The Dragon Shifter’s Duty

by Mandy M. Roth

  Very young.

  Demon?

  The man was blaming a child for the fire?

  Ezra considered stomping on the man’s windpipe and ending him then and there, but his worry for the child outweighed his need to kill the man. He looked to the side of the home and zeroed in on the cries.

  It took him a moment to wrap his mind around the fact they were coming from within the burning inferno, not outside of it.

  No one could survive a blaze like that. No one human, anyway. And the man on the ground was certainly human. Ezra ran in the direction of the back of the home, ignoring the flames as they shot out a window at him. Shards of glass pierced his exposed skin, but he paid them little mind. The wounds would heal quickly. His only worry was for the child.

  The sounds of the screams grew louder, seeming to emanate from the broken window. The child couldn’t possibly be in the house, could it? That was impossible. The home was totally engulfed in flames. No one could’ve withstood that heat. Well, no one except him. His breath caught as he heard additional cries. This time, he was sure they were coming from within the home.

  Ezra lowered his head, allowed a partial shift to take place, and then looked out through the eyes of his dragon. He leapt directly through the window into the inferno. Heat rolled over him. In non-shifted form, he could withstand heat levels much greater than a human, but partially or fully shifted, he had no issues with fire or heat. In fact, his type of dragon preferred hot to cold.

  It was hard to see through the flames and the smoke, even with his dragon near the surface. Tapping into his sensitive hearing, he listened for the cries once more. They came from his left, seemingly increasing over the sounds of splintering wood. He hurried in that direction.

  As he took a step forward, the floor beneath him gave way, and he plummeted.

  Reaching out, Ezra snatched hold of the first thing he could grip. He permitted his talons to emerge from his fingertips, helping him to dig into the beam he’d only just managed to catch. He held firm, his feet dangling. With one fluid motion, he yanked himself up, assured his footing, and then continued in the direction he’d heard the cries originating from.

  Suddenly, there were no flames, no smoke, nothing in one tiny pocket of the room. A small child, no more than five or six, sat there, her head bent, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

  He couldn’t make sense of why the fire wasn’t touching her. Everything else around her was engulfed. There was no logical reason why the small child was unscathed, but the relief he felt was enough for him to not care.

  He made a move to go for her and her tiny head snapped up, her dark brown gaze locking on him and then widening.

  For some reason, he’d thought the moment would be like in the movies, that she would throw her small arms open, he’d lift her and rush her to safety—being the hero, of course.

  That was not what happened.

  The little girl who wasn’t burned, with long, unruly black hair, took one look at him and proceeded to scream her head off. She tried to scramble away, but ran out of wall space and shrieked louder.

  Ezra realized he was still partially shifted and quickly resumed his human form. Putting his hands out, he bent slowly, hoping the small movements would set her mind at ease. Flames licked at his back, but he ignored them. The magiks his kind carried kept the flames from burning his clothing, something he was thankful for at the moment. Not all dragon-shifters came with magik. Some came with a great deal. He didn’t. He had just enough. No more.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said. He tried to take another step toward her, but it was painfully clear she wanted nothing to do with him. He sighed. “Listen, kid, it’s not safe for you to stay here. I’m here to help. Let me get you to safety.”

  She shook her head. “I have to stay,” she said, her voice so tiny it broke his heart. “He said I was bad. He said the bad had to burn. But I don’t burn. Why don’t I burn? Why didn’t you burn, either?”

  Ezra’s thoughts went to the man on the lawn outside. The man who had spoken of the demon. And as he bent, staring down at the small child, he smelled it—the scent of gasoline. The little girl was covered in it. It soaked her white nightgown, the ends of her hair, and pooled around her on the floor. By rights, she should have been engulfed in flames.

  She wasn’t.

  He didn’t know the reason why she hadn’t burst into flames, and he didn’t care. His only concern was for her and her safety. He also very much wanted to walk outside and kill the man responsible for this. But first, he had to ensure the girl was safe.

  He went to his knees, knowing that whatever was keeping the girl from burning wouldn’t last forever, and soon the house would collapse upon them both. He wasn’t sure even he could withstand that.

  “Listen, Sweet Pea, you’re not bad. You’re not a demon. You do not have to burn. The guy who said that was an asshole.”

  Her eyes widened more. “You said a bad word.”

  There had been a point in his unnaturally long life when he’d been what some would consider very good with children. Evidently, that point was long gone. Ezra hid his laugh at her logic. “Sorry, won’t happen again. Now let me carry you out of here.”

  She tipped her head. “What are you? Are you a demon?”

  “Some would call me that. But no. I’m not a demon. I’m special. So are you.”

  “I’m special?” she questioned, her big brown eyes widening more.

  He wanted to hug her, but didn’t dare move, worried he’d scare her more. “Yes, Sweet Pea, you are very special. What do you say we blow this Popsicle stand and get out of here before the house falls down on our heads?”

  “Like the house that killed the bad witch?” she asked.

  He wasn’t sure he was following. “Uh, yeah, like that one.”

  He ripped a portion off the lower part of his T-shirt. He wanted water to soak the material in, but there was none. It would have to do for now. “Sweet Pea, I want you to hold this over your mouth and nose, okay?”

