The Sea Dragon's Lion (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Friends and Family)

by Zoe Chant

  “Well, of course he’s not thrilled, but—” Griff stopped, looking at him more closely. “Wait. You don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Ah.” Griff ran a hand through his hair. “Guess you were so busy worrying about your family, you didn’t think to ask her about hers. Well. John is—”

  What John was, abruptly, was on the beach. The sea dragon erupted from the sea in a vast spray of water, soaking them both to the skin. Blinking salt water out of his eyes, Reiner barely had time to register that John had shifted back to human form before a gauntleted hand clamped tight around his throat.

  The knight lifted him clean off his feet, so that they were eye-to-eye. John’s usually impassive face was twisted with fury, and something very close to panic.

  “What,” John Doe snarled, his metal-clad fingers cutting off Reiner’s air, “have you done with my sister?”

  Chapter 7

  Jane didn’t dare to ask any more people for directions, in case of causing mortal offence. She could only wander in widening circles, senses alert, searching.

  It was much harder to track through air than water, but eventually she was rewarded by a breath of fresh, clean sweetness underneath the acrid tang of the city; an alluring, wild perfume that whispered of open spaces and green things growing. The faint scent beckoned to her, drawing her on.

  By the time she finally limped through the gates of the park, the sun was sinking below the horizon, and her hunger had deepened into a cavernous abyss. Still, she took a moment to stop and draw in a deep breath, looking around in awe.

  It was all so green. A short, dense plant carpeted the earth; something like miniature seaweed, barely as long as her finger. Scattered puffs of bright, cheerful yellow bloomed amidst the verdant blades. She thought they were anemones, but when she bent to touch one, the soft tendrils didn’t flinch back.

  “A flower!” Jane breathed.

  Awestruck, she fingered the tiny, velvety petals. She’d never thought that she would see even one flower, yet here were hundreds, in glorious profusion. Not just the golden puffs; there were other, smaller ones too, white with round yellow centers.

  She’d heard that human gardeners somehow bred plants to shape them into more pleasing forms, but she hadn’t realized just how beautiful the result would be. She wondered what these particular types were called. They must surely be highly prized, pinnacles of the gardeners’ art, yet here they were for anyone to enjoy. Humans truly were a generous, open-hearted species.

  A large circular pond edged with stone blocks lay ahead. Jane picked her way toward it, taking care not to crush any of the priceless flowers underfoot. This was somewhat difficult, given how thickly they were scattered. She held her breath, only releasing it with a relieved sigh once she reached the water’s edge.

  Her throat was parched. Kneeling, she scooped up a handful of cool water. It was greenish and muddy, not suitable for drinking, but any sea dragon past their first molt could deal with that.

  She was no poet like her brother, to command water and wave with her voice, but even a mere dancer could manage a simple cantrip. Jane murmured a brief nursery-rhyme, one that every sea dragon child was taught. The water cupped in her palms shimmered for an instant, as though catching the light of a full moon.

  She drank down the now crystal-clear water gratefully, if inelegantly, droplets spilling from her fingers to splash back into the pond. Her cantrip had made the water as pure as though newly fallen from a cloud, yet she still fancied it tasted different from any she’d ever drunk back in Atlantis.

  A flicker of motion caught her attention. A plump golden fish darted into her shadow, hovering right in front of her. Remarkably, it showed no sign of fear at the presence of a predator. Its wide, round mouth gaped at her, as though it was trying to deliver an urgent message.

  Jane blinked. She dabbled a finger in the water, but still the fish did not flee. Indeed, more fish swirled out of the dark depths of the pond, joining the first. They jostled with each other, sucking eagerly at the ripples on the surface.

  Jane patted the water again, and the fish rushed to search this new spot. In their tiny minds, people meant food.

  Some sea dragons put out food to attract fish to their hunting grounds, though it was regarded as a rather lazy practice. There was no honor to be won in catching fish who were fat and unwary, too accustomed to your presence to truly fear you. Hunting tame shoals was really only fit for children…

  Understanding finally dawned.

