"So… is Jeff Bezos a dragon?"

It took four days to get to the Chesapeake. The hardest part was holding on to the bottom of the boat heading through the Panama canal. Those currents sucked, but it was faster than leaving the water in California and driving cross country. Then we emerged under the bay bridge, drank two packets of blood each, walked up to the road, and followed it until we found a car rental place.

Damian had two generic duffel bags rolled up in his pack that we used to stow our stuff and look somewhat "normal." Luckily, we were able to emerge at dusk and rent a car before the place closed. Now we are driving 10 miles over the speed limit on 95.

Damian makes a face as if he is disgusted. "Yes and no. He has dragon in him, but the dragon responsible for his parentage has clearly not taught him his appropriate duties."

"Dragons mate with people?" I was being facetious in my question, now I'm looking for any kind of footing in this conversation that makes sense.

"Most of us mate with people from time to time. People of extraordinary talent tend to come from a union with one of our kind. Even if their parents aren't one of us, they usually have at least one ancestor of supernatural parentage."

"No way!"

"Indeed. My favorite example is Freddie Mercury."

"Freddie Mercury was on of the races?"

"Quarter siren. That's why it is so hard to resist listening to his songs and singing along."

We lapse into silence while I contemplate this shift in my world view.

Damian parks at Union Station and we walk to the library from there. It is seven in the evening and the library is closed, but Damian doesn't particularly seem bothered by that. He has spent the last two minutes furiously texting with someone on my phone. After another minute, he smiles and flicks my phone back to me. "He'll meet us there."

"Vulcan?"

"Yes."

It isn't long before we arrive at the library. Damian directs us to the staff entrance. "How do you know where we are going?" I ask.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Went to Georgetown for law a while back. Things have changed, but not much." he responds before knocking on the door, which opens suddenly on the second knock. We walk in and Vulcan slams the door behind us, locking us in with one smooth movement.

"I got an interesting call," Vulcan says rubbing his eyes under his glasses. He is not what I expected. Tall and lanky, but unassuming, with glasses and messy short hair. He is a dead ringer for anonymous government puke number five, and could easily blend in anywhere. There is none of the presence I would expect from an elder. "An old friend called to tell me you planned to do something incredibly stupid." He leads us into an ornate office filled with books, "I expected better from you Johnathan."

Damian crosses his arms. "Nice to see you too, Nick. Your office looks different, is this the new family?" He picks up a photo on 'Nick's' desk. A conventionally pretty woman is sitting next to the elder with a child on each of their laps.

Vulcan snatches the picture out of Damian's hand and places it precisely so back on his desk before turning back towards us and leaning against the desk. He looks exhausted, but still levels Damian with a glare. "I'm not telling you where my old workshop is. You have embarked on the most foolish errand I can imagine."

"Why?" The word is out of my mouth before I even think it. Vulcan turns to me, surprised. I'm not sure he even registered that I was here before now.

"And you are?" He drawls. Which, fair. I haven't introduced myself.

"Alyssa, sir. Nice to meet you." I stick out my hand. He ignores it. I awkwardly lower it when he turns to glare at Damian some more.

"Playing with babies now? Girls her age are beneath you, cradle robber," Vulcan spits. His tone is accusatory and deeply disappointed.

Damian takes a step back, his hands out in front of him like he is pacifying an angry beast. "No, it's not like that. I was assigned to help her get her bearings after she was turned and we became friends. There is no way I would make a move on someone so young. Ew—" he turns quickly to me, "—no offence!"

"None taken. You are definitely not my type." I deadpan before smiling at him. Vulcan watches the byplay, analyzing our body language and relationship for any kind of lie or impropriety. After a moment he seems satisfied with what he sees and relaxes. Damian sees this and relaxes a bit in turn, putting his hands in his pockets and looking around the room in feigned interest.

"Why is contacting the others foolish?" I reiterate my question, hoping he will finally answer. Then again, he might not. Many elders still have the 'young ones should be seen and not heard' mentality.

Vulcan brings his hand up to rub at his eyes under his glasses again and sighs. "Will you listen if I tell you? In my experience, beings as young as you tend to pretend to listen and then do what you want anyway." He glares at Damian "Honestly, the only reason I haven't turned you in yet is because of our long standing friendship. You know they are looking for you."

"I know," Damian counters, "and thank you for taking the time to hear us out, and explain why we shouldn't contact the others."

Vulcan chuckles, "Yes, alright. Let me tell you the true story of our launch into space. Then we will see if you are still keen on this mission."