remain cold.”

“That was terrible,” Poe grumbled, even though a hint of a smile shone through his stoic face. Hakko considered his joke a success. Poe smiled at him. It wasn’t huge or one that brightened the room, but Poe lightened up, and that was enough for Hakko.

Hakko was very proud of his den. It had everything he required: walls to display his books and collections, a large fireplace to keep him warm on cold evenings, and a wingback chair like the one he’d always read about in classic fiction. The kitchen was still a work in progress. He wasn’t as comfortable with the human equivalent of cookery as he was with books.

Poe drifted into the kitchen, touching everything as he walked by. He was curious but not engaged. His focus kept going toward the main part of the building, where the museum was.

After adding some wood to the stove, Hakko puttered around, getting mugs and ingredients ready. “Would you like tea or hot chocolate? I can make the real thing.”

Hakko turned the electric kettle on and faced Poe again. The bright kitchen lights put Poe into stark relief. He was deathly skinny, even for a vampire. His clothes hung off him, and they were caked in dirt. He was filthy, and every stereotype that had been drummed into Hakko about vampires, both in his world and this amalgamation, told him that vampires were fastidious and likely wealthy. Poe didn’t fit that.

“Tea will be fine, thank you.” Poe’s words were soft as he sat at the kitchen island. His hands rested on the surface, laced together, as he watched Hakko prepare the mugs. “How long have you been here?”

“About a year or so. Time blends together sometimes. I forget to pay attention to the seasons changing,” Hakko said absently as he rifled through his cupboards for something to give Poe. Could vampires get nutritional value out of anything? “The Red Storm was in the summer and then the other thing was winter.”

“Red Storm?” Poe leaned closer, his beautiful and unique eyes wide with trepidation. Hakko rested his elbows on the counter and brought himself closer to Poe. From here, Hakko could see the fan of inky black eyelashes and dry and flaky skin. Poe needed care, and Hakko believed he’d fight Hakko tooth and nail.

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