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Rap and Rave found Anar surrounded by dusty old books, madly flipping through the aged pages, stabbing his neat fingernails at random pictures and passages, muttering to himself.

"I always knew he was a few digestives short of a packet," Rave rumbled, wryly.

Rap ignored his partner's insults and approached the grey mammal carefully. Anar always seemed harmless enough, but even a tame hamster could give you a nasty nip if startled, and Anar was a bit bigger than a hamster.

"Maaaaate, how ya doing? What ya up to?" he scanned the pile of literature. It was almost as big as the student demon. They'd only discovered it was him because his dying Tamagotchi was bleeping merrily in his backpack pocket.

Anar slowly looked round, his eyes glancing furtively before he spoke, making sure they weren't overheard. "I think I'm part dragon," he said in hushed tones.

"He's part crackpot," Rave snipped.

Rap exhaled slowly, "I think you need a break, mate. Come on, we'll help you put these back," he paused, coming to his senses, "I'll help you put these back. Let's get you some fresh air. Why don't we go to the Happy Shopper for some Tango?"

"But..." Anar watched green hands scooping up the books, and Rap trotted off to the wheeled trolley where he dumped them down for the undead librarian to deal with.

"No buts!" Rap hissed, coming back for another trip. He eyed the ever-unhelpful Rave who pretended not to notice.

"I'll keep this one!" Anar insisted, pulling it tight to his chest, smearing his top with dust older than he was.

"Ok dear, you keep that one. Up we pop, come on..." he lifted the aardvark's arm, and helped him up out of the chair.

"Is he alright? Not that I care, like," Rave muttered.

Rap nodded, "nothing some sugary pop can't fix. He's been living on Wotsits and Marlboros, he's studying for a job he doesn't even want, and he has to wander around looking like one of The Lost Boys twenty-four-seven; he's no Keifer Sutherland, neither. It's no wonder he's got a screw loose."

Anar was very quiet as he allowed himself to be led outside. The chill October air brushed his cheeks and his arm hairs stood on end. He pulled his long black cloak around him tightly as he dug in his pocket for his half pack of smokes. The cry of police sirens in the distance and the smell of four-star petrol from the busy traffic filled his senses.

Here on the very edge of London city it was calm, quiet, and leafy. Ahead, on the horizon, lay the famous skyline of the British houses of parliament among busy, crowded, towering skyscrapers, with bright neon lights glowing from company names at their roofs.

The building behind them: the two colleges combined as one, was set in ancient grounds, surrounded by ivy-covered, high, beige stone walls and it was often mistaken for a museum or prep school. One half was dilapidated and crumbling, sinking into the silty earth, a dark and shambling set of crooked floors. The other was neat and tidy, freshly painted and well-lit, with sparkling windows and sturdy columns.

Students did not often come outside; it was dirty and drizzly and depressing. Expensive, too. Londoners were not particularly interesting, nor friendly. Everything the students could possibly want could be found within halls, with food and drink paid for in their tutoring costs. There was a bar, even a cinema, and theatre for the more discerning occultist. You had to be eighteen to get a drink though. Some laws even demons had to abide by.

Rap and Rave already knew their way around the streets; they'd not wanted to be cooped up within four boring walls and had briefly braved outer London a few times. Back home in the forest behind Anar's parent's house, they had a cosy little den comprised of some tarpaulin and wooden pallets, with a few milk crates and old bits of carpet off-cuts. They had more fresh air than you could shake a stick at. Just how they liked it. Before they had met Anar, back in ancient history, it had all been wilderness. They didn't remember much about their old lives, but it had a lot of wide-open spaces in it.

The Happy Shopper was around the corner, windows covered in masking tape and bits of cardboard from where thrown stones had smashed them. As ever, the dinosaurs got some suspicious looks from passers-by as they walked around hand-in-hand, looking amazed at just about everything they saw. They must be lizards, right? Couldn't be dinosaurs. Dinosaurs died out millions of years ago. Before the rise of mammals, and anthro creatures, and humans.

Anar simply accepted it; strange things happened to him, and meeting the two velociraptors was included in that. He was going to have to get used to it. Who knew what other wacky goings on could be in store for him in the future?

