Dragon Dreams- The Complete Shifter Collection

by Leela Ash

  “‘Send the Rat in’,” Walker warbled. Michael shot him a cold look and he quickly ducked his head. The Dragon wasn’t sure, though, if that meant Walker accepted his role – or if he planned to flee at the first opportunity.

  Even Dakota, who knew exactly nothing about the Fangs, undermined him. “Are you sure you two will be enough? I mean, don’t the Fangs have Shifters too?”

  “Of course, they do. They are Shifters.” He fixed a stern gaze upon her – the type of look Alphas used to quell insubordinate Dragons.

  His Mate didn’t even notice. “Well, then, won’t they be prepared? If they know there are only three more Dragons in your Flight, it would be silly not to prepare for a three-Dragon attack, right?”

  “You don’t understand how powerful Dragons are. They can’t face down three of us.”

  “They just trapped four of you,” Tess countered.

  “With a spell.”

  “And what’s going to stop them from using another spell?”

  “Wolfe and I will stay airborne.”

  “And what?” The Adanai tossed her hands into the air. “Burn the farm down?”

  “If necessary.”

  Neither woman understood the sacrifices that war demanded. They both stared in shock.

  “But all the animals,” Dakota murmured, “they’ll burn.”

  “So will your Alpha’s Mate’s family farm,” Tess added.

  Michael waved dismissively. “Minor details. Animals and farms can be replaced.”

  “Not farms that have been in the family since colonial days.” Tess’ eyes narrowed. When he tried to stare her into submission, she met his dominating gaze with an icy glare of her own. “I also notice that neither Dakota nor I play a role in this rescue.”

  “No. There’s nothing useful you can do.”

  Immediate outrage – not obedience – met his words.

  “This mess is my fault!” Dakota protested. “You’ve got to let me help!”

  “No, I’m sending you west where it’s safe.”

  “And I’m a pretty good warrior,” Tess said.

  “Not as good as a Dragon.”

  “So? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a little short-staffed. We need all the help we can get.”

  Dammit, this was like trying to herd irate cats! And no matter how fiercely he stared them down, they would not settle and obey.

  “There is nothing either of you can do!” he thundered.

  In the silence that followed his pronouncement, a thin, reedy voice whined, “If anybody feels like gittin’ ‘sent’ into the middle of this mess, they kin have my job. I ain’t real fond of it.”

  Seriously? Now the Rat was giving him grief again? Time for this to end!

  “I AM THE ALPHA HERE,” he roared.

  In the room, everyone stared at him. Then Wolfe’s voice broke the silence.

  “Hell no you’re not my Alpha.”

  That final insubordination drove his Dragon into a towering fury. Claws burst from Michael’s fingers and he felt his canines growing into long, sharp fangs.

  Great. As soon as the Rat gets one look at me, our scout will flee and never be seen again.

  No. He couldn’t let that happen. Revolting as he was, the rodent remained the one indispensable Shifter in this plan. Without a word, Michael stormed outside and around the corner. There, beside the motel’s weedy dumpster, he stalked to and fro, trying to walk off his anger and wounded pride.

  Back and forth, back and forth, he stomped, stewing. He was the natural Alpha here. Why wouldn’t they listen to him? If he couldn’t even control an Adanai, a Rat, and a mortal, how would he ever impose his will on a full Flight of Dragons? Brandon Lorde never faced uprisings like this.

  Why not?

  “Michael?”

  Dakota peeked around the corner. The sight of his worried Mate threw a bucket of cold water on the last of his Dragon’s rage, and the marks of its anger faded from his body.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Frustrated as hell. We don’t have time for this foolishness.”

  She inched around the corner, her presence casting a gentle calm over his Dragon soul. “Come back inside and let’s figure this out.”

  Planting his hands on his hips, he glared at her. “What I need to figure out is how to prove I’m the Alpha!”

  She slipped her arm through his and tugged him toward the door, “Maybe we need a plan more than an Alpha.”

  “Somebody’s got to be in charge! A plan without a leader is doomed to fail.”

  Patient and gentle, she squeezed his arm. “Look, please don’t get mad, but… Why are you the right leader?”

  Michael’s jaw dropped. Even his Mate doubted him. His soul mate, the one woman who ought to have his back through thick and thin… she doubted him?

  “Why do you think Wolfe would make a better Alpha than me?”

  His outrage only puzzled her. “I don’t know anything about Alphas or why we ‘need’ one. I just want to know what skills you have. Why you think people should obey you.”

  No hint of scorn or condemnation darkened her eyes, and he felt the sharp edge of his pain dull. “I am a Dragon, far stronger than any of the Shifting Kind. When he’s healthy, Wolfe is a daunting challenge. But he’s not well.”

  “So Alphas are the strongest Dragons?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why don’t you all obey Finn Donnelly? I thought people said he was your biggest, baddest warrior?”

