Rotgoriel breathed, and ash filled his nose. He coughed and spat, snorting as he sat up.

The golden-haired boy laughed at him as Rotgoriel mopped dirt and dust from his face and squinted until he could see the approaching figures. The Haskeens. He knew them from Rich’s memories. Knew how they had threatened his human half’s mother.

They were his enemies. Rotgoriel rose, slowly, taking stock of his injuries and gauging his energy. It was so very hard without a status screen, but he knew those wouldn’t work here.

He knew also that he had no way to return from the dead here. This world was an unforgiving one.

“You see what you’ve done, boy?” Justin Haskeen called, as he strolled up. He and his son stopped twenty feet away, next to the bald man in the black suit. “I told you you should’ve gone with honey. This is vinegar, and all it does is make french fries taste better.”

Rotgoriel stared at him.

Justin sneered back. “Act tough, but it’s pointless. I know the whole story now. The whole sordid story.”

“And what is the story?” Rotgoriel asked him, unblinking. His eyes ached, but Justin blinked and looked uncertain for a second.

Then the Pastor rallied. “It’s a simple one. My boy mouths off to you. You get expelled. You go running to your favorite teacher and he has you call up the Ministry of Faith and make a statement. Your teacher here then tries to blackmail me, saying he’ll persuade you to retract the statement if I pay him a ludicrous sum.” Haskeen’s mouth drew down in a snarl. “Oh, he was smart enough to work it through a few middleman. But Rupert here’s got the skills to track that down, and now here we are.”

“Would you believe me if I said I had no idea what you were talking about?” Frederick asked as he moved up to stand next to Rotgoriel. “That I never had any sort of plan to blackmail you?”

“That would be convincing, if his mother wasn’t in a camp.” Haskeen shook his head. “That would have been the second thing. You wanted money and a favor. Let’s see now, what would that favor be? How did you convince the boy to go along with such a ludicrous plan? No. You promised him you’d get his mother out. Money for you, freedom for her, and I’m stuck being your bitch for the next time you want something. No sir, I will not play that game.”

Rotgoriel turned to look at Frederick.

The man looked back and shook his head. “I don’t know where he’s getting this from. Of all the things I thought I’d die for, this is entirely unexpected.”

“Plead innocence all you want,” Haskeen said. “I’ve heard everything before. Won’t make a difference. Unless...”

“Unless?” Frederick asked.

“Unless you tell me how you got audio of my son talking with fatboy, here. That was under the seal of the confessional. There’s no damned way anyone should have been able to record that. Nobody would break that law, not even to get me.” Haskeen’s voice quavered, just a bit.

And Rotgoriel thought that he heard just a hint of fear.

“You want to know. We want to live,” he said, folding his human body’s doughy arms. “Perhaps we should bargain.”

“Shut up!” The boy— Joel, howled. “You had your chance, fatass!”

“What makes you think we broke it?” Frederick asked.

“Because you’re a computer guy,” Justin spat the words. “You found a hack or some way to circumvent confessional, and you installed it into your virtual school. Height of goddamn stupidity, but maybe you thought it would be worth the risk. Well this is where it got you. What do you think of that, dumbass?”

They startled in surprise as Rotgoriel spoke. “I think both you and your son talk about asses a lot. Why is that? Are those some of your favorite things?”

Joel turned to the bald man. “Give me the gas. I want to burn this fucker.”

Justin’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Boy, what did I tell you...”

“Dad! They can’t come back from here anyway!” Joel whined. “What’s it matter? If we burn Richie, then Mister Tassle will talk!”

“It’s the other way around,” Frederick said, stepping forward.

Rotgoriel saw the bald man tense, and shift his attention to Frederick, and he took the chance to edge forward a couple of steps.

“If you let him go, then I’ll tell you what’s really going on,” Frederick continued.

“I just told you what’s going on,” Justin shook his head. “Prove me wrong, and I’ll listen to you.”

“Let him go. And I’ll tell you the little details that you really, really need to know,” Fredrick insisted.

Haskeen sighed, walked around in a circle, and bowed his head. Finally, he nodded. “All right. Tell me what you’ve got, and I’ll let the boy go.”

“Do not,” Rotgoriel snapped. “He is a lying fool. Get him to let me go first.”

“Shut up you asshole! Don’t you talk about my dad! Your dad’s dead and it’s your fault, fat boy!” Joel marched forward, his lips pulled back, his big teeth in an ape’s snarl—

A snarl that turned into a slack-jawed look of amazement as Rotgoriel charged him.

His legs burned with bruises and fatigue.

His head throbbed with ache, from where he’d slammed it into those bars earlier in the day.

His side heaved from the unexpected exertion.

But he was a dragon, and pain was a foe to be conquered.

He slammed into the boy, brought him to the ground, and there they fought, rolling in the dust. Shouts from Justin, and he caught a glimpse of the bald man struggling with Frederick, but he didn’t care.

The child he’d tackled was wiry. He was light and thin, and in better shape than this, his wounded body.

