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The weredragon nodded his head in approval. In the past hour, he had taken his time to study everyone in the office. He knew all of them. Or, at least, that was what he had thought before that rogue she-wolf had attacked the human bride. Avelyn Blackmane. The person he was here for. His eyes fixed her. She looked tired, her hair was disheveled, her pale face and plump arms were stained with cinder, and her nightgown had left dust and grass blades on the sofa. She looked up and met his gaze, but he didn’t avert his eyes.
“We should draw them as far as possible from the school,” Jocelyn broke the silence. “Somewhere in the woods, where Viggo can unleash his attack without hurting anyone.”
“No, Miss Blackmane, that is not an option,” said the headmistress. She sighed in frustration. Hadn’t the she-wolf listened to her? “We can’t draw any more attention on what is happening here. Not if you want this to stay a secret… If that is even possible now.”
“Without me, they’re outnumbered,” deadpanned Viggo.
Jocelyn threw the dragon-shifter a curious glance. He had taken her words out of her mouth. But why did he want to help them? Help Avelyn…
“The she-wolf’s pack is quite numerous, and I have counted over twenty werefoxes. That probably makes for two earths, but I can’t know for sure,” Viggo continued. “Without your entire packs, your presence here is pointless.”
Karl took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. He was exhausted after his long flight from Alaska to the Black Forest Mountains, and now from the Schloss to Alma Venus. He had been taken away from his mission and hauled into a messy affair that threatened the future of the clan, his career, and the peace between humans and shape-shifters itself. To say he was in a foul mood would have been an understatement.
“I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand your position here,” he said. “You’ve been extremely vague.”
After he had saved Avelyn from Sabine and turned back into his human form, the only explanation Viggo had given them was that he was interested in keeping the peace.
“I want to make sure the peace treaty between humans and shape-shifters stays the way it is.”
There it was again: the same damn explanation. Karl huffed. “You were protecting my sister-in-law, not the peace treaty.”
He would have said more, but he wasn’t sure how much the dragon knew about Sabine and the Blackmanes. The situation was getting messier and messier by the second. There were already too many people who knew about Sabine’s imprisonment, that she had bitten Avelyn, which was against the law, and that Avelyn was now a hybrid. The headmistress, her secretary, Dr. Stevens, Avelyn’s friends… James Harington, of course… The last thing they needed in this pot of people who were supposed to take the secret to their graves was a dragon-shifter. Then, there were Sabine’s rogue wolves, and the two fox earths whose involvement he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. How much did they know? How many other people knew how many other things about the clan? Karl pinched the bridge of his nose. They were screwed.
“I can’t thank you enough for saving my life,” said Avelyn, “but Karl has a point. We would all trust you more if you just told us why you are here.”
Viggo rose from his chair and stepped closer to the tall windows that faced the front alley. “Does it matter that much? I’m on your side and I’m going to make sure the peace treaty will not be broken for the thousandth time in the past month. You can count on me to drive those werewolves and werefoxes away.”
Almost everyone in the office gave a deep sigh. Pure frustration made the air almost impossible to breathe.
“But why?” pressed Avelyn. “What’s in it for you? Are you… in the Council…?” Her eyes shifted quickly from Viggo to Max and Karl, trying to determine if her supposition was right.
“No, he’s not,” answered Karl. “In fact, Clan Drekinn isn’t much of a clan, is it, Viggo?” The two locked eyes. “Most of your dragon-shifters are asleep, including your Alpha. Am I right?” Viggo kept silent. Karl stood up and approached the window, facing him. “One of the oldest dragon clans in the world, and the Drekinns have completely disappeared from the social and political life. Your Alpha…”
“Fyrstur.” Viggo corrected him between clenched teeth. The word came out as more of a hiss followed by a carefully rolled “r”. It was the first rank in the dragons’ culture, and it literally meant “first” in their language. They never liked that the werewolves considered themselves important enough to use their own ranks when talking about the other shape-shifter factions. Of all the factions, they had the least respect for other cultures.
“Right.” Karl abstained from making the silly remark that had crossed his mind. It was never a good idea to piss a dragon off. “Your Fyrstur has been asleep for over 500 years.”
“700.”
Avelyn’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. She knew dragons went into hibernation at least once in their ridiculously long lives, but 700 years sounded surreal. Werewolves didn’t live that long.
“Why would anyone want to sleep for so many centuries?” It was rude to interrupt a conversation, but she couldn’t help voicing her bewilderment.
Viggo turned back to the window and took a moment to admire the sunrise. He seemed lost in thought and not very willing to answer her question. Finally, he sighed and broke the silence. He was nothing but a stranger to these people, and it had been foolish of him to think they would simply accept his presence and help because he had happened to save the human bride.
“Eric Drekinn is his name and, yes, he has been asleep for a little over 700 years. You’re right, Karl, we can barely say our clan exists anymore. Most of our dragons are in deep sleep, hundreds of feet beneath the ground. Only I and two other friends have chosen to stay awake and keep the name alive. But we are growing tired, I’m afraid. Clan Drekinn needs to rise again, and that means awaking our Fyrstur, Eric.” He turned towards Avelyn. “I have been watching you for a while now. A little over a month ago, you were bitten and your husband asked Councilor Harington’s son for a cure Harington Pharmaceuticals has been working on off the record. I have no access to that cure and, frankly, I don’t need it. It’s for the werewolf venom. But I knew that if it worked, then it meant it might be possible for the scientists to develop cures for all types of shifter venom, dragon venom included. Now that… is something I do need.”
“You need a cure for the dragon venom,” said Max. “Why? And how… How did you even know that Harington Pharmaceuticals has been working on that? This has so many loose ends.”
“I think it’s called espionage.” Viggo smiled mischievously. He would have never told anyone about this, but he believed he was rather safe given that Clan Blackmane was in over its head in much fishier affairs. “I have been keeping an eye on Arthur Harington’s labs for years, since he publicly stated he was working on a cure and wanted the Council’s approval. It didn’t work out for him, but I knew he wouldn’t stop there. It was a fascinating endeavor, and men of science aren’t known for giving up on their projects simply because the public doesn’t approve of them. So I followed their work from the shadows, patiently waiting for a breakthrough. Now I’m here, standing before the first hybrid in the world.” He pointed towards Avelyn, a huge smile on his face. “The changes you’re going through… they never cease to amaze me. You haven’t turned, still you possess the strength, speed and, probably, the long lifespan of a werewolf. You’re carrying a baby in your womb. Avelyn Blackmane, you might be the key to bringing Clan Drekinn back from its endless slumber.”
Avelyn swallowed heavily. There was something in the dragon’s golden eyes. Hope? Enthusiasm? Anxiety because what he had in mind might not work for him in the end?
“How…?”
“I don’t know yet. What happened to you is no more than a promise… a promise that in the near future shape-shifters won’t be forced to watch their human mates die of old age.”
Max rubbed his short beard in thought. “If you put it that way, it makes sense.” When he had given him the cure, James Harington had only talked about humans and shape-shifters meeting halfway, and about how shifter females would be able to have children again. Of course, that was the outcome James was interested in: less power imbalance between humans and shifters, and no more boarding schools selling human girls into what was uncomfortably close to slavery. Now, Max could see there were so many other advantages of a cure being made legal and public. His own father had seen all his three human wives grow old and die. But what would the disadvantages be? He couldn’t help but notice neither James, nor Viggo had mentioned them, and if he could understand that in James’ case because he was a human and he had his species’ interests at heart, he couldn’t understand it in Viggo’s case. Avelyn’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
