Old Dark (The Last Dragon Lord Book 1) (24 page)

What was there not to tease? His face, his big body, his voice, and his seemingly unintelligent, bumpkinish ways made him an easy target for more fit and physically capable dragons like Fenroot.
 

Dark had had pity on Frog. He never knew if the boy would amount to anything, but Dark and his parents were not so evil as to let other dragons abuse him.
 

Dark was a black dragon, an anomaly in nature. He knew what it was to be different.
 

And what a winning gamble he’d made in Frog. Like a time capsule thrown into the future!

“My boy, I am immensely proud,” Dark said.
 

Frog changed subjects. “Tonight we will see some more rain. The Magic Index is eighty-nine, the humidity, seventy-five...”

Dark had to find him.
 

The television turned off. The two men who paralyzed him every few hours had returned.
 

One of the men stood in front of the television.
 

“No more television for you,” Orion said. He wore a white polo, khaki pants, and a black skull cap. He smelled like a strange smoke, as if he were constantly exposed to burning fire. The smell was unpleasant to Dark’s nose.
 

Dark growled.
 

“Oh, come on, Orion,” the other man said. He wore a similar uniform, but he had dark skin. “If he wants to watch that stupid Frog, let him. No one takes that damned dragon seriously anyway.”

“We got orders,” Gus said. “We’re not that professor chick. We break the rules, we get canned.”

“The Frog Channel is the least dangerous thing he can watch.”

Dark was sick of these men and he immediately marked them for death.
 

“Tell me, young ones: is this Frog really as stupid as he looks?”

Gus laughed. “You bet he is. Seeing as you’ve been around a couple thousand years, you’d think a dragon like you would know a thing or two.”

“How long have
you
been on this earth?” Dark asked.
 

“Forty years,” they said simultaneously.

“Ah,” Dark said. “How seasoned you both are.”

“Ha. Ha.” Orion unplugged the television and began to push it out of the room. “Soon as we feed you, you can crack jokes all you want.”

Gus’s hands glowed and Dark braced himself.
 

The blast hit him immediately and every muscle in his body seized. He yelled, but even his throat muscles locked up and cut him off mid-scream.
 

Gus and Orion unlocked the cage and entered. They refreshed the buckets of meat with new ones and set out a giant trough full of fresh water.
 

A trough! What was he, a pig?

Dark narrowed his eyes in anger as they took off his muzzle.
 

“No offense,” Gus said. “We’re just doing our jobs.”

You have the wrong jobs,
Dark thought.
When I skewer you between my claws, you’ll wish you had worked elsewhere.

The men exited the cage and locked it, taking the muzzle with them.
 

Orion tossed the two pieces of the iron muzzle from hand to hand. “We’ll be sure to clean this up for ya. Enjoy your dinner.”

He walked over to a metal box on the wall and flipped several switches, turning the lights off.
 

The box controlled the lights in the room...

He didn’t know if it was useful, but he filed it away.
 

As the men shut the double doors behind them, he heard a metal clicking sound.
 

His mind was reeling.
 

Dark regarded the trough and the meat. They fed him like an animal, tossed it on the floor.
 

But he wasn’t an animal.
 

He wasn’t an animal!

Frog would understand. Frog would rescue him! But the boy was so impossibly far away. And there was no way to communicate.
 

Dark smashed the floor, then slapped the bars with his tail. He raised his head to the ceiling and roared, shaking the room. Extending his claws, he swiped the meat, sending it everywhere.
 

He held the two men’s faces in his mind’s eye. He replayed their every move and licked his lips.
 

It was their blood he was hungry for.
 

But for now, he had to eat.
 

He lay down and ate, hating every bite.

XXXIV

Miri rushed through the halls of the History and Magical Sciences Building. The colonnaded lobby rose up around her, and she pulled her purse closer as the air-conditioned breeze hit her.
 

