by Leela Ash
Then that moment passed and the gloom of his life closed around him again. Tess wasn’t his Mate. Maybe the Rite of Claiming had returned to the world. But that sacred ritual was for Dragons. True Dragons. Ones that didn’t abandon their Flights and duties. Ones that didn’t let the innocent die, as he had. Hell, he was halfway to being a Worm. If he unbound his Dragon soul, it would probably tear itself to shreds with shame.
No. No matter how real that nocturnal tryst seemed, it was nothing more than a dream. Dragons like Brandon Lorde took part in the Rite of Claiming. Deserters like him merely dreamed of such blessings and such Mates.
Though…
Darian paused in the bedroom doorway, unnerved by a sudden thought. That might explain why a Lost Shifter would mysteriously appear out here in the woods. If they truly were soul-mates, Fate would draw them together against all odds.
Immediately, he spotted the flaw in that theory: in the dream, he hadn’t seen Tess’ soul.
The souls of all Shifters were tied to animals and mythic beasts. Some were fierce warriors, like Dragons, Bears, and Wolves. Others reflected gentler souls, like the magically-gifted Witch Hares and the Rats, who were tenacious survivors at their best, treacherous spies at their worst. No Shifter soul appeared human, however.
That was that. If this had truly been the Rite of Claiming, he would have seen Tess’ Shifter soul. What did the Rites’ words say? No Claim without Truth.
The certainty of that fact settled on his soul like a wet blanket, extinguishing the last spark of hope that his passionate, wild dream had birthed.
He was alone. No Mate. No helper.
Before that gloom could darken into despair, however, a quiet cough reminded him that no, he was not alone.
“Hey Ethan, buddy,” he called. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” Rubbing his eyes, his son shuffled out in his Star Wars pajamas. “This place is so dusty. And it stinks.”
The sight of the boy, so innocent, so sweet, dispelled his growing melancholy. Yes, he’d made mistakes. Yes, he’d abandoned the duties that his Alpha assigned him. But that was his choice, not an act of cowardice.
I chose to defend my son rather than the Wellspring I was ordered to guard.
His Dragon didn’t agree with that choice? So be it. He could live with its disapproval. A bittersweet calm accompanied that realization.
“You ready for breakfast?”
Ethan stuck out his tongue. “Is it cereal again? I hate cereal.”
“You love cereal,” Darian chuckled.
“I used to love cereal,” his son grumbled. “But it’s all we eat now so I hate it.”
“Okay, okay, Mr. Grumpy.” The boy scowled at that nickname. “What about waffles with strawberry syrup, and bacon, and eggs?”
Ethan’s eyes lit up at that offer. “Do you got them?”
“‘Do you have them’,” his father corrected.
“Do you have them? Did you get groceries last night?”
“Nope.” As Ethan’s face fell, he hurried to explain. “But the Black Bear Diner has them. And I think I owe you a meal, don’t I?”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” The boy squealed with delight and darted over to hug his father, dust and stinky rooms forgotten. Darian smiled, trying to remember how long it had been since he himself had been so excited about waffles.
“Well, get dressed. Unless you think they’ll serve you in your pjs.”
As the giggling youngster ran back to his room, Darian stepped outside. The fall air was cold, but crisp and lightly touched with the scent of pine needles. A wonderful change from the stale cabin.
Somewhere down the road, an engine roared to life.
His eyes narrowed. Tess? Probably. It sounded like a motorcycle. Still, better safe than sorry. Quietly, Darian slipped down the driveway. As he passed the trees at the edge of his property, the engine died down.
Sure enough, it was his neighbor. Hands on her hips, Tess beamed at the beat-up Harley Davidson in front of her shack.
His movement drew her gaze. Their eyes met…
…and for one moment, he saw joy there. The delight of a woman who sees her lover’s return.
His heart beat faster. Had she… could she have shared his dream?
But no. That phantom happiness disappeared at once. Hell, he’d probably imagined it in the first place. Tess waved and offered him a smile. It was the cool, polite smile of a stranger, not a Mate’s joy.
