Flight From Death

by Yasmine Galenorn

  But then the blessed sense of transformation hit. My body began to morph and stretch out in the most sensual manner. Unlike Weres, changing form didn’t hurt in the least for me—in fact, it was luxurious, almost passionate, heightening every sense I had.

  And then the dreamy wash of transfiguration slid away and I was in full dragon form, feeling so strong that I wanted to roar, to shoot out of the waters, into the air where I could streak through the sky and then barrel-dive back into the water again. But I held myself back—do that and it would be a quick and harsh shift back to human. Instead, I sank into the sensations around me. It would be so easy to swim out to the ocean from here, swim away and never come back. But the heady rush of endorphins began to settle and I focused on stretching my wings, on exercising my muscles.

  Blue dragons had much smaller wings than most others—we mostly stayed in the water and didn’t use them much except to steer with and propel through the water, like oars on a boat. We could fly, but our flight didn’t come through the power of our wings. My forearms were shorter. While water dragons resembled the pictures of Nessie more than regular dragons, we did have the residual wings and we did have legs and arms. We were closer to what people thought Asian dragons looked like, rather than westernized dragons.

  With long sweeps, I guided myself through the water, diving deep to settle against the bottom. The water rolled around me as the buoying currents soothed my temper. The waves recharged me, amping me up in a way that I hadn’t felt since before my incarceration in the Dragon Reaches. I could live here, I thought. Camp out on the bottom of the inlet and sleep for months in the rocking cradle of the Ocean Mother.

  As my eyes adjusted, I looked around. There were fish. I didn’t know their Earthside names, but they were there, silvery and shimmering in the dim, dusky light. And jellies—luminescent—fluttered by. I loved the jellyfish. They were prickly, though their venom didn’t bother dragons. Their glittering bioluminescence mesmerized me and I could sit for hours watching the great swarms pass on by.

  After a while, I began to swim again, spiraling in loops through the water, playing chase with my tail. I plowed through a group of fish, not to hurt them, but for the delight of watching them scatter. Hunger rumbled in my stomach, but I ignored it. Right now, I wanted to just enjoy my time and not focus on hunting. Diving to the bottom again, I pushed off, spiraling till I almost broke the surface. I did a belly roll and occupied myself by playing with a piece of driftwood I found floating in the water. I nosed it along for a while. But somewhere, in the back of my mind, something tugged at my thoughts.

  And then, I remembered: Alex. The vampire would be back shortly. My internal sense of timing told me it had been nearly three Earthside hours.

  Reluctantly, I began to swim back to shore in the still-darkened morning. As I reached shallow water, I changed to my human form and dove through the last of the waves until I came up on the shore. I was tired. My entire body felt like I’d just run a marathon. But I was happy, if a little melancholy, and my nerves had been cushioned by the water.

  Recharged, I started slogging my way back up the beach when I heard something. A song. It was distant, but definitely there. I also heard the sound of a boy laughing. I whirled back to the water to see a teenaged boy heading toward the waves. Nobody else was around. He must have come from one of the RVs at the campground. He wasn’t dressed for swimming, and my guess was that he hadn’t planned on taking an early-morning dive. No, the sirens were singing, and he was caught in their trap.

  Here’s the thing about sirens: There are different sirens for every body of water, and they vary in number and form. But the Ocean Mother’s daughters are legion, and they extend into lakes and ponds as well. And they most definitely lure people into the depths.

  The boy was at the water’s edge and walking into the waves. I raced over to where he was just as a riptide swirled around his feet and yanked him off balance, swiftly pulling him out toward the open channel. Riptides, a local term for rip currents, were strong, narrow currents that cut through the waves, pushing toward open water. Trying to swim against the rip exhausted swimmers because the force was too strong, and the victims usually ended up unable to keep their momentum, and were swept out to sea.

