Daniel shifted and joined them. He had missed flying with Uncle Thorvald’s sword bearers. Whenever he was on Lind Island he took part in his cousins’ and nephews’ rigorous training. Even though they were mostly members of the armed forces, when they had leave they reported to Lind Island to be drilled in close order formation and dragon tactics. Even though Europe had lived in peace for six decades, Lord Lindorm insisted that his descendants be ready for attack. Training together had built bonds of forged steel between the Lindorms.
But this was different. These men were not young recruits to be watched and managed, but strong adult dragons who were out for an evening’s exercise. Even chilled-out Furlong turned out to be competitive. Before long they were racing each other into the headwind. Alister’s lack of landing gear gave him an advantage in the air. His creamy underparts were more aerodynamic without hind legs.
Joyful bugling punctuated Alister’s win. Daniel resolved to use his greater wing span to better effect. But he did not succeed in outstripping the younger Drake. Eventually Lloyd brought them back into formation and they began their inspection of the island. Daniel had not flown over before. There were a surprising number of danger spots.
The spring head on Ghost Hill was fenced off from the residential area beside it. But the rocky pool where the water gathered before making its way to the ocean was deep. There were also a number of sinkholes scattered over the island. Places where the underlying rock had given way, taking the overlying vegetation with it. A few of these gaping scars were large enough that the smashed trees at the bottom looked like twigs.
One had been used as a garbage dump. Battered furniture and old tires lay on top of the dead plants. The torn upholstery was sodden from the recent rainfall. Melissa had informed him of Mystic Bays strict bylaws. He and Angie had to take their garbage to the town dump, because burying garbage was prohibited even on private land. Daniel observed Lloyd circling the sinkhole as if he were memorizing it. It was too dangerous to try to remove the discarded trash, but Furlong could report the infraction.
Afterwards they did low sweeps over the entire coastline before Lloyd led them over the Old Forest. The potency of the massive trees was detectable even from the air. A powerful paranormal updraft supported their wings. Daniel realized this was as much threat as benediction. The air current that allowed them to soar without flapping their wings, could instead destroy them should the Old Ones be angered.
The other dragons dipped their wings in respectful greeting and Daniel followed suit. Lloyd whistled. His tune acknowledged the wisdom and power of the Old Ones. He indicated that Daniel should imitate his song. Daniel obeyed. After another couple of passes, they were off.
The evening ended in aerial acrobatics. Again Alister was the star performer. He executed his barrel rolls and rapid turns with grace and strength. Daniel had taught his own cousins to make these maneuvers, but he couldn’t quite keep up with Alister. Was he getting old?
Lloyd blew another clarion blast. They began to fly in close formation. Daniel had to pay strict attention because he was unused to flying with these dragons. They used different signaling from the Lindorms, which took some getting used to. He had no time to think of his creeping decrepitude until Alister came to rest on the sea beside a motor launch and was helped into it in human form by the operator.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Angie~
“I don’t know the last time I’ve taken an evening off,” Robin said. “And on Fourth of July weekend too!” She crossed her legs at the ankles and propped them on the picnic cooler. As a concession to sailing, she was wearing white pants and espadrilles and a natty navy and white striped jersey. She looked chic, appropriate, and self-confident.
They had anchored Angie and Daniel’s rented sailboat off Sunset Cove and were enjoying the fine summer weather. Robin’s chef had provided them with a cold supper to eat on The Seagull. Angie had invited her fairy relatives to join her for an evening cruise and supper.
Moira had left her daughter with her father. Robin had abandoned the five judges who were gathered to deliver their final verdict on this year’s winners of the Tidewater Art Fair. And Angie had told Daniel she was going to have a girls’ night out. She had missed hanging out with fairies. How many decades had it been?
She raised her glass of soda water in a toast to Robin. “The judges will be fine all by themselves. And you need a break from all the bustle.”