She passed an oblong pond filled with blue koi that nipped at the surface of the water as an automatic feeder dispensed brown pellets for them to eat. The pond usually calmed her, but it wasn’t working today.
 

She was back. Just yesterday she had been sitting in her office on the verge of a migraine. Now she was on the verge of the greatest study ever done by a historian.
 

She wanted to be back with Old Dark, not here. To hell with Rosehill and his demanding ways!
 

But Lucan had convinced her otherwise.

If she wanted to continue studying Old Dark, she didn’t have a choice. If the governor unraveled their secrets, he would dismantle everything. Lucan and his business. Her career. Her chance of learning from Dark.
 

As Earl drove her back to the university, she didn’t speak, out of shame. She had turned into the kind of person she had always ridiculed.
 

Do what you mean and mean what you do,
she had always told her students in Magical Ethics.
 

She hated that class.

What would her students think of her now? How would
this
dilemma be discussed in a circle of sophomores and juniors? Not favorably, she imagined.
 

Could she come to terms with this, this double-agent madness?

She didn’t know. She tried not to think about it, but as with everything she tried to ignore, it was the only thing she could think about.
 

It was time to start thinking about herself.
 

For ten years she had given her life to the university. It was time to start getting something back.
 

She was alone in the lobby, and enjoyed the solitude. It gave her time to think.

Fenroot was painted on every wall, and the silver dragon seemed to mock her from his heavenly position in the clouds. Miri wondered how Old Dark would respond to the paintings if he saw them. He wouldn’t be happy.

She smelled the familiar smell of old carpet and oak-paneled walls as she jogged up the spiral staircase to the third floor.
 

She glanced at her watch.
 

3:58 p.m.

Two minutes before she had to be in Dean Rosehill’s office. Two minutes before he exploded.
 

She could make it.
 

Laner Tonsenberry was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. He had tucked in his white shirt, and she could smell his cologne from twenty feet away. His auburn hair, normally unruly and unkempt, was brushed, and his bangs hung in front of his eyes, slicked with pomade.
 

“You made it,” he said.
 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Miri said, out of breath.
 

“That’s not what you said this morning.”

“I feel much better now.”

Laner smiled at her, and then an awkward moment passed between them. She knew that he wished for old times, when they were a team, both as professors and lovers.

“How mad is Dean Rosehill?” Miri asked.

“He’s surprisingly calm,” Laner said, checking his watch. “We’ve got about one minute left, and quite frankly, I don’t want to see him any other way today.”

They hurried down the hall toward a large, frosted glass door. It was egg-shaped, and at least three times taller than the other doors in the hallway—made to accommodate a dragon. The door was cracked, and the dean greeted them as they approached.
 

“Come in, Professors Charmwell and Tonsenberry.”

Miri pushed gently against the frosted glass and peeked inside.
 

Dean Rosehill’s office was enormous, and the Crafter dragon sat coiled up in the center of the room. Along the walls were thousands of books, neatly arranged by color, giving the room a dull, rainbow-like glow. There were several large curved windows that were as tall as the door, stretching from floor to ceiling. Outside, the sun was beginning to set across the football fields.
 

Dean Rosehill, a brown serpentine dragon with faded scales that reminded Miri of a python, was reading a book, straining through his horn-rimmed glasses. He glanced down at Miri, smiled with his yellow teeth, and said, “Professor Charmwell, I knew I would have your support.”

Several cameras descended from the ceiling and took photos of Miri and Laner. They hovered in the air, the telltale sign of a magical spell.

“Forgive my ebullience, but this is a milestone in the history of our school. I want to capture every moment. This one: the meeting of the minds!”

“Thank you for your enthusiasm,” Miri said, “but it’s unnecessary.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” said a gruff voice.
 

Ennius Grimoire had been standing in front of one of the windows. Miri hadn’t seen him.
 

He stood facing away from them, his hands clasped behind his back, looking out over the campus. He turned around and gave Miri a fake smile. “Miss Charmwell, we meet again.”

