The kid’s “bestie of honor” status for the wedding might well lead to an unending stream of questions about things called “cake toppers” and “boutonnieres,” none of which Ladon cared about.
Gavin was, though, another person Ladon and Dragon would need to keep track of.
Rysa’s seers danced out, then back in, and she chuckled again. “Tell Dragon to ask him about doctoring.”
I have many questions. Dragon dropped off the porch roof and took up a spot between the front window and the door.
Ladon wove his fingers through Rysa’s as they crossed the street. “He plans to.”
She bounced ahead, her body moving with the excitement and joy Ladon loved to watch. Each extra twist accentuated the curve of her hips. Each upward lift made her breasts rise for the most wonderful brief second before settling again against her chest.
She said her bouncing annoyed most people but Ladon long ago decided most people were idiots.
The door swung open. Daisy held her arms wide, her dark hair in the same loose ponytail she’d long worn. “Ladon!”
He didn’t lift her up, or pull her close, but gave her the brotherly hug she would expect from the man who taught her about weapons and hand-to-hand combat. “Daisy! How are you?”
We should have visited more. Dragon twisted his big head around and peered over Ladon’s shoulder.
They should have done a lot of things. Visited Daisy and Marcus and Andreas, too. Drunk less vodka. Ladon knew it. Dragon knew it. But Rysa helped them to accept their past mistakes. Hopefully, Daisy would as well.
“Good, good.” She ushered Ladon in.
Ladon stepped by and into the foyer, Dragon following close behind. Ladon blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust. Fresh, natural flowers filled a vase on the table under the large mirror next to Daisy’s long row of coat hooks.
The house smelled the same as Ladon remembered the last time they visited: Vinegar-cleaned and baking soda-scrubbed. The kitchen probably brimmed with the best lemons, oranges, and avocados Daisy could find.
The kid named Gavin peered out of the shadows behind Daisy, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders tight and slumped in the way that signaled how unsure he felt about the situation.
“You are Gavin?” Ladon extended his hand.
“Yes.” The kid looked like he wanted to back away at the same time he wanted to puff out his chest. “Nice to meet you.”
Daisy’s two German shepherds circled Ladon’s legs and he bent to greet the dogs but continued to assess the kid. “Rysa says you sign?”
I do not smell fear. The invisible Dragon sniffed at the kid.
The clueless Gavin nodded. “I do.” But he looked away, over Ladon’s shoulder.
Rysa stood on the wide expanse of Daisy’s front porch, her hands loose and against her thighs, her head tipped to the side.
Her eyes clouded as if she were looking at something on the inside of her corneas and her Fate’s seers burst through the foyer, starting first with the high notes of her future-seer. It danced just outside Ladon’s consciousness, then it downshifted as if decompressing, and Rysa’s present-seer vibrated through the room. The long, low notes of her past-seer followed.
Daisy’s head shifted as each of Rysa’s seers played through the foyer, first twisting slightly to the left as if she listened for oncoming traffic, then tipped downward, as if she heard the approach of a large, booming vehicle.
But when Rysa’s seers dropped into the past, Daisy’s face hardened. A flash of fear twitched first across her lips, then into her eyes.
She caught it so quickly Ladon doubted Rysa noticed. The kid, with his normal’s perception, would not have seen any change at all.
Ladon did not know the specifics of what that future-seer—a predator named Aiden Blake—did to Daisy during her first days at The Land of Milk and Honey. No one did. She didn’t talk about it. Said that he’d threatened people she cared about and for their safety, she couldn’t confide.
Once, after an intense hand-to-hand training session, he’d tried to remind Daisy that the people she loved could take care of themselves. He’d held out a towel at the end of their practice, proud of what she’d accomplished in her six months of learning. She, too, had learned to protect herself.
She’d closed her eyes and said “I know.” But she walked away.
They never spoke of it again.
Now, in her foyer, Daisy Reynolds Pavlovich twitched as if afraid the new Fate in her life would dig out her dangerous secrets.
