"Stop! Get back here, son! You're naked!"
Being chased through Spice Rack City by a small army of human guards was not part of the plan, but Grel had always been skilled at dealing with the unexpected. Though he didn't understand why they were so upset. He didn't think he was naked. He had the glasses. His proper outfit, tucked safely away into the bag that slapped against his side, didn't fit this pathetic human body. How was he supposed to know that clothing wasn't optional here, too?
He weaved through the roads and back alleys, trying to shake his pursuers. Spice Rack City, the capital city of Salt, had been built into the base of the Double RR Mountains, and the winding roads sloped up and down. The buildings huddled together, canoodling in the shadow of the mountains. Humans were always so sickeningly sweet. The buildings even looked like damn gingerbread houses.
"Sure hope that you guys are chasing me in the right direction!" Grel was not afraid of the mewling creatures that pursued him. He wasn't afraid of humans, period, but this was still a nuisance.
He ducked into a narrow, dead-end alley between two recipe-book-perfect gingerbread houses. His uselessly small human hands plunged into the bag, and he searched desperately.
"He went this way!" The guards were getting closer.
"Come on, come on, come on," he whispered, heart slamming. He knew he shouldn't have been so greedy when he packed his bags. His stupid, fleshy nubs dug and poked and prodded and searched and searched until-
"Bingo!"
The guards whipped into the alley, quickly pouring in and filling the tight space like sardines, and blocking his only escape.
"Alright, buddy, we got you now."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
Grel smirked, an expression he was thrilled to discover humans could make too, and in a great puff, blew the handful of glittering yellow powder toward them. They hacked and spluttered as the powder coated them, already starting to work. The man Grel assumed to be the leader, due exclusively to his silly hat, pointed at him. Then his eyelids started to droop. Thank goodness for alchemists.
His pointing finger fell, and he swayed on his feet like a cattail in the breeze. Golden powder glittered in his trim, ornate beard. Then he collapsed. One by one, the other guards dropped. In a mere matter of moments, they were all on the ground in a great, snoring heap.
Grel let out a long breath, his hands on his knees. That was a little too close for comfort. Getting stuck in human jail would be a huge pain in the ass right now, and he didn't want to have to kill and eat them. For a lot of reasons, he didn't want to do that. After a breath, he stood and smiled widely at his work, ignoring the tremble that still shook his hands.
From the exit, he heard bubbly voices pass by carrying on a conversation and he scowled. Now what? He was already working on borrowed him, and he didn't have more to waste. The lead guard mumbled in his sleep and held his silly hat like a teddy bear. A mischievous grin spread across Grel's lips.
"Don't mind me, boys. You said I needed clothes anyway."
Even as he strolled down the brick path, Grel still found it hard to believe that he was really here. In the human capital city. Fluffy clouds drifted through the bright blue sky, and huge trees swayed in the breeze. Flowers seemed to wink up at him from sculpted gardens, parks, and flower boxes. Smoke curled up and away from the chimney stacks. The smell of chocolate and bread wafted from some building that claimed to be a "patisserie"
It was a feast for the senses, if you liked sweets anyway. Grel hated it. All of it. But it was going to all be worth it when he got back home.
'I wonder if he's noticed I'm gone yet.' Grel wondered, though not hopefully. Dragons weren't allowed to leave the kingdom, but the queen had made it quite clear she didn't think he was a dragon. He was an abomination.
None of that mattered right now. It would never matter again if everything went to plan. Just get Grandma's book back from the humans, and it would all work out.
-
Or it would have all worked out if the pink-haired twerp hadn't gotten her feathers ruffled over the stupid book. The stupid, important book that was now splayed open on the floor and spilling papers everywhere at the foot of the candy cane colored man. That was just one problem. Candy cane man, looking like he was about to scream, was another.
There were also his glasses, the only thing maintaining the human facade, no longer being on his face. The clothing he had stolen, through no small feat either, ripped and shredded as his form reverted back. The woman let go of him as he did, and scrabbled back. Her dark pink eyes glittered with fear as she cowered.
"Oh hell," he cursed.
He braced himself for what was inevitably coming and dug frantically through his bag. Any second now, there would be screaming, weapons, violence, pitchforks, and... and wait. Why was everything so quiet?
He looked up from the bag again to the woman, only to find her gone. He looked around frantically, and found her clutching the book to her chest and hiding behind the candy cane man, whose neat little nameplate read, "Peppermint du Provence." She watched Grel from over his shoulder.
