"Why add cumin?!"
The Fat Wizard gave the Vampire Werewolf a disdainful look, turned the skewers in his hands, and stressed his words a little more. "The whole point is to savor the authentic flavor of this Hellfire-Roasted Meat!"
Sizzle—a drop of fat fell from the dragon meat onto the Deadwood Branch with a faint crackle. A tongue of flame as fine as a hair sprang from the branch's surface and wound precisely around the skewers of Dragon Tenderloin. Under the hellfire's heat, the meat rapidly changed from bright red to brown, then grayish white. The entire process took only a few breaths.
66
"Is it cooked?"
Dylan crouched beside him, chin in hand, looking puzzled. "That was pretty fast—but why does it look like it's been boiled in plain water? And why did only one drop of fat come out—"
The Fat Wizard was unsure too.
Hesitating, he pulled out the skewers. As the firelight faded, the meat, already somewhat grayish white in the flames, looked even more pallid. The pieces of dragon meat on the skewers resembled stones freshly dug out of the ground. There was no toasted aroma of fat, no richness of meat juices, not even a wisp of steam. Their surfaces were dry and cracked like the chapped bark of the Deadwood Branch, as though every trace of moisture and vitality had been sucked out of them.
"Eugh."
Mr. Vampire Werewolf sniffed, his expression growing stranger. "Why does this stuff smell like the depths of a tomb—that gloomy, clammy sort of smell?"
"If it has the stability of the depths of a tomb, you ought to love it." Without hesitation, the Fat Wizard handed him several skewers, keeping only one for himself, and offered warmly, "We're all brothers here. Don't be shy!"
"I'm a vampire,