Saying that, what he didn't want to get used to was living and working in Hell. It was hot, and dusty, and busy, and awful there. A bit like London, really, but with less rain.

Was he really part dragon, or was his fragile mind simply at breaking point, and he was going to have a full mental breakdown? The fresh air and nicotine rush were clearing his head, and the absurdity of him having a connection to an actual mythical, legendary dragon in his past was becoming apparent. Those strange stomach flutterings? most likely malnourishment. The fizzing blood was natural magic, sure, couldn't explain that one away, that didn't mean a couple paracetamol and some water wouldn't help.

He grabbed a sausage roll, a fistful of Pepperami's, and a few cans of apple and orange Tango.

The two raptors had arms full of goodness-knows-what.

Part of him wanted to object; he only had so much allowance to burn through. Now he was the family disgrace he was down to the last couple twenty-pound notes in his wallet. Then again, what else would he spend his cash on? Clothes? Pointless. The college's dumb robes covered up his Ellesse branded jumpers, his NaffNaff shirts, Global HyperColour tees and Ralph Lauren polos. Trendy brands were frowned upon. Plain black and baggy was where it was at - 'it' being a dumpster behind a Wimpy.

His scaly pals always looked so happy, though, spending his money. This future was nothing short of wondrous to them; central heating, blankets, sweets, microwaves, ready meals, milkshakes, Coca-Cola, cars, television, Take That - they couldn't get enough of it! It reminded Anar of movies where aliens landed on Earth, and someone got to show them around, telling them all about the strange blue planet until they had to go, and you were sad, but then the aliens invited the characters to come with them to outer space for a happy ending. Rap and Rave didn't come from a far-away planet, though. They had been dodging a meteor before they'd suddenly found themselves in 1995. Anar didn't much fancy that!

He passed over a crisp note to the shopkeeper, not getting a lot of change back, vaguely wondering how hyper Rap was going to be after licking a whole Push Pop. He hoped it wasn't going to be three hours of the Macarena again, not unless he could tie Alexis down to a chair and make him watch.

He chewed on a spicy meat stick as they ambled back into the college, up to their room. He'd really bragged about making a brilliant offering to the Dark Lord for Hallowe'en, hadn't he? That had been a seriously stupid thing to do, though Rave would have assured Anar that everything he did was stupid. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't very smart. Models were meant to be air-headed; pretty but dim, that kind of thing. Didn't need smarts when you had looks.

The dinosaurs plonked themselves down in front of 'Murder, She Wrote' and Anar wedged himself in to the last free inches of upholstery finishing his Tango, and taking out the library book that he'd been so desperate to cling on to.

Of all the volumes he'd pored over, this was the only one written in Infernal, the language of Hell. The others had all contained paragraphs saying the same thing: dragons were believed to exist in theory, but had never been seen.

Anar's language studies were woefully inaccurate, but this book seemed to talk about them as though they were real. This book could tell him facts.

Rap nosed over at him, "so what makes you think you're part dragon, mate? You don't have scales or nuffin'."

"That weird item I summoned as part of the class ritual looks like a dragon's scale," he explained, "and according to the translated words that I didn't get round to doing, it's somehow linked to my past. All the others got fancy magic items because of course they did, they've all got proper magical ancestors and that; I've got a bit of a dragon that's not even supposed to exist."

"But that's really cool!" Rap insisted.

Rave scowled at them, trying to pay attention to what was going on in Cabot Cove this week, and who had bit the dust. Angela Lansbury was hot on the case, flashlight in hand, scurrying through some dark tunnel or another. Any minute now the murderer would try to do her in.

"Is it?" Anar asked darkly, "what am I supposed to do? Tell everyone about it? They'll think I've gone mad."

"You have gone mad!" Rave scoffed.

"You're definitely one hundred percent sure it's a dragon's scale? Could be from a mermaid. Could be from a big snake. Could be from a dinosaur."

Anar looked thoughtful. How could he explain that weird feeling whenever he saw a mention of dragons in the books? He couldn't dismiss Rap's ideas, however. They certainly would be easier to include in his coursework.

Rap settled back into the inflatable cushions, comfily, "you should go see what's in the college's artefact collection, there's all sorts in there."

"Brilliant idea," Rave enthused, brightly.

"Y-yeah..." Anar agreed, "Ok."