  “Ice cream!” Jane whispered in triumph.

  There could be no doubt. The little girl had told her that ice cream was to be found in the park; here was the park, and here was the pond. And Jane’s brother had mentioned that ice cream was a favored food for human children. Ridiculously tame, easy-to-catch fish certainly matched that description.

  The water had satisfied her thirst, but only sharpened the edge of her hunger. Jane leaned forward eagerly, trying to decide on a target. Her brother had explained that ice cream came in many flavors. Indeed, the fish—while all the same shape—were a mix of different colors; gold, white, red, mottled. She had never seen such variety within a single species. They all looked delicious.

  Jane picked out a particularly plump, golden, appetizing specimen. She was not accustomed to hunting in this form, but even in human shape, she still had a shifter’s reflexes. With a single swift motion, she plunged her arm into the pond. A deft twist of her wrist, and she had the fish firmly grasped behind the gills.

  Her mouth watered in anticipation. She lifted the wriggling ice cream to her parted lips, preparing to end its fear with a quick, merciful bite—

  “Hey!”

  The unexpected shout made her lose her grip on the thrashing creature. It slipped from her fingers, disappearing back into the pond in a flash of gold.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” the angry voice continued. “Leave the fish alone!”

  Jane turned to discover a small human woman glaring at her, gray brows knotted in fury. She wore no armor that Jane could discern, but as she was armed with a waist-length staff, the tip resting on the ground.

  Jane swallowed hard, bending her head in a posture of extreme respect. “My apologies, honored knight. If you wish to eat first, I will of course wait my turn.”

  This did not seem to mollify the warrior. She lifted her weapon, holding it two-handed in a defensive stance. “Are you on drugs?”

  “I don’t know,” Jane said. “Should I be?”

  “Given that it looked like you were about to eat a raw goldfish, yes.” The elderly knight jabbed her staff at Jane to punctuate her words. “This neighborhood has enough problems without crazy vagrants moving into the park. I’m not having it. You have ten seconds to beat it, or I’m calling the police.”

  Jane could only assume that police was the name of the knight’s Order. She hastily scrambled to her feet, backing away. “There is no need to summon your comrades. I have no desire to duel. I submit, and will depart forthwith.”

  “None of you kids talk plain English anymore,” the knight muttered. She lowered her weapon, leaning on the staff for support. “I blame the internet. Go on, get out of here.”

  She was hardly going to argue with an armed, angry knight, especially not one clearly rich in years and experience. With a final respectful bow, Jane fled.

  She stumbled back onto the streets, heart still thumping from the close encounter. She picked a direction at random, her sandals slapping on the hard ground as she ran.

  It wasn’t truly fear of the knight’s wrath that she sought to escape. It was the humiliation. That harsh, ugly note of scorn in the human woman’s voice had hurt deeper than any strike from her weapon.

  Because it was familiar.

  Jane stopped, leaning against a wall, shoulders shaking with stifled sobs. It turned out that the human world was no different from Atlantis after all. Everything that she did was still wrong.

  Perhaps she should just
go home.

  “Hey. Are you all right?”

  Jane jumped at the unexpected voice. Whirling round, she discovered a woman approaching, concern clear in her eyes. She was the first human Jane had seen who was dressed sensibly, in a gleaming fish-scale dress cut high enough to allow complete freedom of movement. A glittering tiara nestled in the woman’s curly hair.

  A human princess! Jane gulped, trying with all her might to pull herself together. She didn’t want to cause a diplomatic incident.

  “My—my apologies for disturbing you.” She stuttered, desperately trying to recall if her brother had ever mentioned the correct honorifics to use when addressing dry-lander royalty. “I assure you, I am quite well.”

  The princess gave her a dubious look. She wore some kind of honor-sash draped around her torso. Glittering pink letters across the silk announced, mysteriously: Forty and fabulous!

  A small group of women hung back behind the princess, murmuring to each other. They were all dressed in a similar fashion to their leader, in bright thigh-length tunics that left their limbs unencumbered and ready for action. They carried no swords, but the vicious spikes on the heels of their shoes were formidable weapons. The princess’s honor-guard, she presumed.