And right now, in this moment of watching the two women interact for the first time, a new band of vigilance snapped around the deepest parts of Ladon’s mind. He’d always forced himself to believe the “No Fate is that powerful” lie. No one, no Shifter and no Fate—not the breeds’ two Progenitors—could stand against Ladon, his sister, and their dragons.
Except three months ago, lesser Fates and Shifters had. Lesser Fates and Shifters almost killed Rysa. And lesser Fates and Shifters broke Ladon’s soul.
So maybe Daisy was correct. And maybe this new band of vigilance constricted for a reason.
Slowly, Rysa took both of Daisy’s hands. “Thank you for everything you’ve done,” she said. “For my family. For me.”
Daisy sniffed, obviously using her bloodhound enthraller nose to “look” at the cloud of emotion around Rysa, and, perhaps, the faint traces of the other woman’s truncated calling scents.
When Rysa offered a hug, Daisy accepted. They stood, arms around each other’s shoulders, like two long-lost sisters.
Which, in some ways, they were. “You’re welcome, daughter of Sandro Torres,” Daisy said.
Rysa laughed and squeezed Daisy’s hands. “You and I are going to be great friends,” she said, her voice wistful.
When Daisy smiled, Ladon’s back let go. An exhale blew out his rounded lips.
He hadn’t realized he’d held his breath.
Rysa and Daisy laughed and hugged and moved like women who felt confident of their safety. They smiled and calmed the kid, and introduced him to Dragon.
The beast revealed himself slowly with a line of shimmer that moved from his snout, across his crest to his neck, and down the plaited bumps that formed the ridges over his spine. He rumble-purred the low sound that he’d learned long ago calmed normals. It sounded, the beast said, “happy” to human ears.
The kid gaped. Dragon shifted his weight. His huge front limbs rose into the air, and he signed Hello, Gavin Bower. You are learning to doctor?
Yes, the kid signed. “I’m pre-med.”
The beast twisted his giant neck and looked over his shoulder at Rysa, who nodded and smiled.
I also wish to learn to doctor, Dragon signed. I have many questions the healers cannot answer.
Gavin’s back straightened. His shoulders squared as he leaned toward the beast. His hand tentatively stroked Dragon’s soft, ultra-fine coat. “Me, too.”
Impressed, Ladon wrapped his arm around Rysa’s waist. Her “bestie of honor” might turn out to be less of an annoyance than he’d originally thought.
Yet urban areas made everyone around him a visible target. He frowned.
He’d need to stay vigilant.
Chapter Five
They settled in quickly, moving the few possessions they’d brought with them from the cave into Daisy’s attic and making arrangements to purchase the few items they still needed—new baby shampoo and rock salt for Dragon, and books and school supplies for Rysa. Daisy seemed to handle having a dragon in her house well, as did her dogs, and when classes started, she, Rysa, and the kid named Gavin walked to campus together most mornings.
To Ladon’s surprise, Gavin wasn’t living at the house, though he spent a great deal of his time hanging around. The kid’s obvious attraction to Daisy blazed like the sun itself, and made Ladon shake his head, since her equally obvious attraction had not led to the relationship they both wanted. But it was not Ladon’s place to comment, so he did not.
Now that Gavin had the wedding and helping Dragon learn to doctor as excuses to come to the house, he’d taken to appearing in the early morning, before classes, always well-groomed and helpful, and like today, making coffee.
The kid looked up when Ladon walked into the kitchen. “Hey,” he said, and tapped a scoop of coffee into Daisy’s maker.
The machine came to life, hissing and spitting as it boiled water and steeped caffeine for the household. The kitchen smelled clean, as usual, but with a lingering hint of the dogs.
Ladon nodded toward the cabinet as he pulled out mugs for himself and Rysa. Gavin nodded back, and Ladon pulled out two more. “Daisy is in the shower,” Ladon said. He’d heard the water before coming downstairs.