"See ya!"

He realised Rave was only being supportive because that meant he could watch television in peace. Figured! "You're meant to be my familiars, you know!"

Rave bared his teeth, "that's only during lessons. You can do your research on your lonesome."

"Oh gee, thanks, alright then..." Anar scooped up the scale from off his desk and dropped it into his robe pocket. Slotting fresh batteries into his Walkman, he pulled foam headphones over his head and shuffled off towards the college's gallery and assortment of curio cases, far below, accompanied by The Offspring squawking in his ears.

Much like the rest of the building, this museum of sorts was dim and dusty, containing miles of walnut shelving crammed full of jars, and boxes, and files, and trays all labelled neatly, indexed and sorted by topic and era. There were glass jars filled with murky liquid and dead things. Long drawers full of bone. Spent magical amulets once owned by famous evil creatures. Sacrificial knives. Implements of torture. Cursed relics. Maps of Purgatory. Pieces of brimstone. Ingredients for potions and poisons. Vials of said potions and poisons. Dead animals by the case; bats, lizards, toads, snakes, rats, all your favourites.

Anar looked at all the reptile remains, even legendary ones such as the basilisk and prehistoric pieces of dinosaur. No match.

He walked on through until he found mermaid hair and scales, again no match.

The dragon section had nothing tangible; only pictures and a few pieces of animals that had been mistaken for dragons throughout history.

His tape clicked. With a sigh he opened the case, turning it over for side B. That was when he heard a distant cough and shuffle. Someone else was here. He prayed to whatever dark deity was on his side that it wasn't Alexis - even their rivalry wouldn't be enough to bring a student of their great reputation down here?? He edged closer to the main aisle and had a sneaky peek. A curator was flipping through a tray of index cards, preparing a new display for viewing. Slipping his earphones down to hang around his neck, Anar approached them. If anyone could help, surely they could?

The museum assistant flicked her forked tongue out, deep in concentration as she worked. Her scales were deep jade, an iguana or something of the sort. Perfect.

"Excuse me?"

She hissed at the sudden noise, golden eyes turning to him, "you made me jump!"

"Sorry," he apologised.

Her face showed confusion, "what manner of student are you?"

"Oh, um, I'm a demonic student," he shivered and showed his full form.

"I see. And what can I assist you with?"

Slowly he reached into his pocket, drawing out the pale shard. "I want to know what this is."

There was a moment of silence. The scale sat in his palm, catching the light, almost translucent.

The lizard lady looked at him intensely before closing his hand shut over it. "Where did you get that?" she snapped.

"In a ritual."

"Classwork?"

"Yeah. I've got to write about it."

Her head moved towards his and he took a step back, instinctively. It felt as though she were looking for lies.

"What makes you think that I know what it is?"

His voice was faltering now, "I mean, you work here, yeah?"

"Come with me." It was an order.

He followed her swaying tail down the aisle of displays until they reached a wooden door. She turned with a snap, "any funny business and I'll preserve you in a jar!"

"Yes, ma'am," Anar gulped. What was going to happen behind this door? He hoped no sacrificial knives were involved.

The space beyond was a jumbled, chaotic mess. This was the disorder before the indexing and casing; bits and pieces were piled around, some glowing, some sparking, some levitating off the ground.

The lady lizard pottered about, digging and rummaging in the assorted curios. Did she have another dragon scale? A visual match? "Aha!" she chirped, triumphantly.

She brandished a narrow blade.

"Awwww ffff"-

"Don't panic, now!" she said quickly, holding out a small hand in reassurance. "I'm a lady of science! Think of yourself as a grey, long-eared guinea pig."

Anar backed towards the door, his wings curling around himself defensively. He stumbled on boxes and canopic jars, swearing under his breath. He clutched Sharon Stone, hoping he wouldn't have to use her.

"I just need a drop of your blood. I know how that sounds," she added, nodding, "but if you have what I think you do, you're going to want to know, yes?"

Blood was a big deal with occult dealings; blood wasn't given freely. It could be used in some very disturbing ways. If someone had your blood, they had your life essence, your energy and your identity.

Anar felt the cracked wood of the door behind him, his eyes focussed on the rune-etched knife in front of him.

How badly did he want to know?