by Julia Mills
The waitress’ words uttered within the recollection pulled the PI back into her mind, “Bobbie Jo Torres, you will no longer be a door mat,” Pointing at her own reflection, the waitress continued, “You will put yourself first. You are a bright, beautiful woman who does not need a man to complete her. Single is better than this shit.”
Throwing her arms wide, she scolded, “Now, pullup those damn big girl panties and show the jerks of the world who’s boss.”
With her shoulders back and her head held high Bobbie Jo headed off into the shower, the hot water pelting her skin as the aroma of cucumbers and melons, the waitress’ shampoo, filled her senses. Humming a tune Pippa didn’t recognize, the hairs on the back of her own neck stood on end as she went into sensory overload.
Hurtled out of Bobbie Jo’s memories, the PI could hear the waitress’ friendly chattering as the acrid odor of ashes and rotten eggs swamped her senses. Breathing through her mouth, trying to hide her panic, Pippa could feel the bile rising in her throat as once again the obscenely handsome man, the one who had distracted her from saving Jason and whose high-jacking of her mind was becoming a frequently irritating occurrence, appeared, front and center in her consciousness. His long, dark hair hung in subtle waves, touching the top of his wide, muscular shoulders that stretched the black cotton T-shirt with the image of a wolf lying on his back, tongue hanging out of his mouth and the caption of ‘Howl You Doin’? to its very limits.
She was mesmerized by his brilliantly evil blue eyes that flashed yellow as he whispered, “Come Promised. Come to me,” directly into her mind.
Working hard to build the mental walls Madame Sashka, a gypsy and the only true psychic the PI had ever met, had taught her to construct, Pippa struggled to remain upright in the booth as the man’s mental assault felt as if jagged shards of glass were being driven directly into her brain like a jackhammer attacks concrete. Sweat dotted her upper lip and trickled down her spine from the pure power it took to ward off the menace who’d been haunting her every vision since daybreak on her twenty-fifth birthday.
Doesn’t this guy ever quit? A few more weeks of this and I’ll be a drooling, rocking mess in a straightjacket...
Pippa’s pendant, the inch and a half long angel, her head bent in prayer, while the perfectly round, deep purple amethyst, almost too large for her delicately sculpted hands, shook and warmed against the PI’s skin. The regal dragon at the angel’s back, with dark eyes that changed to the hue of a roaring fire when Pippa was angry or distressed, pressed into her chest, sending the sensation of his wings opening wide and his majestic head rising in preparation for battle.
Unsure if what she was feeling was a good sign or a bad omen, Pippa had no time to debate the subject as Muscle Man, her name for the effed-up jerk who refused to leave her alone, beat his metaphysical fists against her mental blocks, insisting, “Come now, Promised.” His yellow eyes burning into hers.
“The name’s Pippa, dick. Now, get the fuck outta my head!” Holding her ground, she pushed back, her body shaking against the hard, red plastic of the diner’s booth.
“You don’t look so good, darlin’,” Bobbie Jo commented, rubbing Pippa’s arm, the waitress’ voice an echo in the back of the PI’s mind. “I’m gonna go get you a big glass of ice water. Stay right there, ya’ hear?”
Where the hell am I going? This freakin’ buttface seems to think he can play with me like a remote-control Barbie.
Unable to answer aloud as she continued her mental tug-of-war with Muscle Man, Pippa’s hand, moving of its own volition, closed atop her pendant, pinning it to her chest to keep it from flying off her neck. The elegant gold chain heated around her skin, growing hotter the longer she worked to expel the bastard from her mind.
The connection was instantaneous. Roaring to life the second her fingers wrapped around the angel, creating a barrier between the Pippa and the Muscle Man. Confidence, strength and a feeling of unconditional acceptance, unlike anything she’d ever known flowed freely through her.
“Tá tú sábháilte, mo stór.” A deep rumbling voice, speaking in a language she’d never heard before, but instantly understood, warmed her from the inside out. Its rolling R’s and lilting cadence immediately calming the erratic beat of her heart, making her feel cherished, protected…loved.
