XXXIV
Dark entered the stadium from the roof. The place was empty except for a few stagehands sweeping up multi-colored confetti from the floor. The concert lights were still ablaze—purple and red and green and blue and orange—and they were shining in zigzagged patterns around the stadium, illuminating empty seats.
Dark perched on the top of the roof, his wings folded against his body, surveying the area. The drizzling rain dripped down his scales—from his chin—and he looked like a gargoyle as the lightning struck.
He counted the technicians. Six or seven. All human from the smell of them, though the wind was blowing in the wrong way for him to know for sure.
The stage rumbled; a large door in the floor slid open and a serpentine dragon with a tattoo of a book on her chest emerged on a
