Shrugging off my pack, I walked to a tree about a hundred yards from the bench and sat down, leaning against the trunk with my back to the water. Setting my bag on the ground, I unzipped the top just enough to feel around inside. The shotgun microphone sat nestled in the bottom—amazing what you could pick up on the internet. Carefully, I plugged my headphones into the microphone, switched it on and pointed the entire backpack toward the bench, trying to find the right angle. There was a buzz of static in my ear, and snatches of a conversation filtered through the earbuds before resolving into separate voices.
“—llo, Richard,” crackled one voice, smooth and confident, making me frown. Richard? Who was on a first name basis with the Patriarch? I held my breath, easing the backpack to a better position. The voice sputtered a moment, then grew stronger. “Lovely evening, isn’t it? I heard last week was nothing but rain.”
“Let’s skip the pleasantries.” The deep second voice was clipped, impatient, which surprised me. I’d heard speeches given by the Patriarch, his words inspiring the soldiers of St. George as he reminded them of our holy mission. In all instances, he was poised and confident, never raising his voice to get a point across. He’d sounded nothing like the brusque, almost nervous man across the lawn. “That’s not why we’re here.”
Interesting. I suddenly understood why the Patriarch had chosen to meet in a very public park. If he didn’t trust the other man, he wouldn’t want to pick a location where the other could do something nefarious with no witnesses. Rules of enemy negotiations: don’t meet on the enemy’s turf, and don’t give him the opportunity to double-cross you.
So, who was this other man? And how had he convinced the Patriarch, the leader of St. George, to meet with him like this, when he obviously didn’t want to?
“As you say. I suppose we should get down to business, then.” By comparison, the other’s voice was cool and almost smug. “I trust the operation in China was a success?”
There was a creak, as if the Patriarch had seated himself on the bench and leaned back. His voice was begrudging as he answered. “The squad located the temple in the mountains and found the targets inside, just as you said.”
“And?”
“They’ve been dealt with.”
“Excellent. My people will be pleased to hear it.” A pause, and then the faint tapping of keys, as if the stranger was typing something on a laptop. “Another successful raid, and your men have done well. The funds should be in your account by the time you get home.”
My stomach dropped. Certainly not the vision from God the Order would have us believe. Who is this person? Is he even part of St. George, or is he something else entirely?
“You don’t look pleased, my friend,” the stranger went on. “Are you disappointed with our arrangement? Surely the destruction of another nest is cause for celebration, yet you seem unhappy.”
“I am not,” the Patriarch said in a cold voice, “nor will I ever be, your friend.” His voice faded as static buzzed through the headphones, and I carefully adjusted the backpack until it cleared. “...benefits us now,” the Patriarch went on. “But do not think we will ever be allies, and do not think I will change our beliefs. The Order does not bow to the whims of dragons, regardless of loyalties or circumstances.”
What?
“Be that as it may,” the man returned with a smile in his voice, “I’m afraid it is far too late for you to reconsider our arrangement. What would the rest of the Order say, if they knew their Patriarch had sold himself to the enemy? Do you think they would care that one tiny branch of Talon wants to bring down the whole? Do you think St. George would agree that doing business with a handful of dragons in order to destroy the rest is for the good of us all?” His voice grew faintly threatening. “If certain documents suddenly became known to the rest of the Order, what do you think would happen?” The stranger snorted. “Well, you know your people better than I. What is the punishment for treason—for consorting with dragons?”
I was barely breathing now. This...this was unreal. I sat rigid with my back to the tree, listening to the leader of St. George—the man the Order revered above all others—carry out a secret transaction with a dragon. Accept money from a dragon, to eliminate other dragons. And not only that, it sounded like these meetings had been going on for a while. My mind whirled with questions as confusion, disbelief and anger surged to life. How long had the Patriarch been lying to us? How long had he advocated the complete destruction of an entire species, when he himself was in Talon’s pocket?
The Patriarch...is in league with Talon, I thought numbly. No one was going to believe this. I was having trouble believing it myself.
“So, I’m afraid our transactions are going to have to continue, my friend,” the stranger—the dragon—went on in that same cool, smooth voice. “There is too much at stake, for both of us, to stop now. But that’s not the end of the world, is it? After all, you’re still eliminating your enemies. You’re destabilizing the organization. Who cares where the information comes from—as long as dragons are dying, you’re still achieving your holy mission, are you not? Protecting humanity and all that.”
“You mock me, lizard. But I will see your kind extinct. Even if I must make a deal with the devil to see it come to pass.”
“There you go.” The dragon didn’t seem at all perturbed at the Patriarch’s threat. “We have similar goals, you and I. The Order wants dragons dead—we want some dragons dead. And if Talon grows weak in the meantime, how is that a bad thing for St. George?”
The Patriarch’s voice went coldly polite. “I assume you have another lead.”
“I do.” I heard the faint rustle of paper. “And another opportunity for your people to redeem themselves, since they cannot seem to pin down this one dragon long enough to eliminate him.” The stranger’s voice took on a dangerous edge, even though his tone was light. “A pair of dragons waltzes into your chapterhouse, frees a traitor and waltzes out again, right under your noses. I would think finding them would be the Order’s top priority.”
I jerked up, hitting the back of my head against the tree trunk. My heart pounded as I realized he was talking about us, about Ember and Riley and myself, and the night they’d freed me from St. George. I knew the Order wanted us dead. I’d had no idea that it was Talon itself sending them after us.
“Sebastian will be taken care of,” the Patriarch replied, making my blood chill at the sound of my name. “As will the dragons who aided him. We were unaware of how deeply involved he was until they came for him that night. Every chapterhouse in the States is on alert for this traitor and the dragons you described. We will find and eliminate them.”
“Well. Now’s your chance. We’ve uncovered one of Cobalt’s hideouts, an abandoned industrial park about ten miles north of a small town in West Virginia. I’ve marked its location on your map. Our intelligence indicates he is heading there now, possibly with several dragons and the soldier in tow, but I would act quickly. Cobalt is intelligent, paranoid and he’s slipped through your fingers before. Let’s try to avoid that this time.” The stranger’s voice turned faintly mocking. “We don’t want a repeat of Vegas.”
“We know what we’re up against now.” The Patriarch’s voice was brittle. “This time, we’ll be ready for them.” There was a rustle, as if the Patriarch closed the file and rose. “We’re done here,” he announced. “I will contact you once it’s finished.”
“Of course.” The stranger rose, as well. “Always a pleasure, my friend. We’ll be in touch.”
I zipped up the backpack and stood, still slightly dazed but knowing I couldn’t be spotted now. Shrugging the pack over my shoulders, I put my head down and walked away, keeping my back to the bench where the meeting had taken place. I didn’t see the Patriarch, or his mysterious dragon informant,