Organizing the Tidewater Art Fair was a major undertaking. Handling the judges just another aspect of the huge project. The judges were given an honorarium and room and board at the Tidewater Inn. But they also wanted their transportation arranged, sightseeing tours, and had a hundred and one other demands, which all made extra work for Robin and her staff.
Moira laughed. Like her aunt, she was dressed for sailing. She had a flute of champagne in one hand and a canapé in the other. “You missed last year’s drama, Angie,” she said.
“Robin had her hands full trying to control her judges while simultaneously keeping a decent distance. Unfortunately, she had left the selection of judges to the University of Oregon. They chose my ex-partner to be part of the panel.” She popped the last bite of her canapé into her mouth.
“Go on,” prompted Angie. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“You can laugh now, Moira,” Robin said severely. “But my nerves may never recover from Adrian Whitlock. His nastiness nearly ruined my Fair.” Despite her words, she looked as serene as usual. But Angie did not doubt that something awkward had occurred.
Angie was used to a certain amount of backbiting in the art world. Art was big business. And breaking into it was difficult. Agents battled genteelly, and not so genteelly, attempting to suppress the competition. Every time there was a contest, there were rumors of bribery and blackballing.
“What do you mean nastiness?” Angie prompted.
“Adrian spent his days with the other judges tearing the entries apart,” Moira said. “Complaining of the general lack of talent. At mealtimes he held forth in the inn dining room as to the inferior quality of the art he had deigned to judge, and also made personal remarks about his fellow judges’ lack of taste and expertise.”
“Gosh,” said Angie aghast.
Moira continued, “After a week of creating dissension and infighting, Adrian capped his general unpleasantness by trying some extortion. He wanted me to hand him money not to tell Quinn I was a fairy. Apparently I owed him for closing our gallery.”
“Let me guess,” Angie helped herself to a deviled egg. “Quinn already knew. And you closed your gallery because of your partner.” She bit down. “Heavenly. My compliments to the chef.”
“Thank you,” murmured Robin. “And you are correct on both counts. Whitlock was running forgeries through the Fairchild Art Gallery. Moira had no choice but to shut it down before there was a scandal. Fortunately, Walter Babcock overheard his threats. I threw Whitlock off the panel. He threw Whitlock off the island*.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked Wally,” Angie said fervently.
“Quinn says there is no one he would rather have at his back in a fight.” Moira refilled her plate.
“High praise from a dragon,” Angie agreed. “Daniel is impressed by him too.”
“I wish I hadn’t been so quick to press him to run for sheriff,” lamented Robin. “I could use his support with the council.”
Robin had excused herself from the voting on whether Angie and Daniel would be allowed to buy the Spicer property. As deputy mayor, Sully was chairing that motion and would only vote in the event there was a tie. Angie felt a little anxious about the outcome, but had resolved not to mention it unless Robin herself brought up the matter.
Since Robin had, Angie asked, “I thought the council was going to ask the trees?”
“Yes, but some of those old blowhards might decide it was better to buck the Old Ones rather than risk having another nest of hybrids on the island.” Robin’s lips tightened ever s
o fractionally. “There is a council meeting coming up. They have twice tabled the motion so they can study it more. Let’s hope this time they will actually vote.”
“If it’s any consolation, Angie,” Moira interjected, “Quinn says that when they took Daniel flying, the Old Ones seemed as receptive to him as they did at the cleansing dance. And Quinn went into the forest to ask them directly if they had any objection. He told them you intend to naturalize the property if you buy it. There used to be a grove of crabapple trees and a thick stretch of blackberry bushes where the Spicers planted a lawn.”
“I take it the Old Ones were agreeable?” Angie asked anxiously. “Crabapple trees would be lovely. And berry bushes. We want to get rid of the lawn and replace most of the landscaping with native Oregon plants.”
“The Old Ones were definitely in favor. Your plans are part of the reason they approve of you guys,” Moira said.
“I understand Quinn mentioned their endorsement in the Bean.” Satisfaction hummed in Robin’s dulcet tones.
