by Zoe Chant
A moment turned into a moments, then minutes. The reader sat down, and Nikos clapped along with the others, but his ear caught the faint tinkle of glass shards.
The baker elbowed her way back in, carrying a new load of refreshments.
Nikos waited until she was right behind him, and caught her eyes. “Linette, right? Is there anything I can help with?”
“Jen and Angelique have it covered,” Linette said. “They know where the cleaning stuff is kept. But thanks for the offer.” And, lifting her voice, “Godiva, I see you have pages right there on your lap. Why don’t you go next?”
“Don’t have to ask twice.” Godiva cackled.
Nikos glanced toward the door to the front of the store, knowing that Jen wanted to hear Godiva’s reading. He hesitated between going to find her and staying so that he could fill her in on what she missed. Remembering what Linette had said about Jen and the other person having things well in hand, he decided he’d be in the way out front, and sat where he was—and in spite of his determination to listen to Godiva, he found his mind staying on Jen.
Jen Carlsen. Even her name thrilled him with promise. This reading would soon be over. Another time he knew he would enjoy it more, but right now all he could think about was the night ahead, just the two of them. He suppressed a smile of anticipation. Her kisses were as wonderful as her name.
The door to the front opened—but it was just the wispy young woman. She dropped quietly back in her seat as Godiva kept reading.
He realized he’d missed the opening, but his attention caught up in the narrative as soon as Godiva began describing a fight. He recognized some of the moves from his scrap with Jen. Godiva might not be a martial artist, but she had a way with words, and as he listened, he was highly entertained to discover that he had become a cyber-warrior complete with mirror-shades and chrome armor, whereas Jen was now decked out in glittering black armor, with glowing laser eyes—
Between one heartbeat and the next, his unicorn surged up within him, flooding Nikos’s mind with awareness of the mythic plane. The mate bond gleamed bright, though still incomplete. Nikos tried to shut out Godiva’s voice and his surroundings . . .
Something is wrong with our mate, the unicorn bugled. Run, run, run!
NINE
JEN
Jen eased through the swinging door. “Linette?”
Linette looked up from a mess of shattered glass and what looked like three different types of jam mixed up on the floor. “Oh, Jen. Angelique,” she added, seeing the young college student at Jen’s shoulder. “I stupidly caught my toe against the table there, and there go the fancy elderberry and strawberry jams I was going to put out for the scones. I can have this cleaned up in a jiffy.”
“Not broken glass,” Jen said. “Jiffies and shards are a bad combo. Let me help.”
“Yes. We can get it,” Angelique said softly. “You’re the moderator.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll get some more from the storage.”
Linette scurried away.
“I know where she keeps the cleaning things,” Angelique whispered. “I worked for her all summer.”
“I remember!”
They’d just begun carefully sweeping up the glittering mess when Linette returned with a fresh tray. “Thanks again,” she whispered, and backed into the meeting room.
Together Jen and Angelique got the mess cleaned up and deposited in a sturdy trash can, then Jen said, “She clearly didn’t have a chance to take the day’s trash out. This thing is heavy. I’ll haul it out to the dumpster in back.”
Frail little Angelique eyed the heavy can dubiously, gave a relieved nod, and slipped into the meeting room.
Jen hefted the can and backed through the swinging door to the baking side of the shop, which was divided from the meeting room by a thin wall. She could hear the cadences of Godiva’s distinctive parrot squawk as she read, and she grinned as she elbowed the back door open. What would Nikos make of the fictionalized version of his scrap with her, after being put through Godiva’s writing filter?
Jen had played the villain for pretty much all those openings, and had enjoyed the various versions of her actions that had percolated from Godiva’s terrific imagination. As she headed for the dumpster, she thought happily that it was going to be fun to find what Nikos thought.
It was going to be fun to be with him.
Alone—
The image of being alone with Nikos and picking up where that kiss had left off grabbed her so vividly that she was utterly taken by surprise when the rustle of cloth and the hiss of footsteps closed in on either side.
