by Livia Quinn
Kat's eyes were narrowed like she was actually considering it. I couldn't imagine. Or maybe I was afraid to think about it. I knew first hand there was superior intelligence behind the reptilian eyes of my silver dragon, but did Kat know even that much? I couldn't quite picture me or my Tempestaerie making love to a dragon.
"I don't know how to explain it, " Kat said. "I wasn't in my right mind during the Para-moon. When it was over, I lost him forever, before we’d even had a chance to see if where it could lead. All that was left was a wolf pup. I've never…"
The room was still; we all sensed this moment was huge. She was fixin' to trust us with at least a small piece of her closely held feelings, her past, her soul.
"This is all new for me. Here, in Destiny, I've been able to relax, to trust—to have friends, a lover." And dreams. She didn't say it out loud, but I saw the yearning on her face and knew how she felt. Kat was starting to believe she could stop running, Destiny could be a refuge and we would have her back, and finding love wasn't out of the question.
"Then, I lost him," she whispered. Kat's eyes blazed. "I wasn't there for him. Instead I ran off like a mad tiger. What if my presence at the healing ceremony would have changed the outcome?"
Aurora said, "Dylan's illness during the Para-moon was due to a poisonous spell placed on his father hundreds of years ago. There's nothing any of us could've done. We might not have even saved him at all without the Vouivre's gift of power."
The Vouivre was a baby elemental dragon who'd been stranded in the lake after the repeated disasters on the Gulf Coast. She'd been driven deeper into the plates of the earth with each storm and wound up in the Forge. During the Chaos, Conor transported her home to the deep waters in the Gulf and she'd left a gift of elemental power in the swamp where we'd submerged Dylan.
"Things happen as they are meant," Aurora said, sagely. How many times had we heard her say that just this year?
Kat nodded. "I'd hoped when I found Dylan at the Derby race scampering around as a puppy that he'd eventually come back to me, but I finally gave up. All he's done is bark and pee and chase females, but I remember something Bailey said about spooning. And this morning…"
My eyes widened as I listened to Kat, "I'd been dreaming of how it was between us, how tender Dylan was to me, his heart pounding wildly against my back. He kissed my neck, held me in his arms and he was um…"
Really! "Okay let's get real," I said. "Don't you mean he licked your neck, held you with his furry paws? It was a dream, Kat."
But when I saw the tear precariously balanced on the edge of her lashes, I wished I could take back my words. This had been our method of communicating with Kat—humor, not treating things too seriously for fear of pushing her away. And here she was trying to break that pattern. Pain tore through me at the thought of hurting my friend. I knew how hard it was to expose yourself to others, to trust them with your vulnerable feelings. "I'm sorry, Katerina. Forgive me for being flip. We care about you."
Kat finally continued, "I felt the flex of muscle, his fingertips on my skin… like before. Then I woke up and found him 'spooned' against me, but still a wolf. I figured he needed to go outside as usual…"
"But?" I was sitting on the edge of my seat.
Kat sighed, "He wasn't interested. He sat on the bed and stared at me. That's when I knew." She looked at each of us, her gaze uncharacteristically direct. "He's in there. Dylan isn't gone."
"Thank the Goddess," Montana whispered fervently.
Katerina took her sunglasses off and looked at each of us directly—for the first time ever. Her eyes were a beautiful golden color, exotic with long tawny lashes. She said, "Those were Dylan's eyes staring back at me today. And now that I've talked it through with you, I think he was frustrated because he couldn't make me understand." She looked at Aurora. "He's changed. He's like a man in a wolf costume, but more man than wolf." She exhaled and sat back. "It's hard to believe, even for me."
"Not exactly," I said remembering the night Jack changed. "I see Jack in the face of his dragon ever since that first night. And we still manage to communicate, usually with one of his growls of irritation."
"I need some advice…" Kat started. About her love life? This was too crazy.
"I don't think I'm qualified to give advice. My dragon is depressed and the man is grumpy, so I don't see myself spooning either one of them anytime soon, maybe never again. Making love with Jack was pure magic, but that didn't happen until we both let our guards down and learned to trust each other." I was reluctant to give voice to my fear, but I did since Katerina had trusted us. "Now I'm afraid we've lost that. I've barely seen him since he changed."
