Page 24 of My Dark Obsession
I followed Rí down dark corridors and into a small stuffy office. The stale smell of old smoke and cigars burned my nose. Its desk was a mess with scattered papers, dripped wax and opened leather bound journals.
Each corner of the room held books of all kinds, thick hard backs, colourful leather covers. Each stack was piled high and leaning.
Rí aimed straight for the desk and started opening draws and shuffling the papers about.
“The man is a messy son of a bit–” The clearing of a throat cut Rí off. I turned and inched away from the elderly man stood behind me.
Did I mention I didn't like people?
He was hunched over about my height, with a bald head holding one singular white hair in the middle. His watery eyes were huge behind his thick glasses and a black pipe hung from dry lips.
“What are you doing in my office dragon?” He croaked out before shuffling into the room with a heavy wheeze coming from his chest.
“Sir–” Rí started but was cut off once more by the old man waving a wrinkled hand and shuffling over to the desk, ignoring me completely.
Thankfully.
“Pack that in. Why are you messing up my desk?” If anything, Rí’s shuffling had tidied the desk up.
I stayed silent.
“We are looking for the birth records. Eighteen years ago yesterday.” Straight to the point it seemed.
The old man arched a bushy white brow and started to hack away from the pipe. His lips held tight around the thin pipe stem as he wheezed and coughed.
“Outta my way then boy!” He snapped when he finally caught his breath.
He sat in the big chair behind the desk with a relieved sigh, then snapped, “Light it up for me will ya!”
Rí sighed and waved his hand towards the pipe; a flame flung from his hand and lit the pipe back up, the smoke now swirling from its end.
I had noticed various things about Rí the past day. When he was angry, his body became so heated, the areas around him singed and burned. In fact, the angrier he got, his eyes burned brighter. He could create and cast flames with just a flick of his hand.
He wasn't a bearded dragon. He was an actual dragon.
“Can you fly?” I blurted out.
His brows raised before a small smile pulled at his wide lips, completely changing his face. His eyes brightened and creased around the edges. He seemed more softer, gentle. Why couldn't I look away?
My chest ached.
Ignoring me, the old man said, “Pass me that book. I'll look there. Then you can get out of my office.”
Rí passed him the book and we waited in silence.
It stretched on as the man flicked through page after page. His big watery eyes zoomed through the text before licking a thumb and turning the page.
Page after page, thumb lick after thumb lick.
Somewhere in that book were my birth records, somewhere on that book explained who my birth parents could potentially be. Dark Witches hated and loathed. Dark Witches who may or may not have helped in killing thousands of people and closing off the portals, who somehow put me in the human realm with him, Lyal.
Somewhere on that page were the names of the people who gave me to a monster, and in doing so, created one.
Because that's what I was after all; the dreams I had of hurting people, of spilling their blood and watching as it drained the life from them. That made me a monster, didn’t it? Because they weren’t just dreams. Oh no.
The second I knew my boys were safe, I was going for Lyal, and I was going to relish in his screams.
The slamming of the book closing ripped me from my thoughts. The man sucked on his pipe then licked his lips and said, “No one was born that year. It was the war after all. Now there was a bloom the year after. But nope. Nadda. Nothing.”
