by Anna Lowe
Natalie tossed up her hands. “You mentioned a lot of things.”
Tristan frowned at the ground, then met her eyes, looking more like a schoolboy than a big, tough, secret-service type.
“I told you about vampires. But there are other supernaturals, like shapeshifters.”
She looked from one man to the other. Were they nuts?
“Like werewolves,” he explained. “But we come in all kinds.”
She froze. “We?”
Liam smiled, and Natalie’s eyes went wide.
Tristan nodded slowly. “We.”
Her knees trembled, and her jaw went slack. He wasn’t pulling her leg, was he?
“Bears…lions…gargoyles,” Tristan said in a detached, impersonal way.
Natalie glanced up, startled. “Wait. Gargoyles? As in, stone statues that come alive?”
Liam shook his head. “They’re always alive. They just hide it well.”
Was he kidding?
Something assured her he wasn’t. Not at all.
She turned to Tristan. “Is that what we saw last night? A gargoyle?”
He nodded silently, then spoke, looking pained. “Shifters have two forms — human and animal, or stone and winged creature, in the case of gargoyles.”
She stared. He wasn’t kidding. At all.
Then a stray thought hit her, and she put her hand over her mouth, shocked. “Did they have anything to do with the fire at Notre Dame?”
Tristan shook his head quickly. “On the contrary, they tried to stop it. But they were too late.”
“There is a rival dragon clan, though,” Liam chimed in. “The Lombardis. They didn’t start the fire, but they did write a nastygram saying they wished—”
Tristan smacked his arm, and Liam blurted, “Hey!”
Natalie clenched her hands tightly. Rival dragons? Gargoyles? Vampires? She pointed one shaky finger at Liam.
“What about you?”
He thumped his chest and replied oh-so-casually. “Lion.”
Tristan looked like he wanted to cover his face with his hands.
Natalie had no idea what to think. It was crazy to believe Liam, but something about his blond, windblown hair and golden eyes could pass for a lion’s.
Then she turned to Tristan. God, she’d spent the night at his place!
“You too?” she whispered as her mind galloped away.
The night Tristan had fought the vampires in the alley, there had been a roar of fire, but he hadn’t had a flamethrower. His lips had been chapped, too. Could he really turn into a…a…
“Dragon,” Tristan whispered.
Her heart thumped, and her knees trembled. Of course, the notion shocked her. But at the same time, it fit. Those broad shoulders, those intent eyes. The power that practically crackled every time he moved.
Still, she couldn’t quite process the news. “Dragon?”
Liam leaned in with a grin. “He can breathe fire and everything.”
Tristan clenched his jaw. “Not helpful, idiot.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Natalie looked from one to the other. Their words ought to have made her protest, but somehow, it all made sense. “That time in the alley… The fire…”
Tristan nodded slowly. “I couldn’t shift in the open, but I had to do something.”
She ran a finger over her lips, picturing how chapped his had been.
“You can fly? You can breathe fire?”
“Great party trick,” Liam chipped in.
Tristan smacked his arm.
Natalie tilted her head. “You’re tricking me, right?”
“I would never trick you.” Tristan’s eyes glowed, and his voice was so earnest, there was no doubting his conviction.
“Prove it,” she finally declared, sounding braver than she felt.
Tristan’s jaw tightened, and she was sure he was about to protest. But a moment later, he pulled her into the shade of a tree. The space around him shimmered, and the arm he held out began to change.
“Uh, Tristan…” Liam warned. “Here? Now?”
“Here. Now,” Tristan muttered.
Natalie stared as his fingers extended. The skin around them stretched, forming webbing, while his fingernails grew sharper, longer, and darker. His face began to change too, with his ears pulling into points and his jaw lengthening.
Then, as smoothly as he’d started, he reversed the process and stood quietly, waiting for her to react.
She gulped. Surely, she should run…scream…insist on seeing how the trick worked. But as surely as she knew she belonged in Paris, she knew it was all real. That didn’t keep her knees from trembling, though.
