I knew exactly where he was. He, this time. As a human, there was no way I would know if a dragon was male, female, or if gender even applied to them at all. But now, I not only knew what he was and where he was, I knew his name. It translates, roughly, as Blackflame. I say roughly, as the dragon language is made up partially of sounds so low pitched, nothing else in existence can hear them.

I’m coming for you, Blackflame, I thought. There is no where you can hide from me.

Come, now, Shatterstar, he said. Come find me, and we will finish the dance we started so long ago.

The memory hit me like a cold wind.

I am Shatterstar, an enforcer or dragon-law. Yes, even we have laws, and even we have those willing to break them. Blackfire had broken the most sacred: never take a life, any life. Blackfire did so with glee.

I had chased him for almost 100 years, since he killed a series of humans in London’s Whitechapel district in the 1880’s. I remember catching him.

And I remember how he tried to kill me.