by Anna Lowe
“Claudine? Wait a second…”
Natalie flipped through Alaric’s books, searching for the section that had stuck in her mind — one summarizing feats of great Fire Maidens over the centuries.
“Claudine,” Natalie whispered when she located the page. Tucking her legs under herself on the couch, she began to read.
Claudine d’Islay, as it turned out, was one of the mightiest Fire Maidens Paris had ever known. After repelling multiple attacks and bringing vampires under control with the help of her consort, a knight named Breselan, she went on to develop public works in Paris. Under her leadership, the sewer system was expanded and running water brought to the poorest sections of the city. Claudine also established orphanages and schools for the poorest of the poor.
While the eagle shifter book only mentioned her in passing, Alaric’s book detailed everything Claudine had done for the city and how she had lived to a ripe old age with Breselan.
Natalie sat back, comparing both books. Same Claudine, same knight. Then she sat back and sighed. The more she read, the more she decided she could never measure up. Liviana, Amelie, and other Fire Maidens had been able to breathe fire. They struck fear into the hearts of their enemies and fostered compassion in the city they loved. What could she do?
The doorbell buzzed, and she whirled. Tristan stalked over to the door and growled, “Hello?”
“Pizza delivery,” came a voice.
That was Liam, joking as always. He didn’t have a pizza, but he did have a shopping bag that smelled of fresh bread and cheese. He waved to Madame Colette, kissed Natalie on both cheeks, and thrust the bags into Tristan’s hand.
“No pizza, but I did bring a very nice wine.” Then he grinned and picked up Bijou, cuddling him under his chin. “Nice kitty. Sweet kitty.”
Bijou’s eyelids went to half-mast, and his purr echoed through the apartment.
Tristan rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing sweet about that spitfire.”
“Of course there is. Just look.” Liam held out Bijou, who hissed at Tristan, then cuddled back up with Liam. “If you knew anything about cats—”
Tristan made a face. “I know lots about cats. Especially some overly talkative ones.”
Natalie furrowed her brow. There it was again — that reminder that all was not as it seemed. She changed the subject quickly. “Were you able to find that sweater?”
Liam had brought over all her essentials, and he’d promised to stop by her apartment for the few items he’d missed.
“Your wish is my command.” He took a deep bow and presented her with a shopping bag.
She half expected Liam to make a sophomoric comment about the bra she’d left hanging from her dresser, but he didn’t, thank goodness. He did, however, deliver some chilling news, even if he related it in his usual cheery way.
“I stumbled across your landlady. Charming woman.” Not, his expression said. “She didn’t want to let me in at first, even though I showed her your key.”
Natalie smiled. Her landlady was a lot like Madame Colette — a little brusque but good at heart.
“She said, ‘I didn’t let the others in, and I don’t want you here either.’”
Natalie froze, and Tristan growled. “What others? Vampires?”
Liam pinched his lips briefly, but Natalie nodded him on.
“You know how it is — those bastards don’t leave a scent. But I couldn’t sniff out anyone else…”
Natalie wondered how good lion noses were. But then her mind caught up on the rest of his message. Vampires were still prowling the city. Worse, they had found her apartment. She brought together the sides of her button-down sweater and looked around. Would they find her here?
They wouldn’t dare, Tristan’s eyes assured her.
“You know what else the landlady said?” Liam went on, clearly ramping up to his next joke.
“What else did the landlady say?” Tristan replied in a bored monotone.
“She said ‘That Natalie is a nice girl. Not your type. You leave her alone.’” Liam faked a hurt look, but his eyes sparkled. “Not my type? Who says nice girls aren’t my type?”
“She’s not,” Tristan barked.
Liam grinned. “I don’t know. What you think, Nat? Fancy a date with me?”
She laughed. “Maybe some other time.” Then she grew somber again. She wasn’t interested in a date with Liam, but heck. She was getting some serious cabin fever. Would she ever have the freedom to roam the city again? Or would she be locked up in a gilded cage for the rest of her life, gazing out the windows like Bijou did?
She’d already had to call in to work and beg for time off. She had only asked for a week, feeling terrible about the vague excuses she’d provided. Worse, she’d had to call in to Solidarité du Coeur to do the same.
But, Natalie! What will we do without you? the supervisor had pleaded.
It gutted her not to meet her responsibilities and to give up the routine she’d come to enjoy. Work, long walks through the city, and fascinating talks with people she met at the soup kitchen. Everything that had given her a sense of connection to the city she loved.
She must have been frowning, because Tristan nudged her. “You okay?”
She forced a smile, though she didn’t know what to say. Yes? No?
“Oh, Clara sent you another book. One that looks even more boring than the last.” Liam gestured back to the shopping bag. “I swear, Alaric has an entire library devoted to dragons, dragons, and more dragons. I think the latest one is something like, The Dark Ages: Before We Dragons Came to Bless the Earth with Our Holy Presence.”
Natalie opened the book the minute the others moved away. It turned out to be The Great Shifter Wars and Their Aftermath: 1320-1597. And yes, it did feature a lot of dragons. But it had an entire chapter on Liviana, and she pored over every word.