  “Honey, you’re sobbing in a back alley. Things are clearly not okay,” the princess said firmly. “Did something happen? Do you want me to call someone for you?”

  The only person Jane could call upon was her brother. He would come to her rescue… and it would forever cement his view of her as some helpless, timid creature unable to fend for herself.

  “Thank you. But no.” Jane dashed the back of her hand across her eyes and attempted to smile. “I do not require assistance.”

  The princess laid a gentle hand on Jane’s shoulder. She had such kind eyes. “What’s your name?”

  “Jane.”

  “Hi, Jane. I’m Tallulah. Listen, us women have to stick together, right? At least let me get you a taxi and wait with you while it comes. You don’t have to tell me what’s happened, if you don’t want to. But if you do, I’ll listen, and help if I can. No pressure. No judgement.”

  “I…” Without really meaning to, Jane found words spilling out of her. “I met someone. A man. And I thought everything was going to be wonderful and perfect, like I’d always dreamed, but then I discovered he has a family. A, a child, and a partner…”

  She folded over, unable to speak past the emptiness in her chest. As one, the princess’s honor guard squawked and rushed forward. Jane found herself enveloped in patting hands and reassuring words.

  “Oh, sweetie—”

  “That asshole doesn’t deserve you—”

  “It’ll be okay—”

  “All right, give her some air,” Tallulah said, shooing her anxious guardians back. She clasped Jane’s shoulder. “We’ve all been there, babe. I know it hurts now, but you’ll get over him.”

  She wouldn’t. Jane knew that, to the center of her cold, hollow heart. The wonders of the human world had distracted her from that aching void for a time, but this was just a stolen interval. It was not real life.

  Even if she’d petitioned her superiors to allow her to remain on land, such a request would never be granted. Her encounter with the angry knight had made that clear. She was too foolish, too impetuous, to be trusted to live undetected among humans. At best, she would be an embarrassment; at worst, an utter disaster. At least in Atlantis, she could be kept safely out of sight.

  She had her place, her assigned role… and it was not here.

  There was no point in delaying the inevitable. With an effort, she lifted her chin, gathering up the shreds of her dignity. It would be a long, bleak walk back to the beach, but she had already been enough of an inconvenience to the noble princess.

  “You are very kind.” She bowed to Tallulah. “But I cannot let my trivial matters interrupt your planned evening. Please, do not worry yourself on my account. It is past time I made my way home.”

  Despite her best effort, her voice cracked on the last word. Tallulah gave her a long, considering look, then nodded, as though she’d come to some decision.

  “I have a better idea.” The princess looped her arm through Jane’s, with the firmness of a warrior restraining a miscreant. “Come on. I know what you need.”

  Chapter 8

  “This is all your fault,” John growled. He clanked at Reiner’s heels, armor rattling with every stride. It was rather like being followed by an angry cutlery rack. “On my honor, if any harm has come to my sister—”

  “I’m telling you, she’s fine,” Reiner snapped, not for the first time. He could feel it, as surely as the beat of his own heart. “I’m her mate. If she was in trouble, I’d know.”

  “You cannot be certain of that, since you are not yet fully mated. And you do not know my sister. She is an innocent and delicate—”

  “Fully grown sea dragon,” Reiner finished for him. “For pity’s sake, what could possibly threaten her? A mugger in an assault tank?”

  John rumbled like a particularly cranky thunderstorm. “I do not speak of physical dangers. She is naïve. She knows nothing of the land. Or humans. She is a helpless minnow swimming unaware into shark-filled seas.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Reiner swung round to glare up at him. “Mine, or the person who should have taught her about life outside Atlantis? Told her what to expect, explained to her about money and human customs and all the other things she needs to know in order to be able to stand on her own two feet. Or were you just thinking that she’d live her whole life under your roof, totally dependent on your charity?”

