Never wake a Dragon (on hold)

1. part II - temper tantrums

Sjätte Tunnan was a bar that tried to mimic some of the history of Gamla Stan. The feel was decidedly medieval with the low, rounded ceiling that formed windowless, cellar-like booths. For some reason it was popular among paranormals, but Adeem had never liked the place—there was no authenticity to the old.

Nev clasped around the tall glass and hunched over the sturdy oak table. "Am I the only one having a beer now?" the vampire asked.

Adeem nodded briefly and glanced over his shoulder. "We should have gone to another bar." Too many paranormals had opted to come out of hiding. He recognized Vincent Fair together with another fae, and the stench of werewolf hung heavy in the air. There were at least three of them somewhere behind him, and he had a feeling there was at least one sorcerer around because it was simply a bit too warm to be natural. Perhaps they all needed to stretch their legs and breathe a bit to tackle the news, but it wasn't the wisest decision to come together under the same roof, especially not at a human establishment. The risk of an incident was too high.

Nev leaned forward on his elbows. "You wanted a drink, this is the place. I'm not walking another step tonight."

Adeem snorted in an attempt to stifle a laugh. Nev's resistance to moving around was hysterical.

"Whatever. And weren't you hungry?" Nev said.

He'd had dinner hours ago, but Nev wasn't talking about that particular type of hunger. His nature had needs, and Nev's words became a fierce reminder that he hadn't had a decent refill since yesterday. It had only been a taste, but memories of young, stupid love had their special kind of charm. Tonight, he wanted something different—something savory with a tinge of sex.

"You should offer your services, you know. You'd make a fortune," Nev continued. It wasn't the first time the vampire had broached the subject.

"And what's the fun in that?" he asked.

"Well, you'd be helping people instead of taking away memories they'd rather keep."

"Says the bloodsucker."

Nev's jaw tightened. "Blood regenerates, memories don't."

He recoiled, struck with worry. It wasn't like Nev to be snippy.

The sound of wood scraping against the rugged stone floor stopped their conversation, or perhaps it was the sight of Vincent moving toward them with his usual grace. Adeem hated the fae more than anything in the world. Okay, so maybe he didn't hate Vincent. Maybe he didn't even dislike the guy. It was just that the fae's never ending source of optimism got on his nerves. Clearly, the paranormal society in Stockholm was too crowded.

Vincent brushed a strand of silvery white hair from his face. "You should be more careful. I could hear you from over there." He pointed over his shoulder as though it wasn't already clear what he meant.

Nev had a soft spot for the fae and smiled wide for the first time that evening. "Sorry Vincent. I'm blaming the demon."

"Don't be unkind, Nev. Anyway, I only meant you should be careful. It's a special night after all." Vincent's melodic voice was too easy to get lost in—a fine trick the fae used more often than not.

Adeem shook his head and reassembled the words, one by one. Something special. "Is the dragon already here?" He hadn't thought the guy would arrive so soon, but the faltering smile on Vincent's lips was the only confirmation he needed. Damn.

"Yes, but I'm sure it will be fine. He will be fair, right? There's no reason to be afraid." The tight smile on Vincent's lips seemed to convey a wish to reassure them. Unfortunately, the fae's voice betrayed how he really felt.