Montana growled, "Men! It's all about them."
Kat looked at Montana. "What about you and Conor?"
Montana's black brows hiked straight into her bangs and her smile kicked up at one corner. "Ooh, baby, I'm attracted to the knight and the dragon." She grinned, "You have to admit, they're both F-I-N-E." I found myself nodding like everyone else in the room.
Aurora said, "When the time comes, Katerina, just follow your heart."
Kat spread her hands out on the counter toward us and said, "Thank you for being my friends. I'm sorry it's been kind of one-sided."
Montana stepped forward first and soon we SOAPS were huggin' it out. Our talk with Kat had lifted my spirits. Maybe things would work out for all of us. Montana backed away with her hand effectively locking Katerina in place.
"Heed my words, Katerina." It sounded like an edict from the gods, which I guess it kinda was. Kat nodded. "If someone's after you or has abused you, I will hunt them down and end the—set you free. You don't even have to ask."
Dinnshencha mode again… Zeus, she was scary sometimes. But she hadn't scared Katerina, who seemed touched. "Thank you." With sudden urgency, she set her stool aside. "I need to find him. Montana, please tell Conor he's on the prowl. I have nightmares that he'll end up on some hunter's wall."
"Done." Montana spoke to her retreating form, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
When she'd gone, I asked, "What should I do about Jack?"
Montana said, "I know someone bigger and badder than Jack who can drag him back to sanity. Looks like he'll be busy today."
"I guess I'd better get home and get ready to run the mail tomorrow. Oh," I snapped my fingers and turned back. "Have you heard about night class this week?"
Chapter 11
I could smell a flea farting at fifty paces.
Tempe
The night extension classes that had been the SOAPS meeting forum for the last couple years were finally to resume this Wednesday night. Aurora smiled, "It will be enlightening."
At Montana's curious look, I explained, "The class is on Wicca and spell-casting, with a special night on tarot reading." It promised to be one of the most entertaining so far, I thought. "The teacher is a visiting professor of Cultural Anthropology and an expert on ancient religions."
Aurora said, "They were still locating the instructor when I first heard about it, but this should give all of you a good introduction into the craft and spells. Is the class full?"
"No, and you will not believe who signed up—Jane Fortune's name was there along with Dickhead's." Dick Randall, our sad excuse of a florist, and Jane had been an item since the Para-moon.
Montana said, "The Astral Psycho will probably show up with her salt and pepper shakers. This is going to be entertaining. I hope you signed me up."
"I did, actually. I signed all the SOAPS up so get the word out."
I walked out to say goodbye to Jordie, but I was too late. She'd already left to go shoot hoops at the school gym with her friend and Destiny's other basketball star, Jarelle Johnson.
Jack
After dragging myself back to the house Monday before dawn, too exhausted from a night of jumping to even fix myself a sandwich, I stumbled down the hall to my bedroom.
Some force was drawing me to that levee. Was I in a rut of my own making or w
as I being affected by the moon? Come to find out, the moon had a huge influence on Paramortals. Was I a Paramortal? I winced at the thought. If so, I was a big disappointment to the Commander-in-Chief of PMs.
I'd driven by Aurora's earlier but when I got there I saw the SOAPS were in attendance, including Tempe, so I put it off. Okay, so I chickened out, but I was determined to see Jordie today.
It was getting a little easier to call the change, but I still felt like the dragon wanted to "jump the leash" when I found myself stressed or—not to sound like a redheaded Tempestaerie I knew—emotional. The practice sessions were essential if I was going to have some semblance of a normal existence. I'd learned the hard way that normal was a figment of a delusional mind, like mine when I moved here. What would have happened if I hadn't run for office? Could Jordie and I have escaped our current predicament or had my fate been sealed? It was too much for my tired brain, which was getting foggier, so I crashed onto the bed in my clothes and was out before my head hit the pillow.
I'd been asleep for only an hour—in a real bed for the first time in months—when my phone rang. Seeing Ryan's name on the display, I snatched it up. "Yeah."
