Special Deceptions (The Coursodon Dimension Book 5)

by M. L. Ryan

  “Yes and no. Eventually, you shifted back to yourself, which, by the way, is what saved you. Alexander had to help you along a bit, however.”

  That must have been the bright light before I passed out; Alex’s amassed power. Good evening K-Mart shoppers, our blue-light special on aisle three: watch a winged beast forced to turn back into a woman!

  I must have made a face, because Sebastian quickly added, “It is extremely difficult for someone as injured as you to bend unaided. That Alexander had to give you a push does not diminish your achievement. None of us were able to accomplish it in Dekankara.”

  True that. Alex and Sebastian both zapped me with tons of magic in unsuccessful attempts to get me to re-form when I got stuck monstery in the third dimension. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

  “Not seriously. The one Royal Guard downed near you has minimal damage. What I find extraordinary is you did not lash out at any of those bombarding you with magic. From what I have experienced of your dragon form previously, she tends to scorch first and ask questions later.”

  “Believe me, I almost roasted the lot of them, but I kept reminding myself they didn’t deserve death.”

  He lifted one brow. “But you did?”

  I didn’t have a good response to that. “I guess I didn’t think I was about to die, but I knew if I let loose, everyone else would.” Including Alex. I remained silent for a moment while I pondered the potential implications of my decision. “How close did I come?”

  “The good doctor told us had you not completed your bend when you did, the transformation would not have been able to heal you. As you can see,” he advised, gesturing at my immobile body, “Even with the form change, you are not without physical impairment.”

  “Like I need reminding; being almost killed sucks.”

  Instead of Sebastian, Alex spoke. “Being actually killed would have been worse.”

  The sound of his rich, baritone voice instantly made me feel less messed up. Sebastian scooted toward the end of the bed, allowing Alex to take the prime spot near my hip. As Alex laced his long fingers into mine, I conceded, “Dead would have sucked big time.”

  Alex’s smile didn’t quite conceal the tension in his jaw or the fatigue in his eyes. “You must be feeling better if you’re making jokes.”

  “That wasn’t really a joke,” I pointed out, “It was more of an acknowledgement of how fucked up today was.”

  “Fucked up, indeed,” he agreed. “By the way, I ran into the healer in the hallway. He confirmed you are coming along fine.”

  “Dr. Sunshine said that?” I found it difficult to imagine he’d use such neutral language, but then again, maybe he was more pleasant around royalty.

  “Well, I might be paraphrasing a tad,” he admitted. “He is rather irascible, but that was the gist of his prognosis.”

  “Good to know he’s not a cranky dick just around me.”

  “Heavens, no,” Sebastian scoffed. “The healer has been peevish for centuries. In fact, for him, his demeanor around you was downright cheerful.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Alex. “That’s who you enlisted as my personal physician?” Was Hannibal Lecter unavailable?

  “Actually, I had nothing to do with it. My mother sent for him as soon as she heard what happened.”

  I must have telegraphed my unspoken, “Aha! That explains it!” because Alex quickly added, “I would have requested he attend to you myself had my mother not beaten me to it. He is legendary for his ability to mend even the most injured of bodies. In fact, he was the one who repaired mine after our encounter with Otto.”

  Otto stole Sebastian’s body after he thought he’d killed him. When we restored Sebastian’s essence to his corporeal self, Otto shot Alex through the heart, shredding it. Sebastian transferred Alex’s essence into Angelica’s body—the fucker’s partner in crime and Alex’s traitorous, skanky ex—who I killed, until Alex could be healed enough to sustain life. In the end, Alex was returned to his own hunky bod, but with her heart beating in his chest. She was a heartless bitch in life; now she was one for eternity.

  The medic-from-hell wasn’t a healer, but The Healer. A magical mender so preeminent in his field, the moniker had long ago replaced his real name. So Doc Grump had saved Alex’s life as well as my own.

  “Maybe if I thanked him for saving you, he’d be less grouchy.”

  “I doubt it,” Alex and Sebastian said as one.

