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I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Apparently my paralyzed libido had been thawed full force, thanks to Trillian and Morio, but it looked like I was leaning toward dangerous—albeit fun—territory. I edged over to Georgio, who was slumped on the ground staring up at Smoky. Kneeling beside him, I tapped him on the shoulder. He looked like a little boy who'd managed to get aboard the carousel but who'd lost the brass ring.
He looked up at me, his expression both sweet and bewildered. "Yes?"
"Your name is Georgio, isn't it? Georgio Profeta."
He blinked, as if thinking about the question, then nodded.
Not very talkative. I tried again. "What were you doing outside my house? We have your notebook and jacket."
After another moment, he said in a whisper, "I was in the bar when you were talking to that Japanese man about how you were looking for Tom Lane. I thought you were coming out here to kill the dragon, and I couldn't let you do that. It's my destiny, so I followed you home to find out who you were."
So he thought we were out to vanquish Smoky? "Georgio, we didn't even know about the dragon until we found your notebook. How long have you known about him?"
"A long time," he said, his eyes downcast.
I glanced up at Smoky, who was listening with interest. "Just how many people know about you?"
He winked, one lip curling into a smile. "Too many. I've been around here a long time. But most people don't ever find a trace of me. I'm good with illusion, as you and your boyfriend know."
"He's just a friend," I said.
"If he's just a friend, then I'd love to see how you treat a lover," Smoky said with a snort. A faint wash of smoke wafted out from his nose, and I blinked, wondering just where the line stopped between dragon and man. In a persuasive voice, he added, "You don't have a boyfriend, Witchling?"
"Wipe that smirk off your face," I said. It just occurred to me that Smoky had probably had a perfect view of Morio and me having sex. If so, he must have gotten an eyeful. "I do have a boyfriend, and he's a Svartan, so play nice, because he won't if he thinks somebody's bothering me."
Smoky's eyes flashed. "Don't threaten me, girl. Don't you ever, ever forget who you're talking to when you talk to me."
I cringed. Not good, nope, not good. No matter how smarmy they got, a dragon was a dragon, whether in human form or not. "I'm sorry," I said in a little voice. "Don't toast me."
He let out a loud grunt. "Faeries… you're all a bunch of pests." After a pause, he said. "So, you have a Svartan boyfriend, and you're cavorting with a fox demon? That's a new one."
I held my tongue. Sometimes silence really was the better part of valor.
He continued. "Anyway, I've been mistaken for a flying saucer more than once, which just goes to show you how people see what they want to see. Humans are a fanciful bunch."
Turning back to Georgio, I said, "My friend, we aren't out to kill Smoky here. We were looking for Tom, that's all. But listen. You can't go around slaying dragons. It's dangerous, and you'll end up getting eaten."
Georgio's lower lip trembled. "But I'm Saint George. It's my destiny to slay dragons."
As I stared into his eyes, I realized that Georgio truly believed what he was saying. Unlike Tom's prestigious past, however, Georgio wasn't the actual saint he purported to be, and if he tried to slay the dragon, he'd be dead before he could lift his sword. He needed to be home safe, watched so he couldn't hurt himself. I reached out and fingered his chain mail. As I'd suspected, it was a replica, spray-painted plastic—uncomfortable and of utterly no protection.
I stood up and walked over to Smoky, my nose quivering as I drew near. The smell of smoke and musk filled the air, and I straightened my shoulders.
"Tell me more about him," I said, nodding at Georgio, who was playing with the rings of his armor.
Smoky frowned, a look of distaste crossing his face. "He thinks he's a dragon slayer. When he first started coming around I was wary, but for some reason the man fascinated me, and I let him live. After the second time, I went into the city in disguise to do a little digging. Turns out Georgio has a few bolts loose in his head, but he's not dangerous. He lives with his grandmother and works in a market, sweeping floors and doing other simple tasks."
Any other dragon would have already snarfed down the poor man without a second thought. Before I realized what I was doing, I reached out and rested my fingers on Smoky's arm.
"You feel sorry for him, don't you? That's why you don't kill him."
Smoky gazed at my hand for a long minute, then gently shrugged me off. "I feel pity for no man." But the look on his face told me I was right. "Besides, he'd be too tough and stringy."
"You didn't kill Tom either, though you had the chance," I said. "Face it—you have a soft spot for humans. When's the last time you ate one?"
Smoky grabbed me around the waist and yanked me close to him. My feet dangled off the ground. His breath thick, he pressed his forehead against mine, staring into my eyes.
"Witchling, once again I warn you: don't press your luck."
