The Dracologist

The invitation arrived on heavy cream stationery. *A Private Viewing of Antiquities*, hosted by Cornelius Vane.

Ignatius knew of Vane. "A collector," he said, examining the card. "New money. Railways and textiles. He has been trying to buy my northern coal mines for a decade."

"Let's go," Aurelia said, adjusting her diamond choker. "I haven't humiliated a nouveau riche in weeks."

They arrived at Vane’s townhouse in Kensington. It was filled with oddities—stuffed tigers, clockwork automations, and jars of formaldehyde.

Cornelius Vane was a thin man with spectacles that magnified his eyes into wet, blinking orbs. He smelled of chemicals and nervous sweat.

"Lord Blackwood," Vane bowed. "And Lady Blackwood. You honor me."

"Your note mentioned a specific acquisition," Ignatius said, skipping the pleasantries. He stood with his hands behind his back, looking bored.

"Indeed," Vane smiled. It was a tight, unpleasant expression. "Please, step into the conservatory. The lighting is better."

They followed him into a massive glass room filled with ferns and steam-powered machinery.

"I have dedicated my life to taxonomy," Vane said, walking behind a large, brass console. "Classifying the natural world. But the supernatural world... that is where the profit lies."

Aurelia yawned, covering her mouth. "Do get to the point, Mr. Vane. My husband is missing his bread rolls."

Vane pulled a lever.

There was a hiss of steam, and steel shutters slammed down over the windows and doors. From the floor, copper nodes rose up, humming with magnetic energy.

"I know what you are," Vane said, his voice trembling with excitement.

Aurelia stepped forward, baring her fangs. "Oh, darling, you really shouldn't have. A vampire hunter? How retro."

She moved to strike, faster than thought.

"No!" Ignatius roared.

He shoved Aurelia aside, sending her crashing into a bed of ferns.

A massive net of cold iron, electrified by a galvanic battery, dropped from the ceiling. It wasn't aimed at Aurelia. It fell directly onto Ignatius.

The dragon roared—a sound that shattered the glass of the nearby terrariums. Smoke billowed from his skin as the iron burned him. He fell to his knees, the heavy metal mesh pinning him to the floor.

"A vampire?" Vane scoffed, adjusting his glasses. "My dear lady, you are a parasite. Common as rats. I have no interest in you."

He walked toward Ignatius, who was writhing, his skin glowing molten red as he tried to shift, but the iron bound his magic.

"But a *Draco Nobilis*," Vane whispered, reverent. "A Fire Drake in human skin. Do you know what the industrial capacity of a dragon's heart is? I can power the mills of Manchester for a century."

Aurelia lay in the ferns, stunned. He didn't want her. He wanted *him*.

Ignatius looked at her. His golden eyes were wide, filled with pain and panic.

"Run," he choked out. Smoke poured from his mouth. "Aurelia. Run."

Vane signaled to two hulking assistants who emerged from the shadows carrying steam-powered prods. "Load the beast into the containment unit. Take him to the Palace."

Aurelia scrambled to her feet, hissing. She lunged for the net.

Ignatius flared his aura—a blast of heat so intense it singed the ends of her hair. He used the last of his strength to push her back with a wall of air.

"Go!" he roared.

The guards shocked him. Ignatius slumped forward, unconscious.

Aurelia watched, frozen, as they dragged him away. The heavy steel doors slammed shut, leaving her alone in the silence of the conservatory.