Dangerous Diabolical: Book 1 (Iridescent) ✔️

10.6

"Go mbrise an diabhal do chnámha!" He screeched in what I could only assume was meant to be insulting from the tone.

Always so nice.

He then changed tactic and began to plead, "If Stan's gone after the miscreant alone, and it doesn't end well, they'll be unstoppable with control of the Druids' power. You said he'd left looking for me? He could be confronting him right now!" He tugged at the bars, his hands sizzling. He had a good point, maybe Leo was being made into a corpse right now. My mouth filled up with saliva at the thought. "Even I was caught unaware by a magical onslaught."

I cocked my head at him. That I wasn't too surprised at. However, it was inevitable that he would have eventually figured out what I was, but I'd hoped to be long across the ocean by the time he did. "What gave my true nature away?" Curiosity leeched into the question.

"You think I don't recognise another predator? Your soul is as black as your heart. Your species always has one damn thing in common; each one of you assumes you're better than everyone else. Once I started asking questions it was easy to put the pieces together." he snorted. "As strong as Stan? Portals spilling open? Chaos in your wake?" He paused, snarling. "You will destroy everything."

Is that so? My teeth sharpened as I smiled coldly. "Well, you got one thing right." My tone was bitter, "I'm out here," I pointed to the floor, then flicked my finger to him, "and you're in that cage," A sharp laugh escaped as I explained, "Looks like I am better."

"Focáil Dragons," he muttered, face darkening. He shook the bars with another fleshy hiss, shouting more obscenities. "Let. Me. Out," he demanded.

"Why?" I argued, moving back to near his cage. The man dared to look shocked at the question, rapidly blinking as he pieced an answer together. If I left, he might eventually manage to get out, or someone might find him, or he'd become a dead conduit for the necromancer.

It wasn't like I could leave him to die... since he was already dead.

"Well, I'll speak on your behalf to the council. I will advocate a lighter sentence," Grahame said it like it was the simplest answer in the world.

"For what?" I argued. If he was speechless before, this seemed to push him over the edge.

"You're a dragon!" He exclaimed.

"We established that." I agreed.

"You've killed people!" He the retorted.

Calmly, fixing my gaze on him: "So have you." The silence stretched between us, and he stood mouth agape.

"It's different." He returned to arguing. "Mine were accidental," then as an afterthought, "or required."

"So you're saying mine weren't?"

"I think we can leave that to the jury to decide, back at the council."

Over my dead body. Or his.

"So, you're going to be on my side if I stand trial?"

"I will provide suitable evidence." He straightened, neck tall, looking as confident as a person could in a dishevelled captive state.

With a sigh, under my top, I grew a protective layer of scales, "Come here," I ordered, a finger beckoning. It was increasingly difficult to keep my face neutral at times like this. "I won't be able to hold the bars long." Because I didn't want to. As I gestured to the main three, he grew ready to step through.

Focusing, I coated them into a glamour, mentally finding a fold of reality to hold them in. As quickly as they flashed out of the world, I released them back into it.