“Sorry about the noise,” she called out.
“It’s fine.”
They stood there. He on his side of the road, she on hers. Darian frowned at a pothole – one of many that marred their one route to town. When he glanced up, he found Tess watching him. Or, well, eyeing him speculatively. If he hadn’t been so rude to her yesterday, he’d think she was checking him out.
At once, she dropped her eyes to the road, as if that pothole was the most interesting thing on the planet. “So, uh…”
Dammit. Even though he knew it was an idiotic impulse, he wanted – no, longed – to ask her straight out ‘Did you dream about me last night?’
Thankfully, he squelched that urge. If she did dream about me, it would be a nightmare. After all, yesterday, I pretty much accused her of trying to kidnap my son. And I told her to get lost and never set foot on my property again. Not exactly the stuff that good dreams are made from.
The silence was killing him, however, so he blurted out, “Ethan and I are going to grab breakfast at the Black Bear Diner.”
Now why had he said that? Idiotic! It almost sounded like an invitation to join them – which it definitely wasn’t! No dream, no matter how passionate, changed the fact that she was a strange Shifter who didn’t belong here.
Fortunately, Tess didn’t read anything into his words. Her delicate lips pinched and that fine-bone face of hers clouded. “So, in the interest of transparency here, let me say that I’m heading down to Bangor myself. Give me a minute and I’ll get going. Ahead of you, so you’re sure I’m not following you or anything.”
Why would she think that? Oh. Darian winced. Because of his accusations yesterday. Still, it was a good suggestion and he scolded himself for the embarrassment it stirred in him. She could be an enemy. She could be a pawn of the Fangs of Apophis. How could he forget that risk? It was disconcerting how much one foolish dream could lull him into a false sense of security.
“That’s… thank you. That’s a kind offer,” was all he said in the end.
She nodded, her expression unreadable. Without another word, she retrieved a helmet from inside the shack door. Then she returned to her bike, nodded, and the Harley roared to life again.
She drove away, dodging potholes with expert skill. Darian watched her go. Wishing, desperately, that he’d had the courage to ask her that question.
Did you dream of me last night?
Chapter 7
All the way down to Bangor, the traces of a dream shrouded Tess. Which was silly.
I mean, it’s one thing to lie in bed, savoring every last bit of a nighttime tryst. Nobody can blame me for that. And, well, okay, seeing Darian in the road certainly brought it all back into focus. How am I supposed to look at him, those broad shoulders and lean hips, and not ‘remember’ being wrapped around them?
But now? An hour later? This was getting stupid.
Yeah, her neighbor was gorgeous. Hot, brooding, and – if her dream was on target – hung. Even the kid was a sweet touch. His dad obviously adored him and it was nice to know that the guy built his world around his family.
Still, he clearly had issues. She didn’t know who these ‘Fangs of Apophis’ were, but she knew the signs of a gang when she saw them.
C’mon, girl! I wasn’t joking when I said I needed to take a break from Bad Choices.
Bangor wasn’t much. An oversized town pretending to be a city. For a while, Tess circled around it, admiring the tiny downtown and the broad Penobscot River that ran through it. The town’s charms were limited, howev
er, and after a half hour, she grew bored. Time to grab a backpack full of supplies and head back to the shack.
Or I could say, ‘Screw the Deep Woods’ and just head to Boston.
She’d found a large roll of cash in her ‘home’, along with a handful of papers identifying a Boston bank account. It seemed to belong to her – though she had no clue why it had so much money in it.
I could head down to the city… get new clothes… find a nice hotel with room service… stop sleeping on a damned lawn chair…
…and never see Darian Morland again.
Tess scowled and swerved around a slow-moving SUV. Why did that matter? The man didn’t even like her! He thought she was some kind of mob enforcer or something. I-95 was just to her right. Hop on it and, in five hours, she would land in the lap of luxury.
Instead, she passed over the interstate and headed toward the grocery store.
Why?
Because a shack next to him was better than an empty penthouse.