“Ní bheidh feidhm ag an Demon díobháil duit,mo maité,”the voice added as a brilliant dark purple dragon, the exact color of the stone on her necklace, appeared out of nowhere and dove towards Muscle Man, breathing fire at the man he’d just called ‘Demon’.
Evaporating with the snap of his fingers, the demon was gone, leaving a dark, oily stain on her soul. Circling just above the inky blot of pure, concentrated evil, the dragon once again opened its powerful jaws, eliminating the blemish with an impressive bolt of flames.
A flash of light, combined with the feeling of being in a vacuum, extinguished the wall of fire and removed all remnants of the demon, immersing Pippa in a sea of cool, calming, serene emotional waters. The dragon landed before her mind’s eye, changing into a man the second his massive paws touched down.
Hypnotic dark brown eyes burned into her soul as the feeling of finally being home overwhelmed her in the most fantastic way. Branding Pippa as his and his alone, the dragon advanced, eating up the distance between them with his long, muscular legs that pushed against the worn denim of his jeans in a show of contained power that made the PI shiver with excitement.
The soothing sea song of the waves whispered in her ear as a cool mist touched her still-heated cheeks. It was like taking a trip to the coasts of Ireland without ever leaving her seat. His strong, muscular arms wrapped around her, pulled her close to his chest, protecting her with every beat of his heart, assuring her everything would be all right.
“Sleep, mo ghrá. This was but a brief battle in a long and arduous war we have been chosen to fight.”
His lips upon her forehead ignited a fire within her body. Pippa craved this dragon, this man, her warrior, as she had never desired another. The name ‘Fury’ appeared in her subconscious as if written by the angels. She knew at once it was him, her dragon, the name he’d monogramed upon her heart and soul.
Every fiber of her being cried out for him as her eyes grew heavy and he softly added, “I will find you, mo cinniúint. Stay strong. I am but a thought away.”
Feeling the mental suggestion of sleep being pushed into her mind with her dragon’s unyielding and all-encompassing guarantee that he would never do anything to harm her, and would protect her with his very life, Pippa gave in and closed her eyes, murmuring, “Until we meet again, Fury.”
Chapter Four
Standing dead center of the sprawling meadow adjacent Maddox’s house, Fury watched as the clear blue of a cloudless sky faded into a kaleidoscope of purples, reds and yellows weaving its way to sundown. Impatient for the darkness to come, Fury could feel his dragon chomping at the bit, needing to burst free and carry them both to the one the Universe had made for them…to Pippa.
Footsteps in the crisp fallen leaves alerted Fury to the arrival of his friends almost before his keen senses kicked into high gear. It was a relief to have a respite from his insights into the future of every living thing around him. Now, if only the ones concerning his One True Mate would show something besides a bloody battle with a demon he’d never met. He knew his heightened control was coming from his connection to Pippa. The light within her was strong, her goodness a balm to his aching soul and her magic, although untrained, the perfect complement to his. He was the proverbial moth drawn to the flame, but with no chance of getting burnt.
Looking over his shoulder, he asked, “Have either of ye ever encountered a demon named Khain?”
Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Kayne grinned, “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never Demon.”
“I remember a time or two…” Maddox grumbled, with an uncharacteristic grin on his face.
“Shut up, Doxie. That was in my younger years.
I’ve calmed down, doncha knoo?” His last words spoken with a touch of his true Gaelic accent.
Holding onto his fraying temper by one thin thread, not wanting to take his frustration out on the brethren he hadn’t seen in decades, Fury turned, plastered on a grin the best he could and with a rusty, too-long-unused snickered explained, “K-h-a-i-n.” He even added a wink, the sensation unfamiliar but not completely uncomfortable.
Life is so much easier on my mountain….
“Whew,” the demi-god snickered. “Thank the Heavens, I was afraid my hellhound persona had been taking a walk on the wild side.”
