I lounged in one of the overstuffed chairs by the unlit fire. Drago shoved a glass of something alcoholic in my hand before taking the seat opposite. I gave it a sniff. Port. One of my favorites. Not that I felt much like drinking. Still, I took a small sip to fortify myself.
"Come on, tell me. What is going on?" I repeated.
Drago sighed and took a long swallow of his drink. I'd been right about the whisky. Finally he said, "Inigo woke yesterday a few hours before I called you. He was extremely disoriented at first. Weak. Feverish. I called in Dalinda immediately. At first we weren't sure he'd make it."
My heart gave a painful lurch. I should have been there. "Is this, ah, normal?"
"Not exactly. But like I told you when we put him in the egg, he's only half dragon. His human side made the healing unpredictable. We had no way of knowing how he would respond. In fact, if you will recall, I wasn't sure he'd wake up at all."
I nodded. He had told me, but I'd hoped for the best. It was all I had. "Obviously he made it. Physically anyway."
He gave me a long look. "Yes. Physically he is fine. Weak, perhaps, but he will regain his strength in time and with the proper therapy."
"Mentally he's not fine, is he?" I didn't really need him to answer. I'd seen for myself. But I wanted him to confirm it.
"No. He isn't."
I swallowed another bracing mouthful of port. "What's wrong with him?"
"We're not certain," Drago admitted. "Other than he seems detached from, well, just about everything and everyone. Dalinda is worried that if he does not shake loose from whatever this is, he will begin to physically decline."
"What can we do?"
He shook his head. "I do not know. And neither does Dalinda."
"Surely there is someone who does. Someone who can help. Some magic or something. What about Tanith?" Tanith was my friend Cordelia Nightwing's sister and had once gone by the name Sandra. That was how I'd first met her before she'd joined the dragons full-time as a dragon child. I'd seen her only once since then, but she'd seemed content in her role as mediator between the dragons and Britain's answer to the SRA (Supernatural Regulatory Agency), the human-run MI8. She knew things no normal human could possibly know.
"She has been unable to discern any way of helping him, unfortunately." Drago took another long swallow of his whisky, brooding eyes on the empty fireplace. "And believe me, she has tried until she has exhausted herself. I had to order her to bed and leave my mate to guard her lest she try again."
I'd never met Drago's wife, the dragon queen, but I'd heard stories. If they were even half right, she was one scary-ass woman. Dragon. Whatever.
"Someone has to know what to do." I repeated it like a mantra, wanting it to be true.
Drago glanced at me. "Not that I'm aware of. We've never had a situation like this. Not with a Halfling."
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. "If he was full dragon you'd know what to do. Blah blah."
He winced a little. "It is, most unfortunately, true."
I stared at Drago. "What can I do?"
"Nothing."
I opened my mouth to argue, but Drago held up his hand.
"Time, Morgan. Give him time. Surely there is work you should be doing? At least until Inigo is ready."
He was right. Of course he was. I was a Hunter, and my job didn't go away because my boyfriend was recovering from having his heart ripped out by the Fairy Queen. "I spoke to Eddie right before you called me."
"And?"
"And right now Eddie is on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and something has gone extremely wrong. He may be in serious danger. Kabita's on the way, but I have no idea what kind of situation she's walking into. She shouldn't go alone."
Drago stood up. "Then we'd better get going, don't you think?"
"You have got to be kidding me." I eyed Drago's massive form with something surprisingly close to horror. Killing vampires was one thing. Riding dragons was another. Granted, I'd ridden Inigo in dragon form clear across the United States and the Atlantic Ocean, no less. And yes, I'd even suggested riding Finn from the airport, but Drago's dragon form made Inigo's seem downright puny. I squinted against the late afternoon sun bouncing off the dragon king's gold scales. He was the size of a small mountain. "How the hell am I supposed to get on his back? I need a freaking ladder truck."
Finn shrugged. "Easy." He grabbed me around the waist and tossed me up onto Drago's back like I was a rag doll. Unfortunately, I had no idea what I was doing. My hands slipped against smooth scales, and I slid down Drago's side like I was on one of those giant amusement park slides. I had visualized myself crashing to the ground and breaking a leg when Finn snatched me out of midair.