She forced herself to nod. “What else can you do?”
“We heal quickly. Not much else.”
Changing shapes, flying, and breathing fire seemed like plenty to her. But just in case…
“No burning down houses? No pillaging villages?”
“Not in the last few centuries.” Liam laughed. “But I’m told my great-grandfather Toby once—”
Tristan cut him off with a thump to the arm, then faced Natalie. “Listen, there are good and bad shifters, just like there are good and bad people. Most of us just want to live and let live. And some of us…”
She waited, holding her breath.
Tristan and Liam exchanged cryptic glances.
“Some of us work hard to maintain peace,” he finally finished.
A protest jumped to the tip of her tongue. How could fire-breathing dragons be peaceful? Then again, it did fit Tristan’s actions, his military service… His whole aura, really.
So, wow. She’d spent the night in a dragon shifter’s apartment. Which meant…
“Madame Colette?” she asked in a shaky voice.
Tristan sighed. “Eagle shifter. They’re very bossy.”
“What about Bijou?”
Tristan snorted. “Just a cat.”
Natalie exhaled. If he’d just told her she’d spent the night cuddled up beside a shifter, she would have flipped.
Liam motioned ahead. “We should get going.”
Natalie hesitated, as did Tristan, watching her with eyes that pleaded, Please trust me. I want to help you.
The crystal around her neck warmed, and a deep, authoritative voice whispered in her mind. You can trust him. You must trust him.
Natalie gathered all her courage and stuck a finger at Tristan’s chest. “From now on, no secrets. You got that?”
He nodded solemnly. But then a pained expression crossed his face. “Then I guess I should tell you the people we’re about to meet are shifters, too.”
She forced herself to breathe evenly. “Shifters who can help me?”
“Yes. At least, I think so.”
“You think so?”
“They’re the Guardians of Paris. If they can’t help…” He trailed off.
No one can, Natalie filled in.
But Tristan took her hand, giving her a shot of confidence. “If they can’t help, I’ll figure something else out. I promise.”
Liam waved them onward. “Come on already.”
Natalie wavered. What she really wanted was to go home, hide under the bedcovers, and pretend none of this was happening. But she needed help, and she knew it. Plus, everything Tristan said — and did — clicked like long-lost memories coming back to light.
She took one halting step forward, then another, slowly gaining confidence. She had a fire-breathing dragon on her side, right?
Then she snorted. Yeah. What could possibly go wrong?
“Who are the Guardians?” she whispered.
“Shifters who protect the city.”
“From what?”
“From other supernaturals. By the end of the Middle Ages, the human world was a mess, and shifters were completely disorganized. Things only improved when shifters gradually took control of major cities and committed themselves to maintaining law and order. Wolves in Rome, dragons in Paris, lions in London…”
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Liam glanced back with a wink.
“But the Guardians’ ability to maintain peace waxes and wanes,” Tristan continued, shaking his head sadly. “The Thirty Years’ War, the Great War, World War II… Whenever infighting among shifters builds, trouble in the human world does too. For the past few decades, the Guardians have kept the peace, but that has been slipping. We’re seeing more troublesome vampires, more rogue shifters — that kind of thing. That is paralleled by developments in the human world — terrorism, rioting, xenophobia — you name it. Sometimes, we fight the rise of evil directly…”
Natalie pictured him and Liam in army fatigues, marching through desolate landscapes in far corners of the world.
“Generally, shifters don’t meddle directly in human affairs. They focus on their own issues, and the stabilizing effect trickles down to the human world. Lately, that has been harder and harder. There’s a legend…” He trailed off.
Liam snickered. “You believe that?”
Natalie looked between them. What legend?
Tristan glanced at her, then at the sky. “Sometimes, I don’t know what to believe. All I know is, the less stable the shifter world, the more human conflict escalates. That’s why the Guardians brought us in.”
“Who’s us?” Natalie asked.
Tristan jerked a thumb at himself and then at Liam. “Me. Him. Other members of our unit have returned to their home cities, too. It’s the same problem everywhere — not only in Paris.”
