The reptile would look on the more adorable side of monstrous in her yellow knitwear were it not for the smears of dead pigeon down her chest. If Fiona is about, her owner can’t be far away. As terrifying as the dragon can be, Fiona has nothing on Elspeth MacCrone.

The lizard finishes the pigeon and turns her black eyes on me. She lurches forward, waddling on legs ending in vicious claws. Desperate, I dig about in my pockets even though I know they’re empty.

“Sorry girl,” I squeak out when Fiona nudges my jacket. “I haven’t got any blueberries.”

Fiona looks disappointed and I’m probably about to lose a finger, but then Elspeth MacCrone comes storming out of the museum, even more furious than usual.

“Can’t find the ruddy thing, Fiona. Old sod must’ve—ah, Taika.”

MacCrone—formerly Sergeant MacCrone, a decorated battle mage—claps her mouth shut and fixes me with a single-eyed stare. She lost her left one in battle with a rabid wyvern. An impressive scar knots the flesh down her left cheek.

Hate to admit it, but it’s hard not to admire the mage dressed in black combat boots and camo pants as if she’s expecting war any minute. Now pushing seventy, with her gray hair hanging in a long braid down her back, MacCrone enjoys semiretirement as the school’s caretaker and self-appointed security guard, bringing misery to any students trying to skip class or sneak contraband.

“What are you doing out and about?” MacCrone asks in a Scottish accent so thick you could deep-fry it. “Hope you weren’t teasing my Fiona? If you were, you’ll deserve to lose a hand and I won’t stop her biting it straight off.”

“Ah, no,” I say. “I was going to the library.”

“Well, get on with it then.” She fishes several blueberries out of a pocket and feeds them to the lizard, seemingly unfazed by the pigeon gore dripping in thick strands of saliva from her pet’s mouth, or the semimasticated feathers sticking to the soles of her boots.

“Or should I escort you to the principal’s office?”

“No. Thank you.” Plastering on a smile, I sidle around them—avoiding blood and feathers—before hightailing it inside.

***

Ah, the library. I suck in a slow, deep breath, savoring the musty scent of paper and parchment. I start to relax as I ditch my jacket and boots then make my way through the familiar stacks.