Jimmy gave me a smile from behind the counter. I could tell he was enjoying himself.
“Makes sense,” I said, extending a hand. “I promise not to break the Randy Rump.”
Grohn took my hand in his and shook it slowly. My hand was dwarfed by the immense trollgre.
“We still have to unload the rest of the truck,” Jimmy said. “Before you go on back, why don’t you share some of your wisdom with our guests?”
“Can I?” Grohn asked with anticipation. “I would like that.”
“Sure,” Jimmy assured him, staring at me. “They would love it. Especially Simon.”
Grohn turned to me and captured my complete attention—like I had a choice.
“Remember when air was free at the gas station?” Grohn asked. “Remember?”
“Um, sure,” I said, unsure of where this was going. “That was long ago, though.”
“Well, now, its $1.50,” Grohn said. “Do you know why?”
“Not really, no,” I answered, still slightly confused. “Do you?”
Grohn nodded vigorously.
“Inflation!” Grohn bellowed with a wide smile that rivaled Peaches’ grin of friendliness. It was a fearsome sight to behold, and my hand moved reflexively to my gun before I realized he was smiling at me. “Inflation!”
It took me a few seconds. Then, inwardly, because I still enjoyed breathing and the small comforts of life, like keeping my limbs attached, I groaned, realizing where he’d gotten his name.
I returned the smile as best as I could, fighting the limbic part of my brain that was yelling at me to kill it with fire immediately before he bit off my head.
“That was excellent and profound, Grohn,” Jimmy said with a wicked smile, patting Grohn’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go finish unloading the supplies? That way we can be ready for tonight’s guests.”
“Yes, Mr. Jim,” Grohn said, glancing at me with another heart-stopping smile before lumbering off. “Inflation.”
“You could have warned me,” I said as Jimmy donned an apron that read I’m Unbearable. “That was so bad. I can’t believe you encourage him.”
“Yes, it’s horrible, but no one dares tell him that to his face,” Jimmy said, looking back over his shoulder to make sure Grohn was out of earshot. “The last person who tried had to be carried out of here. He takes his moments of wisdom seriously. My advice? Smile and thank him.”
I rubbed my face as Jimmy brought my coffee and Monty’s tea. The aroma of the Deathwish was spectacular and jolted my brain into a heightened state of awareness. I kept my flask of javambrosia in my pocket. I wasn’t in the mood to taste colors and see sounds, so the coffee would be enough.
“I’ll remember to do that,” I said. “I have a situation, and maybe you can provide some insight.”
Jimmy’s expression darkened immediately as he crossed his massive arms.
“Does this situation in any way, shape, or form involve blowing the Rump to bits?” Jimmy asked, suddenly serious. “If so, I’m going to need you to take your beverages to go.”
“Not at all, I hope.”
“You hope?” Jimmy said, narrowing his eyes at me. “What exactly is this situation?”
Jimmy grabbed a chair from a nearby table, pulling it close, and sat on it with the back of the chair facing us.
“What do you know about dragons in the city?” I asked. “The old powerful ones.”
Jimmy gave me a hard look and then sighed.
“You do not want to go messing with dragons, Simon,” Jimmy said. “No offense, but neither of you are powerful enough, together or alone, to deal with one mature dragon. Not even with your pup, amazing as he is.”
“None taken,” Monty said, raising his tea cup before taking a sip. “I try to avoid dealing with pure magical beings capable of unleashing untold destructive fury upon my person. This is”—Monty pointed at me—“his situation, not mine. I’m actually on hiatus and recovering.”
“Recovering?” Jimmy asked, raising an eyebrow. “From what?”
“He had a small run in with a being wishing to unleash untold magical fury upon his and my person,” I said, glancing at Monty, who just happened to be focused on the window next to us again. “That, and he went through a schism.”
“Whoa,” Jimmy said, staring at Monty. “Shouldn’t you be in Haven or some medical facility? I hear schisms are serious for mages. Are you okay?”
“I am perfectly fine.”
“We all know what fine stands for,” I said. “Anyway, despite the better judgment of medical and magical professionals, he checked himself out.”
“You’re out here against Roxanne’s wishes?” Jimmy asked, surprised. “You enjoy living dangerously.”
“Tell him why,” Monty said, taking another sip. “Don’t give him half the story.”
“I’ve been contacted by some…dangerous individuals,” I said, trying to avoid mentioning names. I didn’t want anything to blow back on Jimmy or the Rump. “Monty thinks they want my help in hunting dragons. Specifically, a dragon.”
“This dragon have a name?”
I momentarily debated sharing the name with Jimmy. Despite the number of times the Rump had been redecorated, Jimmy had always welcomed us to his place. I didn’t want to ruin that goodwill. If I didn’t tell him, he’d hold it against me, and this was Peaches’ second favorite pastrami place, after Ezra’s.
I doubted he would cut off Peaches. No one risked pissing off a hellhound like that, not even a werebear, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
“Balfour. They said his name is Balfour.”
“Are you sure?” Jimmy asked, his expression grave. “Did they mention a first name?”
“First name?” I asked. “I thought that was the first name.”
“Balfour is the enclave name,” Jimmy shared. “The Balfour and Obouros Enclaves are ancient and dangerous. Not groups you want to tangle with.”
“They’re going after this Balfour,” I said. “I don’t know why.”
“No one hunts dragons anymore,” Jimmy said. “You’re talking hundreds of years ago and nowhere near this continent. What makes you think they want to hunt dragons?”
“I don’t, Monty does,” I said. “I think they want to meet me to tie up some loose ends.”
“Loose ends? Meaning you?” Jimmy asked. “You really have a knack for pissing people off, don’t you?”
“It’s a