  “He is, but Finn’s… Well, simple. He’s not dumb, but he’s too straightforward. An Alpha has to be wily, smart, one step ahead of the enemy.”

  “That’s it!” Dakota beamed up at him proudly, as if he’d produced a brilliant plan. “Nobody doubts you could beat us all up. It’s your wisdom, not your strength, you need to prove.”

  “And how do you propose I do that?” he grumbled.

  “Lead us.”

  “I can’t! No one’s listening to me.”

  “No one’s listening because all you’re saying is, ‘Get out of my way, I’ll handle this.’ That’s not leading. That’s doing it all yourself.”

  Why could no one see the obvious truth? “You’re not Dragons. You can’t do anything.”

  Stubborn as a mule, she refused to budge. “Yes, we can. A good leader would figure out what our skills are and use them.”

  Irritation gave his words an unwanted edge. “Oh, really? What skills do you have?”

  Dakota winced. Pain lanced through Michael’s head as his Dragon, horrified that he had upset his Mate, bit him.

  Oh, hell. Now even his Dragon was giving him grief! Before he could apologize, though, Dakota answered his contemptuous question.

  “I’m the only one who’s seen this magic item. I’m our only lead on what it is.”

  That was true. Magic wasn’t his strong point and he realized, with a start, that he had ignored it.

  Something that could be a fatal flaw.

  “Also, I don’t have a Shifter soul. That means I could do reconnaissance. The Fangs won’t look at me and immediately know I’m a threat.”

  “No. You’re not spying on them. The Rat can do that. He’s expendable.”

  “Um, Michael?” She pinched his arm. “Good leaders don’t tell their followers they’re ‘expendable’.”

  “Well, I’d never say it to his face of course, but…”

  “I don’t think you have to. I think he knows.”

  Huh. Oh, hell, she had a point. Again.

  “C’mon. Let’s go back inside and work on a plan together. We already know you’re strong. Come show people how crafty you are.”

  She was right. She’d found the path out of this mess. One that, in his pride and power, he had failed to see.

  Lorde always says that a Dragon without a Mate isn’t whole. Maybe this is why.

  “Let’s try this again.”

  This time, he faced a much more hostile audience. Walker lurked in a corner, avoiding everyone. Tess
chomped on a bag of potato chips, stewing for a fight. Not a sound came from the phone.

  Only Dakota smiled at him, beaming calm and confidence.

  “Direct attack won’t work – at least not without a lot more information. So let’s figure out what we know and try to find another approach.”

  No agreement – but no rebellion, either. “First, Dakota, what can you tell us about this thing?”

  “The Fangs told me it was a GPS device. It’s a lead rod, maybe five inches long. There’s a word written on it. I think it said ‘MeYaipa’.”

  Which was exactly no help. Michael glanced at his teammates, hoping one of them felt inspired. But Walker studied the wallpaper, Tess looked blank. Dakota had no idea what ‘MeYaipa’ might mean.

  So much for the information gathering route.

  “Excuse me?” A woman’s voice, soft and shy, came from the speaker phone. “Hi, I’m Maya, Jamie’s Mate. Hey Dakota, you said this thing was a rod. Was it a solid bar of lead or was it rolled? Like a cigar made out of lead.”

  That had to be the strangest, dumbest question imaginable. Much to his shock, though, Dakota’s eyes brightened. “Now that you mention it, the ends did have ridges. Just like it was rolled!”

  “And it was definitely lead?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay. Then we’re dealing with a curse tablet.”

  “Wait a second,” Michael sputtered. “Who are you again? Are you a Witch Hare?”

  “Maya. Jamie’s Mate. I’m an archeologist.”

  “Who knows a lot about the archeology of magic,” Wolfe added, speaking up for the first time. “The Fangs used a charm on us when we infiltrated Criehaven Island. Even though she’s not a Hare, my Mate figured out a way to beat it.”

  Where were the Fangs finding these things? A question for a different day, perhaps, yet it disturbed Michael deeply.

  “Okay, Maya, why do you believe this is a curse tablet?”

  “Well, they’re classic. A traditional piece of magic dating back to pre-Christian times, and nothing really looks like them. You take a sheet of lead, write a curse on it, roll it up into a rod, and drop it into a spring or a well sacred to some god.”

  A Wellspring? “And the word on the outside?”

  “Probably the name of the god invoked. Maybe the name of the curser.”

  Now people were listening! Tess and Dakota leaned forward, faces eager. Even the foolish Rat had drifted closer (though he seemed more intent on Tess’ abandoned chip than the discussion). Michael felt his own spirit rising. “So, having the tablet next to the well activated it?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s why nothing happened until Dakota got near the Wellspring. Would this MeYaipa be a spirit tied to the Wellspring?”

  “This is the Beverwyck site, right?” Maya muttered. When Jamie said yes, she raised her voice. “No. I’ve studied Iroquoian linguistics and MeYaipa isn’t a Native name.”

