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Smoky chuckled. "Why me, of course. As I am now. They'd find me a pleasantly eccentric hiker, out for a jaunt. Of course, I'd be wearing jeans and a leather jacket. Unless, of course, I was hungry and they were alone and there was no chance of me being caught." He let out a laugh that reminded me I was talking to a dragon, not a man.
"Do you eat a lot of people?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to know.
"The question is, how many do you consider a lot!"
I glanced at him, and he flashed me a smooth grin. Oh yeah, dragons were charming, all right.
"I find my food as I need it," he said.
I could tell I wasn't going to get a straight answer out of him on that question. Or probably many others. Dragons loved to speak in riddles.
As we came up on the edge of the path leading to Tom's house, I began to get nervous. What would we find? Would the demons be there? Were Delilah and Chase okay? Smoky went first, his long white robe swishing around his legs as he strode out in the open.
"Well, he's not afraid," Morio said in a low voice.
"He doesn't need to be afraid," Tom answered.
I laughed. "You're absolutely right, Tom. Say, listen to me for a minute," I said, sobering. "You have to stay with us. Unless we tell you that somebody's safe, don't go off with anybody else, and don't let yourself trail behind. You need to be with us at all times."
"Okay, but I wish I knew what you guys wanted me for. I'm nothing special." He frowned, looking vaguely disconcerted.
I tried to think of a reasonable explanation that would hold him off until we got back to Otherworld. I didn't want Tom knowing anything about the pendant hanging around his neck for now. He might get some half-cocked idea to play hero and try to use whatever other powers the pendant might have. I could sense that there were strengths hidden in that stone that hadn't been mentioned in the book that Grandmother Coyote gave to me.
Smoky whistled, and we slipped out of the undergrowth. As we entered the clearing, the door to the house opened, and Delilah came out, followed by Chase, who had apparently recovered enough to walk. They looked from Smoky to Tom, and started down the stairs.
"Everything's okay—" I started to say when I was startled by a noise from behind an ancient cedar growing near the house. In unison, we turned to look as a man stumbled out from behind the tree.
He was wild-eyed, with hair sticking out from his head, a real Albert Einstein type, and he wore a crazy getup that looked a lot like chain mail. On closer look, I had the sneaking suspicion it was made of tinfoil.
"Oh boy," I muttered under my breath. "Just what we need—another Froot Loop."
"Froot Loop is right," Smoky said, turning a bland eye to our visitor, who was busy trying to extricate what looked like a long knife out of a sheath attached to his leg. "I see my buddy's back."
"Your buddy?" Morio asked, inserting himself in front of Tom. "You know this guy?"
"He's not one of the demons," I said.
Smoky snorted. "Demon? Hardly. No, I have a run-in with this little fellow every few months. He must have at least twenty tries under his belt."
"Twenty tries?" I said, feeling a little lost. "Tries to what?"
"To kill me," Smoky said, striding forward. "Witchling, meet Saint George. Good old George has been trying to kill a dragon for the past fifteen years, and apparently I am still his target of choice."
* * *
CHAPTER 16
Saint George? I stared at him, confused for a moment, then snapped my fingers. "Georgio Profeta—that's his name, isn't it?"
At that moment, Delilah came running down from the steps. Georgio—or Saint George, whatever his name might be—didn't notice her until she'd leapt on his back, knocking him to the ground. Chase followed more sedately. He still looked a little green around the gills, and I had a feeling he'd have his jewels on ice before the day was out. Delilah, wouldn't be getting any tonight, that was for sure.
Smoky sauntered up to the would-be hero. He knelt down, giving Delilah a quick look before turning his attention to the man sprawled out beneath her. "George, George, George. What am I going to do with you? I told you to give it up. You're never going to kill me, so just go home, forget this happened, and next time go hunt windmills." He sounded almost fond of the man.
Delilah jumped up as I skidded to a halt next to them. "Who are these people?" she asked.
I blinked. "Well, I think that we've seen Mr. Profeta before—or at least his jacket. And this," I indicated Smoky, who had crossed his arms and was observing the whole scene with a look of mild amusement. "Meet Smoky the dragon."
"I thought Smoky was a bear," she said, snickering.
