Free Old Dark (The Last Dragon Lord Book 1) by Michael La Ronn

fraternities and sororities, normally full of music and laughter, were empty for the summer. The moon was in the sky and the smell of wisteria in the air.  
    Beautiful night for a walk.  
    She rounded a corner, into a barrage of lights. It was as if someone had flipped a switch and turned on all the lights in the city.  
    Bars. Elves sitting on verandas and terraces drinking wine.  
    A band played jazz on the corner. She snapped her fingers as they played. Paper lanterns hung over the sidewalk. More cars rumbled down the street with their windows down.  
    She felt alive. The vibrant air of the Half Eight rejuvenated her. She could think of nowhere else to live. Originally a slum, it had been overhauled by the university and was now the go-to place for college kids, hipsters and other trendsetters in the capital. It commanded an important influence in the political bloc. No politician was able to win without it.  
    Miri had made her home in this twenty-block section.   It was a slice of the world that shouted, ‘We’re going to be conscious. We’re going to be aware. We’re alive. And we’re going to be good stewards of the environment, damn it!’
    Miri waved to a couple on a terrace who held their glasses up to her.  
    “Join us, Miri?” the woman asked.  
    “Not tonight. But I’ll be seeing you.”
    A human waiter in a tuxedo and a buzz cut offered her a sample of sushi, a slim piece of tuna resting on a bed of rice.  
    She picked it daintily off the waiter’s silver platter and ate it. She felt a tingle in her cheek, and flavor exploded in her mouth. It tasted like prime rib, rich and meaty.  
    Surf-and-turf redefined. Gastropub at its finest, enhanced by magic.  
    The waiter gestured for her to enter the restaurant, down some shaded steps into a quiet, dimly lit bistro. But she declined.  
    She heard a commotion nearby. A group of people were gathered in front of a giant stucco building that looked like a mistake among all the old brownstones.  
    Gavlin’s, a chain of magic stores, was thoroughly human, on a stable foundation with no bulging floors or magical construction. Its logo, a silhouetted figure with a glowing scepter riding a dragon, glowed from the top of the building.  
    She checked her purse and pulled out a memo that she had scribbled earlier in the morning. She was running low on lipstick, lotion, and perfume.  
    She made her way through the crowd of people, who stood around talking and laughing.  
    A neon sign in the window dazzled neurotically.
    NEW GRIMOIRES TONIGHT!!
    A new grimoire was an event. The Grimoire Company hadn’t launched a new one in over a year. Lucan Grimoire, the CEO, was too busy running a campaign. Besides, there were so many grimoires that it was hard to think of another one. She owned a professor grimoire that helped her decode spells and explain their historical context to students. She couldn’t have lived without it, so naturally this was a big event. She had been so busy grading papers that she hadn’t read the news.  
    Two men whispered as she moved through the crowd. She paused to listen, pretending to check her phone.  
    “What do you think it’s like?” one man asked.  
    “They say it ties into the election. It’s for voters.”
    “Figures. I wondered when Grimoire was going to throw his money around.”
    “You gotta love the balls on the guy.”
    “Oh, no doubt. But when it comes to elections, I don’t care about balls. I care about facts and what the hell he’s actually going to do about the magic shortage.”
    “I wouldn’t be upset if he crushed a few dragon skulls. They’ve all been flying dicks since the campaign started.”
    Miri rolled her eyes. Typical conversation. Politics was the only thing people talked about lately.  
    She was sick of the viciousness, the attack ads, the piss and vinegar from both sides.  
    Gavlin’s was a standard grocery store, with tiled floors, can lights far up in the ceiling above, and