She dropped the can with a crash, sidestepping as her hands came up, but heavy cloth shrouded her, tightening around her face and body as someone knocked her off her feet.
“In the car. Fast,” a muffled voice ordered: a man.
Jen was suffocating in that heavy cloth swathed around her face. First thing: breathe, she told herself. There was no immediate threat to her body, so she took the time to slow her breathing. That lowered the sense of panic, and helped her sense of readiness. Next: environment.
Though the cloth shrouded her, preventing her from seeing, she could use her other senses. She knew she’d been put in a car. It didn’t seem to be moving, though the engine was running. To either side a person pressed up against her. From what she could feel through the cloth, they were big. At least as tall as she was—she could hear through the muffling cloak that their breathing was on a level with hers.
Maybe a few seconds had passed, though it had felt like forever as she’d labored to breathe. The plan now? Utter no threats. Wait, quiet, passive, and watch for an opportunity to move. Don’t waste strength in yelling or struggling.
“Did she pass out?” a man asked—voice coming from front left. So she was in the back seat of the car. That would be the driver. That made three potential enemies.
“Zedi, you can uncover our guest.”
Guest, my ass, Jen thought. The new voice—heavy accent—was from the front right. Four enemies.
To Jen’s left, someone sighed, fingers tugged at the cloth, then pulled it away from her face, but kept the rest wound tightly around her body. Sweet, cool air rushed in. Jen set her jaw as she took in four faces: woman to the left, her size maybe bigger than Jen, though a little shorter. A guy the size of a fullback to the right, the top of his head brushing the car’s ceiling.
Be passive. Quiet . . . she told herself. You can handle this. Don’t move until you’ve got a clear line of—
The driver’s eyes widened over a pug nose. “Whoa, that’s the blonde who took out Rafe!”
In the shotgun seat sat a tall, shaggy-haired Asian man, wearing a duster over a black turtleneck. “What?” he rapped out with an air of command.
“That’s her! That’s the blonde we told you about! She was one of the dragon’s posse. Fights like Bruce Lee.”
“Really! That,” said Duster Guy, “changes things. Peke, get us out of here.”
The driver slammed the car into gear. It jerked into motion.
TEN
NIKOS
Nikos forced himself to keep from leaping to his feet, and shot a glance at Mikhail, who was always alert to his environment. Their eyes met, then Mikhail stilled, closing his eyes. He was the most skilled at sifting the mythic plane in his human form, though Joey was not far behind.
Yes, Joey’s ever-present smile had faded. He leaned over and whispered something to Doris, then said a little louder, “Excuse me. Restroom . . .”
Nikos’s throat was too tight for words. He rose, aware of people blinking at him. Let them think what they wanted—he had to find Jen.
Godiva’s voice faded behind them as they moved to the bakery. The empty bakery. No sign of Jen.
Joey gazed around with the intent expression of someone scanning on the mythic plane. Inside Nikos, his unicorn pulled him to the left.
At that same moment Joey said, “Let’s try through there.” He pointed to the swi
nging door left of the meeting room.
They hustled through a kitchen, past a machine slowly churning dough, to a storage area smelling of cinnamon and spices, and through that to the door that opened onto an alley.
Nikos ran out, searching wildly.
Nothing, except a trash can lying on its side, its contents spilling into the alley. Glass shards glittered coldly.
Nikos shifted to his unicorn, hooves pawing the cement and striking sparks as his wings extended wide. He threw back his head, horn aloft. The limitations of his human form fell away and the mythic realm flashed into brightness, like the night sky going suddenly from city-dim to mountain-top brilliant.
And right through the center extended that golden link—but almost immediately it blurred, until it stopped suddenly. Despair washed through him. Even in his unicorn form, he knew the mate link wasn’t complete. Jen was human, and they had not yet mated—in ordinary circumstances he could find her, but not if other magic interfered. And it clearly had.
Ward, came Mikhail’s voice on the mythic plane. She is behind a ward. But they cannot hide the direction.
Nikos already knew. The oracle stone, he replied.