“Of course. Unfortunately, Garrett Somerset was in there throwing his weight around and talking about hunters gone wrong,” Moira said. “Somerset leads the most prejudiced block on the council,” she explained to Angie.
“Oh.” Angie determinedly raised her glass. “Here’s to reason prevailing.”
“To reason, truth and light,” they chanted in unison.
*Desired by the Dragon
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Daniel~
Sullivan’s boat was tied securely to the dock, but the old fisher was not alone. The bulk of another man loomed in the shadows on deck.
“Ahoy, The Nightingale,” Daniel called. “Permission to come aboard, Skipper.”
“Permission granted,” Sullivan’s voice came out of the gloom. “We’re dispensing with lights, because of the bugs.”
The evening air was heavy with mosquitoes and gnats. Not that they troubled a dragon. Daniel walked up the gangplank, braced for a confrontation with Sullivan’s silent companion. The other man’s scent was a welcome relief.
“Hey, Dan,” said Lloyd Furlong.
Sullivan found Daniel a beer. Lloyd kept nursing his soda. They sat around watching the indolent, persistent sea lions intimidating the visitors who came for a stroll in the marina after a meal at the Crab Hut. The sea lions forced the tourists to feed them or get off their dock.
“They ever bite a tourist?” Daniel wondered aloud.
“Nah,” said Lloyd. “But I shouldn’t wonder if we couldn’t teach ‘em. Sea lions are smart.”
Sullivan told a long, rambling story about a fellow who had trained a sea lion to show him where the fish were and wound up having to split his catch with a gang of them. “Can’t rightly trust them no how,” he concluded. “Whether they’re lion around, or just lying.”
Daniel and Lloyd laughed, not so much at the corny punch line, as at the skillful way Sully had kept their interest in his unlikely tale alive.
“You had me going, Sully,” Lloyd admitted. “That reminds me of a fellow back in Indiana. He found him a cute little pup lost by the highway, took it home and raised it with his family. We all tried to tell him that puppy was a coyote, but he couldn’t believe it. Not until it took to eating the neighbors’ chickens.”
“Then you’re not a native of Mystic Bay, Lloyd?” Daniel had assumed from the central importance of the Bean in town life, that both Furlongs were locals.
“Me? Nah. I came here after the Corps tossed me out. Heard West Haven was a pretty spot where shifters could be themselves. Met my wife and decided to stay.”
Daniel was a little shocked at this casual reference to a dishonorable discharge, but he bit his tongue. Lloyd Furlong was a good man. There was probably more to the story.
Sullivan however spoke sharply. “Lloyd Furlong,” he said sternly. “The Marine Corps did not kick you out. You received a medical discharge. Necessitated by an ungodly number of impossible missions.”
“The docs figured I’d gone clear round the twist after one ambush too many,” Lloyd confided to Daniel. He drew circles at his temple. “And wasn’t coming back anytime soon. I guess they were right. My head was pretty messed up after I got back from Vietnam.”
That made Lloyd even older than Daniel was. Unsurprising in a dragon shifter. “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a real thing,” he returned mildly. “As real as a bullet wound, and a lot longer lasting.”
Lloyd snorted. “That wasn’t what they called it back then. You don’t get as much respect when you lose your mind instead of a leg.”
Daniel sympathized. But he didn’t address Furlong’s demons.
“How many years do you have to go?” Lloyd asked. “In the Navy, I mean?”
“I’ve done thirty.”
“I always figured to stick with the Corps until retirement, but they kicked me out before my pension locked in.” Furlong shrugged.
Daniel had often been assigned to tell good men they were too broken to be of further use. Seemingly Naval command had promoted him to Rear Admiral so they could lash him to a desk and wish that duty on him. It was always difficult to inform a man that his bravery was going to be rewarded with dismissal. But a teammate who could suffer a psychotic break while on a mission was a teammate who should stay home.
“You seem to have made a full recovery,” Daniel commented.