A somber silence set in, and Natalie tried to make sense of it all. Guardians…legends…real-world problems…
Meanwhile, they continued walking, and the bustle of the red-light district gave way to the kind of upscale, tree-lined side street Natalie had originally imagined. Flowerpots dotted the house fronts, and neat rows of cobblestones marched up an incline. The next section of the side street was higher, narrower, and fancier. Beautiful villas lined both sides, all with wrought-iron gates and floor-to-ceiling windows framed by colorful shutters.
A nice neighborhood. A classy neighborhood. One that oozed old money, power, and connections.
“I should warn you,” Liam murmured to Tristan. “Jacqueline will be there.”
Tristan’s step hitched, but a moment later, he strode on, squaring his shoulders.
“I tried heading her off…” Liam continued.
“How hard did you try?” Tristan’s voice was cold and tight.
“Hey, I’m not the fool who dated her. That was all you, man.”
Natalie’s heart sank, and her hand slipped away from Tristan’s. When he glanced over, she avoided his eyes. Whoever Jacqueline was, Natalie had no reason to feel jealous. No reason at all.
Tristan searched her face, but she kept her gaze straight ahead. The street was rapidly coming to a dead end. At the head of the lane was a villa with a concave facade. It stood at the peak of the hill, half hidden behind a stand of tall trees. Dark curtains were drawn over the windows, and an imposing gate cut off access from the street.
Natalie’s mind spun. What exactly had she stumbled into?
Before Liam had a chance to ring the bell beside the gate, one of the front doors opened, and a slight man emerged. Tristan stepped forward to speak to him while Natalie hung back. The curtains of a second-floor window stirred, making her tense further.
“Who’s Jaqueline?” she whispered to Liam.
He pressed his lips together and murmured cryptically, “You’ll see.”
Chapter Nine
“Mademoiselle.” The butler bowed deeply, inviting her in.
Natalie stepped forward hesitantly, feeling like a lamb being led to slaughter as she followed the butler down a long hallway lined with somber portraits in gilded frames. Every step she took seemed to be followed by dozens of wary eyes. She peeked from side to side. The faces peering out from the portraits were all human, but the backgrounds were full of other creatures. Howling wolves, lumbering bears, strutting lions… Even dragons swooping and breathing fire.
Supernaturals… We come in all kinds, Tristan had said.
A shiver went down her spine. “Are you sure these are friends and not enemies?”
“I’ve often wondered myself,” Liam murmured.
Tristan shot him a dark look. “Friends. The kind you don’t want to piss off.”
Natalie bit her lip.
The hallway opened on to a grand space four stories high. Sunlight poured in from a huge glass dome, and marble statues lined the balconies above. The ground floor walls were hung with landscapes and Mona Lisa style portraits that appeared centuries old. Natalie turned in a slow circle, soaking it all in.
Tristan shot her a look that said, I told you the penthouse was nothing.
That might be, but she preferred his apartment. The view was better, for one thing, and even unfurnished, it was cozier than this huge, cold place.
Footsteps tapped down one of the twin staircases that curled around the lofty space, and Natalie whirled. Those sharp clicks came from a woman’s heels, producing authoritative taps that echoed from the marble stairs. A tall, slim woman descended, sliding one hand gracefully down the banister. Her flowing red gown was cut low at the front and high in the thigh, revealing a hell of a lot of creamy skin. Long, dangly silver earrings glinted in the light, as did the woman’s teeth when she flashed a cruel smile.
“Jacqueline,” Tristan muttered.
“Jacqueline!” Liam called out a little too sweetly.
Natalie looked from one man to the other. They’d been on guard the moment they entered the building, but that vigilant air had just spiked by a factor of ten.
Jacqueline floated down the last few steps and made a beeline for Tristan, but Liam quickly stepped forward. Giving his friend some breathing room, perhaps?
“You look lovelier than ever.” Liam’s tone might have been a little forced, but Jacqueline was stunning, with high, Audrey Hepburn cheeks and shiny black hair styled into a tight, Breakfast at Tiffany’s bun.