His human self faltered, bitter, bewildered, angry, anxious: this was exactly what he’d feared. But in unicorn form, he struck the ground again with his forefoot, sending fiery sparks spiraling upward.
Fear belonged to the past, to the errors of his young manhood.
Though he was a healer, and had dedicated his life to found families, he had never truly understood the mate bond until now.
Jen Carlsen was his mate—his partner. Though he could not feel her exact location, and could not yet speak mind to mind, he trusted her. Believed in her. Four days—four hours—four hundred years since they first met, time didn’t matter: he had found his mate and now he understood the strength of that bond.
Cang had dared to threaten his mate. Nikos was going to make Cang regret it . . . if Jen didn’t get to him first.
Nikos sprang into the air.
Behind him, he was flanked by Joey, now in fox form, all nine tails waving in and out of the dimensions, and Mikhail flashing into dragon form. Nikos’s wings thundered, catapulting him into the sky. Mikhail leaped after, and Joey raced like a silver streak along the ground.
They arrowed toward the landslide where the oracle stone lay buried.
ELEVEN
JEN
Duster Guy kept his gaze on Jen, who stared back, though her insides had begun to roil. He smiled a little, his chin lifting in a gesture of mocking respect. Jen’s heart sank—the last thing she’d wanted was some jerk figuring out she had training. So much for her plan of playing passive until the right moment.
Duster Guy said to her, “I haven’t seen you before. Are you one of Joey Hu’s mutts?”
Jen stared back, saying nothing. But she was thinking, mutts?
Duster Guy flicked glances at the man and woman sitting to either side of Jen. “Zedi. Howard. Be alert.”
Jen’s heart sank further as Howard—who was even bigger than she’d estimated—pressed a bulging arm against her in silent threat. On the other side, Zedi began toying with a knife. Very subtle, Jen thought. Let me free and I’ll take that away in ten seconds flat.
Duster Guy went on, “The idea was to use any one of those humans in that bakery to bring the dragon to a negotiation. But you are one of his people, are you not? That changes things.”
Jen said nothing. Though inside she was full of questions, beginning with dragon? But that could wait. She’d been in a couple of tight situations before, the worst a time in Algiers, when some trigger-happy mercenaries turned up looking for fun, and it turned into a full-scale riot. At least here, she knew the territory. As long as no one was standing out of range with a gun aimed at her, she had a chance to get away. She just had to be on the watch for it.
They drove the few blocks to the landslide that Jen had seen the previous day, passing only two cars, none of them cops. The area was completely deserted.
Peke the driver pulled up, then twisted around, his blob-nose twitching. “From here I can’t smell what her animal is.”
What her animal is? Jen figured that had to be some sort of gang slang, but one thing was for sure: she didn’t intend to stay around long enough to ask.
“It soon will not matter,” Duster Guy said. “He should be here momentarily, and then we’re done with her. Unless Long comes to his senses and cooperates.”
‘Long’? Was that Mikhail Long?
“Do you know Keraunos?” Duster Guy continued, smiling at Jen.
Jen said, “Who?” And added, “I don’t know who you’re talking about. You definitely have the wrong person.”
Duster Guy ignored her. “Let me tell you about Keraunos. As both raiju and man, he’s a very capable assassin. A, what do you call them here, again?”
“Hit man,” the woman next to Jen muttered with heartless cheer. “Better you than me,” she smirked.
“Keraunos’s services are much in demand,” Duster Guy went on. He was obviously enjoying himself, so Jen tried hard to look bored. “He is extremely capable of fight or bite, but his real skill is the lightning that he cannot control. He has to discharge it or be consumed, and let us just say, his victims are seldom recognizable when he’s done with them.”
“Crispy critters,” Zedi said, snickering.
Peke giggled on a high, weird note. Only the gigantic guy Howard at Jen’s right remained totally impassive.
Jen said nothing, and as Peke pulled the car to a stop, Duster Guy gave a sigh of fake disappointment. “Let us position ourselves,” he said, and opened his car door.