  Myrjix stood in the doorway, holding a tray. She bowed her head toward Alex. “Pardon the interruption, Your Highness, but The Healer wants Hailey, uh… Your Haileyness, to drink plenty of liquids. I have some tea for her.” Her gaze flicked from Alex to me, uncertain whose wrath would be greater if she used the incorrect highfalutin’ appellation.

  “I asked her to call me by my first name,” I explained, in case Alex was annoyed. “She was told to address me as, ‘Your Highness,’ which I hated, but refused to use the title I preferred, ‘The Crown Prince’s Main Squeeze.’ She came up with, ‘Your Haileyness’ as a compromise.”

  “I see,” Alex said, suppressing a grin. “Carry on, Myrjix.” He stood and moved away from the bed to give her better access to me. When I was gently propped on pillows, enough to sip my iced tea from a straw but not so high I got the spinnies, Alex leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “You look tired, and The Healer warned me not to let you overdo. I’ll be back later.”

  “Hey,” I called out. “Did you find out why the guards didn’t know Birdzilla was me?”

  He frowned. “I wish you would find a better name for your second form. Birdzilla doesn’t do it justice.”

  “Fine. Did you find out why the guards didn’t know Puff was me?”

  “I’m not sure that’s any better.” he said with a sigh. “The explanation is still a bit muddled. They may have been distracted when you transformed. Expecting a bird of prey, maybe they mistook your larger form as an external threat to you. However, each guard seems to have a slightly different version. I don’t yet know if the discordance is a result of deliberate obfuscation or incompetence, but I will get to the bottom of this fiasco, mark my word.”

  Despite the absence of the hopping vein in his temple, Alex’s use of uncharacteristically obscure verbiage broadcast his anger like a Klieg light advertised a movie premier. I needed more details, but I didn’t want to rile him up any more than he already seemed to be. Besides, I was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to sleep for three days straight.

  “Okay, Blondie,” I murmured, my voice strained with weariness. “I’ll expect a complete report later when I’m more fully awake.” There was one more thing I needed before I could rest, however, and I needed it desperately.

  “Before you go, can you carry me to the bathroom?”

  *****

  I slept the rest of the day. Well, I tried to. Every few hours, The Healer showed up, sent some reparative magic coursing through another part of my body, snapped at, and/or insulted me, then scurried away until he came to annoy me once more. By the next morning, all I wanted was some time with Alex, a hot shower, a nice, hearty breakfast, and to never see Doctor Surly again.

  Surprisingly, all my wishes came true. The vertigo had subsided, but Alex said it wasn’t prudent—his exact word, apparently still in retro, mid-nineteenth century speech-mode—for me to shower alone. Though the room wasn’t spinning and my pain had ratcheted down to almost tolerable, there was no doubt I wasn’t back to normal. If naked Alex, pressed against my unclothed self and gently soaping me from head to toe didn’t lead to a happy ending, I definitely needed more time to mend. Not that I wasn’t aroused; I wasn’t dead, after all. I just lacked the energy.

  Breakfast included all my favorites—coffee, bacon, and apple-spice muffins—and covered the mandatory food groups: caffeine, salt, fat, protein, sugar, and carbs. To complete my as-close-to-perfect-as-one-can-expect-after-being-almost-killed morning, The Healer arrived just as I popped the last muffin in my mouth, gave me a once-over, and declar
ed me fit enough to not need his services.

  “You are remarkably resilient for a human,” he declared as he was about to get the hell out of my life, hopefully forever.

  “You mean, half a human,” I corrected. “Half-Courso, too.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at me in the same way my ninth grade teacher did when I argued that sociology was to science what Chuck E. Cheese was to pizza. “I have laid hands on you, young lady. I don’t understand it, but aside from your magic, you don’t seem Courso at all. A quarter, maybe, but even that is stretching it.”