  John matched his glare. Reiner was certain that if he’d been wearing his sword, it would have been in his hand by now. “I planned to look after her until she found her mate. I assumed he would be a man of honor, able to provide equal shelter and care.”

  “I see. So you were going to treat her like a child until you could hand her over to another man, in the expectation that at that point he would take total responsibility for her?”

  “I…” Reiner had the rare delight of seeing John look taken aback. “Yes?”

  “How positively medieval.” Reiner cast a pointed look at John’s armored forearms. “Then again, given the outfit, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen!” Chase inserted himself between them, pushing them apart. “Let’s not fight. Remember, you are practically brothers!”

  John looked physically pained.

  In Reiner’s experience, brothers fought tooth and nail until someone was belly up and bleeding. But he took a deep breath, forcing his lion to settle. Chase was right. He doubted that he and John would ever exchange friendship bracelets, but they were going to have to learn to get along with at least a bare minimum of politeness.

  He hoped.

  “I’m sorry, John,” he gritted out. “That wasn’t fair of me. This situation is mostly my fault. I’m worried about Jane too, but I shouldn’t take that out on you.”

  John’s jaw clenched, but he managed a stiff and exceedingly grudging nod. “For my sister’s sake alone, I accept your apology.”

  “There! Was that so hard?” Chase clapped them both on the shoulder, beaming. “Come on, bring it in. Let’s hug it out.”

  They turned identical glares on him. The pegasus shifter quickly held up his hands.

  “Or not,” he added. “It was just a suggestion. You know, seeing as how you two are going to be family.”

  John made a noise like gravel going through a coffee grinder. “We are not family. If I have any say in the matter, we never will be.”

  Chase raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t your mate—who is also, I am sure I do not need to remind you, your Empress—order you to keep your sword out of your sister’s business?”

  “I am honor-bound not to interfere directly.” From his tone, John had never been more tempted to break his knightly vows. “But that does not mean I cannot give my sister my full opinion on
her so-called mate.”

  Ignore him, Reiner told his bristling lion. Let him say what he likes to Jane. In the end, it’s her decision.

  “Ah, don’t be like that, John,” Chase said. “Haven’t you learned by now that even you can’t stand in the way of true love? And besides, think of the children! Your future nephews and nieces!”

  From John’s expression, Reiner had the distinct impression that he was filing that prospect under the column titled ‘Reasons Why I Should Behead This Honourless Pond Scum Immediately.’

  Turning his back on the fuming sea dragon, Reiner narrowed his eyes at Chase. “Not that I don’t appreciate the show of support, but why are you so invested in my love life?”

  “You wound me. Everyone knows I am a champion of romance, a veritable equine Cupid. I want all to enjoy the same mated bliss that has blessed my own life.” Chase clasped his hands to his chest, gazing starry-eyed into the twilight. “And just think how precious your cubs will be. Their big liquid eyes! That soft fluffy fur! Those adorable teeny, tiny flippers!”

  Reiner stared at the pegasus shifter. “Lions don’t have flippers.”

  “Sea lions do,” Chase informed him.

  Can we eat him? Reiner’s lion asked.

  Unfortunately not. Infuriating as Chase may be, he was helping. Reiner could tell that Jane was all right, but without a fully formed mate bond, he had only the vaguest sense of her direction. As a pegasus, Chase had the ability to locate people.

  “Are we getting close yet, Chase?” he asked.

  “Just a little further, O feline Romeo.” Chase turned with a grandiose, sweeping gesture. It would have been more impressive if he’d been wearing an opera cape rather than swimming trunks and a t-shirt that announced Firefighters Get You Wet. “Your scaly sea-faring Juliet awaits!”

  “If I recall the play correctly,” John rumbled, “Romeo perished.”

  “So did Juliet,” Reiner pointed out. “So don’t sound too wistful.”

  Chase led the way down a side street. Although it was still early, the Saturday city night-life was already in full swing. Laughing, chattering groups packed the narrow old lanes of the city, heading for restaurants or theatres. Music pounded from the open doors of clubs and bars.