“You said earlier, before I hit the floor, that there were certain skills a Niteclif would inherit to make the job easier. What are they?”
“So you’ll do it?” His eyes shone more than they should in the lamplight, that inner light sparkling like sunlight behind stained glass.
“Doesn’t sound like I have a choice, does it, if every third generation has to pick up the mantle of service?” I felt slightly resentful that my life was about to be overrun. I also felt slightly giddy about the same thing. I wanted and had asked for something profoundly different, a change, an altered reality. Apparently that wish had been granted in spades. And I couldn’t have excluded this as an option when I made the wish because I’d had no idea something like this was remotely possible.
“There’s always a choice, Maddy. But if you refuse it, then the family history stops here.”
His answer sounded ominous.
“What do you mean?”
He slid lower in his seat and laced his fingers together over his hard abs. “There are no other children, so you’re it. No one else can pick up the mantle of servitude to the supernatural community. It means that chaos will reign and justice won’t be meted out fairly.”
“And what happens in between generations when no one takes responsibility for this job?” I asked, making little finger quotes.
He steepled his fingers together, putting his elbows on the chair’s arms, and sighed. “The High Council hands down rulings and enforces sentences, but like your political systems, it’s not without its own forms of influence and corruption.”
I scooted on the bed so that my back was against the headboard, tucking my legs under me.
“So how do I change that?”
“Niteclif word is taken as general law. You are the ultimate voice for justice, and you are deferred to in all investigations. Your findings may be challenged by either the guilty party or any member of the High Council, but Niteclif logic has never failed.”
“Ever?”
“Never, Maddy.” Bahlin’s eyes narrowed as he watched for my reaction.
My mouth was suddenly dry, and I couldn’t generate enough spit to even swallow. No pressure. Then Bahlin looked at me, and that look from earlier passed over his face. There was something he wasn’t telling me.
“Spill it, dragon,” I said, getting a weird rush from calling out his species name.
“What?” he asked.
“Whatever you’re withholding. You’ve made your plea for me to take the job. You’ve spelled out the most basic foundation in the history of job descriptions for me. But you’ve got tells. Your eyes get tight, giving your perfect visage little lines at the corner.” I looked him over carefully and girded my mental loins. “Your eyes drift to the left, just over my shoulder, and you answer whatever I’ve asked without looking at me. You put your feet flat on the floor. You get preternaturally still in all other ways. Oh, and your head turns to the left, but only a bit.” Huh? Man, I was good, and I hadn’t even tried. Maybe I could do this.
He dropped his hands and, if a dragon could gape, he gaped. “Amazing,” he muttered. “No one’s called me on those points since Aloysius.”
And then it dawned on me: Bahlin being here when I arrived at the hotel. Bahlin leaving a note for me. Bahlin invading my dream. Bahlin being relentless in his delivery of my family history. Bahlin’s intimate knowledge of my great-granddad. It suddenly all made sense.
“You were his sidekick,” I yelled. “You’re Watson!”
“No need to yell,” he said on a sigh. “Yes, I was. And yes, I am.”
I stared at Bahlin, amazed at him. He was incredibly attractive, unarguably intelligent, and way older than I had estimated. Not early thirties by a long, long, long shot.
“I made a promise to Aloysius when he left his term that I would become the guardian of whoever took up the Niteclif service.” Clearly resigned to his personal history having been outed, Bahlin wasn’t remiss to speak. “By the way, you’re the first person to make the connection between the fictional character and the man for either Aloysius or myself.”
I wasn’t so sure about the man comment. I didn’t know enough about dragon mythology to know what they considered themselves. A different species? A sub-group? Humans with extra options, like a car with a sunroof and GPS?
I sat there looking at this creature in the chair opposite my seat on the bed, and I felt a strange empathy for him. He’d made a promise