"Jack, I checked out the missing persons and there are only two that could be our victim unless we're dealing with an unknown. One is an out of towner, Caucasian, whose wife said he came to Storm Lake on a fishing trip and never returned home. The other was a Hispanic male who's been missing for two weeks. And get this, he worked for Mrs. Karrakas."
Karrakas was the woman who'd filed a complaint against Tempe for theft. Wouldn't it be poetic justice to get something on her? "Give it to me." I jotted down the contact info on the family members. "I have to swing by the M.E.’s office and see how he's coming then I'll be away for a couple hours at my parents' house. After that, no matter what, I want to grab some time with Jordie. I've been neglecting more than just my job lately."
"That's a Roger," Ryan said a little too enthusiastically.
"What's a Roger?" I asked my former wingman. "What do you know about Jordie?"
"Nothin', boss. I was…uh, just saying you can count on me to fill in for you." Mm-hm. We knew each other better than that. I groaned. Had Jordie spoken to Ryan?
I stood in the living room after my shower as another realization hit me. This house would no longer work for us. Someone had repaired the damage I'd inflicted to the hallway and kitchen that fateful night… Tempe, if I had to bet… and winced. It was a caring gesture; even while I'd been absent she'd fixed my house, tended to Jordie. I shook my head. I’d been an asshat, a selfish slob, a self-absorbed jerk, neglectful… just to name. Absent didn’t really cover it.
The house was too small. I needed someplace I could spread my wings, not literally—it didn't seem like there'd be much need for a dragon to actually be a dragon inside a house—but if it kept happening spontaneously the house would never survive. Maybe I should look for a barn. I made a note to call a real estate agent after lunch.
After I talked to Ryan and gave him the task of getting some preliminary information from Mrs. Karrakas because quite frankly the woman and I shared an extreme dislike for one another, and I figured Ryan would be able to get more info out of her at this stage of the investigation, I stopped by the U-PakIt for a cup of my favorite burnt syrupy dark roast coffee. It didn't have its usual appeal. Of course months had passed and my life had done some serious negative Gs, but my coffee stop was a routine that should have been, might I say, comforting?
My stomach growled, again, and I caught a whiff of something tantalizing. What was it with this persistent aching hunger? Lately, I ate anything in my path, and I mean anything, and nothing filled me up.
One thing had changed, however, and that was my sense of smell. I could smell a flea farting at fifty paces. My rumbling stomach had apparently advised my brain that the answer to my hunger lay about a hundred feet behind the building. I walked quickly around the sidewalk, tossing the old coffee to the curb. Then I marched like a laser beam straight to where those tasty morsels were inside the green rectangular dumpster at the rear of the parking lot. I dove in.
The next thing I knew I was hip deep in trash, my new sniffer guiding me through the assortment of bags and boxes. What I was trying to locate, I didn't know. Once again, my stomach thundered, but I was getting used to it, being hungry, I mean. I didn't know what it took to fill up my dragon gut because so far it had never been been full. And the pickings were slim here.
What once would've turned Jack Lang's stomach and human sensibilities regarding trash and cleanliness wasn't bothering me, Jack Lang, Dragon Shifter, in the least. From now on, I'd be thinking of dumpsters as food banks and I'd be all in.
I looked down at chewed chicken wings, leftover packets of catsup, smashed french fries and hushpuppies, a pan of the seasoned flour and egg mixture the cook's fish and chicken was dredged in. My mind categorized it—starch, fat, protein—energy. I squeezed the catsup into my mouth. I couldn't get enough food fast enough, the containers and packaging was slowing me down. I popped leftover bones and followed them with handfuls of flour. It would take more than a cup of coffee to wash it down. I spotted a bucket of old grease and leftovers sitting by the door to the dumpster. Yum!
As I reached for the handle a pair of familiar work boots and gorgeous tanned legs entered my field of vision. "Jack, what are you doing in that dumpster?"
Chapter 12
Jack
Tempe's eyes widened when she saw my face, my hand on the handle of the bucket, flour covering my shirt, pants and boots. I followed her gaze. I'd been single-mindedly scavenging and didn't have a clue that my uniform was caked in white crud, and probably my face.