  But I knew how to navigate them. I dove back into the water, letting the current carry me toward the boy. He was gasping, trying to stay above water and turn himself around. I pulled him against my side, holding him with one arm, as I cautiously swam sideways—the only way to escape from the current. I let it carry us a little ways farther down shore until the force began to lessen, and then I put in a concerted effort and managed to skirt around it, heading for the beach. The boy was able to stumble out beside me on his own two feet.

  He leaned over, coughing up water as I sat on a driftwood log. After a minute he joined me.

  “Thanks . . . just . . . thanks. I thought I was going to drown. I dunno why I headed into the water. Jeez, that was dumb.”

  “You would have drowned if I hadn’t been here. Listen to me: Always take someone with you when you go swimming, unless you’re an experienced swimmer. Even then, be careful.” But then, I stopped. The boy hadn’t meant to go in the water. The sirens had lured him in, but I couldn’t very well tell him that. “Just be careful out here, okay? Now, head back to your campsite and dry off.”

  “You want to come back with me? My folks are going to freak and I bet they’d like to thank you.” He looked me over, his eyes lingering on my breasts, and then he blushed. Yeah, he was going to be just fine. Typical teenaged boy.

  I flashed him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry, a friend is waiting for me. But—what’s your name?”

  “Brad. Brad Iverson.”

  “Well, Brad Iverson, listen to me. Be careful around here. This town . . . there are a lot of strange things that go on. Just watch yourself around here. Now you go get out of those wet things before you catch a cold.”

  I stood, waiting till he was away from the water’s edge. As he headed back up the beach, he turned to glance back at me again. “Hey, what’s your name?”

  “Shimmer. Just think of me as your guardian . . . well . . . beach bunny. Okay?” I laughed and waved him on, then looked back at the water. “Not today, Mama. Not today.”

  I jogged around the perimeter of the lighthouse. Sure enough, Alex and his Range Rover were waiting. As I approached the car, I found him leaning against the door, towel in hand and a grin on his face.

  “Enjoyed yourself, then?” It wasn’t really a question.

  I accepted the towel. “Alex, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I needed this. It was hard to come back, though. Whenever I get a vacation I’m going out and staying out for a couple of days.”

  I slung my tote bag over my shoulder and headed to a nearby bathroom, where I was delighted to find a shower. As I rinsed off under the steaming water, I lathered up my hair and rinsed it out, then quickly braided it back so it wouldn’t drip all over me. As I dried off and slipped into my clothes, I managed to bring my thoughts back to the matters at hand. When I was out in the water, time seemed to cease and nothing else really mattered, but now, I needed to focus on the job.

  By the time I climbed back in the Range Rover, I was ready to rock. I wasn’t even very tired—but then again, I still had a good five to six hours before I would start thinking about bed. I didn’t feel like talking about my swim—that was private—but I did tell Alex about the boy.

  “Today was his lucky day. Good thing you were there, that’s all I can say.” Alex started the ignition and turned on the heater so I could warm up.

  “Yeah, he was lucky. Say, I’m hungry. Patrick have anything good in the house? I could eat a horse.”

  Alex glanced at me, grinning. “Have you ever? Eaten a horse?”

  I blushed. Truth was, I had. The truth was, in dragon form? I’d eaten a lot of things. “Um, can I reserve the right to answer on the basis that it might embarrass me?”

  “No need. That
tells me everything I wanted to know. And more. But to answer your question, yes, Patrick has a well-stocked fridge. He went shopping when he knew that you and Ralph were coming with me.” He paused. “Shimmer . . .”

  I knew what was coming. I had almost hoped that I could avoid the conversation for now. I was so overwhelmed by my time in the water, the last thing I wanted to deal with were my emotions from the human side of the equation as well, but if Alex wanted to talk . . .

  He shifted so he was facing me. “What’s going on with us? I want to know. I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You work for me, and the Wing-Liege has essentially handed you over to me . . . I would never take advantage of my position.”

  I let out a slow breath and met his gaze. “Alex . . . I know you just broke up with Glenda, but it’s been over for a while, right?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t want to deal with her temper, so I just let it ride, but yes. Emotionally I pulled out of the relationship some time back. I know I should have just ended it then, but you know how it is—it’s hard to feel like you’re a failure in a relationship. I just wasn’t ready to admit that we couldn’t make it work. And Glenda can get so angry . . .”

