by D. R. Perry
No matter what happened today, I’d be losing something. If I was lucky, I’d walk away from this trial a Kelpie, but I couldn’t be with Josh. If I was unlucky, I’d lose part of myself. At least Josh’s parents couldn’t object to us settling down. But I had to wonder what good that would be. I couldn’t have accepted everything that went along with my magic if it wasn’t for Josh. And I wasn’t even sure I could be a proper mate to him without that missing piece. It wouldn’t be right to make him settle for half a mate.
A hand, small and strangely padded, covered one of mine. I looked down to see something more like a paw, black, furry, but still five-fingered. Deep brown eyes glittered from a band of nearly black fur. A Tanuki. The first rays of the dawn touched the back of my hand, lighting the paw resting against it with a golden glimmer. I blinked, feeling a small but steady flicker of warmth around my hand. It traveled up my arm, so ticklish I had to use all my martial arts training to sit still and bear it.
“Ichiro-san?” But no. It couldn’t be. This Tanuki’s ruff was long and lush, with less silver in its coat than I’d ever heard of an older Tanuki having, even when they’d used Luck charms to gain more years of life. “Kimiko. What are you doing here?”
The young Tanuki cocked her head to one side. Her mouth opened in a canine grin as she removed her paw from my hand.
“Got it. You were never here.” I chuckled. “Thanks for the visit.” Josh had obviously found her annoying, but she must have had a big, brave heart to come all the way over here. I watched her trot away, the black-tipped bushy tail bobbing along behind her comical enough to make me chuckle again.
It felt colder when she left, despite the sun. I pulled the single woolen blanket the Queen had ordered left with me more tightly around my legs. That’s when I noticed the little box sitting where Kimiko had been. It smelled like food. I wondered how she’d managed to bring an item with her and leave it behind without shifting, then remembered. Tanuki didn’t have elemental magic. Their talents varied individually. She must be able to hide objects. I opened the box to find three rice balls. I wolfed them down before my Seelie guard could notice them.
On the bottom of the box was a message in black ink. I read it silently. Trust your mate. I blinked and read it again, wondering what I should do with it. That message might just make things worse for me if it got discovered. But the box shimmered and dissolved once the full light of the sun hit it.
“What are you doing?” I turned to see a familiar bundle of bamboo sticks crackling as they leaned over me.
“I could ask you the same thing. Where’s the Sprite?” I glanced down the steps at where they'd been earlier. They were gone.
“None of your business. I told you we’d be meeting again that night at the Summoner’s home.”
“Yes, under very different circumstances if I remember correctly.” I narrowed my eyes. “Are you here on the Queen’s business or the Summoner’s?”
“The Summoner couldn’t hold me once he’d been captured. The mortal authorities broke all his anchors.” I wasn’t sure how a creature who looked like a stick-bug could sound smug, but this one managed.
“Well, here’s to different circumstances.” I raised a mock glass to the Brownie. “Maybe I have a chance of walking away from this.”
“You do.” They stiffened. “This too shall pass, but likely not in the way you’d expect.”
“You Brownies and your fortune-cookie psychobabble.” I rolled my eyes.
They ignored my taunt and stood rigid, their entire body straight as a sapling, which meant they had relaxed. The Brownie swayed a little in the breeze coming off the pond. I turned to look down the lawn. The first few cars pulled up to the curb nearest the Temple to Music. One of them was a Campus Police car, followed by a Providence Police cruiser and a Psychic News Network van.
“The News is here? Seriously?” I sighed.
Something clattered on the marble in front of me. A small white bottle with a red and white label. Tylenol. I peered back up at the Brownie. I had no idea whether they were looking in my direction or not. Even a bona fide tree hugger would know where to start with a Brownie. They looked more like mini Ents than little elves.
“What’s this for?” I popped open the cap, finding the foil seal underneath still intact. They weren’t trying to poison me, then.
“Mortal pain relief. You are both mortal and in pain, are you not?”
“No, I mean the kindness routine.” I peered up, the sun making me squint. “What gives?”
