The Hungry Dragon Cookie Company Read online

  Finally, the maid climbed off the bench.

  Hungry. Spot nudged her leg with his head and pointed at the oven with one claw. What’s inside?

  “Oh?” The maid laughed nervously and wiped her hands on her apron. Spot tilted his head to one side. Was she hot? She was sweating, and humans tended to be more sensitive to heat than him. Or maybe she was still afraid. Humans also had a tendency to sweat when they were afraid. “I’m… I’m baking cookies.”

  Spot was familiar with cookies. He’d swiped a few from the twerp once before she’d pointed her shadows at him and told him to find some of his own. Despite her threats, she’d ended up sharing more of the delicious cookies after he’d pouted and wagged his tail at her, but she hadn’t had all that many to begin with. He’d also gotten a few from his mother, but she was more of a cake person than a cookie person. Eventually, he’d forgotten all about cookies when the idiot had given him a cow and some metal to eat, but this was a good opportunity to learn and taste more about cookies. He hopped into the air and opened the oven, so he could stick his head inside.

  “Wait!” the maid shouted. “You’ll get burned…”

  She trailed off as Spot poked his head around in the oven, his wings beating the air to keep him aloft. Spot chortled. Burned? He was a dragon. It would take something a lot hotter than an oven to burn him. In fact, this was one of the ovens he’d taken a nap in before. It had been pleasantly warm. His eyes gleamed as he studied the cookies, the source of the lovely smell. They looked great, but they smelled even better. The cookies were light brown, but there were chips of darker brown in them too. He plucked one off the tray and examined it intently before putting it back and closing the oven.

  What kind of cookies?

  The maid wiped her hands on her apron. “Those are chocolate chip cookies.”

  Chocolate chip?

  As the maid explained, Spot’s hunger only grew. He’d eaten chocolate before. His mother liked it, and so did the vampire. It was one of the few things the vampire ate or drank besides wine and blood. Spot grinned as his mind swiftly put together the pieces of the puzzle. Cookies were great. Chocolate was great. Chocolate chip cookies must therefore be even better than great. There was only one problem.

  How long?

  “Until they cook?” The maid bit her lip. “Maybe… twenty minutes.”

  Spot growled, and the maid backed away. Twenty minutes? He had to wait twenty minutes? The dragon breathed a small jet of fire into the air. Fire help?

  The maid waved her arms around frantically. “No! Don’t! If you use your fire on the cookies, it won’t help! They’ll be ruined! They’ll taste horrible!”

  Spot bristled. The thought of waiting didn’t sit well with him. He was a dragon, and he believed firmly in the ability of his fire to improve any situation. However, he couldn’t risk ruining the cookies. He had to know what they tasted like. So instead of opening the oven and unleashing a blast of searing flame, he found a comfortable place nearby and curled up to have a short nap. Twenty minutes was a long time, and it would pass more quickly if he napped. If the cookies tasted as good as they smelled, then they would be worth the wait.

  When the cookies were ready, one of the rats woke him up. He rushed over as the maid took the tray out of the oven with a thick woollen glove and put some cookies on a plate. He wagged his tail furiously and stretched his wings.

  “Here you go.” The maid put the plate on the floor in front of him. “But don’t rush. Eat them one at a time. They’ll taste better that way.”

  Spot leaned forward and then paused. He was supposed to be careful about eating food strangers gave him. His mother was worried about people trying to poison him although there were hardly any poisons strong enough to give him indigestion, never mind actually harm him. He knew the cooks, so they didn’t count as strangers, but did he know this maid? His eyes narrowed, and he sniffed the air. His sense of smell was incredibly keen. If there was any poison in the cookies, he should already be able to smell it.

  “What’s wrong?” the maid asked. Despite her earlier fear, she seemed mildly offended that he hadn’t eaten any of the cookies yet. “Don’t you want any?”

  Spot glanced at one of the rats. The rodents were all trained in detecting poisons. One of them would definitely have said something if there was anything to be worried about. The idiot – Timmy – was also very careful about only keeping trustworthy servants. Since the maid worked for the idiot, Spot should be able to trust her.

