"No, but is anyone ever prepared for that level of responsibility?" she shot back.
"I suppose not," he said as he eyed her with interest.
"Daddy," Pat yelled as she ran into the room. She tripped over and broke what I was positive was a priceless turn of the century antique coffee table. "Granny is convulsing and spitting up blood. Something is wrong."
"Oh shit," Dwayne hissed as he flew from the room at a speed that would have been impossible to follow.
"Where is she?" Hank ground out as Pat picked herself up off the floor and wiped her tears.
"Dungeon," she said and then saw the looks of shock and horror on our faces. "Oh my goodness," she sputtered. "It's lovely—not your typical dungeon at all. It has carpet and cable and air conditioning—very nice. But then again, my Daddy is not your typical Vampyre."
"I need to go to Granny," I insisted as I grabbed Pat and pulled her in the direction Dwayne had flown.
"Oh Essie, I don't know if it’s a good idea yet," she said as she wrung her huge hands. "It might be too dangerous for you if she wakes and is hungry."
"I don't care," I yelled. "If she's dying I need to be with her."
"She's already dead," Pat corrected me. "We are hoping she stays that way."
"Wait. What?" Dima asked, completely not with the program.
"Semantics," I huffed, ignoring her as I pushed Pat out of the room. "Take me to her or I'll go all Vampy on your ass."
"Yes, ma'am," she sputtered as she led us to a door. Behind it were a series of halls and stairwells.
"I have so many questions I don't even know where to begin," Dima said as she followed close behind. "And you're smoking crack if you think I'm not coming."
"Hold it," I shouted and slammed the Dragon up against the wall. "You tell me something now that will get you killed if it gets out. If you don't, you're not going a step farther."
"How will you know I'm not lying?" she challenged with narrowed eyes as thin tendrils of blue-green smoke wafted out of her nose.
"I won't, but if I think you are I will kill you dead right here. Right now," I said so calmly she tried to back away. Walls weren't conducive for movement.
"I'll know if you're lying," Hank said softly in a hard voice that made me shiver and not in a good way.
He stood next to me as we boxed Dima in. We watched her closely. If her story to Dwayne was true, she probably wasn't long for this world and had little to lose. Lying to us would be small compared to what possibly lay ahead in her not too distant future. However, I liked her. I wanted her to be a good guy. I wanted her to come to my wedding. I wanted her to see Dwayne in the horrid poofy dress.
"The Dragon property butts up to this one. I've stayed in this house before. It's always empty—has been for about forty years. I knew a Vamp owned it, but this is the first time I've ever heard of him being here," she said carefully.
"More," I growled. "That's not enough. That info doesn't put your life in danger. Talk fast, Dragon, or you're out of here."
"If I tell you more, you will let me have the ability to shift. I can't kill my father or protect myself unless I can shift," she bargained.
Her demand wasn't unreasonable—at all. It made my stomach clench, but I wouldn't send any soldier into battle unarmed. She'd had plenty of opportunity to try and kill us, but she hadn't. Trusting my gut was a lot easier when the most complicated thing I was doing was playing Candy Crush. Real life had a way of making one second guess themselves.
"You can shift. We won't make you drink anymore," Hank told her.
I glanced over in surprise, but he just gave me a terse nod. If he trusted her not to enlarge to the size of a football field and roast us like marshmallows, then I would too. However, I needed more blackmail information first.
"Talk, Dragon," I snapped.
"I don't know if this will count, but the Dragons know every inch of this house."
"Why?" I asked, knowing it was probably not a good thing at all.
"Because it butts up to our land and Dragons are curious. It's full of expensive and shiny objects."
"So the whole Dragons hoarding treasure thing is true?" I asked.
"For some," Dima admitted grudgingly.
"What exactly does a hoard mean to a Dragon?" Hank questioned as he backed off a bit.
After a short pause, Dima exhaled and hung her head. "Everything. A Dragon's hoard means everything to them. Without it a Dragon is nothing."
My stomach roiled at what I was about to do. I didn't want to do it, but my granny's future existence was on the line.
"Where is it?" I asked quietly.
Dima's quick intake of breath and Hank’s sharp exhale proved I'd hit a nerve—a big one.
"I don't know what you mean," she mumbled without making eye contact.
"Yes, Dima. Yes, you do. Tell me where your hoard is or I will have Pat kick your Dragon ass right out of this house and out of our lives. You can kill your daddy all by yourself or die trying. I don't care," I said harshly. I felt ill saying such things to her, but there was simply too much on the line to play nice.
"Something else," she begged brokenly. "Ask me for anything else."