The thought shocked her, and immediately, excuses flooded her mind. She didn’t know him. He was trouble. He didn’t like her.
His kid does, though. Ethan, right? Nice boy.
Nice enough to give up a Four Seasons suite for, though?
Yeah. And that whole ‘his dad doesn’t like me’ thing? That can change. Especially if I help them out. If there’s really a gang coming for them, Darian’s going to need backup. I don’t recall much of my past, but I think I can handle myself in a fight.
There it was. With a sigh of resignation, Tess accepted the painful truth: she was already committed to making Bad Choice #13. No sense pretending she was going to be sensible this time. One handsome stranger plus one devilishly hot dream, and her common sense flew out the window.
Annoyed and amused by her own foolishness, she signaled to turn into the ‘Shop Rite’ parking lot.
As she did, a town car glided up lane beside her. One of its black tinted windows rolled down, and a cultured male voice said, “Amatessandra?”
The man in the back seat was, on the surface, good looking. Slender, with an almost feminine, willowy grace. He wore a black tailored suit that perfectly fit his form and showed off the whippet-thin lines of his body. He could have been any handsome businessman – except for two details. First, his black hair, pulled back in a long pony tail, was far too long for mundane society. Second, his eyes were a brilliant violet.
Contacts, obviously. Still, the color was an odd choice. It made her think of that strange, elfin woman from her dream.
There wasn’t a single thing about him that was at all menacing. In fact, slouching languidly in the back of his limo, he looked bored beyond words. Yet, the moment she spotted his face, alarm bells went off in Tess’ head.
This man was dangerous. Treacherous, untrustworthy, and a complete slime ball. Bits and pieces of old memory rattled through her head, like dead leaves.
She didn’t know his name, but, somehow, she suspected that all her memories of him lay in one of those painted stones on Picture Rock Island. This guy was somebody she’d tried to forget – and no friend.
“Amatessandra?” he repeated.
Tess stared coldly at him. “Gesundheit.”
Irritation clouded his narrow face. “You don’t even remember your own name? How disappointing.”
“Of course I know my name. It’s Tess Everlyn.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s Amatessandra.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it was that – once. Now it’s Tess. Deal with that or stop talking to me.”
“As you will.” His sulky pout stirred the sediments in her mind, dim memories of a hundred other temper tantrums. “Do you recall me?”
“Nope.” Damn this was a long light. Briefly, she considered running the red.
“I’m Terandicandros.”
“Too long.” Tess revved the Harley’s engine. “I’m going to call you ‘Dick.’ I don’t really remember you, but from what little I recall, that’s about right.”
The sulk deepened. She found herself delighted by the way that every little slight and vexation showed in his face. “I am your servant, of course. But my lady, we need…”
Ha! Green light! Tess roared off without waiting to hear what Weasel-Face ‘needed.’
He followed her. Of course, he did. When she pulled into a parking space in the grocery lot, his driver blocked her in.
Dick was really starting to get on her nerves, even if she couldn’t quite remember him.
Once more, his window rolled down, as she tucked her helmet onto the bike’s back. “Lady Tess, listen to me, please. You’re in danger.”
“Yeah, I doubt that.” She stepped close to the limo. Dick shrank back, as if he expected her to haul him out through the window. When, instead, she started to slip past, he changed his tactics.
“Wait! I know people who will pay a fortune for your aid!”
Tess paused, scowling. “I thought I was in danger. You’re just making this stuff up as you go, aren’t you?”
“No! Of course not!” His eyes flickered uneasily about the parking lot. “We can’t talk here, though. Not in public.”
“Sorry, Dick.” She slipped between the limo and a blue sedan. “I’m not going anyplace private with you.”
“Is the name ‘the Fangs of Apophis’ familiar?”
Now that caught her attention. Tess hesitated, eyeing the stranger suspiciously. Dick knew something about the gang hunting Darian? Ah hell, maybe she ought to talk to him.