“You were wrong to undo the Spite, but if you and your friends hadn’t investigated the Summoner, I’d still be his slave.” It creaked and crackled a bit. “Giving you something of his is customary. After all, you defeated him. That means you are entitled to some spoils by our laws.”
“Analgesic spoils.” I snorted. “Any port in a storm.” I rattled two pills out of the bottle, realized they weren’t extra strength, and shook out two more. I dry-swallowed them.
Back at the curb, more vehicles had pulled up. It was going to be a long beginning to an unpredictable day.
Chapter Seventeen
Josh
“I know why you’re here.” Mrs. Harcourt had her back to us, and still she had the upper hand. I wasn’t surprised; this was her house, after all. “I noticed the item you searched for in the hoard database, Blaine.”
Blaine put one finger to his lips, stopping at the end of the long hallway we’d walked down. I stood next to him in the doorway which was wider than the Thayer Trolley Tunnel back in Providence. The hall opened on a hexagonal room, something like a foyer by way of decoration. It was huge, just like the rest of the mansion. Dragons need their space, I guess. For a few moments, Blaine’s mother arranged red-tipped purple roses in a vase. Then she turned around, a slight smile on her brick red lips.
“You have your dog friend well-trained, whelp.” Mrs. Harcourt ignored me, walking toward her son. “Good. Maybe he can clean a mess up for me instead of making one like the Kelpie did.”
“What did you have in mind, Mother?” Blaine’s voice sounded completely different here than it did at school. Without the zing of sarcasm or nonchalant confidence, he sounded like a different person. I wasn’t sure what to think of Newport Blaine.
“We’ve got a pest problem again.” Mrs. Harcourt put a hand on one hip, leaning all her weight on the opposite foot. She didn’t look much older than her son, but she was supposed to be from the tenth century or something. I tried not to get too creeped out by that.
“Oh, no.” Blaine’s hair flopped from side to side as he shook his head. “Not Pharaoh’s Rats?”
“Nothing quite so dangerous.” One corner of her mouth tilted up. “Only a cockatrice which is why I don’t want you or your step-father taking care of this. I’ll brook no threat to my husband’s manhood or my future grandchildren.”
“Eww, Mom.” Blaine’s nose wrinkled. He reminded me of the time I was fifteen and got grossed out by catching my parents necking.
“I don’t get it.” I gave Mrs. Harcourt the same kind of smile my mom gave the District Attorney and the mayor. “Why can’t a dragon shifter fight a cockatrice?”
“They’re bad for the male’s fertility.” Her smile glittered with brittle humor. She reminded me of how Lynn was before she got together with Bobby. “I might be ages older than either of you, but I’ve got a husband for a reason.”
Her statement would have made me more uncomfortable if she hadn’t glanced at the portrait of a man on the far wall. I almost had to squint to see it was Blaine’s step-dad. Another portrait hung to its left. The guy in that painting looked like my packmate. I didn’t have to wonder where Blaine’s bio-dad was. Dragons were possessive, so he had to be dead, or Mrs. Harcourt wouldn’t have moved along to another man. The guy’s clothing looked old, like something out of a Civil War flick. But how could Blaine be his kid if the last time he’d been painted was 1863 or whatever? I couldn’t afford to think about that right then, so I dropped t
he thought. There’d be time later.
“I managed to lock the pest in here.” Mrs. Harcourt’s voice was coolly commanding, like someone who expected to be obeyed. “Head on in and don’t come out until you have a dead cockatrice to show me.” Mrs. Harcourt gestured to the door opposite the one we’d entered through, looking like a younger, raven-haired Vanna White. “I suggest you shift. They’re fast, and they have sharp claws and beaks. And mind its gaze.”
I stared at the door she’d gestured to, only aware she’d left the hexagonal foyer by the fading click of her heels. I stood next to Blaine, hoping he’d say something. This was his stomping ground, not mine. I waited as long as I could, then tapped my foot.
“What?” Blaine’s voice was softer, tiny somehow compared to the larger-than-life mask he usually wore on campus.
