“I’m not going to do anything. That’s precisely the point. Unless your man here intends to carry me, I’m afraid that I’ll be staying right here.”
“You heard her, boy. Carry the bitch.”
Lily felt an arm around her waist, attempting to lift her off the ground. Well, this man was a poor excuse for a shifter. She knew that she could hold her ground for a time. But those flyers that she’d seen above had almost certainly been a surveillance party, and no doubt they would arrive within minutes.
“Conor,” she thought, assessing what it might take to convey the message through the air to his mind. “Please, come to me.” She didn’t know if it would work, if the power was strong enough to reach him from such a distance.
She tried to communicate to him everything that had occurred, thrusting images into her mind: the hateful woman, the unseen minion. The birds in the sky.
Of course, even if Conor did come running as a mere human there wasn’t much to be done against a potential small army of shifters. They would need Graeme’s help, too. Or Lily would need to rid herself of this aggravating iron neck-cuff. Where had these two jackasses even found such a thing? It was a medieval device; not exactly the sort of thing one bought at the local department store.
“Lilliana,” hissed Mrs. Fitzpatrick. “You have two options: be a bratty little bitch, or come with us. If you stick with the former, I will cram my pen-knife into your side.”
Lily felt a sharp point dig suddenly into the soft flesh of her belly and once again she sought the woman’s thoughts. Her assailant meant business, and the one thing of which Lily was certain was that nothing would have pleased her more than piercing her captive’s flesh.
“All right,” Lily said, trying her best to sound properly frightened. A sudden thought had occurred to her. “I’ll come with you. Are you going to take me to Him?”
“Him? What are you on about, girl?”
“The leader of the Stranieri.”
A low laugh erupted from the other woman. “God, no,” she said. “He can’t be bothered to deal with you. No, no. We’re going to ask you some questions. And then, if you’re a good girl and tell us what we want to know, we’ll kill you swiftly.”
48
Dragon Flight, Chapter Fifteen
Mrs. Fitzpatrick and her companion wouldn’t have a chance to do either, though.
The sound that interrupted their plan was a soft rumble at first, seeming to shake the ground underfoot in small, rhythmic tremors. Lily sniffed at the air, a feeling of calm washing over her. The mixture of aromas in the confounded sack over her head meant that she couldn’t make out the scent of the creature who was coming at them.
The rumble grew until it was a violent, deep roar, the earth giving in to the beat of large feet on hard soil.
Another sound quickly joined the fray, a frenzied shuffling around Lily’s form as the two would-be kidnappers tried to decide what to do, and as though their confusion served to clear her own mind, she could suddenly read them.
In Mrs. Fitzpatrick there was utter rage, but terror as well. The woman had not expected this, whatever this was. This was something altogether new.
In the man, there was a sinking feeling of failure. He considered running, leaving the woman there to fend for herself. Shifter or not, he was a coward, plain and simple.
A hard gust of wind blew by Lily as a rough shape swept past her, tall and wide enough to fill her entire limited field of vision. The form knocked the man sideways so that Lily remained standing alone, the collar still around her neck. But now no hand held it.
Suddenly, another pull at the chain, and she found herself bending sideways as Mrs. Fitzpatrick tried to take matters into her own hands. The creature who had taken out her companion was still occupied with that task.
But Lily was not willing to move, and the other woman’s was no match for her stubbornness.
Once again the giant shape came at them, and this time Lily was pulled over sideways, crashing to the ground as the iron collar pulled hard at her flesh. But a second later the chain was granted slack as Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s hand let it go, never to reach for it again.
Lily lay on the ground. Nearby, a quick cry.
And then silence.
And finally she could smell it: a déor, musky, strong, powerful. But no dragon, this.
This was new.
* * *
“Conor.”
The word came from within the sack which still masked her. To Lily the form beyond the burlap was still nothing more than a large mass, moving about outside of the constraints of the fabric and the bloody frustrating shackle about her neck. But without question this was the man she’d met in that London classroom, who had now found his way fully into the world of shifters by becoming one of them.
Hot breath huffed in her direction, a large muzzle pointing herself at her face. Perhaps he hadn’t worked out the ins and outs of moving back and forth between human and déor.
“Are you able to change?” she asked, knowing that he might well fail to answer.
A moment later the shape backed away, and the breathing faded, changing to something more like a male voice emitting a soft moan.
“Does this answer your question?” His voice was strained, as though he’d suffered a coughing fit.
Hands tugged at the cloth which was wedged under the iron collar, tearing it away from her face. A moment later she saw those eyes: the two colours, which were bright and clear close up. The two dimples which had remained ensconced in the face that had never truly changed—well, not until a few minutes earlier.
“Hi,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Miss me?”
Lily’s arms shot around his neck, pulling him close in spite of the stiffness of her own.
“What took you so long?” she asked.
“Well, for one thing, I had a little trouble getting into my new outfit.”
“Yes, about that—what is it?” Her hands grabbed at the collar, tugging at the spot where it came together, the chain link holding it locked in place.