  And the cookies smelled so wonderful.

  Spot lowered his head, flicked one cookie onto his mouth with his tongue, and bit down. The cookie all but melted in his mouth, and he devoted his full attention to savouring every nuance of the cookie’s flavour. He gave a trill of delight and beat the air with his wings. The maid gave a yelp and stumbled back in the sudden gale. The cookie tasted amazing! The cookies he’d eaten before had tasted great, but this cookie was as far beyond them as his fire was beyond a candle! He was too excited to form words. Instead, he fired a rapid burst of telepathic praise at the maid, one that consisted more of images, impressions, and raw sensations. The maid staggered and then blushed as her mind began to make sense of his praise.

  “Um… thank you. I’ve always wanted to be a baker, but my family desperately needed money. It’s how I ended up working here.” She paused and fiddled with her apron for almost a minute before speaking again. “I… I’d like to practice making cookies, so how about this? I’ll be baking in the morning several times a week. Why don’t you come by and try them? I can make other flavours, and it would be nice to have someone else’s opinion.” She chuckled nervously. “I… I want to make cookies that other people can enjoy, but I’m a little embarrassed about asking the cooks or the other servants about what they think.”

  If the cooks or the other servants didn’t enjoy these cookies, then they were idiots. Spot grinned toothily. Other flavours? There were other flavours? Spot licked his lips. He’d already made up his mind. He would make time in the morning for this. There was absolutely no way he’d turn down a chance for more cookies!

  * * *

  Spot expanded his daily routine to include free cookies. It meant getting up even earlier than usual on weekdays, but he didn’t mind. He was a dragon, and as long as there were delicious cookies to eat, he would be there to eat them. Having a bite to eat before or after training also meant he had more energy throughout the day – energy he could use to train more and to grow more quickly. And there were few things nicer than curling up on the battlements in the midday sun with a stomach full of cookies and a nice, big slab of cow. His mother usually joined him once he’d finished eating and had moved on to basking. She would read a book, tend to her weapons, or discuss things with the rats.

  The rats were busy creatures. Apart from all of their duties at the castle and the work they did for his mother, they also kept tabs on any criminal activity in the surrounding area. His mother was a kind, caring person, so she would go and deal with any bad people the rats found. Even better, dealing with all of those bad people earned her a lot of money. Sometimes, if they were especially bad, she even brought Spot along. Even if he’d already eaten, he could always find some more room in his stomach for a bad person or two, and the weapons they always tried to stab him with tasted delicious.

  He liked the background noise too. More than once, listening to his mother and the rats talk had lulled him to sleep. Other times, he’d find what they were discussing interesting enough to listen to and learn from although the main thing he’d learned so far was that criminals like bandits were a great source of money. Spot might not have been as greedy as some dragons – according to the idiot, golden dragons were by far the greediest dragons – but he did enjoy the occasional roll in a pile of treasure. He’d asked the idiot if he could roll around in the castle’s treasury every now and then, and he’d agreed, provided that Spot didn’t steal or damage anything. Spot had happily agreed, but for some reason, the idio
t had told his mother that she couldn’t go into the treasury with him. Was he worried about her stealing some of his stuff?

  As for the maid, Spot had learned that her name was Alicia, and she always had cookies ready for him in the morning, and there were so many different kinds. It made him wonder why the maid hadn’t followed her dream to become a cookie maker. She’d mentioned something about her family being in urgent need of money in the past, but what about now? It didn’t make sense to him, but he wasn’t like most people. Most of the time, dragons took what they wanted, and when they didn’t, they always had a good reason, like a bigger, stronger dragon being around to stop them. There was also his mother. On the few occasions that Spot had tried to steal some of the cake she ate from time to time, he’d gotten a swift rap to his flanks and a stern glare. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but it was a firm reminder that dragon or not, she expected him to behave appropriately.

  It took a week for Alicia to explain more about her past.

  “I come from a very poor village,” Alicia explained as the two of them waited for the newest batch of cookies to finish. It was still about an hour before sunrise.