The mightiest dragon queen of all, she forged alliances, banished enemies, established charities… She also amassed a treasure greater than that of any other dragon…
Natalie mulled over the words, absently holding the crystal in one hand while petting Bijou with the other. As always, her thoughts drifted to the one dragon she couldn’t get off her mind. Tristan. And as always, she told herself to think about something else.
But it was hard, especially now that she was spending so much time with him. Even when he was out of sight, she would catch a whiff of his rich, natural cologne, or hear his firm footsteps as he paced across the hardwood floors. She could sense him nearby. And at night…
Nights were the worst, because darkness had a way of shrinking the space between them and intensifying every sound. Every rustle of his sheets, every quiet breath set off fantasies she couldn’t stop.
She took a deep breath, trying to halt those thoughts, and went back to reading. Hours passed, and the sun slowly set, layering the sky with bands of red, orange, and yellow. One by one, city lights came on. At first, too few to form a pattern. Then more lights came on, and the dots lined up to form a familiar network of boulevards and parks.
“Good book?” Tristan murmured, making her glance up.
She smiled, blushed, and promptly cursed herself. Why did he do that to her every time?
Maybe because he was leaning against the arched double doorway to the next room, arms folded over his chest like a warrior considering his next campaign. One ankle was crossed over the other, making him appear relaxed. Of course, relaxed was a relative term with Tristan, and he only ever seemed to hover in the red to yellow zone, always on alert. Were all dragons that way?
“Interesting, for sure,” she replied a little lamely.
Then she tilted her head, studying Tristan more closely. Was his face a little flushed? Was his chest rising and falling in ever deeper breaths?
His mouth opened and closed, and she leaned forward, certain he was about to say something important, like, Natalie, I keep thinking about you. Do you dream about me the way I dream about you?
Another full min
ute passed with them gazing at each other, desperate to speak but unable to form words. The lights of Paris sparkled in the windows, as mute as they were. Even the Eiffel Tower, standing elegantly above the rest, seemed to hold its breath.
Finally, Tristan cleared his throat. He looked about to leave, but Natalie couldn’t stand to see him go.
“So…” she started, not quite sure what to follow up with.
But Tristan leaned toward her, appearing as eager as she for an excuse to linger.
“Um… Shifters,” she finally said, waving outside. “Do you only change under a full moon?”
His cheeks stretched into a smile. “No. We can shift anytime we want.”
She gulped. In truth, she was dying to see him shift. To see a dragon — and not just the little glimpse he’d given her the other day. But something told her shifting was a private act. A little like sex, she supposed.
And, damn. That random thought made her body tingle all over.
She rushed to change the subject. “I guess your parents taught you how?”
Tristan mulled that one over. “Sort of. You don’t shift until you hit your teenage years.” He smiled. “I took off as soon as I could. My poor mother…” He laughed at first, but then his expression soured. “Mostly, I taught myself. My father wasn’t around to help, and even if he were, I doubt he would have been much use.” He cleared his throat. “But it’s instinctive, I suppose.”
She pursed her lips, trying not to wonder about his childhood. “I guess you have to be careful, though.”
He snorted. “You learn that long before you can shift. Humans fear what they don’t understand, and even if they’re not as strong as most shifters, they have the advantage of numbers. In the Dark Ages, they burned any witch they could find and hunted some shifter species to extinction.”
She frowned. “Like what?”
He shrugged. “Griffins. Harpies. Unicorns…”
Her eyes went wide. “Unicorns?”
He chuckled. “Where do you think the tapestries drew their inspiration from? Humans aren’t that creative — unless it comes to instruments of destruction. They’re champions at that.” He gazed out the windows with a grim expression. “That’s where we come in, doing our best to steer human ingenuity and energy in the right direction. But sometimes…”
A dozen tragic newspaper headlines ran through Natalie’s mind, filling in where Tristan trailed off.
Natalie took a deep breath. Could she really make a difference? Dare she find out?
“Would a Fire Maiden really help?” she whispered.
The smile Tristan flashed was bright and genuine, but a moment later, he sobered as if he’d just remembered something.
“Oui. She would.” His eyes lingered on hers, full of yearning and regret she wished she understood. “I know she would.” Then he forced a smile and backed away. “Sorry. I’m keeping you up.”
She was about to protest — Please, I’d rather talk — but Tristan appeared to have made up his mind.
“Bonne nuit,” he whispered, sounding far away, as if he’d made the mental switch back to soldier mode.
“Bonne nuit,” Natalie echoed, watching him slip silently away.
Chapter Thirteen
Bonne nuit.
Natalie sighed quietly. Tristan said that every night, though never as sadly as just then. And like every night, he didn’t go to bed. Instead, he headed for the spiral staircase that led to the rooftop. She could tell by the tap of his steps on the metal stairs. A minute or two later, a breath of fresh air wafted through the apartment, and she pictured Tristan gazing over the city. Then there was nothing but silence.
She turned off her light and lay under her blanket, her eyes on the ceiling. Waiting. That silence, she’d learned, was the precursor to something else.