“Give me the supernatural geek squad rundown.” I turned to look at him. “I know how to chase chickens, but a cockatrice is only half one of those. So, what do I do?”
“I can’t believe she asked you to do this.” When he turned, I noticed his sweaty brow. His pallid face was set in an expression more uneasy than the one he’d worn before we came down here. How was that possible? “I’m so sorry.”
“But I don’t get why you should apologize.” I shrugged out of my jacket, letting it fall with a hollow thud to the floor. Then I kicked off my boots.
“Don’t let it scratch you. Its claws and beak have a venom that acts fast enough to be a mortal threat for a shifter your size. And don’t look into its eyes.” Blaine shuddered. “Look, maybe you shouldn’t do this. Maybe Ichiro will talk the Queen down from taking Nox’s pelt. Maybe I can stomp the thing, and we can tell Mom you did it.”
“Nope. I’m not going to lie to Hertha Harcourt. And Yoshi Ichiro might be a legendary lawyer, but this is the Sidhe Queen we’re talking about here. I can’t take chances that aren’t on me.” I pulled my shirt over my head. “When you find your mate, you’ll understand.”
“It won’t matter when I do, but that’s not important now.” Blaine’s lower lip trembled. Was he about to lose it or something? I couldn’t fathom why. He turned his back before I could ask. “What’s important is, don’t meet its gaze. If you do, Mother will have a wolf statue to add to her hoard.”
“You mean it can go Medusa on me?” I unbuckled my belt.
“Yeah. Not if it sees you. Only if you look it in the eye. That’s going to be tough on your wolf.” His shoulders shook. “I’m gonna ask you again not to do this.”
“I’m gonna tell you again, I’m doing it.” After I folded my pants, I put them on top of my jacket with my shirt.
“Last chance. Back out, Josh.” Blaine sighed. “Mother made this sound like a cakewalk. It’s not. She values that pelt, so she gave you a task you might not survive. You could get maimed worse than Beth. You could die. There’s no coming back from getting turned to marble.”
“I wonder if cockatrice tastes like chicken.” I chuckled to cover up the fact that I didn’t care whether I made it as long as Nox got to stay whole. “No more questions. I’m shifting.” Joints bent, lining up for running on all fours. My skin itched as it stretched and sprouted gray fur. I shook my ruff, then stretched. My wolf was ready for a fight.
Blaine didn’t say anything else. He ran both his hands over his head, then dropped them to his sides. I sat on my haunches, noticing there was a human-sized door-within-a-door. Blaine opened that, keeping his back to me. I leaped inside, letting him close the door fast behind me so the cockatrice wouldn’t get out. He needn’t have bothered. I only caught a trace of its scent, a feathery, leathery, wet-stone kind of smell, shot through with a faint rot that could only be the poison.
The room was full of glass-fronted bookcases, packed to the gills with scrolls, clay tablets, marked hides, and books. At least I wasn’t there to get rid of a bookworm infestation. The cockatrice’s scent wasn’t anything like the shelf contents. It was somewhere on the other side of the room from me, but the place was laid out in stacks. I guessed it was the Harcourt family library. Lynn would have given her left arm to get in here. Not with a cockatrice around, but still. They supposedly had stuff from ancient Roman times, maybe even earlier.
I heard the hushed chuckle of a cluck before I realized the little monster was atop the stacks. I swerved out of the way just in time. Three of its claws caught my fur, pulling a clump out. I decided not to look up or back, running around the shelving in a circle instead to try to get behind it. No dice. The next aisle of shelves was empty, the cockatrice already either back up top or over in a different row.
I trotted along, wishing I could velvet my claws like a panther or lion shifter. Even when I was careful, they made a noise on the floor. Why couldn’t the Harcourts have carpet like normal people? Oh, right. Carpet was flammable. But so were books. Crazy dragons. I’d have to tell Blaine that if his family wanted wolf shifters hunting down their library pests, they should get softer flooring in here. A rug would really tie the room together.
