Page 6 of Feral

“I won’t. Now unless ya want to get me another pint, ya can get yer feathered arse away from me.”

She turned with a glare, muttering something about grumpy Werewolves and how I needed to get laid.

I was about to growl at the Mothman behind the bar for another pint when the door opened and everyone went completely still. Fear and trepidation thickened the air in a second, and that was usually enough to at least get the Werewolves growling. But the scent underneath all that was what silenced them, and me. It was what had the Ephemerals disappearing into their shadows, the Gargoyles putting on their stone skin. It had the Harpies hissing, a posture more than anything.

It was the smell of magic. Very old, and very powerful magic.

Like brimstone, and the beginning of the world. That’s not James, it’s…

I turned slowly, knowing better than to move too quickly when something this old and powerful was in the room.

The click of long claws on the stone floor was the only sound as the being drew closer. When I’d finally managed to turn around, I realized that our reactions were actually very well deserved. In fact, if we were smart, we would be running out the door.

The two Mundanes stared with wide eyes at the complete change in the pub.

“Lassies,” the Mothman said, gliding out from behind the bar, “I think it’s time for ya to leave.”

The Mundanes nodded and scampered out of the pub through the back door. I was ashamed to admit that I envied them for a moment.

A very tall, very broad blue scaled Dragon stepped to the middle of the pub, his scales flowing over his skin like water tinged with sunlight. His blue-gold eyes surveyed the room, and each creature that gaze fell upon bowed their head in reverence. Spikes ran from the top of his head, down the middle of his back and followed the slope of a serpentine tail that twitched, feeling out the parts of the room the Dragon couldn’t currently see. His hand could easily cover my entire head, and I was sure he had at least six inches on me. Considering that I was one of the largest werewolves of my clan, that was saying something.

However, if he was in his full form, we’d all be ants on the ground for him to stomp as he burned the world down. Dragons were more powerful than most anything on Earth, and that made them the most terrifying. This was likely his most simple true form, which resembled a very large, upright lizard, though I would never, in a million years, tell him that to his face.

Lucky for us, Dragons didn’t seem too intent on destruction these days. They also didn’t tend to leave their palatial estates either.

So why is this one strolling into the pub as if it’s the most normal of occurrences?

When his gaze snapped to mine, I began to bow and the damn thing chuckled. The sound rumbled through my body to my very bones. It took everything I had to not let my legs give out.

“Fraser MacDonald?” he asked.

“Aye,” I answered, trying to look him square in the eye.

“James sends his regrets, but he was unavoidably detained.”

My eyes narrowed. This Dragon could’ve squashed me into jelly without much effort, but that didn’t mean I would just roll over and accept his words. James had a dangerous role at the Secret Archive, one that could have easily put him in this Dragon’s cross hairs. Just because he was a nearly one hundred year old Gargoyle didn’t mean that he couldn’t be killed.

And for a Dragon, it wouldn’t be difficult.

“Detained, ya say?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Well, I didn’t kill him and eat him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I didn’t say ya did. But then, I don’t ken ya, do I?”

The Dragon’s eyes narrowed. Even though my stomach flipped, I didn’t look away. If I was going to die, it wouldn’t be as a coward.

My fellow Werewolves apparently didn’t feel the same because their chairs scrapped back and they fled the pub, followed quickly by the Gargoyles, the Werebear and the Harpies.

With the exception of a very pissed Mothman patron who was asleep in a booth, and the very nervous Mothman who owned the pub and was currently twittering behind the bar, the Dragon and I were alone.

“James said you were a stubborn, suspicious one,” the Dragon growled.

“Don’t recall him talkin’ about workin’ with a Dragon.”

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