“It could be metaphorical,” he finally said.
“It’s not.” I told him about Yu Fong. “Everything we ever read about dragons suggests they are highly territorial. He felt Yu Fong and tried to take out the competition.”
“But he was in human shape when you saw him. So, what, he can shapeshift?”
“I don’t know.”
“Aspid can’t shapeshift,” Roman said. “It’s a blessing too, or he would follow me everywhere, licking me. That would be weird.”
Aspid, an enormous black serpent-dragon who belonged to Chernobog, had a deep, all-encompassing puppy love for Roman, which he expressed by wrapping his tongue around the black volhv.
“We need to call an emergency Conclave,” I said.
The Conclave had started as a way to avoid conflicts between the Pack and the People, but in an emergency, every magical faction in the city came to it. It would take everyone to fight something like this off.
Roman raised his black eyebrows. “And tell them that we’re about to get invaded by a dragon?”
“Yes.”
“We don’t have any evidence,” Roman said.
He was right. Yu Fong was still in a coma, Beau Clayton and his deputies only saw Neig as a human, and the Druids wouldn’t back me up in public. They barely even came to the Conclave. I would need evidence. Something more than visions of fire and carved rocks.
At the very least I had to warn the Pack and the People. With those two, my word would be sufficient. I had to call Nick, too.
“Let me out here,” Roman said.
I pulled over.
“I’ll talk to the volhvs and the witches,” Roman said. “But talk is cheap. We need evidence. Witnesses.”
“I know. Do you believe me that it’s a dragon?”
“Yes,” Roman said. “I believe you. But not because of the Picts and rocks. I believe you because you’re you. I don’t need to see it. It’s enough for me that you believe it’s a dragon. But it won’t be enough for others.”
“I know.”
“It will be okay.”
I doubted that, but nodded anyway.
“Don’t kill yourself.”
Oh, for the love of . . . “Will you stop with that?”
He shook his finger at me. “Don’t do it. I’m watching you.”
“Get out of my car.”
I drove straight to Cutting Edge. Neig was right about one thing: he was legend. Over the years, legends became warped. They grew and evolved as they were passed from one generation to the next. Everyone “knew” that dragons hoarded treasure, lived in mountain caves, breathed fire, and killed their rivals. But how much of that was true was anybody’s guess.
Was there even a point in trying to research? Most of what Drest had told us was considered to be myth. And it was distorted by Christianity. As Christianity had crept across the Middle East and Europe, the priests had realized that fighting old pagan ideas would doom the new religion. They were too deeply ingrained. So instead, Christianity adopted them, incorporating them into their rites, borrowing everything from Christmas and Easter to the idea of the immortal soul that separated from the physical body at death. Christianity tied the timeline of ancient Ireland to Noah’s descendants and the flood. None of it would be helpful in figuring out Neig.
I drove into our parking lot and maneuvered the Jeep into the parking space. Mine was the only car. The kids and Curran were gone.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Over the years, Cutting Edge had become my fortress. Like my house, it was a place where I could take my sword off my back. I unbuckled the sheath and dropped it on my desk. I opened the fridge, took a pitcher of iced tea out, and poured myself a glass. I’d done this hundreds of times before. There was comfort in the ritual and I needed comfort today, because the dragon had knocked me off my stride.
How the hell do you fight a dragon? How large was he, exactly? If the carving on the stone was to scale, we were in deep shit. I could just imagine the conversation around the Conclave table. So what evidence do you have of this dragon? Well, there is this overgrown rock in the magic druid camp. You can’t see this rock or find this druid camp, but take my word for it. Ugh.
Someone knocked on my door.
“Come in,” I called.
The door swung open. Knight-abettor Norwood stepped through, followed by the two other knights. Just what I needed.
I leaned on my elbow. “The Holy Trinity. Come in, don’t be shy. Grab a chair.”
“You’re disrespectful,” the Hispanic woman told me.
“I’m so sorry, I should’ve used your names. So rude of me. You take the chair on the right, Larry, and Moe and Curly can sit over there.”
The Hispanic woman opened her mouth. Knight-abettor Norwood glanced at her and she clamped her jaws shut.
Right. So, there was a script. They weren’t sure what I was capable of and they wanted to find out, so they picked her to bait me. Bad idea.
The knights sat.
“Please let me introduce my colleagues. Knight-diviner Younger and Knight-striker Cabrera.”
My guardian, Greg Feldman, was a knight-diviner during his life. They didn’t always practice divination. They served as a cross between psychiatrists and priests and possessed a unique ability to “read” people. They were the Order’s confessors and the advocates for the individual knights. A knight-striker was the Order’s equivalent of a bazooka. Nice. Diplomacy and force, the knight-abettor had both sides covered.
“Kate Lennart.”
“I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” Norwood said.
“How?”
“The Order is interested in ascertaining the state of things in Atlanta.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“You are a power in Atlanta.”
“The.”
He blinked.
“I’m the power in Atlanta,” I told him. “I claimed the city as my own.”
“Wow,” Cabrera said. “Humble, aren’t you?”
“You came here looking for clarity. I’m clearing things up for you.”
“What does that mean?” Norwood leaned forward, focusing on me.
“It means that when something sufficiently large and dangerous threatens the city, like my father trying to invade, I will use Atlanta’s magic to protect it.”
“So Atlanta has personal magic?” Cabrera snorted.
I ignored her.
“Well, does it? Is Atlanta a person?” she pressed.
“I don’t have the time or the inclination to educate you,” I told her. “The Mage College is up the street and over the bridge. If you go by there, I’m sure they’ll bring you up to speed.”
“Do you rule Atlanta?” the blond diviner asked.
“No.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Atlanta is doing fine on its own without my leadership. We have a democratically elected government, and I have no intention of interfering with it.”
“If you claimed Atlanta, why don’t you stop the crime here?” Cabrera asked. Her eyes were calculating. She was asking leading questions they already knew the answers to. They wanted confirmation that I wasn’t omnipotent and omniscient.
“Because it’s not my responsibility to stop crime. We have a well-funded police department, GBI headquarters, and local sheriff departments, not including a number of private organizations, like the Guild, the Red Guard, and, of course, the Order.”
“But could you stop all crime?” Younger asked.
“Nobody can stop all crime, knight-diviner. You, of all people, should know that.”
Norwood studied me. “The Order is interested in forging a relationship of cooperation and mutual understanding.”
“I already have a relationship of mutual understanding with the Order.”
“Really?” Norwood asked.
“Yes. Nick thinks I’m fruit from the poisoned tree and hates my family, and I tolerate his assholeness because occasionally I need the Order’s help. Nick and I understand each other very well.”
“We find that people tend to be more productive in a less hostile environment,” Norwood said.
I sighed. “Okay, so the Order would like to be friendlier. Great. What do you know about dragons?”
“What?” Cabrera asked.
“Dragons. Weaknesses, habits, how one might possibly go about killing one?”