Free Dragon's Honor by Mina Carter

to go by, and buried itself in the dishwasher door.
    He’d never fought them before but the agency was real big on Species Threat Familiarization, so he’d sat through the lectures. Redcaps were a level four threat. They were creepy little fucks who liked to lure travelers off roads and murder them in inventive ways, then soak their weird caps in their victim’s blood. And they did it at a rate that would make a serial killer green with envy because if the blood on the cap dried out, then its owner died.
    He grinned as a thought occurred to him, and looked down. One was wrapped around his leg, trying to pry scales free. Baron snarled and grabbed him around the scuff of the neck. The creature shrieked obscenities and flailed about with its pike. Baron swore as it tried to kick him in the family jewels with the big boots it wore but missed and got his hip instead. Ignoring the pain, he shoved it head first into the sink on the island and turned the tap on full. Water cascaded over its head and it screamed, a terrible soul-searing scream as blood swirled in the sink and disappeared down the plug. It jerked and shuddered, falling still as the water ran clear.
    Baron grinned. Okay, so blood washed out worked just as well as dried.
    The rest attacked en-masse and he became a whirlwind of activity. Dropping his scales, he used tendrils of shadow to stuff two in the dishwasher, turning it on as he threw another in the microwave. Cooking dried blood well. Two more joined their buddy in the sink and one ended up the mop bucket. Bit of bleach might get rid of the stink.
    Roaring again, he turned and headed back into the fray, determined that no redcaps were going to survive their first encounter with a dragon.
    *
    Honor ran like she’d never run before. Forget trotting along on the treadmill, she discovered a hitherto unknown ability to break the land speed record. On foot. She misjudged the turning into her father’s office and slammed into the door frame. Pain flared in her shoulder and upper arm but she was too busy to pay it much mind. Adrenaline coursed through her as she belted across the office, but rather than make for the hidden door behind the bookshelf and the panic room it concealed, she headed for her father’s desk instead.
    “Sorry, Mom. I know you didn’t like violence,” she whispered to the painting above the fireplace. It was of a young woman standing by a window, her face highlighted by the sunlight streaming in and happiness. Her hand rested over her swollen stomach, reassuring and protecting the baby within. Honor.
    She yanked the drawer on the left open. “But a gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do.”
    Grabbing her father’s gun, she searched in the drawer for the ammunition. Thanks to her father’s insistence she know how to look after herself, she’d trained extensively on all the types of weaponry kept in the house. Her fingers closed around a couple of magazines, already loaded, and she pulled them free. Both full, one was standard ammunition, but the second shone in the moonlight streaming through the window behind her with the tell-tale glint of silver.
    Slipping the normal one in her robe pocket, she loaded the silver, her movements slick with experience, but then paused. Shit. Silver was just for weres, wasn’t it? Would it work on redcaps? She screwed her eyes closed, trying to remember if Lucy had ever said anything about them, and more importantly, how to incapacitate them.
    Redcaps...redcaps... Her eyes shot open. Lucy had mentioned them. They were fairies... Her gaze fell on the fireplace below her mother’s portrait. Pokers were iron, weren’t they? And none of the fairy-folk liked iron.
    She was around the desk before she could think about it. Thinking about what she was going to do was a bad idea. It was the kind of idea that would have her curled up in a ball under the desk, gibbering like a damn idiot. Or holed up in the panic room, and that was so not happening.
    No matter