Jacqueline barely turned her head, letting Liam do all the work in their oh-so-French three-kiss greeting. But when she strode toward Tristan, her eyes held a predatory gleam, and she planted three firm kisses on his cheeks. They nearly hit his lips, but Tristan dodged her each time.
“Ah, Tristan,” Jacqueline cooed the way a woman might after a round of satisfying sex. “So good to see you again.”
The words were spoken in smooth, delicate French, but they made Natalie sick. Had Jacqueline ever slept with Tristan? Was she trying to woo back her ex-lover?
Tristan stepped back and crossed his arms, bristling. Jacqueline pursed her lips the way a centerfold model would.
“Poor Tristan. Always so sad, so serious.”
Natalie considered. Serious, yes. But sad? He hadn’t been exactly exuberant that morning, but when he had smiled, it was like the sun coming out. Had Jacqueline never seen that smile?
The thought gave Natalie a boost, though Jacqueline destroyed that a moment later with a cutting look.
“Oh my. Is this she?” Jacqueline cackled to Tristan.
Natalie ground her teeth. Tristan’s eyes blazed, but Liam spoke first.
“Jacqueline, meet Natalie. Natalie, meet Jacqueline.”
Jacqueline’s hand was cold and hard, just like her smile. Natalie made damn sure to answer in her best French.
“Pleasure to meet you. How do you do?”
Jacqueline laughed and replied in English. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
Her eyes swept up and down Natalie’s body. While she didn’t say anything, her expression dripped disdain. Those clothes… That hair… And those shoes. What were you thinking?
Natalie held her chin high. No, she wasn’t put together as elegantly as Jacqueline. Whoever had picked up clothes from her apartment didn’t have great fashion sense, but she’d been grateful all the same.
Grateful. Did Jacqueline even know the meaning of that word?
A pair of huge oak doors creaked open, and Jacqueli
ne tilted her head. “Ah. They’re ready for you. Good luck.” She let a split second tick by. “You’ll need it.”
Tristan growled under his breath, but Jacqueline seemed amused.
Natalie took a deep breath. Jacqueline was one thing. The three older men waiting for her at the doors were another. One had a hooked nose, beady eyes, and a slightly hunched back.
Gargoyle, she remembered Tristan saying.
The second was a tall warrior — what Tristan might look like in another forty years. Handsome in an uncompromisingly grizzled way and fit enough to whip a much younger man’s hide. His eyes were steady, his beard white with age, and his cheek was sliced by a jagged scar.
Her mind tried dragon then discarded the idea. Was he a wolf shifter? A bear?
“Miss Brewer?” he called in a voice like aged whiskey. “Come in.”
Natalie hesitated. If these were the good guys, she’d hate to meet the bad guys. Still, she had no choice but to comply.
A younger man stepped out from behind the three, and while he was handsome, his smile was far too practiced, his styled hair a little too groomed.
“Miss Brewer. Delighted to make your acquaintance.” He took her hand — really took it before she had any choice in the matter — and lifted it to his lips for a kiss.
“Allow me to introduce myself.” He gave a little bow. “I am—”
“Marcel,” Tristan muttered, practically shoving the man aside.
Obviously, there was some kind of rivalry there. They were both about the same age, the same height…
Natalie chilled. Were both dragon shifters?
She skittered onward. Then the third man spoke in a voice so smooth and silky, she balked. “Yes, do come in, Miss Brewer.”
The words were hypnotic, but his eyes were piercing, and his hungry gaze was aimed at her throat. A vampire?
“That’s Morfram,” Tristan whispered in her ear.
When the man stepped closer, cold air crept in around Natalie’s body, and a horrifying scene played out in her mind. She saw a vampire back her up against a wall, and somehow, her limbs were powerless to resist. Then she tilted back her head, giving the vampire access to her neck. He closed in slowly, bared his fangs, and—
Gasping, she lurched away from Morfram and bumped into Tristan. “You said we could trust these people.”