"I'm a dragonspawn," Fiora corrected, perfectly grimacing and talking at the same time. "I am both mortal and a dragon. But I was born from a dragon."

  Kim held her breath. Fiora was standing before her on two scaly feet, which had claws at the end of surprisingly petite toes. Scales were visible up to her knees; above that was a thick chain-mail skirt. Her scaly six-pack stomach was exposed because she was clad in a hardened black leather sleeveless crop top. Emblazoned on it were the words: RAGNAROCKER. A spiky bracelet on each arm reminded Kim of the one her uncle had been wearing, except these could gouge flesh. Fiora also sported a lizard-like tail that stretched down to the floor. Fiora's scales now had a rainbow reflection, but were mostly bluish black. Her wings folded against her back like a big backpack. Kim didn't know if reptiles had lips, but this creature did, and they were covered with black lipstick. If she were human, Kim would guess her age to be almost old—which meant she was at least in her 30s. Oddly, the creature also had pinkish hair, closely cut on the sides but long in the back.

  "You are a dragon," Kim said.

  "And you have a mullet!" Damon was pointing at her.

  "Never comment on my hair!" Fiora said. "I am a dragonspawn as I mentioned before - a half-blood. If I were a dragon, which is larger and hungrier, you would already be in my stomach. I'd start by eating your fingers, then your arms, then toes, then legs. All while you were screaming. You may guess how consumption would proceed after that."

  "Oh," Kim said.

  "Unless," Fiora continued, rubbing a claw along her chin. "I was an Annihilator Dragon that preferred to eat its prey by cooking one limb at a time, while the aforementioned prey was still alive."

  Kim went a little pale, and her stomach gurgled. The mostly digested McChicken from another world was swirling around down there. It felt as if it didn't want to be in this world either.

  "Hmmm," Shayne said. He didn't seem to be frightened or surprised. "Interesting."

  "So you can breathe fire?" Damon asked.

  Fiora nodded.

  "And you're a dragonspawn?" Damon continued. "So your mom was a dragon?"

  "Cillia of the Dyer clan was a wonderful, hardcore dragon with a heart made of hard rock and a spine of the purest metal," Fiora replied proudly. Kim was now certain that her lips were naturally black.

  "And your dad was a mortal?" Damon asked. "Then how did they—"

  "Metal gods! You spawners are aggravating." Fiora snapped. Literally. Her teeth snapped together, and Damon wisely stopped talking.

  Kim laughed. It was one of those forced laughs that could very well be echoing inside a jar on a table in a madhouse. "This is a very elaborate joke!"

  Fiora opened her mouth, displaying very sharp teeth. Then she drew in a mighty breath and breathed out a mighty spout of fire. Directly at Kim. The flame that came out was all red and flamy and surrounded Kim in that same flamy hotness—she felt her hair sizzling, wondered if her face was melting and thought briefly about whether she would miss her arm hairs. She tried to scream, but only managed a hiss of air. Fiora stopped spraying her with the flames, and Kim began slapping at her head to put out the parts of her that were certainly on fire.

  "Oh, metal up!" Fiora said. "That was false fire. If I had wanted to, I could have fried your face and turned your weak, mortal body to ashes."

  "Well, I have to say this is all very curious." Shayne looked at Fiora, then around the room. "I am excited to learn more."

  "I'm not a schoolmaster," the dragonspawn said. "You are three bustles in the hedgerow of my life. My goal is to get through this dungeon and kill the wizard."

  "Jon Bon Jovi has a similar impressive mullet," Damon said to Fiora.

  "I have already warned you about commenting on my hair!" She ran her claws through it."It is a popular style these days," she added softly.

  Hair? Why were they talking about hair? Kim wondered.

  "Did you say earlier that you could see numbers?" Fiora asked Damon.

  "Uh, no," Damon said. "Stars. I saw stars after she kicked me."

  Fiora nodded. "Good. If any of you see numbers floating above people's heads, tell me. And we'll deal with it."

  The way Fiora said we'll deal with it sounded vaguely threatening to Kim.

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  "Dear dragon lady," Shayne said. "Whose dungeon is this again?."

  "It's the conditions set for getting out of this dungeon."

  "We're in a dungeon?" Damon asked.

  Fiora let out a ragged breath. "It was created by a wizard named Blayre who I crossed once when I stole a gem-studded leather armband from his keep, and something else he cherished, so every time I respawn I end up here and have to fight my way out."

  "We're fighting our way out of a dungeon?" Kim asked.

  "If you keep repeating everything I say," Fiora growled. "I will pull out your tongue."

  "So what did you do to the wizard in order to be cursed to respawn here?" Damon asked. "Other than stealing that gem armband. What else did you steal that he cherished?"

  Fiora gave him a closed-lidded, lizard look. "That isn't your business."

  "Okay, then," Kim said. "How do we get out of this place?"

  Fiora pointed at the door. "We go through that door. On the other side will be something horrible that Blayre placed there."

  "We spawned from a place called Earth," Damon said. "Where do you spawn from?" Kim thought it was a good question, and it was good that he was asking logical questions because he seemed to have adjusted to their situation. She was really looking forward to the time when this far too lucid dream was over.