  “How come?”

  He wondered if all children asked so many questions, or if it was just this one in particular. “I don’t want you breathing in any more smoke.”

  He honestly wasn’t sure how she was still alive with the amount of it rolling around within the home—well, everywhere but where she sat.

  “Don’t need it,” she protested.

  He gave her a stern look. “Did that witch with the house have her nose covered?”

  “No,” she said, her eyes widening as she clearly began to follow his train of thought.

  “And a house fell on her, right?”

  Gasping, she blinked and put the material to her nose. She then opened one arm wide. He wasted no time in scooping her up and turning to assess the situation. It was grim. He knew his shifter form scared her, so he didn’t want to do a partial shift again, but he wasn’t sure how to walk through the flames without one.

  “Sweet Pea, what I’m about to do is going to scare you. Don’t cry. I won’t hurt you.”

  She nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks before putting her head on his shoulder and the cloth to her nose and mouth. “I trust you.”

  For some reason, her trust meant the world to him. He couldn’t have explained it if he'd tried. Closing his eyes a moment, Ezra did a partial shift. The little girl gasped, but pressed tighter to him.

  She whispered, “Are you a lizard?”

  He couldn’t hold back his laugh. Despite everything she’d been through, she was talking to him and being very brave. Ezra held her tighter to his chest, bent slightly, and did a silent prayer to his ancestors that the magiks running through his blood would also protect the child—just in case whatever it was that had been shielding her from the flames up until now stopped working. He tapped into his supernatural speed and ran through the flames, leaping into the air at the spot he last remembered there being no floor, hoping beyond hope that the rest of the flooring hadn’t crumbled as well. When he landed
on solid flooring, he exhaled and kept going.

  The upper floor gave way, crashing down and blocking the window he’d entered through. He had to find a new way out. A downed support beam made it difficult to continue in the direction he’d first selected, leaving him no choice but to change course.

  The little girl coughed, and he worried about her inhaling the smoke. Fear overtook him and he decided to make his own damn way out of the fiery inferno. He kicked the outer wall, knocking a hole in it that was big enough for him to walk through. As he stepped out, he took in a deep breath, moving away from the burning home as quickly as possible.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, looking down at the small girl in his arms.

  Coughing a few more times, she nodded, and then stared around with wild eyes. “You’re the fastest lizard I’ve ever seen. I’m gonna call you Newt.”

  Newt?

  He couldn’t help but smile. Ezra carried the child to his car and placed her gently on the passenger seat, taking the time to buckle her in as well. He shut the door, turned, and set his attention on the man on the front lawn who was writhing in agony.

  Good.

  Ezra planned to cause him even more pain. Unable to stop the beast side of his nature, Ezra charged the man in a haze of rage. When he reached him, he bent, snatching hold of the man and lifting him by the tattered remnants of his shirt.

  Ezra snarled. “How dare you do that to her! How dare you fucking think to try to hurt her!”

  Coughing up blood, the man shook his head before smiling. His teeth were stained red. “She’s a demon. She should burn. But demons don’t burn, do they? You should know—you didn’t burn, either.”

  Ezra let his eyes change back into dragon form as he held the man. The man shrieked and Ezra smiled. “To you, hell yeah, I’m a demon. And I’m the last damn thing you’re ever going to see on this earth.”

  The man began to say some other form of rhetoric, but Ezra heard none of it. He snapped the man’s neck and let his body fall to the ground. With that, he turned to find the little girl looking at him from within his car.

  “Shit.” He took a calming breath, trying to figure out what he would say to the small child. She’d just watched him kill a man, and she’d already seen him shift forms. He was batting a thousand with her. If being doused in gasoline and left in a burning building didn’t mess her up for life, being around him surely would.

  He returned to his vehicle, took a seat behind the wheel, and started it once more. He glanced over at the child, expecting her to be scared of him—again. “I, uh, made him go to sleep. He was bad. It was his bedtime,” he said, knowing he sounded ridiculous.

  She wore a very serious expression. “The asshole can’t hurt anyone again, can he? Cause he’s dead, huh?” she asked, shocking Ezra.

  He cleared his throat and began to pull away from the home. “Sweet Pea, you can’t call people assholes.”

  “You did.”

  “And you corrected me for it, remember?” he asked, starting down the road.

  “You have lizard eyes again. That’s neat, Newt.”

  Ezra kept his gaze on the road. “Listen, kid, I’m going to take you somewhere safe and get you some help from good people. But you can’t tell anyone about my lizard eyes. And you probably shouldn’t mention that you don’t burn. And don’t talk about demons. Okay?”

  “They assholes, too, Newt?”

  He groaned. No one would ever allow him around a small child again, that much was for sure. “Seriously, you cannot say bad words. I shouldn’t have said it.”

  She shrugged. “Okay, but we demons got to stick together, Newt.”

  “We’re not demons, Sweet Pea.” He grinned. “Got a name?”

  “I do,” she said, but she didn’t offer it.

  He continued down the road, working out a plan on what to do with her. He had to get back to his job—back in time for a huge meeting taking place with drug kingpins who had been pushing drugs containing supernatural blood out into the general population. It was serious, and he was already late enough as it was. He couldn’t risk the mission any more than he already had.