  Spot’s mother was still asleep, and he was still a little sleepy himself. It was fine though. Once the sun rose, he’d be much more energetic. It was how dragons were – well, most of them. The idiot had told him about dragons that preferred the night, but Spot wasn’t one of them although that could change in the future. Older dragons tended to require less sleep aside from the occasional long slumber some of them indulged in. Besides, all he needed were some cookies, and he’d feel perfectly fine.

  “My village isn’t close, but I do have some cousins who live in one of the villages nearby. When my parents got sick, I was the oldest child. I had to find work. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to afford the medicine and healers we needed to help them.”

  Spot made a face. If his mother somehow got sick, not that she ever would, he wouldn’t look for a job. There were other, quicker ways to make money. Take money from bad people.

  Bandits and other bad people always had money, and nobody cared if they got burned, or so his mother said. Given how many times she’d already gone after bandits and other bad people since he’d been born, it had to be true.

  Alicia giggled. She was a lot more comfortable around him now that she understood that the only things he was interested in eating were her cookies. “I’m not a dragon or someone like your mother, Spot. I’m not strong enough to fight bandits. I would get killed or badly hurt.”

  Spot nodded slowly. She was right. The others – even the paper pusher if he could stop panicking and think – all had powerful magic or were good at fighting. But Alicia wasn’t like the others. He could easily kill her with one swipe of his claws. To Spot’s senses, magic was like a flame inside someone. His mother and the vampire burned most brightly of all, but the twerp, the idiot, and the paper pusher were all strong too. In fact, the twerp had more magic than any child Spot had seen. She even had more than most of the adult mages they fought during their missions. It was a worrying thought, and Spot patted Alicia’s leg with one of his wings. She was a good person, and she made cookies for him every day. Anyone who tried to hurt her was going to get eaten.

  But there was something he still didn’t understand. Why work here?

  “It’s true, there are plenty of other places to work, and this place is a bit weird.” Spot snorted. He wasn’t even a year old, and he already knew the castle was weird. But he liked it. It was fun. “I was only fifteen when my parents got sick, and I needed a lot of money quickly. My parents… they were barely hanging on.” Alicia smiled bitterly. “There aren’t a lot of decent places for a fifteen-year-old to work, Spot, not if they need as much money as I did to help my parents.

  Decent places? Spot had felt her unease when she’d spoken the words, but what made some places decent to work at and other places not decent to work at? Humans were strange, and why was she blushing? He huffed. He’d have to ask his mother or the rats about it later. Chomp wouldn’t be able to help. The three headed-dog was a good friend and playmate, but he’d spent most of his life in a labyrinth. He didn’t know about humans the way his mother or the rats did.

  “Anyway,” Alicia said, the words all but tumbling out of her. “When my relatives nearby told me about a necromancer who ruled a castle and was looking for maids and other servants, I decided to come here. They told me that he was a good man, at least as necromancers went, and I wouldn’t have to worry about him taking advantage of me or sacrificing me or anything crazy.” Spot chirped his agreement. The idiot was nice to his servants. In fact, Spot’s mother was much bossier to the servants than the idiot, and they weren’t even her servants. “So I came here. I was desperate. Lord Bolton –”

  Who?

  “Lord Bolton… you know, the ruler of this castle, Lord Timothy Walter Bolton.”

  Oh. Spot made a face. Why did people have to use so many different names for the same person? Spot and his mother called him ‘idiot’, the twerp called him ‘master’, and the others called him ‘Timmy’. But now that he thought about it, the servants did tend to call the idiot ‘Lord Bolton’ or ‘my lord’. His fire kindled in his jaws. It was all so complicated. Everyone should just call him ‘idiot’ the way Spot and his mother did. He said as much to Alicia, and she laughed.

  “I don’t think I can call him that. I’m not your mother or a dragon.” Alicia smiled faintly and gave Spot a scratch behind the ears. He preened. She’d gotten good at that. “Lord Bolton might be a necromancer, but I soon learned how right my cousins were. The other servants I talked to only had good things to say about him, and once I got past all of the zombies, the weird experiments, and the… things from under the castle, it wasn’t so bad. The pay is great, much better than I could earn anywhere else since not many people are willing to work at a place like this. To me and the other servants, Lord Bolton is a generous man.”

