by Julia Mills
“Had it not been for these blasted visions and haunting dreams,” his low grumble filled the silent forest. “I would still be tucked away on my mountain.”
His anger was all a smokescreen, an act he used to fool not only his brethren but also himself. Fury longed for the comradery of his kin. His soul, the part of him intertwined with the spirit of Amarock – one of the original Dragon Kings - yearned to commune with his ancestors and give thanks in the Cave of the Ancients. Dragons were designed by the Universe to be Her ultimate warriors, drawing power from one another in order to fight the evil threatening Her greatest creation, the Earth and its inhabitants. They were not meant to live alone. Had it not been for the visions of the futures of everyone and everything he encountered feeding on his emotions, threatening everything he held dear, he wouldn’t have been forced to abandon his Clan and retreat to a life of solitude.
Estranged from the world, living the life of a hermit had been the necessary evil. There hadn’t been a moment while he lived among his kin, not even when he was asleep, that his brethren’s ever-evolving futures hadn’t been flashing through his mind. It was like watching a movie made with time lapse photography, each vision changing with every decision, thought and action his brethren made. Dazed and confused was how Fury spent every moment of every day, no matter how strong his mental shields were.
Focusing on the path appearing before him as the magic that kept the Lair of the Blue Dragons hidden from the world evaporated in his presence, Fury stopped, his chin falling heavily to his chest. Letting out the breath he’d been holding since his first glance of the large, iron gates of his home, the Guardsman pushed pure, powerful, white dragon magic into his mental shields.
“Thank ye for the strength, old friend,” he spoke directly to his dragon. Fury knew many of the younger Guardsman had abandoned the practice of talking to their beasts, but not the one they all called ‘the Seer’. He believed in the unfettered communion of man and dragon.
Stepping onto the path, slowly approaching the gate, pleased that the blocks in his mind was holding steady, Fury wasn’t surprised to hear the voice of one of his oldest brethren, Kayne, as he called out, “What brings you into the land of the living, old man?”
One of the elite Enforcers, a golden dragon, the son of Lugh, the Celtic God of the Sun, and recently returned from a century in Hell trapped in the body of a hellhound, Kayne was one of two of Fury’s brethren he had spoken to while safe and secure on his mountain. It had been a blessing from the Universe the day the demi-god’s voice had broken though the older Guardsman’s meditation, announcing he was one again topside.
“I need to speak to ye and Maddox. Where can we meet?”
“Well, hello to you, too,” Kayne chuckled.
It always amazed Fury how quickly the demi-god picked up the slang of the day, no matter when or where they were. Never one for social graces, and even less after all his years as a hermit, the Seer simply waited for his friend to respond as he strode into the rear entrance of the Lair, turned to the right and blended into the well-maintained foliage along the perimeter of the dragons’ land.
“Okay, I can see nothing’s changed with you, ya’ old sod. You’re still the epitome of decorum and friendliness,” Kayne laughed. His positive attitude and ability to see the good in everyone and everything was one of the many reasons Fury considered him a true brother, someone with whom he liked to be around despite the visions. He’d always considered the pros to outweigh the cons where the demi-god was concerned. “We can meet at the mad dragon’s house. His mate and her sister are at the Clinic, taking care of Grey’s brother, Garrett, so there’ll be the privacy I’m sure you need.”
The corner of Fury’s mouth curved at the mention of Maddox’s nickname. There had been a time, not so long ago, when the old, blue dragon also inhabited a mountain of his own. Burrowing deep into a cave, scouring through every volume of their kin’s long, illustrious history, and speaking in riddles, the mad dragon was renowned from growling at any who dared to approach him. But, as the enemies of the Dragon Guard became more active, Maddox returned to civilization to assist in the fight and was rewarded with a mate.
“I’ve spoken to Calysta,” Fury mentioned. “Her power is considerable, and she seems the perfect match for our Maddox.” He moved closer into the shadows before asking, “How is Garrett? I understand he has still not awakened. Any changes?”
“Not a damn thing. If it weren’t for Grey’s mate, I think the young’un would be laying right beside his brother. That Star is one strong wolf. I thank the Heavens Grey has her.”