"Oh, this?" I couldn't stop… it was binge time. I reached for the bucket of slop, which had probably been awaiting some pig farmer, and upended it like a Super Duper 90 drink from Gatorz Grub.
While I guzzled the rich fatty mix of lard and leftovers I watched Tempe's face turn green and she grimaced. "That is so gross!"
I stopped long enough to belch. "Hold that thought." I finished off the bucket, let out an audible sigh of satisfaction, wiped my hands on my pants and tossed her my keys. "Do me a favor, will ya? Grab one of the duffels from my trunk."
Her face said I needed more than just a clothing change. Well, it is what it is. I realized I was approaching midday with a different attitude, although it probably wasn't quite the attitude Tempe had been looking for. When she returned, I pulled myself away from my delicious snack—I could always slip back tonight after they'd restocked my dumpster with leftovers—the store was open twenty-four hours.
I burped and cut a big gust, as we Navy pilots say. Tempe stopped a couple feet away pinching her nose shut.
"Zeuus, Jack! Uu bight deed to thee a twagon toctor." She extended the duffel to me with one finger of her other hand, as if she was afraid of getting cooties. I stripped off my shirt and pants, stuffed them into a trash bag and tugged on the clean clothes.
"Where did you come from?" I asked, surprising myself with my less than friendly tone. This was Tempe, after all. Heaven knew, there was going to be hell to pay for treating the women I loved like this, but right now…
"I was on my way to Harmony and I spotted your SUV. I was just curious…" Her voice trailed off.
"You were curious if I'd gone back to work like I said I would. You don't have to worry, Tempe, darling." I winced at my sarcastic tone. "I just stopped for a bite but after I meet with the ME, and have lunch with my mom, I plan to find Jordie wherever she is and let her flay my scales off. Then I have a case to solve."
She didn't miss that I hadn't mentioned us. Things were not kosher in Denmark, or whatever that saying was, but I was making some baby steps toward taking my old life back. That was good, right?
"What's up with the dumpster diving?"
I adjusted my gun belt on my hip and shrugged, "I was hungry."
She huffed, disgust clear in her voice. "Well, sorry I interrupted. Have you talke
d to Conor about this…um… hunger problem?" Tempe asked.
"Nope." I spotted two nearly whole turkey legs lying on top of a trash bag like someone had tossed them over the side on their way to their car and reached in snagging them—with two claws that shot out of my fingertips! "Shit."
"What is it?" Tempe jumped forward, alarmed.
I held up my hand to show Tempe the drumsticks speared on a pair of five-inch claws. "How am I supposed to investigate when… claws pop out of my hands when I least expect it?"
"Um, well…" her lips twisted in a grimace. She shrugged.
"Right." I took two chomps on the grimy, rotten legs then tossed them over my shoulder into the dumpster as I walked away, staring as the claws receded when they weren't needed anymore. Which actually kind of rocked.
"Jack," Tempe's voice sounded tentative.
I turned but her expression was firm when she said, "I'll help you anyway I can, but don't shut me out." Not a request.
I blew out a breath, belched and wiped my mouth with my sleeve. "I'm doing what I figured you and Conor wanted. I'm getting on with my life, one step at a time. Taking care of business. And I'm late."
"Maybe you should've passed up the junk food then." Her temper was showing.
I paused before I admitted, "I seem to have turned into a trash food addict. I can barely resist the barrels along the road on trash day. I'd be at the M.E.'s office by now if I could have passed that dumpster up."
Tempe grimaced, her revulsion evident.
"You're not the only one that's stumped, sweetheart, but hey, I'll get through it. Look, I'll have to talk to you later, all right? I'm late for lunch with my parents."
"Real food—not garbage, right, Jack?" She asked, halfheartedly which sent a tiny pang to my chest, but I meant what I'd said. I was taking each situation as it came, trying not to project into my future, our future, living in the moment as the gurus of Destiny say. If I got beyond that I'd want to find a fiery volcano and jump into it, and I was beginning to suspect it would do no good. I could remain a whiny self-pitying dragon man or I could deal. So, I'd keep moving forward wherever that would take me.