  “I think I knew that.” I tried to phrase it right—I didn’t want to say something that could be misunderstood. “All right, I’ll just spit it out. I’ve found you attractive since the beginning. But I also hated being shoved over here like the family secret that you hide in the closet. I think I blamed you for that. I know you had nothing to do with it, but you’re involved, you know? And yes, you have power over me with the Wing-Liege, but I’ve come to realize that you won’t abuse it. You didn’t tell him I almost staked you . . .”

  Alex ducked his head, smiling. “You were under a charm.”

  “Yes, but don’t you see? Back in the Dragon Reaches, that still would have bought me a death sentence. At the least, some time under the Strap.” Frustrated, trying to say something that I had no clue how to say, I leaned forward and cupped his chin in my hands, staring deep into those frost-laden eyes. “Alex, I make my own decisions, as much as I can. And if I want to kiss you, it’s my own choice—not because you’re forcing me to.”

  The next moment, his arms were around me and his lips were on mine. They were full, cool as ice, but still they set off a spark in me that began to ricochet through my body. My pulse raced as he crawled across the seat, bearing down on me, and I spread my legs so he could lean against me. He pressed his mouth hard against mine as his tongue darted between my lips. Shifting, I tumbled into the kiss, a deep hunger racing through my body. His chest was against my breasts, and his strength surprised me—it matched my own. He broke away, laughing deeply.

  “Oh, woman. You know I want you. Ever since you came to the agency, I’ve thought about you. Every time I touched Glenda, it was you I was kissing . . . touching . . .” He gazed into my eyes, his fingers stroking my cheek. “What do you want to do? We’ll take this at your pace.”

  It felt odd that he wasn’t breathing, that his skin was cold as ice. But then again, I was used to sleeping with dragons, not people. Carter had been an entirely different matter. Demons were a breed of their own, and demigods, even more so.

  “What I want . . . and what we should do are two different things.” My body was aching for more, but my brain was on overload. The swim, being in my natural form, and now this emotional exchange had me in a whirl. After a moment, I opted for breathing room. “Kiss me again . . . and then I guess we’d better head back to Patrick’s, as much as I’d like to get your clothes off.” Suddenly bold, I pulled him forward and we locked lips again. That was one thing he’d have to get used to: I wasn’t shy.

  A moment later, when we came up for air and had untangled ourselves, he fell back in his seat, a goofy grin on his face. “Shimmer, you just made me a very happy vampire.” But then he sobered. “Unfortunately you’re right. We’d better get back to the case, as much as I’d like to take this further. I’m worried, Shimmer.” We pulled out of the parking lot, then zipped down the street out of the park and back onto W Street.

  His tone of voice shifted so abruptly that I stopped smiling. “Why? Did something happen while I was in the water?”

  Shifting gears, he nodded. “Ralph and I checked the EVP. The voice we heard? Yeah, it’s there, but so are a number of others. That house is riddled with spirits, and none of them sound content. I have no idea of what Patrick’s gotten himself into, but this job? It’s not going to be easy at all. And there’s something else . . .”

  “Well, dish.”

  “There was a woman’s voice and she was chanting. I have no clue what she was saying, but it sounded magical. When I heard it, I didn’t think about ghosts, if that makes any sense. I think we’re dealing with more than a haunting.”

  “I guess Ralph and I’d better go talk to Patrick’s witch friend, then. Because I know squat about magic other than my own.”

  “Ralph and I aren’t any more versed in it than you are. Okay, I just wanted to warn you before we got back to the house. I haven’t said anything to Patrick yet, because I want to know more about what we’re dealing with before telling him.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t a good idea to disseminate information to clients before we had all the facts, especially when a man’s home and livelihood were in question. “Got it. But we’d better find out something pretty soon, or the High Tide Bed-and-Breakfast is going to close before it even opens.”