“I am sure ye are right,” Fury agreed, pushing the vision of the fiery redhead with a smart mind and curvy figure he longed to explore to the back of his mind. It wouldn’t do for his all-too-perceptive brethren to pick up on the Seer’s thoughts and learn of his mate. Just the thought of the woman who was the other half, the light, of his soul, cleared his mind and lightened his heart.
“Since you’re so close to Maddox’s, I’ll meet you there,” the demi-god’s comment broke the spell, cutting through the thoughts of the one Fury knew the Universe had made for him, but, he wasn’t angry, for she was always there, a beacon amidst the darkness.
Walking up to Maddox’s house from the rear, the heel of Fury’s left boot had just touched the varnished white ash planks of the porch when Kayne appeared at his side. Dropping his foot back to the ground, Fury prepared himself for the vision he knew would come as he took the demi-god’s outstretched hand, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug.
“Damn, it’s good to see you, Brother.” Leaning back, his face bright with a smile of true brotherly love, Kayne laughingly added, “You’re a sight for sore eyes, even if there are a few more gray hairs in that goatee and at your temples than the last time I saw you.”
Trying some out-of-character humor, Fury smiled, “Not all of us can have locks of gold woven by the gods.”
Howling with laughter, Kayne slapped the Seer on the back. “A joke! You’ve just made my whole damn week, Fury.”
Stepping onto the porch in unison with the demi-god, Fury’s gaze darted to the right a half a second before the large wooden door swung open and his tall, burly brethren burst onto the scene. With permanently mussed hair and an air of danger about him, Maddox bellowed, “Son of a bitch! I think I might have to sit down. Fury’s come down from the mountain.” Stepping forward, the mad dragon pulled the Seer into a hug, slapped his back and chuckled, “It’s damn good to see you, Brother.”
Stepping back, feeling oddly calm, the images of each man’s future staying at bay, Fury nodded, smiling as best he could. “It is good to see ye, too.” Taking a longer, deeper look at his brethren, he continued with a raise of his eyebrows, “Ye look happy. I’d heard it in yer voice when we spoke, but now I can see it.” Then trying another joke, he added, “Maybe we should call ye the happy dragon instead of the mad one.”
For a full beat of his heart, there was absolute silence. Fury was sure he’d made a mistake, insulted instead of teased those he loved like family, but was immediately reassured as both his brethren burst out laughing, commenting on his newfound ability to crack a joke.
“What makes it even funnier is that you keep a completely straight face,” Kayne commented with a gasp while still laughing so hard his eyes watered.
Maddox slapped his hand on his thigh, his cheeks red with amusement. “I think that’s only the second time in all the years I’ve known you that you’ve actually cracked a joke, and let’s not forget that the first time you made us all laugh. I’ll never forget the look on your face and the way you kept askin’ ‘What have I done? What have I done?’. I laughed til I cried.”
Chuckling along with his friends, trying to polish his rusty social graces before meeting his mate, Fury waited until the frivolity died down and as his brethren were taking a seat in the wooden, high-backed rocking chairs on Maddox’s front porch before in a rather matter-of-fact tone he stated, “I’m taking
a trip to the States and need someone to keep an eye on the house.”
“House?” The demi-god teased. “You mean your castle?”
At the same time that Maddox blurted, “You stay hidden for decades, and your first trip back into civilization leads you to the States?”
“No, I mean the house,” Fury corrected Kayne, just as he always corrected the few who’d dared to visit him when they commented on the size of his home. Yes, it was big. Yes, it was spacious. Building it had helped Fury with his control and concentration. It taught him the power of working with his hands and kept him sane after the visions of the future that had driven him into seclusion. So, what if having a six-bedroom, six-bath, house with a great room, formal dining room, game room, office and a huge kitchen containing all the latest in culinary technology, along with a pool, hot tub, workout room and sauna was considered a mansion in what he called ‘the world below’. To the Seer, it was his house, and they would damn sure call it that when they were talking to him.
Turning to Maddox and explaining as much as he ever explained anything to anyone, Fury simply said, “I have something I need to do.”