A car horn tooted on the street. Trees swayed in the park. Otherwise, nothing. But then…
Three heavy steps pounded across the roof, followed by a mighty whoosh of air. Natalie clutched her blanket while her heart thumped. Was that a dragon, soaring off into the night?
It had happened the first night, and the second, too. Each time, she lay still, waiting…wondering. What would shifting be like?
She closed her eyes, picturing herself soaring over Paris. She could almost feel the cool tickle of wind and see lights streak by below. She would soar toward the moon, then roll and dive toward the star-shaped intersection at the Arc de Triomphe. She imagined winging all the way out to Giverny, where Monet had painted water lilies. Would the ponds be dark patches, or would they shimmer in the moonlight like the effect of an impressionist’s brush?
She heaved a deep breath. It was so easy to imagine, but flying was impossible, like so much else.
You’re only a human, with no means of protecting yourself.
She’d been practicing the defensive move Tristan taught her, but it seemed like too little, too late. If a vampire got that close, she’d be a goner, for sure. She flexed her fingers, imagining claws in their place. If only she had enough dragon blood to shift! Then she could protect herself — and the city too. She could eradicate trouble with a single, fiery breath. She could conquer enemies. Head off trouble before it bubbled over into the human realm. She could…
An echo of Jacqueline’s mocking voice sounded in her mind. Just a human, not a dragon like me.
Natalie drooped, looking at her hands. Those were plain old fingers, not claws. Even if she could change into a dragon, she doubted she could singlehandedly make the world a better place.
She sat up, switched on the reading light, and opened one of Alaric’s books. If she couldn’t sleep, she might as well learn more about dragons. But the views of Paris, as ever, caught her eye, and she sat there, fingering her crystal while taking it all in.
“Beautiful,” she whispered.
But then Bijou arched and hissed. A shadow fell over the top right portion of the windows, and something fluttered outside. Natalie’s heart revved, and goose bumps prickled her arm. At first, all she could see was her own reflection superimposed over the city view. But then another face appeared, twisting the features of her reflection into something sinister and distorted.
She saw a hooked, beaky nose. High, emaciated cheeks, curved ears, and a devil’s horn. The creature’s mouth opened, showing off pointy, widely spaced teeth. Then the grimace became a grotesque smile, and the eyes glowed.
There you are, my little pretty, its voice sounded in her mind.
Gargoyle. A real gargoyle, hovering outside her window. Spying on her for Olivier and his vampires?
Her blood ran cold, and she nearly screamed. But instinct took over, and she reacted without thinking.
She threw her blanket back and ran to the window, holding the crystal high. And while no sound came out, she was yelling inside. Practically roaring, in fact — as ferociously as a…a…
She gulped. As ferociously as a dragon?
The gargoyle’s eyes went wide, and heck, she was just as surprised. Rays of blinding light shot out from the crystal, and the gargoyle lurched back.
Out of here. Out, lowly creature, she yelled in a voice not quite her own.
The light of the crystal obscured everything beyond the glass, but Natalie could just make out the gargoyle wheeling away in fear. The crystal’s light intensified, forming a laser that followed the beast, and another voice registered in her mind. Deep and powerful, yet feminine, like a weary queen.
Go, and warn your masters we are not to be trifled with. You understand?
We? Natalie glanced at the crystal then pressed her face against the glass. The gargoyle was scrambling away in panic, and the voice she’d heard was…laughing in triumph?
As the intruder fled, the crystal’s light faded, as did the sense of an outside presence. Natalie pushed away from the window, her chest heaving. Holy crap. What had just happened?
She stared at the crystal in her hand. If that was a dragon’s, and if she really was descended from Liviana…
Her gaze shifted to her reflection in the windows, and she gulped. Was Clara right about her?
Then she jumped, because fire flared in the distance, and a second shadow chased the fleeing gargoyle. Natalie threw the French doors open and gripped the guardrail of the narrow balcony. Cool night air chilled her body, and the breeze toyed with her hair. But even the threat of gargoyles didn’t frighten her, because that was a dragon out there.
Tristan, her heart cried.
Fire flashed a second time, and deep in her soul, she could hear his furious roar.
Long after both shadows disappeared, she stood there, sweating and panting as if she’d fought a physical battle. Then Bijou meowed, and she backed away, closing the doors. Then she slumped on the couch. Had that really happened?
By the windows, Bijou sat, casually lifted one paw, and licked his belly as if to say, Happens every day.
* * *
Natalie turned off her light and lay under her blanket, watching the windows. That gargoyle had been a spy for the vampires, she was sure of it. She huddled in a ball, wishing for Tristan. She stared at the ceiling, waiting for the thump-thump-thump that would signal his return. Minutes ticked by, then hours, and she began to fret. Was Tristan all right?
Then she frowned. This was an echo of the nights she’d spent waiting for Dean. Hadn’t she vowed to change that? Paris was supposed to be her me time, not a time for another ill-fated romance.
For one long, wavering minute, she lay still. Then, in one sharp motion, she thrust the blanket aside and jumped to her feet.