  “That’s the truth of it.” Alex started the car again and we headed back to Patrick’s.

  CHAPTER 7

  Alex and I managed another kiss or two—in secret—before he and Patrick retired for the day, leaving Ralph with the keys to the Range Rover. We sat at the kitchen table, plotting out our morning before we headed to sleep.

  “We need to talk to Tonya, then visit the Port Townsend Historical League. Where else do we need to go?” I was taking notes on my tablet while Ralph and I ate. Patrick had made a pot of spaghetti. I’d never met a vampire who liked to cook, and while Patrick couldn’t sample his own food, apparently he didn’t need to because it was excellent.

  “We should look around the yard here while it’s daylight. Maybe we’ll find something. Also, we should find out what we can about Nathan Striker. Is his family still in town? I’m tired, but I think I have a few hours’ steam left in me. And Flying Horse is my friend.” Flying Horse was an energy drink that Ralph guzzled like it was water. How he handled that much caffeine eluded me, but he managed it without a problem. “We can’t do much before nine A.M., though, so after dinner, I’m taking a nap.” He glanced around the kitchen. “That is, if I can get to sleep. I feel like we’re being watched.”

  “That’s because we probably are.” I shivered. “I don’t like this place. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a beautiful house, and Patrick seems nice enough. But I don’t feel safe here.” I paused. “You realize when we go to bed this afternoon, neither Patrick nor Alex will be awake yet. You want to sleep in my room?”

  Even though Ralph had a crush on me, it would be better to sleep in the same bed and be safe, rather than be isolated in different rooms where we wouldn’t necessarily hear each other if something happened.

  Ralph blushed, but ducked his head and nodded. “Sounds good. Are you going to take a nap, too?”

  “I thought I’d do some research online while you slept. I’m not tired. But tell you what. Sleep on the sofa in the living room. That way I’m right here.”

  The werewolf flashed me a grateful look. “Thanks. I admit, I’m a little nervous.”

  “I think that’s wise. Okay, go get some shut-eye, and I’ll see what I can find out. I’ll wake you at nine and we’ll head out. I may put in a call to Tonya, to see if she’s home.”

  Ralph curled up on the sofa and was instantly out, despite the caffeine. I sat at a writing desk near him, Alex’s laptop in front of me. First things first. I glanced at the clock. It was a little past eight. Withdrawing to the k
itchen, I put in a call to Tonya. She answered on the second ring.

  “Harris’s Emporium of Magic and Witchery. May I help you?”

  I was almost surprised she answered—I didn’t think she’d be open already. I introduced myself. “My name is Shimmer, from the Fly by Night Magical Investigations Agency. Alex, the owner of the company, is a friend of Patrick Strand. Patrick gave us your card.”

  “Oh yeah, he used to date my mother. What’s up?”

  I laid out what was happening. “We’re not certain this is just a matter of ghosts. And even if it is, we may need someone to exorcise them. Would you possibly be able to give us your opinion? Patrick will pay for your time.”

  Tonya seemed brusque, but pleasant enough. “I can make it over tonight. No money unless it involves more than me just nosing around a little. We can talk about that later. I’ll bring my equipment. Eight thirty all right?”

  “That would be fine. Thank you.”

  “Can you drop by this morning? I think it would be a good idea if we met first.”

  “Will nine thirty, ten o’clock be all right?”

  “That’s fine. Do you have my address?”

  I double-checked her address against the card and then hung up. One thing off the list. Next, I returned to the living room and pulled up a browser, typing the names “Nathan Striker” and “Port Townsend” into the search engine. The result was a yield of links that I had not expected. Apparently Nathan Striker had been quite well known.

  I began scanning through the links, looking to see what I could find. Quite a few were bios on his business practices, but I began seeing more and more references to how ruthless he had been with his financial dealings. Finally, I added a third parameter to the search—the house address. That narrowed the field greatly. In fact, I came up with a personal website from a family named Buckland, and, curious, I began searching through it. Sure enough, I found Nathan Striker’s name.