Jumping to his feet, the demi-god happily offered, “Then I’ll go with you.” Motioning with a nod of his head to the right, he went on, “Doxie has to stay with the little woman. But since I’m still a free agent,” he beat on his chest like an ape. “I’m more than willing to hang out with you.”
“No,” Fury flatly replied, then feeling the air sizzle with disappointment and confusion, quickly added, “This is something I have to do on me own,” in the calmest tone possible while using some of his dragon’s magic to blanket his brethren with a calming cool breeze.
“Cut the magical mind games,” Maddox growled, getting to his feet and taking a hasty step forward.
Fury could feel both his brethren using their unique mental connections to try and discover his plans. Expending even more of his dragon’s magic, Fury reinforced his shields and while trying to control his temper, reiterated through gritted teeth, “Please do not try to read my mind. Not only do I not want ye to, but please remember there are things in the depths of my consciousness that neither of ye want to experience.”
The mad dragon’s brows furrowed as he shook his head and pulled back on his mental intrusion. “I knew there was something different about you, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”
“Yeah,” Kayne agreed, also retreating as he added, “I thought it was just the jokes, but it goes deeper.” He stepped closer. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’re less stressed, almost calm…at least for you.”
Never one to mince words or mislead anyone, especially his brethren, Fury divulged, “I have located my mate. She is on her way to Serenity, Illinois and is being hunted by a bloody demon.” He looked Maddox in the eye and when he was sure the mad dragon understood, did the same with Kayne, before adding, “I am goin’ to save her, and I am goin’ alone. I will call if I have need of yer help.”
Chapter Three
Running her fingers over her pendant, the only thing she had from her birth mother, Pippa looked down as her cellphone vibrated on the seat beside her. Once again it was Shep's name on the caller id, and once again she pressed the red decline button, sending his ornery butt straight to voicemail.
I said no calls. I know he heard me. I also know he’s as stubborn as a mule. That damn man is gonna be the death of me…
Driving down the road, trying to decide which roadside diner to stop at for breakfast on her second day on the road, Pippa was glad to finally be out of Texas and halfway through Oklahoma. Pulling Betty Sue's Home Cooking and Pies, she looked at her phone and shook her head, “Another blasted voicemail.”
Grabbing the device off the seat, she shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans and sighed, "I guess I better listen to them sometime soon. Lord knows that crazy ass will track me down if I don't call back."
The heavenly scent of homemade apple pie, hot coffee and pancakes made her mouth water and her stomach grumble as Pippa took a seat in the last booth on the left, making sure her back was to the wall. Snickering to herself as one of Shep's many rules whispered through her consciousness, she grabbed the menu and murmured along as she recalled her mentor’s words, "Always sit where you can see the whole place. Never let 'em get the jump on ya'. Sometimes that two-second head start is all you need to come out on top."
"What was that you said, darlin'?" The waitress with a true Oklahoma accent, whose name tag identified her as Bobbie Jo, with bleached-blond hair teased so high Pippa just knew the lady was trying to get as close to Heaven as a person could with a can of Final Net and a rat-tail comb, asked.
"Nothing at all, ma'am. Just thinkin’ about something a friend of mine always says. He thinks he knows everything,” Pippa snickered.
"You got one of them, friends, too? That ‘Jack of all trade, master of none’ kinda person?" Bobbie Jean asked, not waiting for an answer before slapping the table, her long, bright pink, acrylic nails clicking on the Formica top. Laughing out loud, she went on, "I do, too. Miss Emma Jean from the beauty parlor."
Bobbie Jo patted her beehive updo and with a wink said, "I see her every Wednesday just like clockwork cause on an account of, I like my hair to look as natural as possible."
Nodding along with the waitress, not wanting to offend, but thinking Bobbie Jo's coif was anything but natural, Pippa nodded, "Looks real nice, ma'am."
Beaming with pride, the waitress patted Pippa's shoulder. "Why bless your heart. I'm gonna add a slice of fresh baked pie to your order just for that compliment, you sweet girl."
Feeling like she dodged a bullet not having to listen to any of Emma Jean's sayings, and glad Bobbie Jo removed her hand from her shoulder before the visions started, Pippa nodded, "Thank you so much, ma'am, but you don’t have to do that."