  With a heavy heart, he knew the best thing he could do for the little girl was to drop her off at a neighboring hospital. He’d put a call in to his handler and get someone from PSI to go there to retrieve her. From the way she’d not burned in a fire so hot that it required him to shift forms, he felt pretty secure in saying she wasn’t human. That, or he’d just witnessed a real live miracle. PSI would be sure she was placed with a good family. One who would understand she was special.

  He grabbed for his pack of gum, needing a smoke now more than ever. The little girl eyed him, and he held the pack out to her. “Want one?”

  She took a piece. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  She pinched her nose. “Smells like smoke in here.”

  He arched a brow. “Kid, we just walked out of a burning house. Of course we smell like smoke.”

  “Not us,” she said, looking him over. “You.”

  “Hey, you’re not smelling so great, either,” he said, before thinking better of it. She smelled like she’d bathed in gasoline. That was no fault of her own. He wanted to go back and torture the man some more. He shouldn’t have made his death so quick. First, he needed to get her somewhere safe and get the gasoline off her skin. It would harm a human with prolonged exposure—yet the child didn’t seem to be displaying any signs it was an issue for her.

  He took another deep breath, attempting to see if he could pick up on any supernatural markers on her. The gasoline was simply too overpowering for his senses. She smelled human to him, nothing more. Though, she didn’t smell like the man he’d killed. He had to wonder who the man was to her—he certainly wasn’t her father or a biological relative.

  She leaned forward and then opened his ashtray, exposing all the butts and ash. “Eww, gross.”

  With a groan, Ezra took the ashtray, opened his window and dumped the contents. The little girl yelled, and he slammed on the brakes. “What?”

  She pointed at him. “Newt, it’s bad to litter. Go pick it up.”

  He blinked. “You’re joking, right? Did you miss what I did to the guy back there?” With a groan, he tapped the steering wheel. “When I, erm, put him to sleep.”

  “He was bad. And I’m not a baby. I know he’s dead. I also know that littering is wrong. And smoking is gross.”

  He grunted. “I’m quitting.”

  “Good. And you’re also gonna clean up your litter, Newt. Don’t be a litter-lizard.” She folded her arms and gave him a look that said she didn’t find the matter funny.

  He put the car in reverse, backed up to where he’d dumped the contents of his ashtray, and then put the car in park.

  She’s like, five, and I’m wrapped around her little finger, he thought, shaking his head as he got out to clean up his mess.

  Chapter Two

  Sixteen Years Later…

  Shitty music played over the sound system, and Ezra curled his lip in irritation. He was finding it harder and harder to see the artistry in modern music, missing the days when Auto-Tune didn’t exist, and when everyone and their brother didn’t sample endlessly from other music. He’d been a fan of classic rock before it was considered classic and didn’t see the need for change. It wasn’t broken, so it didn’t need to be fixed. And it certainly didn’t need to make way for the crap playing in the New York nightclub he was presently in.

  He didn’t want to be there.

  It was part of his current mission. He was undercover, posing as hired muscle for a bigwig shifter who was into arms trading. It was always something with PSI. There was never a shortage of people doing bad things. At least this wasn’t end-of-the-world type of stuff. He’d bumped into that more than once in his long life.

  I’m getting too old for this shit.

  PSI rarely gave him any downtime. As it was, he’d gone from one undercover mission to another nonstop for almost twenty
years. Some downtime sounded great, and he’d be taking some whether or not PSI minded as soon as he gathered enough intel to help bring down the assholes who were supplying the arms dealer he was working for now.

  He nearly laughed at the idea he’d actually take personal time. He’d basically thrown himself into work and not looked back.

  You’re a workaholic.

  Ezra tried to think of the last occasion he took personal time, and when he realized it had been since before he’d found the little girl in the burning house, he paused. He wasn’t sure how long ago that was, but he knew that meant he had a hell of a lot of vacation days built up.

  He slipped back into thinking about the little black-haired girl who didn’t burn. His thoughts drifted to the night he’d found her. How long had it been—a year or two?

  No.

  Longer than that even.

  He gasped as he realized it had been sixteen years to the day, if his memory served correctly. The time had gone by in the blink of an eye. It seemed like only yesterday he’d come upon the fire, rushed in to save the little girl, killed an asshole, and then had gotten the little girl to safety.

  He’d left her at a hospital several counties over from where he’d found her. Shit had hit the fan with the drug deal he’d been late for, and his cell phone and pager had blown up. He’d had no choice but to leave the child at the hospital. Everything at the drug deal that could have gone wrong did. Before Ezra knew it, two days had passed, and he’d not had a chance to see to the welfare of the child.

  By the time he’d finished busting the drug lord who had been pimping supernatural blood to the masses, he’d phoned PSI to have them send someone over to the hospital, only to be told later that the little girl was nowhere to be found.

  Ezra had searched for her, but no one knew where she’d gone. Two nights after he’d dropped her off, bad weather had come through and flooded the area, taking with it the hospital records. No one had any paper or electronic trail as to where she’d gone after the hospital.