“Something large. Here, allow me,” said Conor, reaching around to the back of her head. In one smooth gesture he pried it open, pulling the iron into two solid pieces and dropping them to the ground. “Well, what do you know?” he laughed. “I’m strong.”
“You are,” Lily said, impressed and excited. “And for future reference, I normally prefer gold necklaces. And earrings are acceptable too.”
“Well, I have to admit that I prefer you in nothing at all.”
“Tell me what happened.” Lily was aware of several things: one of her lovers stood nude in the woods before her. Two bodies lay nearby on the ground, which failed utterly to interest her. All that mattered in that moment was him.
“It was Mrs. Fitzpatrick,” he said. “She came by earlier, and seemed intent on Graeme and myself remaining at home. She brought us beer, which I believe was intended to render us sleepy. But it seems that she didn’t recall entirely that I am a little adept at seeing the future.”
“I’m not sure that her poor skills of recollection were the issue,” said Lily thoughtfully. “I don’t think that this Mrs. Fitzpatrick knows all that much about us.”
“This Mrs. Fitzpatrick?” For all his Sight, Conor seemed puzzled.
“Just a theory. I’ll explain later. Keep talking.”
“Something told me that she was up to no good, and I didn’t like you being out here alone. And so I told Graeme that I was going for a walk and followed her from a distance. It was then that I heard you—felt you—call out for me.”
Lily couldn’t help but smile. So they really were connected, even from a distance. “I see,” she said. “And when exactly did you…”
“Shift? I don’t even recall. It was so odd. Suddenly there I was, a giant…whatever my déor is. Ridiculous that I can communicate telepathically but I can’t tell without a mirror what I look like when changed.”
“We’ll know soon enough,” Lily said, putt
ing a hand on his chest. “I’m just glad to see my human Conor now.”
Her companion sighed. “At any rate, I feel responsible, Lilliana. I shouldn’t have let her get to you. I don’t know how I missed who and what she really is; I truly thought Mrs. Fitzpatrick was an ally.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that. This is not the woman we know,” said Lily, gesturing to the form that lay lifeless on the ground.
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“This woman was not Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and no ally of ours. She was a shifter, though I don’t quite know how she managed to look like our friend. And smell like her, even. I wasn’t aware of what was happening until I smelled her friend. Well, that and her behaviour; she was acting like someone who’d gone…what’s the term?”
“I believe you’re looking for the words ‘bat-shit crazy.’”
“Yes, those will do nicely.”
“Well, score one for you and slap me for not knowing what it was that I was seeing,” said Conor. “Here I thought we’d been betrayed, and even worse, that I’d just killed an old friend of Merriman’s. Speaking of which, he needs to know about this.”
“Yes, he does. I hope he’s all right; I have a bad feeling that he was summoned away by whoever was responsible for all of this mayhem.”
As they walked, Lily could see that the mansion on the hill, their beacon of safety, had become more than just shrouded in mist; it had grown blurry, as though a mere mirage, hovering over the landscape. The spell was breaking down.
49
Dragon Flight, Chapter Sixteen
It was on their way back to the house that they came upon Merriman, who, accompanied as always by a flying Barnabas, was jogging across the field towards them.
“Are you two all right?” he asked, removing the long coat that he wore and handing it to Conor.
“Fine,” said Lily. “Thanks to Conor, that is. Merriman, I’m so glad to see you…but I thought you’d been taken out of town on some errand?”
“I was, but it seems that I was tricked into being pulled from the house and you. I am sorry for it,” he said, running a hand through his wild hair. “I was told that important business awaited me in London and when I arrived, there was no business to be found. It took me a moment to realize what had happened, to my shame.”
“There’s something we need to tell you,” Lily began.
“I know,” said the man. “I know what’s occurred. Forgive me for delving into your mind: the woman who confronted you, who so resembled our Mrs. Fitzpatrick, was an intruder; a shape-changer, as you guessed. There are a few of them in this world, and they are very dangerous. Though it seems that our Conor here made quick work of her. Or possibly him, truth be told. A shape-changer is capable of altering its sex.”
“She—he—whoever it was—seemed to know Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s mind, somehow. As though she’d read her past, or something,” Lily continued. “She talked about old resentments against female shifters…”
“Yes, when the changer takes on someone’s body, he or she often absorbs mental images. No doubt she used them in an attempt to manipulate you.”
“That’s one way of putting it. She tried to shame me. Basically accused me of being a whore.”
“Well, that doesn’t really sound like our Mrs. Fitzpatrick, now, does it?” Merriman couldn’t help but laugh. “Ours would have been much more passive-aggressive about it.”
“It did seem odd. But where is our Mrs. Fitzpatrick? How did this…shifter…know what body to inhabit?”
“It’s a well-known fact around here that she and I are old friends. It wouldn’t take much to find out where she lives and what she looks like, to observe her for a few minutes in town or elsewhere. But don’t worry; I’m sure she’s fine. It wouldn’t do for the Stranieri to harm her. Going after shifters is one thing; humans are something altogether different.”
