The Enigma Protocol

So I wrote something recently... Possibly the start of a series. Working on a name for it.

The Enigma Protocol

Prologue

 The Dragon rarely called himself that, of course. In another tongue his name was old and reptillian and never meant to be pronounced by a human throat.

 He walked in the shape of a man, with the only the occasional flicker of air around him to suggest that he was anything else. No one was truly observant enough to see the signs of one of the Old Ones among them like a wolf among the flock.

 Well, almost no one. Some people were hypersensitive to the Other in the world, being Other themselves.

 The werewolf (small w) and the tall dark-haired woman exchanged looks over their coffee cups as the door to Median opened with a jingling bell. The werewolf ("therianthrope," as he constantly corrected people) was thin, with stringy blond hair, entirely too much scraggly beard, and the mannerisms of a nervous rabbit, ironically enough. She was tall, her eyes heavily made up in a rock video sort of way, with unusually thick hair and a jaw that said entirely too much about her past.

 Something that had once laid waste to the gates of Babylon loomed over them, stylishly attired in an Italian suit that cost more than a small car.

 "Is this seat taken?" he rumbled in a voice that had scales in it.

 "No, help yourself," she replied, casually tapping the pendant at her throat with one hand.

 He nodded understandingly. "Well met."

 "Well met yourself," she replied.

 The werewolf looked like he was going to faint as the Dragon seated himself and ordered a simple black coffee.

 The two of them promptly ignored him as they sized one another up.

 After a moment, the Dragon nodded. "You're looking well these days. It's agreeing with you. The voice still needs a little work, though."

 "Says the man who triggers panicked racial memories when he orders his steak rare."

 "Touche. We all play our parts as best we can. Do you like the new look?" he preened.

 "You look vaguely like a young Sean Connery. The receding hairline is a nice touch. Gives you a slight flaw. Makes it believable."

 "Well, shapeshifting has its advantages. It's too bad yours has to be so awkward and... chemical."

 She glared. The werewolf stared down into his empty cup and began praying silently as a bead of sweat rolled down his neck despite the coffee house's near-arctic air conditioning.

 "Are we done being cryptic and clever?" she said curtly.

 The Dragon rolled his eyes. "You're no fun ever since you decided to become a woman. Always so Serious and Politically Correct. Very well, what's the problem?" He sipped his coffee nonchalantly, the mood having been broken. 

 "Half the psychics in the city have been having nightmares. Real end-of-the-world stuff. Wanda at the Black Crystal thinks something's up. What have you heard?"

 He scoffed. "Wanda sells Harry Potter trinkets to tourists and drinks too much. Not every disturbance in the Aether is a sign of impending doom or the return of Cthulhu, you know that as well as I. Things are quiet as far as I know."

 "Almost... TOO quiet?"

 "You did not just say that."

 She smiled. "Considering the last time this many people with Talent had sleepless nights was just before Hurricane Katrina laid waste to New Orleans, I tend to err on the side of caution nowdays. Keep an ear out, will you?"

 "Very well. You'll owe me the usual price if I have any information, then?"

 She rose to her feet, towering over him. "As I recall, you still owe me for that leather jacket you ruined last winter. And the coffee's on you today. That should make us even."

 He smiled. "All right. I'll email you if I hear anything. Take care, Lorelai."

 She nodded to the forgotten third person at the table, who scrambled to his feet and was out the door before she had finished shrugging into her oversized coat.

 "Thank you for that," she said under her breath.

 "I'm not a *total* bastard, you know. Now go collect your delicious-looking bodyguard before he has a heart attack out there."

 "My, but you have eclectic tastes in men. Some bodyguard. He's not even a real werewolf, he just believes a lot of nonsense from the internet."

 "Ah, but aren't we all just making ourselves up as we go along? I'd think you'd appreciate that considering you're..." His voice trailed off significantly.

 "It would be SO nice if people didn't feel the need to mention it every thirty goddamn minutes."

 "It's still new. Give them time. I remember when *color* TV was all anyone could talk about."

 She rolled her eyes. "I see what you did there."

 "Do you really? It took days to come up with that one."

 Outside the air was crisp and the streetlights were just starting to come on. She found him perched on the trunk of the car, sniffing the evening air and scratching behind one ear absent-mindedly, and had to admit that at times he did indeed seem to act just like a dog in a human suit.

 "The Dragon does email?!?" he said. "You could have just texted him?!? Why did we have to do this?!?"

 "Calm down, Barry. You don't survive god-only-knows-how-long like he has without being able to adapt to technology. I wanted to be sure he was being truthful. You can't read an aura through a computer screen, after all."

 "You are going to be the death of me, Lorelai, I just know it."

 "Just don't wear any red shirts. Now get in the car and drive us back to the safehouse. I can't afford to be late for my first day at a new job, can I?"