Gavin looked up at the ceiling before nodding once again.
Dragon twisted from the hallway into the kitchen, his front limbs appearing first. He gripped the woodwork framing the doorway and pulled his big body through, moving silently even though he rubbed against the walls.
The kid watched, his head tipped and his eyes piercing as if memorizing the workings of the beast’s muscles. “The blue and green wave patterns on your hide are moving faster this morning.” He pointed before stepping toward the beast. “Do they always travel from your head to your tail? Can you reverse them?”
Dragon’s patterns cycled more this morning, moving as quick, smooth waves down his sides.
“He’s excited about his studies,” Ladon said.
The kid walked along Dragon’s side as a particularly fast-moving, dark and circular pattern flowed immediately under the edge of the beast’s back ridges. “Do your resting patterns alter depending on your emotional state?” He pointed at the blob. “Is this the equivalent to a human facial expression?”
My face works, Gavin, the beast signed. He twisted his neck and presented his head and his thicker, wider crest and the elaborate ridge bumps running from his forehead toward his snout.
Dragon’s facial muscles contracted into the distinct human expression that signaled irksomeness: He pulled up the ridges over his right eye as if lifting an eyebrow, dropped his outer eyelid enough to make it appear as if he narrowed his eyes, and pushed the corners of his mouth toward the front of his snout.
The expression did not come naturally to the beast. He and his sister learned long ago how to mimic a human face. They could not talk, and sometimes the time lapse between when they wished to communicate and when Ladon or his sister translated was too long, or they wished to reinforce a point already spoken.
Over the centuries, both dragons had gotten quite good at using their faces for simple communications. It was, for them, a universal form of sign language, one they used with people who they would not be able to communicate directly with otherwise.
“That’s good!” Gavin clapped once. “Does your sister show the same patterns?” He ran his hand over the beast’s side. “In its resting state, is your hide like an octopus’s or a cuttlefish’s?”
The kid is full of questions, Ladon pushed.
Dragon ignored Ladon and lifted his hands to sign. You ask the same questions as Rysa.
“I hope so.” Gavin stepped back. “Do you talk with your hide?”
“He talks to me and to Sister, and to you and everyone else through signs.” Ladon rubbed the beast’s neck. If you grow sick of his questions, tell him, he pushed.
I am fine, Human.
“We’ve tried many times over the centuries to teach him how to make text on his hide but it seems to be beyond his abilities.” Ladon patted Dragon. At least the beast learned to sign.
“That’s not what I mean.” Gavin stepped closer again. “I’m wondering about dragon language, not human languages.” His face took on the new, intense look of concentration of someone who’d just thought of a new question to ask. “What language do you two communicate in when you do your telepathic thing? English? Rysa said you lived in ancient Rome, correct? Is it Latin?”
Ladon opened and closed his mouth. He’d never thought about it. They pushed to each other. “I don’t know how to describe it.”
You must ask Derek, the beast signed. He is new to hearing us and is more conscious of the process.
“I wish I could hear you.” Gavin frowned. “I wish I could study with you. You’re an entire university’s worth of dissertations.” He shook his head. “And there are only two of you? You’ve never come across indications that there may be more? Every culture has dragon legends.”
We are the root of most dragon legends, Gavin. The beast snorted and ambled around the wide island toward the open space at the back of the kitchen.
Ladon shrugged. “Most legends and myths predate us. Dragon and his sister took advantage of an already intact infrastructure, didn’t you?”
Gavin chuckled and returned to the now-finished coffeemaker. “I understand why you stay hidden. If I’m this fascinated, how would the world respond? How many people would be terrified?”
He shook his head as he poured out two mugs. “What would happen to Daisy if everyone knew about her abilities? She’d be mobbed. Maybe attacked.” He set the coffee pot back in the maker. “Want cream? Sugar?”
Ladon shook his head. “This is fine.” He breathed in the rich scent and warmed his lips on the hot liquid. The coffee tasted fresh and flavorful and had a strong kick.