This time, I felt the rush of air as the weird creature swooped down. I finally got a decent look at it. It had a long, green, reptilian tail I didn’t expect, along with taloned claws more like an eagle’s than a chicken. It was bigger than the average Rhode Island Red, too. The feathers I dared look at on its neck and breast were red and green, giving it an ironically cheery Christmas look. I jumped out of its way, but it almost pecked me. Instead of running down another aisle, I circled it. When I leaped, it fluttered back, tail dragging along the floor behind its skinny little bird legs.
I had no idea what it’d do next. The whole fight would have been easier if I could have looked at its eyes like I’d trained for, but that’d be fatal. The eyes might not have even shown me where it’d go next, anyway. I’d figured one thing out, though. That tail was a weakness. Its weight slowed the cockatrice down and probably didn’t do it much good in the flying department.
It attempted to peck me again. This time, I cut the corner close when I went around it, going for the tail. My teeth sank into scaly flesh, piercing it and drawing blood. My wolf jaws were strong, and once I’d gotten my teeth in, I knew the fight would be over soon. Shaking my head, I knocked the cockatrice against one of the shelves. It let out a loud cluck, then a screech as I jerked my head the other way to slam the creature against the floor.
Growling, I dragged it back the way I’d come in, toward the door. It got hard to breathe with my mouth full of its blood. At least, that was what I thought. Each time it struggled, I shook the cockatrice again. Once at the door, I let its tail go. A sad-looking heap of scales and feathers sat at my feet. I sniffed it, found it still breathing. I took the back of its neck in my jaws and twisted. Once I felt the snap, I scratched at the door.
Blaine stood in the doorway, then sank to his knees on the threshold. His eyes were bloodshot, his face even paler than before. His hands shook as he fumbled a phone from his pocket. I heard gasping breaths as he tapped the screen, so why wasn’t his chest heaving to go along with them? I fell on my side. Oh. That was my chest, my breaths.
“Tiamat’s Scales, Josh.” His voice was a hoarse near-whisper. “I told you to be careful.” Blaine glanced at his phone, then reached out to touch my left front shoulder. He parted fur, peering. “A shallow scratch. Shards of the first egg, why did you do this?” He picked up the phone again, holding it out to snap a picture. Then he tapped the phone again, sending another message.
I whined, trying to get up, get out of the library on my own. I couldn’t. My front legs wouldn’t hold my weight. I pushed with my back legs, scooting myself along. Once my tail was out, I stopped. My tongue lolled from my mouth. Voices I could barely understand came from down the long hallway across the foyer, sounding like the time Beth and I tried to have a conversation through a box fan.
“Hang on, Josh.” Blaine patted me on the head. On a better day, I would have bitten him for that, or was that a worse day? The last thing I remembered was the most important. I’d do
ne it. I’d saved Nox.
Chapter Eighteen
Nox
The cuts on the backs of my legs felt like a hundred wasp stings. That was actually an improvement. Before the Tylenol, they’d felt like a thousand wasp stings. My stomach grumbled despite the rice balls, and still I waited. The Brownie stood nearby as they had for the past two hours, like a tree. They hadn’t said a word. I didn’t blame them. The Queen had arrived shortly after the Psychic News Network van. She’d spent the entire time sitting in her magical levitating carriage, though.
I spotted Ichiro-san’s car. He got out, juggling a briefcase, a drink tray, and a brown paper bag. Beth came around from the other side of the car to help him, without a crutch. A gust of wind pressed her trousers, outlining the brace that held her prosthetic on. She took Ichiro-san’s briefcase and then his arm. Together, they approached me.
The length of time their walk took made me remember just how big the lawn in front of the Temple to Music was. I wondered whether as many people would show up here as there’d been last night. I almost lost my appetite. Fighting in front of a crowd was one thing, but being on trial made my gut feel like an entire flock of butterflies lived in there. Even worse, the Psychic News Network people were setting their cameras up at the top of the hill, like caretakers for insect-flamingo hybrids, the lenses like gaping, toothless mouths. That was worse than contemplating a crowd to stare and gasp at my guilt.