Page 11 of Destiny of the Dragons

“You’re three minutes late.”

She didn’t lie, in case he asked around. “I was waylaid by someone on the street.”

Cross didn’t say anything. He looked like a basic fratboy, with short brown hair and good looks that were common in hedge fund managers. He could have been any spoiled trust fund baby until you looked into his eyes.

Something wasn’t right, had never been right. The whispered rumors about Cross and a string of missing women didn’t make his uncanny stare any less upsetting.

He stared at the mongoose.

The bird in the backroom screeched. Mia took a few steps toward the back, before she realized it was bad etiquette.

Cross looked up. “Do you want to see it?”

Mia blinked.

“I traded for him.” Cross’s face lit up with glee, winking at her like they shared a secret. Cross moved to the back room with a fast pace. “He’s a rare specimen. The owner couldn’t handle him. Too many visions in his sleep, he said.”

Mia tried to prepare herself for the worse.

It wasn’t enough.

Cross’s back room was clean enough. It stank of chemicals, but that wasn’t anything new.

There was a silver cage on the center table. Cross hadn’t bothered to cover it.

Instead was a mini griffin.

“Oh!” Mia gasped. The front of the mini griffin was a raven with jet black feathers, except for the occasional iridescent green or silver, and the body was of a black cat. Judging from the back paws and front talons, the mini griffin was almost grown, about the size of a Maine Coon cat.

It was scrawny, underfed, and feather and fur lost their luster.

“What’s wrong with her?”

The griffin cocked his head at Mia with an avian twist. Mia took a few steps closer.

“Stopped eating and drinking. Wouldn’t fly.” Cross smirked. “She’s just like a woman, stubborn.”

The griffin tracked her movement. She approached the cage cautiously.

Cross gave her a malicious look, but didn’t stop her from putting her fingers out to the animal.

He probably expected her to get her fingers bit off. But this griffin wouldn’t do it. Mia knew in her heart.

She slowly held her fingers out, looking the griffin in the eye. If she kept eye contact for long, it unnerved people. They remembered who she was, what she could do.

Mia watched the griffin until she knew it was okay to touch it. She placed a small finger on the top of it’s head. It’s feathers were silky soft.

The griffin looked at her, and then to Cross. It knew Cross planned to kill it.

She looked at the griffin, and tried to figure out how to keep that from happening. She couldn’t overplay her hand, and Mother would never accept the griffin in lieu of actual payment for the spell.

Mia looked away, leaving her hand inside the cage. She wasn’t afraid, and needed to remind Cross of who she was.

“You have requested another spell?” She gave him a haughty look.

Cross looked at her, and then the griffin. “That thing took a piece of skin off my arm from just trying to pick up the cage.”

“It’s from the raven family,” Mia said. “Caravaggios have taken ravens as familiars for hundreds of years.”

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