President Ben Johnson was a hardy, athletic-looking male in his early sixties, and universally acknowledged to be a charming, poised and intelligent man, but when he spoke, all the dragon heard was bleating, like a sheep. His mate responded with a quick reply, and both president and first lady smiled at her.
The pleasantries over, the dragon and his mate moved away to greet other dignitaries. Frailer, self-important prey.
They came face-to-face with an enemy—the vice president of the United States, Sarah Colton—and her husband, Victor. The vice president was much younger than the president. A graduate of the Yale law program, she was a clever, trim brunette in her early forties with a photogenic smile.
Dragos whispered in Pia’s head, Vice President Colton is one of the ones responsible for stirring up much of the anti-Elder Races sentiment in Congress. Along with Senator Jackson, she spearheaded setting up the federal subcommittee that is investigating alleged abuses of power by the Elder Races.
Pia’s smile never wavered. She had grown used to their internal dialogue at such functions. Senator Jackson—he’s the one who lost his son in a boating accident earlier this year, right? I remember when news of his death was splashed all over the news.
Yes.
This time no pleasantries, no matter how insincere, were exchanged. Neither the vice president nor her husband offered to shake hands. Dragos did not deign to offer his either, and with a quick glance sideways at him, Pia took her cue and remained self-contained and composed.
“Mr. Cuelebre,” said the vice president, watching him with cold eyes.
It was clearly meant as an insult. The proper form of address was Lord Cuelebre. The dragon almost smiled at such pettiness, but that might involve showing too many teeth. And if he did that, he did not think he would be able to resist a little snap at the air in front of her.
Instead, he deliberately dropped the vice president’s honorific as he replied, “Mrs. Colton.”
As he spoke, he took in an instinctive breath to mark the scent of his enemy . . . but caught no scent from either her or her husband.
No scent at all.
Instead, all he scented was a faint chemical stink.
Realization raged through his veins. Both the vice president and her husband had sprayed themselves with KO Odorless Odor Eliminator.
Deer hunters used the spray to mask their scent. So did Wyr criminals.
This time the dragon did show far too many teeth. He put his hand over Pia’s as it rested in the crook of his arm, tightening his grip so hard he felt rather than heard her silent intake of breath.
He told the humans, “I look forward to having you for dinner tomorrow.”
“We will be there.” The vice president inclined her head in brusque acknowledgment.
Her manner clearly said they would be present because they had no other choice. As he spun Pia away from the other couple, she wiggled her fingers protestingly under the weight of his iron grip.
You look forward to “having them for dinner”? she asked silently, giving him a rebuking look. Really, Dragos, you’re not even trying. She paused to search his expression. What’s wrong?
He said, Did you catch their scents?
No, I— She paused thoughtfully and her eyebrows drew together. No. Not at all.
That’s because they were masking them. He glanced down into her confused face and explained, Human hunters mask their scents when they’re hunting prey. And Wyr criminals mask their scents to avoid detection.
Her confusion darkened into disquiet. That’s . . . why would they do that?
That is a very good question, and one I would like to get answered. He switched mental gears and looked for Bayne. The sentinel stood several feet away, talking to Eva. Dragos said to him, The vice president and her husband are masking their scents. I want to know why. And I want to know if there’s anybody else present who is doing the same.
Other than a quick flicker in his hard hazel eyes, the sentinel’s expression never changed. Calmly, Bayne said, I’m on it.