“Wait a minute.” Silence followed Maddox’s words as if he’d flipped a switch. “I hadn’t thought about it in years. Was pretty sure it was an old dragon’s tale, but hearing that name, I remember a passage from the old texts recalling a battle between a demon named Khain and the Goddess Rhen. Let me see if I can recall …” The mad dragon’s words trailed off as he began to pace.
His bushy eyebrows furrowed, making him look as if a caterpillar had taken up residence on his forehead as he scratched at his goatee and mumbled to himself for several excruciating seconds. Stopping just two paces from Fury, Maddox explained, “As I remember it, this Rhen is known as the creator of all shiften, an enormous population of our two-natured cousins of all species.” Nodding his head with a knowing gleam in his eye, he added, “And if I’m not mistaken there’s even dragen among their numbers.”
“Dragen?” Kayne questioned, “What the hell?”
Giving the demi-god an impatient glare, Maddox began pacing again as he continued, “It seems this Khain character wanted to rule the world.” Pausing, he looked towards the ever-darkening sky and shrugged, “But then again, don’t they all?” Doing an about-face and continuing, his voice took on a deep, rich quality, his brogue more pronounced and the burr strong as he retold the passage, transporting them all back to a time when they were young and being schooled around an open fire by their Elders.
“Thankfully, the Goddess, along with her powerful shiften children, won the battle. Their losses were many, with Rhen paying the heaviest price when her soul separated from her body. According to the Scribes of our Ancestors, her spirit can be contacted by the shiften’s spiritual leaders, the Citlali, while her physical form is heavily guarded by a specially trained group of felens or feline shifters.”
“Furious and vengeful, his need for power growing like the flames of a petrol-fueled blaze, Khain devised one of the diabolic plans ever conceived. In one fell swoop, he murdered all their females - every species, mated and unmated, young and old. These poor innocents were taken from the world for no reason except the greed and spite of a blasted demon.”
“As you can imagine, the shiften population was devastated. They suffered a soul-deep emotional agony only the strongest could survive. It swept through the heart of every remaining shifter as the extinction of their races became an all too true reality. Seeing the effects of his actions, Khain was overjoyed at the prospect of an easily won victory against a broken and grieving foe. The human race he despised and wanted to eradicate would soon be without their unseen protectors, completely vulnerable to whatever mad fantasies the demon fancied.”
“As the grim reality closed in on our shiften kin, the Heavens took notice. An angel descended to Earth, fathering hundreds of children with human women. The extraordinary hybrids, half-angel-half-human female offspring are known as the One True Mates by the shiften.”
“Like our mates, the Ones the Universe made for each of us, these women are the light of their males’ souls. They will bring renewed power, shine light into an otherwise dark and doomed future, returning the gift of strong offspring to the shiften and help them save the world.”
Stopping mid-stride, his face awash with a myriad of emotions, the mad dragon gently nudged at Fury’s mental walls, giving a barely seen nod of thanks as the Seer granted him entrance. Fury took several slow, calming breaths, the sensation of someone in his mind other than his mate disconcerting to say the least, as Maddox shifted through the Seer’s most recent memories.
Finding what he needed, the mad dragon’s eyes popped wide open, his eyebrows riding high upon his brow as he rumbled a low warning. “You have to get to your mate, mo dheartháir. This is the year the women fathered by the angel come of age. Your Pippa turned twenty-five a few weeks ago, aye?”
“Aye, I believe she did. But I donnae understand. What does her age have to do with anythin’?” Fury could feel his old friend, rage, knocking at the door of his mind, trying to decimate his hard-fought restraint. Focusing on his brethren as he restored the psychic block in his mind, the purple dragon demanded, “Tell me, man. Donnae keep me waitin’.” His brogue thick and heavy even to his own ears.
“Just now, in your mind, I can feel her power. She’s so much more than she seems, a true equal to you in so many ways. Her power is daunting, especially to her, and growing stronger every day. You must go to her, explain the reality of our Universe and the Goddess blessed connection you share. Court her, my friend and claim her as your own as the deities intended.”
