"Apparently," he says, while Rahab stays draped across his shoulders and doesn't deign to speak for itself. It is not so much a mythological horrorterror as it is a lazy mass of dark scales and wings, black except for where the light hits it just right to give an iridescent sheen. A very handsome little dragon, if nothing else, but poorly tempered.

"You could best think of them as manifestations of the soul. I'm sure you've felt the connection already. Of course," he reaches up to stroke his fingers across the dragon's smooth head, "only humans and monsters have souls, so it's very curious that I've gotten one as well."