  "First Blayre, the wizard, in anger and a petulant fit, sent me here, as I said before. I opened that very door. And I got a unicorn horn through my head and died. Then I respawned in this very room with some other spawners, and we were soon ripped apart by zombie war pigs. My spawnings continued on from there."

  "How many times has this happened?" Damon asked. It was another good question, Kim realized. She was curious about what it was like to be killed by a unicorn, but didn't think that was a good question.

  Fiora counted on her claws, making a bit of a show of her math skills. The claws were on the end of human fingertips, and they didn't retract like a cat's claws. "I have respawned two hundred and fifty-seven times."

  Kim blinked. "You've died two hundred and fifty-seven times!"

  "Yes," Fiora said. "But not in two hundred and fifty-seven different ways. Only once by a sable unicorn. Fifty times by scissor sword arms, thirty-two times by corpious ooze, twenty-seven times by tentacles and, well, as you can guess, it's a long list."

  "And have there always been people like us spawning with you?" Damon asked.

  "These are really superb questions," Kim said. She almost added, I'm so proud of you, One Dimple, but that would have been weird and inappropriate.

  "Thank you!" Damon beamed, unleashing his one dimple.

  "Yes, useless worms like you spawn with me every time," Fiora said. "Not a single spawner has survived."

  "And at least five hundred and fourteen deaths," Damon said, almost cheerily. And then he got a squishy, confused look. "What happens to them when they… uh… when they unspawn."

  "Well, if they aren't killed right away," Fiora explained, her voice creeping towards being teacherly. "They are usually crying for their mommies or clutching themselves and whispering, 'Are those wriggling things on the floor my intestines?' They become literally gutless. It's very weak and not metal."

  "You are frightening these young ones," Shayne said.

  "Anyway," Fiora added. "You will want to arm yourselves. I see, as a joke, the wizard has left weapons."

  She pointed at a corner, where a wooden sword was leaning against the wall. A wooden pole with a cheap gold eagle on top stood next to it. And beside that was a wooden mallet.

  Damon looked above his head and then smiled. "I call the magic staff," he said, with perhaps too much exuberance. He picked up the wooden-poled thing. And Kim grabbed the sword. It was light and felt as ineffective as a toy. Shayne lifted the wooden two-handed mallet, which he handled easily.

  "It is time to go through that door." Fiora made a familiar sign with her fingers. "For those about to rock," Fiora said. "I salute thee."

  "Why did you just do the devil horn symbol?" Damon asked. "And quote AC/DC?"

  "It is a good luck charm," Fiora said. "Don't you use it in your world?"

  "It's a heavy metal sign," Damon said. "It's for solidarity. And it's… it's almost holy. Dio made it popular, despite what Gene Simmons says."

  "You know of Dio?" Fiora asked. This was the first time Kim had seen her look surprised.

  "Hey, I saw Dio perform when I was a kid." Shayne leaned on the mallet.

  "Oh, awesome," Damon said. "He's the greatest singer of all time." He drew in a breath. "His name was Ronnie James Dio. He had a voice like no other. So rough and powerful, plus he could hit four octaves. Robert Plant could only hit three point nine octaves. Don't Talk to Strangers is a perfect example of the range Dio had. He sang for Rainbow and Black Sabbath and his own band and—"

  "Is there any point in this useless story?" Fiora asked.

  "Yes, yes," Damon said. "You see, our Dio died in 2010. And maybe he came here."

  "You said he died?" Fiora asked. "Then this is not the same Dio. When a spawner is transported here they arrive in their living body." Fiora clenched a fist. "Enough talk. It's almost time to rock. Just one thing to do."

  She looked around the wall, seemingly at nothing, then said, "There you are!" Kim wasn't certain what Fiora was seeing until she spotted an eye, recessed in the mortar of a wall brick. It blinked and looked from her to Fiora. "There is an eye in the wall." Shayne pointed the mallet. "Now that's almost something new."

  Fiora plucked the eye out of the wall, examined it on her claw for a moment, then flicked it across the room. "Blayre was watching us. There will be more eyes and ears and sometimes noses in every room. One day, I will poke out the real ones. I will be Screaming for Vengeance as I do it." Without another glance, she said. "Crank up your courage to eleven!"

  Kim gripped her wooden sword. She'd at least had some kendo classes before settling on karate, although this wooden weapon was heavier than a bamboo kendo shinai. Damon swung the staff around as if he were expecting an attack from a horde of wasps. Shayne rested his mallet on his shoulder. Fiora lifted the wooden bar that held the door shut and gave the door a shove. It swung open, hinges squeaking. Darkness waited on the other side.

  "Blayre likes to torture his victims with suspense and chuckle as they panic," Fiora said. "There's often nothing too dangerous on the other side of the first door."

  Alas, a really big something smacked Fiora directly in the snout. It was such a speedy blur that Kim only got an impression of a dark and bulbous purple ham with knuckles. Fiora flew back into the room, arms akimbo, smashing into the thick table and breaking it in two. She raised an arm, coughed out a "Hades Bells" and then stopped moving.