  My cover story, to prevent anyone from discovering how I really inherited my abilities, involved my mother having an affair with a Courso. Of course, she didn’t realize he was from another dimension, and being a law-abiding interdimensional traveler, my fabricated father compelled her to forget she did the deed with anyone other than my real father. I only discovered the “truth” when I happened to run into Alex and Sebastian, who immediately sensed my inner Courso. The tale didn’t need to be elaborate, because it wasn’t verifiable. After all, according to the narrative, she had no memory of any of it and asking her questions would be a waste of time.

  “It’s all a mystery to me,” I said, shrugging. “If my dad wasn’t all Courso, he must have had some pretty good magical chops to be able to wipe my mother’s mind and endow me with what I have.”

  The Healer continued to rake me with a dubious glower. “How do you know he removed the events from her mind? Most women would never admit one of their offspring was illegitimate.”

  The inquisition was getting old, fast, but when Xyzok craft fiction, they didn’t leave loose ends.

  “Alex and Sebastian scanned her. She has absolutely no recollection of being unfaithful.” This, in fact, was the only part of the tale that was true. That the information wasn’t in her head because it never happened was beside the point. Just because I felt like screwing with him, I added, “For all anyone knows, you could be my dad.” His face lost all color, which was exactly the reaction I was aiming for. He recovered quickly, offered a disgruntled harrumph, and—finally—left.

  By lunchtime, I was bored with recuperation. Not that I was completely back to normal, but sitting around resting was worse than any discomfort associated with moving. Or so I thought. My walk in the garden required sitting every few feet, and after my fourth rest stop, I reconsidered the wisdom of exertion.

  Sebastian found me flopped across a marble bench, trying to decide if I should make my way back, or just take a nap where I lay.

  “Didn’t The Healer tell you to take it easy?” he asked as he sat beside me and gently pulled me up to lean on his chest.

  “I thought I was. Magical assault is more debilitating than I imagined,” I remarked. “What brings you into the garden?” I doubted he was simply out for a stroll in the fresh air.

  “My motives are two-fold. The first is to deliver this.” Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask. “I am not certain what this swill is, but Hewlyxnathin advised that drinking it would help you recover.” He handed me the same container I’d sipped from before yesterday’s incident. “It seems to have taken quite a beating,” he observed, surveying the slightly dented metal. “Between your transformation and the defensive magic being flung about, it is a wonder it is still in one piece.”

  “Me, too, apparently,” I said, downing a gulp of the tart, green juice.

  “Too bad you did not get a chance to imbibe in this miracle nectar after your bend. Hewlyxnathin was quite insistent that a few sips last night would have made today much less difficult.”

  “I thought this stuff was just supposed to fix the imbalance created from too much bending. Does it also help heal magical gunshot wounds?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “Of course not. But your Yterixa, or should I say, Xterixa master believes you transformed into your dragon because he pushed you too hard earlier in the week.”

  “And then I bent again yesterday morning,” I admitted.

  “You what?”

  I held my palms up. “Hey, cut me some slack. I didn’t know I’d have to shift on command later in the day.” It was bad enough I’d accidentally outed myself, I sure as shit didn’t need a lecture from Sebastard. “You mentioned there were two reasons you came out here. What’s the second?”

  My attempt at redirection was inelegant, but effective. Sebastian’s scowl persisted, but he answered despite his obvious wish to continue reprimanding me. “I have not yet heard your version of the incident. I wanted to get it straight from the dragon’s mouth, so to speak.”

  25

  Of all the weird Xyzok protocols—and there were plenty—the requirement for all investigators to get first-hand information seemed particularly burdensome. Sure, for the interrogator, it was all fresh and new. Not so for the interrogatee. Repeating the same story, over and over, was a giant pain.

  “Fine,” I huffed, knowing if I balked, he’d hound me until I did it. Sebastian was like an angry pit bull when he wanted something he couldn’t have, and he was already eyeing me as if I was covered in raw steak.

  Just as I opened my mouth to speak, Pixie appeared on the other side of the garden.

  Sebastian waved him over. “Oh, good, he has arrived. I asked him to join us to offer his own account.”