“I came here, met Martha, and never looked back,” Furlong’s usual calm was back.
He drained his can and placed it tidily in the recycling bin. “I gotta get moving before Martha sends out a search party for me.”
“What’s the story on Furlong?” Daniel asked when the other dragon had left.
“He’s a brave soldier who was tasked with one too many forlorn hopes. If you know what I mean?”
“I’m in Special Ops. I know.”
Forlorn was the name of the game. Command didn’t want you to die, but they expected death. He and his teammates trained furiously to give themselves the best odds, but their job wasn’t to come home, it was to complete their missions. Homecoming was a bonus. He had buried a lot of buddies.
Sullivan’s cheerful face was sober. “Lloyd got a medical discharge, a couple of medals and a citation that would make a good novel. He was a mighty bitter young man when he got here. Had to figure out how to be a man if he couldn’t be a soldier.”
They sipped their beers in silence.
“Lot of good men never do figure out civilian life,” Sullivan said. “But Lloyd channeled some of his aggression into his bakery, his passion into Martha, and learned to meditate. Can’t say that last would do as much for me. I prefer a beer myself. Want another one?”
“Yes, please.” Could Daniel figure out what to do if he was no longer a warrior?
“Here you go.” Sullivan popped the cap on his beer.
“Thanks.” Daniel’s other worry surfaced. “Shouldn’t they be back by now?”
“The girls?”
“Don’t let them hear you call them that,” advised Daniel.
“I won’t. The Seagull will bring them back safely. There’s no bad weather predicted and I set a bubble around her.”
Three fairies out in a magic sailboat, what could go wrong? “Which way did they head?” Daniel asked helplessly.
“They aren’t sailing west, if that’s what you’re asking, Dan. They have no reason to. Robin wouldn’t abandon her duties, Moira has Quinn and Rowena to think of, and Angelina doesn’t strike me as the kind of female to take her baby to the country from which no one returns.”
“I hope you’re right, Sullivan. But I’d have said Angie was the last woman on earth to leave her husband.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Robin~
“I can’t believe that they refused to vote on the issue, again,” Gordon thundered. The windows of Robin’s office rattled.
“I never realized how many favors Garret Somerset could call in,” Robin remarked to the two people gathered to discuss last
night’s meeting.
“For sure,” said Sheriff Babcock. “Somerset has spent the last twenty years filling a pothole here, revising a tax assessment there. Pretty much every councilor owes him.”
“I thought the Old Ones would change his mind,” said Robin. “That ceremony was as impressive as I could make it. Full moon. Formal petition. Celestial music. I even wore my chain of office.” She shook her head. “What went wrong?”
Walter snorted. “Gotta have a mind, Mayor, before you can change it.”
Gordon laughed but sobered almost immediately. “At least we held it to a deferral, Robin. Once Somerset gets them to vote no, we have no place to go.”
“Melissa says the Admiral is asking about buying Castle Rock,” Walter told them. “Mystic Bay doesn’t control that.”
“Is it for sale?” Robin asked.
“Nope. But the Lindorms have more money than Bill Gates,” Walter reminded her. “If they offer high enough, they might persuade the new owner to sell.”
“Be better than nothing,” Gordon said.
Robin did not comment. She wanted Angie to be part of Mystic Bay. A valued member of the town and island. Not just for her own selfish reasons, but because she sensed that her cousin needed to belong. She did not think it would be safe or wise for Angelina to live on an isolated island with a newborn. And Daniel Lindorm was as stubborn as they came. He was another one unwilling to budge.
Walter cleared his throat. “I hate to change the subject, Mayor, but we have to discuss the illegal dumping out on Noel Silcox’s land. Did the council come to any decision?”
“I’m afraid not.” Sully sighed. “Old Garret again. Silcox is his cousin. Garret maintains that since it is not the owner who’s dumping in the sinkhole, that the council should either seal the hole, or remove the trash.”
Adored by A Dragon: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Mystic Bay Book 4) Page 14