ALEXANDER PUSHED BACK FROM HIS DESK and watched the shadows eat the dying rays of the setting sun through his penthouse windows. The incident with the Gray Lord that morning had set the tone for another dismal day among the human cattle.
Meeting after meeting with unimportant corporate minions set him on edge more than usual and he’d fired his secretary this afternoon for clicking her heels too loudly on the wood floor.
I should have eaten her instead.
He stood, knuckled his lower back, yawned and stretched. The fight with the knight had drained him more than he realized and he needed to recharge.
Gothrodul’s mental knock brushed against his mind. The intimate touch of his friend’s thoughts was a balm to his seething spirit.
Welcome, my friend. It has been a long day. Alexander did not try to hide the sincerity behind his thoughts. He did not have to present a false front before the mind of the dragon.
You need a break. The dragon’s thoughts seeped into his consciousness. And I need to feed.
That is a great idea. Come to me, Alexander responded.
I’m already here. Open the door.
In the outer corner of the office, Alexander pushed a hidden panel lost in the intricate pattern of the wallpaper. Seams opened in the wall. They crept from floor to the ceiling then continued across for another fifteen feet until they met in a large wedge. The walls folded in and the ceiling slid open to form a giant doorway big enough to land a Chinook helicopter.
Gothrodul landed heavily, talons gouging deep grooves in the soft wood floor. Only the front half of the dragon fit into the penthouse. The other half stuck out the side of the building, back claws dug into the cement ledge to hold him in place. Armored scales the color of an empty night sky covered the magnificent creature from tail to snout. Cold obsidian eyes regarded Alexander with eager amusement.
“If the mortals could see you now, what would they think?” Alexander asked.
But they can’t, so what does it matter? My magic cloaks my true form unless I wish it otherwise.
Gothrodul’s form wavered, began to change. Great sheets of the dragon’s black mass sloughed off, pooling on the floor of the penthouse until it evaporated in a puff of black smoke.
“Why are you doing that? You know I find the process revolting.” Alexander turned away.
The dragon’s laughter rumbled through the mental link. On very rare occasions, Alexander, I like to mix it up.
In less than a minute, a tall, thin man dressed in black jeans and a black, long-sleeve shirt stood in place of the massive beast. A silver medallion, two dragon silhouettes hovering over a miniature globe with a rune carved in the center, hung from a chain around his neck. His too-narrow face and pointed chin would have earned him many puzzled stares, but not enough to mark him as anything other than human.
“How do you tolerate this form?” With his deep, scratchy voice, Gothrodul injected malice into every syllable. He held out his human-shaped arms. “I forgot how weak and soft and ugly it is.”
“It has been a while since I have seen your human form.” Alexander grimaced. “It is ugly.”
Alexander preferred his dragon as a dragon. This human shape was disturbing and not suited for tonight’s planned activity.
The dragon-turned-human pranced over to the leather chair and dropped into its embrace. With a push, he spun the chair, but stopped it after only a few revolutions as a green sheen overtook his already pale complexion.
“Weak.” The dragon spat and held his stomach.
“You mentioned a hunt.” Alexander hoped to distract the dragon from being sick all over the floor.
“Yes. Meat.”
“Let’s go.” Alexander walked to the open corner of the office and looked out over the roofs of lower buildings to the bay beyond.
“What are you in the mood for? Blonde or brunette?” Gothrodul jumped from the ledge and transformed. Much better.
“How about a nice red? I could go for something spicy.” Alexander climbed onto the dragon’s back and pressed the secret external button to close the massive doors. With a few strong beats of the dragon’s giant wings, they gained altitude.
“Your pick. They all taste the same to me. The usual split?”
“You get the body and me the life force.” Alexander dug his knee into the dragon’s flank and it banked left. “I crave a younger vintage tonight.”
“Where?”
“Northeast. Ybor City.”
Yes. A nice, young red head will suffice. The smell of abject terror as Gothrodul makes himself known has a unique, heady aroma that adds a touch of ambiance to the meal.