Gavin mixed multiple additions into his, stirring between each, before sipping. When he sat at the island again, he turned his back to Ladon to watch Dragon play with Radar and Ragnar.
The higher-pitched purr the beast used to call the dogs reverberated through the kitchen and both canines scampered over, Radar in front and Ragnar following with a tennis ball in his mouth.
Dragon cupped his big hand and fully retracted his talons, in order to pet Ragnar without issue.
“Looks like we need to find a dragon-safe park.” Gavin nodded toward Dragon and the dogs.
The beast tossed Ragnar’s ball and both dogs skidded across the kitchen’s tiled floor in pursuit.
“Aye.” Ladon set his mug on the counter. Upstairs, the shower stopped, which meant at least one woman would appear shortly. Rysa still slept when he and the beast tiptoed out of their room, so it might be a moment before she appeared.
Rysa wakes, Dragon pushed. He tossed the ball again for Ragnar.
Ladon nodded at the ceiling. “The women will be down shortly.”
Gavin’s back tightened visibly and he turned his full body toward Ladon. “I want to learn to protect myself in case I’m attacked again. Do I need firearms training? I don’t like guns.”
The kid was a rare commodity. Normals backed away from Ladon and Dragon in reverent terror and awe, as they did with Sister and Sister-Dragon. Most never asked questions at all, much less the constant and seemingly endless stream that came from Gavin.
Nor did they ask how to protect themselves. Either they assumed Ladon would do it for them, or they ran off into the woods. “We will train you.”
“Thank you.” Slowly, the kid sipped his coffee and watched Dragon play with the dogs. His grip on his mug tightened. He looked down at his feet, not at either Ladon or Dragon, and the volume of his voice lowered. “When did you know? With Rysa?”
“Know what?” Though from the kid’s body language, Ladon knew exactly what Gavin asked.
The kid glanced up, but he didn’t answer. This, it seemed, was a topic he would not beat to death with questions.
“When we realized she was not afraid of us. When I realized her presence opened a door for us we had long thought nailed shut. When I told her my sins and she stayed anyway.”
Upstairs, a door closed.
Gavin closed his eyes but turned his face toward the hallway. He absently spun his mug, one finger pulling the ceramic toward him while another pushed it away.
“I think Daisy’s terrified.” The kid looked down at his mug. “I don’t know how to help.”
The need to check the perimeter screamed back into Ladon’s consciousness.
But he was tired of the fighting. Tired of shuffling along the edges of his pit of melancholy because he had no other place to walk. Tired of the surprises and the losses so terrible they tore apart not only his soul, but also his mind and his body.
They were to spend a year here. Live a normal life. Allow Rysa to finish her schooling and plan their solstice wedding. He and the beast were to socialize and perhaps make new friends such as the kid sitting across the island from Ladon right now. He was to rest and recuperate and become a whole man again, the man Rysa needed.
But the wars, gross and fine, never ceased. They never vanished into the mists. Only the individual people Ladon cared about fell into the fog and never came out again.
Rysa had healed most of his soul’s wounds. He could function again. Walk and communicate and take care of life’s little things. But some wounds could not be healed. Not by a healer. Not by himself or time or the intervention of mystical forces. Some wounds changed the shape of a body with a permanence no one could counter.
His years constricted his chest and his throat and forced Ladon to be not-human. To be a godling. He was fundamentally different from everyone around him because he’d been cut away by the twenty-three centuries of his long life.
He understood the rawness of what remained. Every breeze left a sting. Every smell singed the inside of his nose. All things could bring death.
They had a year. Only one year. And no one would die while they lived here.
The kid’s eyes pierced again as he watched Ladon. “You okay, man?”
Daisy comes.
Ladon turned on his stool to face his hostess. She walked into the kitchen, her tall and strong form light and lovely, as always. She sniffed, obviously pleased to be met with coffee, and smiled at the men.
No, Ladon thought. No one dies.
All but Human Page 3