  The day was getting better and better. Not only did I have to recall the disastrous events again, but I’d also have to listen to Pixie describe all the nasty details from his point of view.

  I decided to go first. That way, I could always feign weariness to avoid having to hang around for reliving more bad memories.

  Disengaging myself from Sebastian, I began my tale. “Okay, I did my usual pre-bend routine. To be honest, I was a little anxious, but I cleared my head and focused on becoming a hawk. I got a little distracted, though, and for like a millisecond, I imagined Birdzilla. And then I was Birdzilla, and everyone was trying to get away from me.”

  “You left something out,” Pixie corrected.

  I narrowed my eyes. Does he not know I want to get this over with? “What did I forget?”

  “Before you transformed, you drank some of that,” he declared, pointing to the flask.

  “How could I have let that slip my mind?” I ground out. “You are right. As I said, I was nervous and my throat was dry. I took a small sip.”

  Sebastian glared. “Please try to tone down the attitude. Every detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem, has the potential to be important. Now, my dear, you were saying…?”

  “People were running and screaming, and I noticed one of the Royal Guards on the ground near my foot. I don’t think I knocked her down, but I did break the privacy curtain. She might have been hit by the frame.” I paused, not quite ready to continue. “And then the rest of the guards started firing magic at me.”

  “Can you describe how that felt?”

  “It hurt,” I snapped. “How do you think it felt?”

  Sebastian raised a single eyebrow. “Forgive me for being unclear. Can you describe the pain you experienced?”

  “Hot. Electric. Horrible.”

  “Sounds like typical defensive bursts. Go on.”

  “Then the Xyzok started in. Their magic felt different—hotter, but less like current running through me.” Different, but still horrendous, I recalled with a shudder. “The rest is less clear. I heard Alex, there was a flare of bright light, and then I must have passed out. The next thing I remembered, I woke up in the palace.” Being felt up by Dr. Who the Hell Is That?

  Sebastian tapped a forefinger against his chin. “So, you lost focus and changed into your dragon. Then, the guards, believing you injured their compatriot, used magical weaponry, which motivated the Xyzok patrol to join in. Does that adequately sum up the events?”

  I nodded, but then recalled something else. “Right before I bent, I felt a sharp pain in my side.”

  “Like a cramp?” Pixie inquired.

  “That’s
what I thought, but now that I’ve had more time to consider, it was sort of like when the guards were blasting me, but more of a stabbing sensation. There was none of the muscle contraction of a cramp.”

  Sebastian tilted his head and stared off into the distance, obviously lost in thought. After a moment, he shifted his gaze to me. “Are you certain you experienced this before you shifted?”

  I replayed the moment again in my head. “Well, definitely before I transformed completely. I was visualizing growing feathers, and then I thought about how the crowd might react to a dragon rather than a hawk. Then I felt the pain.”

  “Perhaps it was merely a function of your impending change into a larger creature than your usual form,” Sebastian suggested.

  “I don’t think so. The two other times I became dragony, there was no similar discomfort. Why, do you think this is important?”

  “Probably not, but as I said before, anything could be significant.”

  Loud, grating music filled the once-tranquil garden, and Sebastian dug into his pant pocket for his phone.

  “You still have Necrotic Time Spasm as your ringtone?”

  “Of course, my dear” he scoffed, incredulity etched across his rugged face. “It is one of my favorites.”

  I winced. “It gives me a headache.”

  He swiped the screen of the phone and told whoever was on the line to hold. Turning his attention back to me, he smirked and confessed, “I know, that is one of the reasons I haven’t changed it.”

  He’d already engaged in conversation with the caller, so I stuck my tongue out instead of regaling him with the string of obscenities fighting to burst from my lips. For all I knew, he was speaking to the queen, and she didn’t need to hear me swear like a New York City taxi driver stuck in traffic.

  “The Healer will be here shortly,” Sebastian announced as he ended the call.

  Lucky me; I thought I was done with the curmudgeonly shit. If I’d known it was he on the phone, I would have doubly enjoyed spewing out a few choice expletives.