  He’s also good at brushing teeth. Spot smiled and showed off his teeth. They always felt so clean once the idiot brushed them. Even the rats couldn’t do as good a job. It must be why his mother was always finding excuses to make the idiot brush his teeth instead of her. His mother only wanted what was best for him.

  Alicia smiled. It was a warm smile although it wasn’t nearly as toothy as Spot’s. “Is he? Well, most necromancers would have either tried to enslave you or turn you into a zombie. Instead, Lord Bolton brushes your teeth. He also takes good care of Lady Morrow.”

  Lady Morrow? Spot frowned. Wait. That was another name for the twerp. He gave a low rumble of annoyance. Everyone should just call her twerp. It would make life easier. The twerp?

  “She lets you call her that?” Alicia giggled. “Then again, you are a dragon. You might still be young, but I doubt there are many people who can make you do something you don’t want to. As for Lady Morrow, when I saw how well Lord Bolton treated her, I knew I was in the right place. I didn’t have any experience as a maid, but he needed people to handle the things zombies can’t do well. The older, more experienced maids taught me everything I needed to know, and I’ve been here ever since. It’s been… strange at times, and there have been some scary moments like when someone accidentally ate Sam’s cake, but I’ve earned more money working here than I could ever have earned working somewhere else.”

  She reached over and gave Spot another scratch behind the ears. She seemed to find the texture of his scales fascinating. “The money I earn even gets ferried straight to my family via zombie wyvern, so I don’t have to worry about it getting stolen.” She smiled warmly. “And when some bandits threatened my village, Lord Bolton sent Lady Morrow to deal with it as a test for one of her zombies.” Her eyes lit up. “It turns out that a zombie hydra-basilisk is more than enough to deal with some bandits.”

  The idiot is nice and so is the twerp. Spot glanced at the oven. He’d memorised the steps involved in making cookies, and he’d gotten a feel for how long it took to bake them.
Soon, the cookies would be ready, and then they would be in his stomach. He has lots of treasure too. Spot didn’t have a proper hoard of his own yet, but he was working on it. It was a pity that cookies were so fragile and could go stale. A giant pile of cookies to roll around in sounded great.

  * * *

  It was only a matter of time before Spot’s mother decided to find out why he’d begun to get up earlier each morning. The sudden of appearance of cookies, exceedingly tasty cookies, amongst the rats only hastened the process. Much like Spot, the rats were more than mere observers. Like Spot, they offered their opinions on how the cookies tasted. However, some of them were skilled bakers in their own right, and they were equally happy to offer suggestions, many of which Alicia at least considered.

  Spot grinned and nudged his mother happily as she walked toward Alicia. Her amber eyes gleamed, and the temperature rose ever so slightly. Small beads of sweat broke out across Alicia’s brow, and the maid gulped and stepped behind a nearby bench, almost as though she were using it as a shield. Spot tilted his head to one side. Was Alicia afraid of his mother? Well, he supposed his mother could be scary, but she was only scary to bad people. Alicia was a good person, so she had nothing to worry about. Besides, if Alicia thought that hiding behind the bench would help, she was wrong. His mother’s fire would either burn right through that bench like it wasn’t there or blow it to pieces in the blink of an eye. The best place in the room for Alicia to hide would be behind Spot. His mother wouldn’t want to hurt him, and his scales could withstand far greater temperatures and forces than any piece of wood or metal. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very big yet. In a few years, Alicia would be able to hide behind him easily. Right now, Alicia would be lucky to fit even half her body behind him unless he unfurled his wings.

  “So…” Spot preened as his mother stopped beside him and scratched his belly. Her fingers were coated in fire hot enough to turn wood into charcoal, but all he felt was a pleasant rush of warmth. “Is this where you’ve been running off to Spot? What are you waiting for?”