But none of that mattered now, because he was bigger than Joel, and he had the willpower to ignore his pain. He was bigger, and Joel was smaller, and they were too close for anything else to matter.

Joel shrieked as Rotgoriel’s teeth dug into the back of his neck. Rotgoriel rolled over, one arm around him, holding him as he fought feebly to escape, saw the elder Haskeen drawing out a knife...

...and saw Justin pause, as Rotgoriel shot him a glare and whipped his hand up to Joel’s head.

Joel froze, as Rotgoriel closed a meaty hand around his face and pushed his thumb up against his eyelid.

“You let him go,” Justin said. “You let him go, or they’ll take the shot, you little asshole.”

Rotgoriel lay there on the ground with Joel atop him. He kept his teeth buried in the kid’s neck, felt the throb of his pulse. Joel’s blood filled his mouth, and he swallowed to keep from choking.

Justin’s face went pale. “You sick freak.” he glanced over to where the other two fought, and Rotgoriel shifted to get a better look.

Frederick was down. The bald man was beating him with a club that sparked with lightning every time it connected. They sure do like their lightning weapons here, Rotgoriel thought before he shifted his gaze back onto the elder Haskeen.

“Take the shot! Take the fucking shot, Rupert! Tell them to take the shot!” Justin screamed.

The bald man paused. He turned, took in the situation, and shook his head. “Too close,” he said in that oddly high voice. “Stab him a few times, that’ll do the trick.”

Shaking, Justin stepped forward.

Rotgoriel dug his thumb into Joel’s eye and felt tissue give. Joel screamed, loud and long, and the two foes left standing stumbled back in surprise.

“No!” Justin shouted. “No, stop! He’s my boy! He’s my boy, don’t hurt him! Oh God, please stop!”

“Oh shit.” Rupert said, putting his hand to his head. “Mister Haskeen? It’s over.”

“What? What are you talking about? Take the shot! Get them to take the shoooootttt!”

“No,” Rupert said, his voice cracking. “It’s over. We’re done.”

Then he dropped to his knees and put his hands behind his head.

Justin stared at him blankly... then turned to stare at the plume of dust rising in the distance.

Rotgoriel kept a hold on the shrieking child, kept his teeth in the boy’s neck. And he lay there, swallowing blood, Joel a shield between him and whatever new death came knocking.

It was another vehicle, almost identical to the one that the Haskeens had arrived in. It rumbled to a stop and two black-suited men stepped out. One moved to place restraints on Rupert. The other unholstered a weapon, a gun, Rotgoriel knew now and started walking their way, a hand in the air.

He recognized Agent Cutter about the same time that the agent called out to him. “You can let him go now, Rich. We’ve got it from here.”

Rotgoriel thought it over. Then he took his teeth out of the scruff of Joel’s neck. “Are you going to kill me?”

“If we wanted you dead, we would’ve taken the shot already.” A shadow flickered across his face. “I’m sorry about your father. Don’t die like he did, all right? This has been enough of a shitshow.”

“What is this?” Justin whispered.

“Drop the knife please, sir.”

“I am a Man of God, you imbecile!” Haskeen roared back. “You do not command... me...” his voice dropped on the last syllable, and his eyes widened, as he stared at the vehicle.

Crunch, came the sound of wood on gravel.

Rotgoriel turned his head to see an old, old man with a pair of canes dismounting from the SUV. A pair of women in demure dresses helped him down and placed a pair of sunglasses over his weary eyes as he straightened up and glared at the scene before him.

Rotgoriel let Joel go. The boy keened and rolled away hands pressed to his bleeding eye socket. The displaced dragon ignored him and used the little strength he had left to rise to his feet.

“Elder Mayhew,” Justin spoke, letting the knife in his hand fall from limp fingers. “I... I don’t understand.”

“Yes. That’s the problem.” He wore a blue sit, similar to Justin’s, but it had a wide black girdle around his middle. A back brace, Rotgoriel’s currently human mind told him. “You went for the simplest answer and look at the mess you made.”

“I...” Justin seemed to deflate. “This was my test, wasn’t it?”

“It was. That blackmail letter you got? It was from me. With a little computer trickery to make your mole think it was coming from this poor kid’s teacher.” Mayhew nodded towards Frederick, who was still a heap on the ground.

“Why?” Justin asked. “Why all... this?”

Mayhew heaved a sigh of regret. “You put in a bid to climb to my position after my retirement, and you wonder why I tested you? My boy... I thought I taught you better than this. Cutter, tell him the order of things.”

“Simply put, you’re a victim of bad timing,” Agent Cutter spoke. “This boy’s mother was brought in for blasphemy. Per that charge, we have a moratorium to listen to any and all conversations, regardless of other laws governing them.”

“Blasphemy?” Haskeen’s jaw dropped. “His file said nothing about that! Just that his mother had been detained!”

“Yes,” Mayhew said. “My contacts in the Ministry of Faith brought it to my attention before your mole noticed. I had them send me the recording and alter her file. She’s in jail for a lesser charge, now. I did that because I knew this would be the perfect test for you, Justin. I honestly expected you to be able to handle it. Then I filed a statement, using this young man’s name.” he waved a cane at Rotgoriel.