Maddox stepped forward, clapping Fury on the shoulder. “It seems the fate of the shiften has become intertwined with our own, probably always was. It matters not that we are dragon and they are wolven, bearen, felen or even dragen, Fate will not be denied as our Ancestors professed all those centuries ago.” He gave a confident nod. “And you, our stalwart Seer, shall be the conduit between our great races.”
“Crack on, man. My temper’s afrayin’ as ye prattle on about the Ancestors and stories from a book like a widow during afternoon tea,” Fury growled.
His expression changing like the tides of the sea, Maddox frowned, the lines around his eyes and mouth deepening, his eyes darkening as he sped up his recitation, a foreboding rumble in his voice. “The same shiften prophecy that foretells of the ray of hope for the strongest and most steadfast of their males also tells us that these blessed females, the saviors of the shiften race, have destinies so interwoven with that of their Beloved that these women will face the shifter version of insanity if they are not joined with their mate by their thirtieth year.”
Throwing his hands in the air and taking an aggressive step forward, Fury accused, “Then what are ye gettin’ me so bothered for, Doxie, old man? I have near on five years.”
“No, mo dheartháir, I fear you do not.” Maddox stepped forward, feelings of dread and sadness filling the air between them. “As I said, your Pippa is so very strong, I fear she doesn’t have five years. She needs you now. Because of her strength and abilities, along with her connection to you – one of the most powerful and magical of our kin, Khain wants to lure her into the darkness and claim her for his own.”
“That shall no happen…” The rest of Fury’s rebuttal was stolen from his lips as Pippa unconsciously reached for him through the glowing mating bond growing between them. Dark thoughts and fiery hate signaled the loathsome presence of Khain, as the demon forced his way into her mind.
Ignoring his brethren, Fury forced the demon from his mate’s thoughts with fire and the raw power of the Dragon King with whom he shared his soul. The fight was short but very telling. The victory went to Fury, with Khain being forced to retreat, his spiked tail tucked between his legs, but there was no doubt in the Guardsman mind that the bassa would be back…stronger and out for vengeance.
Reaching out to his mate with a loving tenderness that felt so very natural but also incredibly astounding, the dichotomy of his emotions sending shockwaves to the depths of his soul, Fury lulled his beautiful mate to sleep, her weariness from her mental battle with Khain immense. Adding his pure, white dragon magic to the sturdy walls in her mind, the Guardsman protected her the only way he could from afar.
When he was sure she was resting comfortably, the soft, sweet sound of her voice still echoing in his consciousness, Fury turned to his brethren and nodded, “Aye, Doxie. Ye were right. The rank bastard just tried for my P
ippa.” He looked to Kayne, “I’ll need ye to be on standby if you donnae mind.”
“I’m here whenever you need me, you know that.” The demi-god stepped forward, patting the Seer on the back, “Brothers forever.”
“Deartháireacha go deo,” Fury repeated in Gaelic with a nod.
“Go get your mate,” Kayne added. “And save the world. Like I always told you, dad said you were bound for greatness, one of the most special among us.”
“Aye, but only the good die young. Is no that what the song says?” Fury asked, the corner of his lip lifting in his own version of a grin.
Chuckling, Kayne replied, “Yeah, it does.”
Then in unison, the three old friends snickered, “Then we’ve nothing to fear because we’re older than the hills and rotten to the core.”
It felt good to let go for that one brief moment, but thoughts of Pippa’s safety in the forefront of his mind pushed Fury to action. Shoring up his psychic shields, the Seer hugged both his brethren, saying his goodbyes and thanking them for their help. Jogging across the pasture, he called to his dragon, who burst forth between the Guardsman’s footsteps and was off the ground in a single heartbeat.
Flying away from his homeland, Fury telepathically called to his friends, “Prepare the lads and tell Drago of what we’ve learned. I have a feeling the battles will be bloody and the war long and brutal.”
Chapter Five