Now, Jen thought, while everyone was getting out separate doors. She readied her muscles—and Zedi turned, flicking the knife to Jen’s throat along her carotid artery. “Nice and slow, you. No heroics.”
Howard slid right behind her, grunting as he heaved his thick, heavily muscled body after her. He was huge—built like a rhino.
Jen forced herself to move slowly, passively, but stayed vigilant. Zedi and Howard pressed close at either side as Duster Guy faced Jen. Peke hovered somewhere behind, snuffling and sniffing. Why doesn’t he just blow his nose? Jen thought in disgust.
She glared back at Duster Guy. The moon emerged from behind a departing raincloud, revealing a sharp-boned face. His duster flapped in the rising breeze. “Still nothing to say? Allow me to introduce myself,” he said to Jen, smiling down at her. “I am Long Cang.”
Jen stared back. Was she expected to be intimidated? She was! All of them were clearly waiting for a reaction.
So she broke her silence. “Who?”
She felt Zedi and Howard shift slightly at either side, Zedi pulling the knife away from Jen’s throat, though she still held it at the ready. Long Cang tipped his head the other way, the triumphant smile fading to wary assessment.
Jen went on, “I’m a member of the Baker Street Writers’ Group. Which you seem to know about, though none of you are writers, I take it, or I’d have seen you at meetings. I was taking the trash out before it was my turn to read. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go back now.”
Long Cang frowned, then turned his head. “Peke?”
“That’s her,” the driver whined. “I’m tellin’ ya the truth. Partnered with the foreign dude. Rafe would back me up, but he’s flat on his back. Charlie can tell ya—her footprint is right there on his ribs.”
“Ah, yes,” Long Cang said, and the smile was back. “Nikos Demitros. Even better—Keraunos will be very glad to see him.”
Jen’s stomach lurched. They knew Nikos, somehow. Even worse, these jerks intended to hostage her against Mikhail and Nikos.
Not if she could help it.
Peke, who’d kept snuffling, gave a long sniff, then said, “He’s coming. The raiju.”
All four heads turned, and Jen grabbed her moment. A kick to Zedi’s hand, sending the knife flying. Then she pivoted in a whirl. Howard might be built like a
rhino, but every human had certain weak points in common, one being the mastoid bone behind the ear. She snapped a perfect roundhouse to the back of his head, and he dropped like a rock.
Using her momentum, she brought a palm-heel strike to Zedi’s collarbone, and heard the snap. Then started to run—
And made it ten feet before the world changed forever.
Between one heartbeat and the next, a huge, serpentine shape coiled through the air, at least two hundred feet long, scales gleaming scarlet in the moonlight. She managed two steps before the gigantic thing whipped into a coil around her, its body almost as thick as she was tall, as an enormous dragon’s head curved down from above, eyes glowing like the pits of hell.
The coils tightened around her. Shivering with shock, she stilled, fighting for breath.
Then the thing vanished, and Long Cang was back, duster billowing in the wind. She swayed as she gasped for breath. She would have fallen if Long Cang hadn’t held her in an iron grip. He laughed—no, he gloated. Though he no longer had yard-long dragon teeth, that white-toothed, gloating smile was just as dragon-y. “Nice try,” he said. “I’m beginning to believe what Peke said about your skills. Who are you exactly?”
When she didn’t answer, he whirled her around, bending her right arm up agonizingly behind her. He was incredibly strong; she stopped fighting, knowing that a half-inch more pressure and her arm would break.
Dragon.
Next thing she knew, he’d zip-tied her wrists behind her. She gasped, her mind reeling as he gave a last, vicious tug, tightening the plastic ties unmercifully. What kind of a scumbag carries zip-ties around, she thought angrily—aching to get just one kick at that smirking face.
That smirking face that had been a dragon moments ago.
She was scarcely aware of the throbbing of her arms, or the new pain in her wrists: her mind kept tripping and returning to that impossible sight, like a skip in the long-play vinyl records of her youth. Red dragon. No, couldn’t be. Red dragon. But . . . Red dragon.