Cutter continued. “We’d been having problems with someone leaking information to your office for years. We weren’t sure of the leak. Minister Mayhew offered the chance to plug it. We circulated the memo of the statement to a few select departments and waited to see who would start acting unusually.”

Justin stared.

“I just wanted to see how you would handle it,” Mayhew shook his head. “I figured you’d be able to approach this with a clear head, pick through the leads, and figure out you were being played. But instead, you did... this. Justin, you know my feelings on drama. You know how much I hate... this.” The sweep of his cane encompassed Frederick’s limp form, swept past Rupert being led away towards one of the vehicles, and ended on Joel’s sobbing form.

“I’m sorry,” Justin whispered.

“My son, you know what a knife edge we’re balanced on here. Some corruption is fine; it’s the way the world works. But you don’t revel in it. You don’t act like a comic-book villain. You don’t think you’re invulnerable, and you don’t drive people into a position where they’re desperate and have nothing to lose. Or else they’ll return the favor. Eye for an eye, hm?”

Joel sobbed louder.

Justin moved then and took his son in his arms.

Rotgoriel didn’t flinch as the elder Haskeen approached, nor did he step back when the pastor shot him a look of purest hate.

Instead, he looked to Mayhew and shook the gore from his hand. “What happens now?”

The Minister seemed surprised that he’d spoken. He studied Rotgoriel, sunglasses gleaming as they shifted in the sunlight. “What do you mean?”

“Will you kill him for his failure?”

“Of course not boy, we’re not savages. As I’ve told you again and again, Justin.” Mayhew shifted his glare, and Justin bowed his head.

“So he will live. And kill me for dealing injury to his son.”

“It would be a stupid move, and he would gain nothing from it,” Mayhew said.

“Right and that will stop him because he has been an entirely logical and balanced person up to this point,” Rotgoriel said dryly.

Mayhew snorted. “Well, you’ve got me there. I have to say you’ve been one of the biggest surprises during this whole mess.”

“Have I?” Rotgoriel asked, as he walked toward Frederick. The two women escorting Mayhew tensed, and Cutter turned to keep his eyes on Rotgoriel as he went, but nobody stopped him from checking on the beaten man. Frederick was still breathing, and that was what mattered.

“You have. You’ve shown... Fortitude. As the head of the Ministry of Fortitude, I have to say I approve,” Mayhew smiled.

Rotgoriel considered. “I want to live. I want Frederick to live. And I want Rich— I want my mother out of jail and safely back to me.”

“That’s all? No requests for money? Or favors? Or power?” Mayhew asked.

There was an undertone in his voice that guided Rotgoriel to the correct answer. Dragons are perceptive, after all, and even if this body had weak eyes he could still hear just fine.

“That is all,” Rotgoriel said. “I am willing to offer whatever I can for these things. I do not expect them for free.”

“Your boy could take a lesson from this boy,” Mayhew told Justin. “Speaking of that, go. Get him to hospital. You’re done here, I’ll talk to you later.”

The Haskeens departed, taking one of the vehicles and sending another plume of dust into the sky. Mayhew watched it go, then beckoned Rotgoriel to him. His women, bodyguards, Rotgoriel’s human brain told him, didn’t like that idea one bit. But he settled them down with quiet words as Rotgoriel limped over.

He made it most of the way there, then a leg gave way, and he fell at the Elder’s feet.

“You’ve had a rough time of it, boy. And I do feel a bit responsible. We chose you as our pawn,” Mayhew said, looking down at him with neither disgust nor pity as he lay in the dust. “Cutter. You said this child had computer talents?”

“Top marks in that area. Tassle’s interest in him was entirely in his skill; we looked into that. No impropriety to be seen.”

“Good, he’s not a kiddy-fiddler then. I worried about that.” Mayhew scowled over at Frederick’s limp form. “All right then, Richard Royal. I’m going to grant your three wishes. But in return, you’re going to get a job. I’m not sure who it’s going to be with, just yet, but in a year or two you’ll be working for one of the Ministries.” He raised his sunglasses with a trembling hand, and Rotgoriel gasped as watery eyes bored into his own. The force behind them was incredible... he’d met ancestors in his dreams who had never achieved such presence. “You will be ours, boy. Do you understand me? You don’t run, like your mother tried to do. No escape to Eascan or anywhere else, not for any of you.”

“I understand,” Rotgoriel said.

And he did. He’d spent his short draconic life looking for a dark power to pledge to, driven by a human’s dreams and desires.

Now, in the human’s own world, he was pledging his fealty to a darker power than any daemon, old one, or djinn.

Rotgoriel closed his eyes, as the Elder’s canes shuffled and moved away. Agent Cutter spoke into the air, and hands grabbed him, lifting and dragging.

He’d done his best, and it had worked out. Mostly.

Now it was up to his human partner to finish the job on his end, or everything would be lost...