Crap. She didn’t regret her outburst at the governor at Gavlin’s, but she wished he weren’t here right now.
 

“Mr. Governor.”

“Mr. Governor!” Laner exclaimed. He strode across the room and shook Ennius’s hand. “You’re in capable hands, sir. We can’t thank you enough. Miri’s awfully humble, but she’s going to kick some serious you-know-what, isn’t that right, Miri?”

She wanted to punch him.

Shut up, Laner!

Ennius tapped Laner on the back. “I’ve heard that you are quite capable, too, Professor Tonsenberry. But I’m short on time and we need to start this meeting.”

Ennius snapped his fingers, and two elven women in suits entered the room carrying tall piles of manila envelopes. They set them on a desk and waited for the governor’s approval. Ennius walked around the desk, surveying the stacks of papers, and then he waved them out. He waited for them to shut the door before turning to Miri.
 

“Now listen up. What happens in this room stays in this room, and if I find out any of you have been talking, we’re going to have a big problem. Am I clear?”

Laner gulped.
 

“Clear indeed, Mr. Governor,” Dean Rosehill said.
 

Ennius stared at Miri, as if waiting for a response.

He was going to be hard on her. She knew it.
 

Just take it, Miri. Don’t say anything stupid.

“Yes, Mr. Governor,” she said finally.

Ennius continued staring at her with his intense gaze, and then he grabbed a manila envelope.
 

“Take an envelope, each of you.”

Miri grabbed an envelope; inside was a dossier that outlined the investigation so far. There were black and white photos of the aerial view of the bog, maps of the area, and the names and phone numbers of several witnesses.

He paced around the room and came uncomfortably close to Miri. She felt the governor’s hot breath as he spoke.
 

“I need two things from you,” Ennius said. “The first thing is a quick, accurate investigation. I want to know what the hell happened, when the hell it happened, who the hell did it, and I want them on national television repenting for this.”

“How do you know that this wasn’t a natural phenomenon?” Miri asked.
 

“I have my theories,” Ennius said. “But you want to know something, Miss Charmwell? I don’t give a Magic Eater’s ass if it
was
a natural ‘phenomenon.’ I want a conviction. And you’re going to give it to me before the debates.”

“The debates are in two weeks!” Miri cried. “You can’t possibly expect—”

“The second thing I want,” Ennius said, “is a reason to believe in this place.”

He held out his hands and gestured around Dean Rosehill’s library. “For five years I’ve put off a national referendum on the university. I’ve got an entire staff ready to take it over.”

“But what about our prestige?” Laner asked. “We’ve got history, Governor.”

“Landfills have history,” Ennius said. “But let’s be honest. Aside from schmoozing for money and a few significant publications, what have you all done with your lives?”

Miri turned and began pacing the room.
 

He’s pushing your buttons. Don’t let him.

“I’ve got millions of taxpayer dollars tied up in grants to Magic Hope University. That’s money that can go to conservation. You all know that. And if I win re-election, it’ll be my last term, so I’ll do whatever the hell I want, and the Governance won’t be able to stop me.”

He was right. During a governor’s third term, the public favorability ratings tended to go up, and voters supported the governor’s initiatives in hopes of a lasting contribution to society. It wasn’t uncommon for a governor to use a referendum during his last term to cash in on that goodwill. Not even the members of the Governance would stop him for fear of losing their own re-elections next term. If Governor Grimoire wanted to close the university to save tax dollars, he could do it. A third term was the closest thing to tyranny Miri could think of.
 

“But I’m not unreasonable,” Ennius said. “Do me a good job and I’ll defer a referendum to the next governor, if that’s something they even want to address.”

“And how do we know you won’t renege on your promise in two years when it’s convenient?” Miri asked.

Ennius smirked. “Our conversation is off the record, Miss Charmwell. The results of our negotiation will not be. I’m a man of my word. The question is whether you will be a woman of yours.”