We strode up to a door with two male dragons standing guard outside, bodies too lazily relaxed to be anything but experienced killers. Like resting lions. One was a tall, thickly built thirty-something guy with scars on his face and a crooked nose. His hair was buzzed close to the scalp and he leaned against the wall with his arms folded.

The other was dark-haired, also buzzed close to the scalp, but his scars were across the top of his head. He had a thick dark beard and one long eyebrow wider than most mustaches, making him look perpetually angry. They must have gotten the scars before they became weredragons because dragon shifters had incredible healing abilities.

All in all, they positively screamed friendly. Especially with those big guns at their hips.

One look at Raego and they said, “Da,” in unison before uni-brow rapped on the door in a specific beat. Russians? That was new.

They pulled it open without waiting for a response. Raego strolled inside first, tugging Tory after him as if escorting her to a ball.

Not wanting to be left outside with the guards, I strolled past them, ignoring their sniffs.

Callie sniffed them right back, and then let a grimace pass over her features before continuing through. I hid my smile as I stared at the five dragons seated at the table before us. And when I say us, I mean Tory, Callie, and myself. Because Raego was busy pouring himself a drink near a bar to our right, as if forgetting we were here or that anyone was here, for that matter.

Which meant we braved the stares of the five dragons all alone.

I only recognized one of them – Gertrude – Raego’s grandmother. The last time we had met, I had flicked her in the eyeball with my finger nail and then blown her snout right off her face. But since you couldn’t actually die at the Dueling Grounds, here she was.

“Well. This is awkward…” I said, shifting from foot to foot. “It’s Dirty Gerty.”

There was a collective intake of breath from everyone in the room at the blatant disrespect I had shown the seemingly harmless little old lady. But I knew better than to let my eyes deceive me. She wasn’t harmless. She was over four hundred years old, and liked to be in charge. The last time I had seen her, Raego had been very careful around his Gram Gram, and described her as controlling. I’d never mixed well with that type. I waited for Raego to step in to defend her, but he didn’t. That was a change for the better. Wasn’t it?

Her cheeks flushed a deep purple and she pulled back her lips to show me her teeth. Her blue eyes were flecked with gold, which were made all the more vibrant by her inflamed cheeks. Pleased with the reaction, I decided I liked Dirty Gerty better than Gram Gram.

I dipped my head, seemingly apologetic. “Where’s that swanky purse you had last time we met?” I had used it to blow a supernova into her ribcage at the Dueling Grounds, so she probably remembered. “I was hoping to have some girl talk. Maybe compare bags.” I lifted the chain strap of my satchel with two fingers, hefting it up and down, giving them a chance to see it was made of black dragon scales – scales that everyone thought were impossible to melt down and re-forge.

Her sneer faded, and I felt her companions shift uncomfortably in their seats. She seemed to regain some of her composure, avoiding looking at my satchel and turning to the other dragons.

“This is Nate Temple. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. More’s the pity.”

Judging by the stiffening of shoulders, she was right. I released the strap and waved politely.

Their faces hardened, but they didn’t speak. Gertrude pointed to each, introducing them.

Baron Skyfall was an older black man. He was bald as an egg and had dark freckles on the skin just below his bright orange eyes. In contrast to his shining dome, he sported a short white beard – looking to be made of bulletproof cotton since I couldn’t see the flesh through the hair. His orange irises stood out starkly against his skin. He was a tall bastard, easily twice as wide as most men, and had a thick neck. From what I could see he was obviously buff and I knew that if he got to his feet he would tower over me. Much bigger than Gunnar, but differently proportioned.

He smiled at me with very white teeth. “Wotcher cock,” he said in a distinct British accent.

“Watch his what?” Callie gasped in disbelief.

Baron Skyfall grinned back at her, but I spoke first. “A greeting,” I told her, meeting his eyes. Those orange irises seemed to roil with flame. That phrase was also used to mean watch your clock, as in, your ass. A greeting and… a warning. Or was it a threat? Callie repeated the phrase under her breath as if committing it to memory. I only recognized it because I had spent quite a bit of time in London recently – in some of the seedier neighborhoods where cockney slang was more frequently used. Did he know about my travels? I turned to the next dragon.

Chu was next in line. He laughed in the face of stereotypes by sporting a long, thin goatee – his mustache hanging down below his chin in thin strips like ribbons of silk, and his wisp of a chin patch hung between it, a little thicker, but not by much. He wore his hair tied back in a gray ponytail, not a strand out of place. His suit matched the two blue dragons I had seen at the front door, and I wondered idly if they were his sons.

He stared at me like a big stinky asshole.

His gray hair let me know he was old, but there was no way for me to guess the number. Gertrude looked to be in her sixties but she was over four hundred. Chu looked to be in his mid-fifties, but he maintained the youth of a Shaolin Monk ready to Zen my ass into oblivion. I squinted at him, letting him take that how he pleased. His slate gray eyes narrowed further.

Enya had skin as pale as milk, and her long wavy hair was the color of spun gold – but with hints of red when the light caught it just so. She wore a layered silk robe, almost inappropriate enough to be a nightgown, and had a long thin neck. Her open robe informed me that she was very well developed and proud of it. She didn’t appear to be past her early forties, but those emerald green eyes were darkly inviting. A cougar on the prowl. I fed her ego with a smile. Her reply was to slowly lick her teeth. Subtle, she was not. This Russian was trouble in a silk bow.

The last was Malik, a caramel-skinned man. He apparently found his book more interesting because he didn’t bother acknowledging me. He was lithe and thin but looked as strong as wire. His dark hair hung to his shoulders and I caught a faint yellow glow to his eyes as he turned a page in his book. I was pretty sure that he was Egyptian like Ivory.

Which brought up an interesting point. Almost everyone I had seen so far tonight had been a stranger and seemed to closely resemble these Council members. Except for Baron, but there had been those guards lurking in the shadows with radios and guns. Maybe they were his.

Four old dragons from various parts of the world in a Council with Dirty Gerty… I’d overheard that Raego’s grandmother had been causing nothing but headaches since she came to town. Nothing major, just the grumblings anyone would make over their grandmother living with them. But I hadn’t heard anything about her running a Council until tonight. Had Raego given her this Council to get her out of his hair? A peace offering? Or was this a power struggle? It might even be a check against Raego’s… absentmindedness.

Maybe this Council wasn’t a bad idea. Like a Board of Directors to keep the trigger-happy CEO in line.

But everything I had learned so far from Raego, the added security, all the new faces… It just didn’t feel like one big happy family. And whenever a group of older, wiser patriarchs and matriarchs coordinated together to assert their will on a younger relative, it rarely worked to his benefit. Then again, I had always been suspicious of groups. It was far too easy for individuals to get swept up in their hidden agendas.

Raego piped up, addressing the Council. “This is Callie Penrose, a wizard from Kansas City. She… well, kills assholes, I guess.” He turned to her, beaming energetically. “Ever killed a dragon, Callie?” he asked before slurping loudly from his drink. “Nate has.”

I got ready to throw down.