It was then that Grel realized that Peppermint, whose face was a mask of rage, wasn't moving.
"Double hell."
The other patrons of the museum didn't move either, nor did the humans he could see from the window. The only movement, and notable sound for that matter, was the shuffling and quick, shallow breaths of the little archivist.
However, no one was attacking him. Maybe this was some human defense mechanism he had never heard of. It didn't really matter. There was still time. Squaring his shoulders, he began to stomp toward the archivist.
"Give me that book," he demanded, trying to sound ferocious and unbeatable. He still cringed when she flinched and whimpered; her big, dumb doe-eyes welled with tears.
"What did you do?" Her voice was so quiet he almost missed it. Grel stopped his approach, frozen like the other humans.
"What?"
"I-I said, 'what did you do?' Did you use magic to hurt my brother?"
"I didn't do anything!" He hated how pathetic and weak he sounded. This was not how this was supposed to go.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"What? No, I'm not going to kill you. You are a stupid, unimportant human and not worth the effort. What I want is the book. Give it to me and I'll leave."
"Why do you want it so badly?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was an answer to that question, but not one he owed a human. He threw his hands up and made a deep growl of frustration, smoke curling from his snout.
"Because I do, that's why. That, and it's mine."
"No, it isn't! It belongs to my family. That's why it in in the archives."
"Well, it shouldn't be here, because it belongs to my family."
Her eyes widened, and she looked down at the bundle of haphazard papers in her arms. Then she had the audacity to ask the most ridiculous question yet.
"Are you the last dragon?"
"Will you give me the book if I am?"
She didn't answer that one, never even looking up from the book. Frustration rising to fever pitch, and thoroughly done wasting precious time, Grel resumed his goal and made for her to snatch the book.
The archivist, however, caught on and ducked out of his reach. His claw-tipped fingers missed the book, but clamped tightly onto something that he ripped from her. He held it out, finding a letter with a broken wax seal. It was cracked, one half snapped off and missing.
Confusion and alarm overtook him, and he shoved the envelope in her face. She made another pathetic whimper and hid her pink face behind the book.
"Where did you find this?"
"I-I-I've never seen that before."
"Then why is the Royal Seal broken?"
"The what?"
"This, you insufferable gumdrop!"
He pointed to the seal with his claw and read her nameplate again. Maple du Provence. Grel was really reaching his limit with these ridiculous names. Ugh, Maple timidly pointed to the ground near her kin's feet where the book once lay. The missing piece, half-crushed from their fall.
"I've never seen that letter before, I swear. It must have been hidden inside the dust jacket. You... you can't have the book, but you can take the letter. I won't even tell Peppermint it existed."
"I'll take both," he said and flicked the letter open.
As he did, it suddenly burst into ethereal, crimson flames. He yelped in alarm and dropped the smoldering remains with a curse. Grel and Maple shared a brief, confused glance before a disembodied, otherworldly laughter cut through the silence. It boomed from everywhere, shaking the building. Books clattered in the archives. Peppermint tottered on his boots, his pose never changing, angry at the world.
The smoke from the letter went from silver to scarlet and began to pulse and expand. It twisted and swirled around the room in a maddening cyclone. More smoke from the letter churned, its color a darker blood red. It began to take on a form. The laughter almost sounded like crying. They were caught in the eye of the storm and watched with wide eyes that displayed very different emotions.
The dark smoke settled, taking on the hazy form of a young dragon woman. A dragon like him. She was taller than Maple, but not Grel, but her more distinct features were harder to discern. With the exception of the inky black streaks that ran down her face from her ember eyes. There was no more laughter.
Grel felt suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, sucking the air from his lungs with a gasp. He shook with boiling rage, ached with a heart so heavy it hurt to breathe, and wanted nothing more than vengeance. When the wave of feeling passed, and he could breathe, he realized that the smoke was talking.
"-and told me the truth about you, about all of you. Is this how you repay me, after years of my love and devotion and expertise? None of you could have created the LOVELOCK spell in a million years, and never without me. It is as good as my spell, and so I have taken it and intend to cast it once I seal the letter. Breaking the seal, right? You'll have come to come to Diamantaire, before I lock the Lapidary Kingdom away from Salt forever, and Spice Rack City stays frozen for all time. You always said you wished this could last forever. Good luck getting here without relying on me or the magic I taught you, as I've already obscured the paths. Isn't it such delightful irony?"
The dragon woman's smoke form exploded, and with a sinister curl of laughter the smoke slowed its frenzied swirl and dissipated into the stillness of the museum.