Seeing her reaction, the man smirked. One long, languid hand stretched out of the car, offering her a slip of paper. “Emerald Lounge. Address is there. I’ll await you, and we can talk. About the Fangs and your future.”
With a flick of his wrist, he signaled his driver. Tess stared as the limo pulled away, then glowered at the slip of paper in her hand.
This is a bad idea. But she was still going to do it.
What else was new?
Chapter 8
The Emerald Lounge was every bit as cheap and tawdry as its name suggested. A dingy bar huddled in one corner, sticky with years of sloshed beer. Dirty booths lined the walls, their seats covered with duct tape repairs. Four doors hinted that there was a lot more to this place that wasn’t open to the public. But as Tess strode through the lounge’s dank, cigarette-fouled main room, all she wanted to do was get out as quickly as possible.
Dick waited in one of the booths. The only other patron was a pale, thin woman at the bar, weighing gently on her stool. She had the rotten, skeletal gauntness of a meth addict, and the blank look in her eye suggested she was wasted right now.
Tess ignored her and plunked down across from her old companion. His smile widened, grew more simpering. “Good of you to come, my lady. This is a discrete place. Nothing we say will pass to unworthy ears.”
“Whatever.” Stoner-girl looked too wasted to notice the world, much less eavesdrop. Still, something about this place disturbed her. Not just its general filth and stench. There was something off about the people in it. For a second, the bartender’s form seemed to shimmer, shifting into that of a mangy, toothless bear. The addict dreaming on her stool transformed into a white rabbit with wide, blind eyes. Yet, when Tess snapped around to stare at them directly, bear and rabbit vanished. Leaving just a paunchy old biker and some washed up meth-head.
“Before we start, may I offer you an amenity?” From under his jacket he pulled a baggie full of a white powder. “If I remember correctly, you’ve always been partial to cocaine.”
Had she? The accusation seemed depressingly plausible to her. With a grimace, she shook her head.
The rejection seemed to surprise Dick. “Meth? Heroin? Or do your pleasures run in other directions these days?”
Bile rose in her throat. Damn, what kind of a messed up fool was she? No wonder she’d dumped her past under a tree in the Maine woods. “I’m good. All I want is information.”
“Of course.” He tucked the drugs away safely again.
“Let’s start with the Fangs of Apophis. Who are they, why are they here in Nowhereville, Maine, and what do I have to do with them?”
Dick leaned back, spreading his arms along the top of the booth. “The Fangs are a… shall we say… practical group of Shifters. Ones who refuse to allow their Shifter souls to dominate them. They’re committed to controlling this world and its myriad pleasures. The Other Side be damned.”
Shifters… Other Side…
Darian had used those words. Which made sense, she guessed, if he’d dealt with this gang in the past. Still, none of it made sense to her. “Back up. What’s a Shifter?”
His jaw actually dropped and he gaped at her, all pretense of sophistication lost. “You don’t remember Shifters? How much of yourself have you shed?”
Judging from the rocks on that island, twelves stones’ worth – however much that was. Probably a lot, given the blank slate of her past. Not that she was telling him that.
Quickly, Dick’s mouth snapped shut. An oily compassion – completely unbelievable – settled over his fine features. “I’m sure this world has been hard on one of your refined lineage. Even I, a mere commoner, find it a maddening burden. But, you see, that’s the wonderful news: there’s a way for us to get home. We don’t have to stay in this hellhole any longer.”
She had a home? A dull pain blossomed behind her eyes. “Stop. Back it up and answer my question. What’s a Shifter?”
“A mortal joined to a being of the Other Side. A Bear,” he gestured at the bartender cleaning glasses. “A Witch Hare.” Another wave at the shivering addict. “Shifters can ‘shift’ into that other form. Normal humans can’t see that. Or, rather, can’t deal with it. Their minds twist and break if they look directly at that kind of magic.”
Magic. Were-bears. Were- … bunnies?
Laughter bubbled up inside her and Tess pressed a hand to her lips to keep it in. With it, though, came a sobering thought.
Are Shifters any weirder than women who put their memories in rocks?