"Well, of course, I do. Most young people these days just don’t have any manners at all. It’s like they were raised by wolves, I tell ya’. But not you, your momma and poppa did a fine job.”
A knot suddenly appeared in Pippa’s stomach, the same knot that always popped up whenever anyone mentioned her parents. Her heart felt like it was in the grip of a seizure and her mind spun while her vision blurred. There was something there, a memory, a feeling…something buried deep in her subconscious that needed to be remembered but for some inexplicable reason simply danced on the edge of her mind, refusing to materialize.
Talk about fucked up! I can see strangers’ pasts, feel their emotions, walk where they walked, but not my own. I swear I’m the Universe’s best joke and I’m not afraid to say it sucks!
Bobbie Jo’s question pulled Pippa away from her internal pity party as the waitress asked, “Now what can I get you for breakfast? Anything you want, even if it's not on the menu, Old Bud back there can whip it right for ya'. No trouble at all."
At the mention of his name, images of what 'Old Bud' had been doing when Bobbie Jo wasn't looking flowed through Pippa's mind. She could see the ex-con, arms covered with a plethora of prison tats, carrying black duffle bags filled with bricks of cocaine and gallon-size Ziploc bags with marijuana into the back door of the diner, then hiding them behind the fruit and vegetables in the walk-in cooler.
What made Pippa see red and think about taking her cattle prod to the son of a bitch’s family jewels were the hundreds of white Styrofoam takeout trays filled with plastic baggies of pills, cocaine and weed that Bobbie Jo had unknowingly handed to her customers. Of course, Old Bud, the sleaze-bucket, had been sure to make the sweet woman an accomplice to his dirty business.
Men like him should be castrated and set loose to roam the desert in the nude…
The scene instantly changed as Bobbie Jo’s hand touched Pippa’s shoulder. The PI found herself transported to an older, but well-maintained double-wide trailer as the last rays of the sun shone through the light blue, lacy curtains covering the windows. She looked around a quaint living room, decorated like something straigh
t out of an eighties sitcom, complete with family pictures from several generations lining the hall walls, and decorative towels hanging in the bathroom.
Her trip through Bobbie Jo’s memories suddenly zeroed in on the muffled sobs coming from the room at the far end of the mobile home. Whisking through the air like some kind of ghost, Pippa suddenly saw the world through Bobbie Jo’s eyes, her images of the waitress’ past amplified by the skin to skin contact in the ‘real world’.
“Life isn’t fair,” she sobbed. “And I’m an idiot…a stupid, idiot for ever believing a single word out of his dirty, rotten, lying mouth.” She sat up straight, angrily swiping the tears from her eyes. “Crying over some damned man like a lovesick pup after what he’s done to me is just plain stupid. He led me down the primrose path, made me promises he never intended to keep, but no more.” Throwing her legs over the side of the bed and immediately jumping to her feet, she added, “I’m too good for the likes of that broke-ass loser. If he wants to shame himself by sleeping with everything in a skirt, then so be it, but he’s not taking me down with him.”
Grabbing her robe and shoving her arms into the silk sleeves, she looked in the full-length mirror on the back of the door, wiping the streaked mascara from under her eyes with a tissue. Leaning closer to be sure she’d gotten all the smudges, Bobbie Jo sing-songed, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” then turned her head to the other side to get more of the black makeup that had dripped towards her ear. It was then Pippa saw the deep purple and blue bruise blooming along her left cheek bone with the imprint of a skull and crossbones that had broken the skin, leaving almost a perfect outline of the design.
Righteous anger raged through the PI. Her need to find the asshole who’d not only made Bobbie Jo cry but more importantly had made her bleed, was a living, breathing entity within Pippa. The son of a bitch needed to be knocked down a notch or two and the five-foot-eight-inch, redhead, was just the woman to do it. Bullies were the bane of her existence. Something she’d dealt with all her life and something she’d vowed to stop whenever she had the chance. Pippa lived by one simple rule where the assholes who thought they could badger, intimidate and hurt others on a whim were concerned – The bigger they are, the harder they fall.