“Well, this is all a relief,” said Conor. “Much as that woman can get on my nerves when she begins to talk a blue streak, I had no desire to discover that I was her murderer.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Dunbar,” said Merriman. “You’ve only killed two shifters.”
“Another dubious relief,” said Conor. “I’m not entirely happy about killing anyone.”
“Don’t you let this eat at you,” said Merriman. “You had no choice, and you will see that soon enough. All that we can hope for is that this incident will make you three extra-vigilant. These creatures mean business.”
“But—and I’m sorry to ask such a thing—what do we do about this? There are two bodies back there.” said Lily.
“I will deal with it,” said Merriman, in the tone of voice that said, “Don’t ask any more questions.”
“All right. By the way, have you seen Graeme?” asked Lily. “He’s missed out on all of this. It’s more his domain than either of ours, this whole fighting shifters thing. He’s the warrior.”
“I asked him to wait at the house and to watch for intruders, which must have irked him,” said Merriman. “He’s no doubt chomping at the bit to get out here, so we should join him. And you will have to move on very soon, away from the Old House, I’m afraid. I cannot re-cast the spell, at least not yet. For now, it seems that Conor here has recovered from his ordeal, so there is no reason not to travel. And if you remain here you’ll bring their whole army down on this small town.”
“Fair enough,” said Conor. “I do feel remarkably well, considering that I just turned into something fluffy and went on a rampage.”
When they arrived at the house they found Graeme sitting in the kitchen, tapping his fingers on the table in a rapid, violent pattern. No one had to guess that something was gnawing at his insides.
“Where have you been? What’s going on?” he asked when he saw Conor dressed in the strange coat.
“A little altercation,” Conor began. “Our friends came back, it seems. I needed to shift in order to take them out.”
“Why didn’t you come fetch me?” Graeme appeared agitated, angry even—an expression that neither Lily nor Conor had seen since they’d first met.
“There was no time,” said Conor. “And I handled it. Everything’s fine.”
“You’ve never shifted. You had no way of knowing if you’d turn into a chipmunk or a bloody squid. That was an idiotic move.”
As Conor took a step towards his companion, a low growl emerging from his throat, Merriman thrust an arm in front of him.
“Stop it,” he said. “I see that the dragon does have his moments, and that Mr. Dunbar really is fully a shifter now. Lord Ramsey, settle down. As your companion said, all is well and fine, and you need not concern yourself with any of this.”
“I beg to differ,” said Graeme. “I am a dragon lord, and it is my sworn duty to protect my mate. I will not be usurped in this way.”
Conor remained in place, his jaw locked in silence. Had he spoken, he knew, he would end up regretting the words. Instead he turned and left the room.
Lily’s eyes locked on Graeme, her mind seeking answers. What was wrong with him? This was the man who only hours before had been enjoying a playful afternoon with his new “brother.” Was this Graeme an intruder as well?
But all she found as she searched his mind was the man she knew and adored. His gentleness had been temporarily replaced by a primitive rage which was already beginning to fade, his dragon turning back to the lair deep within his human shell.
This was going to be more difficult than she’d hoped, now that Conor was coming into his own. So power had become an issue. Bloody men.
But perfection had always been a fleeting notion, after all. Balancing the moods of two such men was never going to be an easy task.
“I’m going to get some fresh air,” Graeme said quietly, his voice remorseful and softening quickly.
“Don’t take long and don’t go far,” ordered Merriman. “They are out there, somewhere, and my spell is quickly fading.”
“I will go where I want and t
ake as long as I please.” With that last shot of stubbornness, Graeme shut the kitchen door behind him and wandered into the back garden.
Merriman turned to Lily. “He’ll be all right,” he said, seeing her furrowed brow. “It’s inevitable that he’ll have these moments; it’s in his blood, just as it’s in yours somewhere. It is what makes him strong. And, unfortunately, weak.”
“I’ll go speak to him. He’s reminding me of some dire wolves I know, and I’ve watched my mother deal with them more than once.”
“Your mother the dragon. Funny that she should be the calming influence.”
“Well, to be honest, I often thought she instilled a pretty profound fear in them. Dire wolves know better than to mess with fire-breathers. Hopefully I can live up to her reputation.”
“All right, go speak with him, and be gentle. But please, Lilliana, be quick as well. You and the men will need to leave here tomorrow morning at the latest. I can’t stress enough the importance of your imminent departure.”
“All right, Merriman.” As Lily got to the back door she turned and asked, “So where are we going?”
“To the home of Mr. Dunbar’s and Lord Ramsey’s ancestors. To Scotland.”
When the young woman had closed the door behind her, the old man turned to Barbabas, who’d been perched atop the refrigerator, observant as always.
“It’s time that we found out exactly who Conor Dunbar is, my old friend. Are you ready for a voyage?”
To Be Continued.
50
Loyalty, Chapter One
“Is there something you’d like to talk about, Graeme?”
Lily’s voice was laced with concern and remorse at her part in the conflict that had just unfolded between her mates.
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