  This woman knew Iroquoian linguistics? Michael prayed his (rather insulting) confusion didn’t echo in his voice. Who the hell would have guessed that Mates knew things like that?

  “Dakota, are you sure it said MeYaipa?”

  “No. I mean it looked like it, but the letters were off. Wrong, somehow.”

  “Hmm. There are tons of different scripts,” Maya mused. “Can you describe the letters?”

  “Capital M looked normal. Then the ‘e’ was like a backwards 3. The Y looked like a capital, but it was written too low. Like…”

  Maya squealed with excitement. “Hang on! I’m sending you a link. Is this it?”

  Long seconds dragged by before the message arrived. Michael clicked on the link.

  A picture of a word appeared, and Dakota clapped her hands. “That’s it!”

  “Ancient Greek!” Maya chortled.

  “Have I told you recently how brilliant you are?” Jamie muttered to his Mate.

  Michael couldn’t agree more. Here he was, a Dragon, completely out of his depth. Yet these women, these weak mortals, had found the key to saving his Flight.

  “We’d pronounce this ‘Megaera’, not MeYaipa,” Maya continued. “She’s one of the Furies. Spirits of Vengeance who punish evil-doers. Megaera’s specialty is people who’ve wronged women and their own families.”

  The names! Michael nodded. “Each Dragon whispered a woman’s name when the spell took him. Alinor, Charity, Kirsten… those were wives they couldn’t protect.” Jackson had probably ‘wronged’ half of Miami, back in his party days. No wonder he couldn’t remember a name.

  Information was flooding in now, but he still wasn’t sure how to put it to use. “Can this Megaera be killed?”

  “Nope. Not even the Gods of Greece could stop her. But she can be appeased with wine and sweet cakes. If the sinner repents.”

  A rustling noise drew Michael’s eye to the bed, where Walker rummaged through the 7-11 bags. “Got the sweet cakes right here!” he proclaimed, holding up a bag of Twinkies. “Now we jist need some wine.”

  Head spinning, Michael rubbed his temple. “Tell me if this makes sense. The Fangs acquired an ancient Greek curse tablet dedicated to the Fury Megaera. They gave it to Dakota… why?”

  “Because my sister was murdered.” Walker and Tess startled at that confession. “The Fangs blamed Owen Jackson. All that time I brooded over it, I must have fed Megaera. Made her stronger.”

  Michael gave her hand a squeeze, proud of her courage and honesty. “Plus, it focused her on my Flight. Like giving a scent cloth to a bloodhound. Then, by trickery and magic, the Fangs got you to deliver the curse to the Wellspring.”

  “Where the spring’s power fully activated the curse,” Tess finished, nodding. “Makes sense. Now what?”

  She looked at him – him – for guidance! Dakota too. Hell, even Walker had scurried close and now sat on the bed, clutching his Twinkies like a magic charm.

  Intimidation hadn’t impressed them. Listening won the day.

  He owed his Mate a great deal for that.

  “Breaking this spell sounds like a much better plan. The repenting bit will be a problem, though. I’m not sure what my Flight-brothers could apologize for, since they’re wrongly accused. Plus, they’re entranced.”

  “Maybe I’m the one who needs to atone,” Dakota murmured. “I set her on them.”

  “Let’s try that. Walker… No, scratch that.” No sane person would send a Rat out for a wine. “Tess, could you round up a good bottle of wine?”

  “On it!”

  “Wolfe, Maya, we’ll call you back in an hour after we see what happens.”

  Unfortunately, the ceremony didn’t pan out. Dakota burned a candle in the bathroom then offered Megaera a plate of Twinkies and a nice pinot noir. Despite a heart-felt apology, however, nothing happened. No mystical signs, sounds of wings, or silent answers to her prayers.

  Michael called Mexico to deliver the bad news.

  “What if we move the tablet away from its source of power?” he suggested.

  “I have no idea,” Maya confessed. “See, I don’t know anything about working magic. Just archeology. But it sounds reasonable.”

  “Wolfe and I can’t get near it, or Megaera will entrance us. However, Walker... or Tess,” he added, as the Rat tensed, “wouldn’t be affected by that.”

  “You can’t touch it now.” Dakota held up a hand spotted with white patches. “It did this to me. Finn was hurt even worse. It nearly burned through his scales.”

  “So, we have to move something we can’t touch.”

  “Ain’t hard!”

  God help them all, the Rat had decided to help. “Jist need a baseball bat. Give that thing a good whack ‘n’ it’ll go flying.”

  “It’s right by the trees that mark the Wellspring,” Dakota said. “I think it only needs to move a foot or two.”

  Was he actually going to follow a Rat’s plan? The thought mortified his Dragon.

  Yet Walker made sense. “Could work – if the Fangs haven’t moved i
t. Okay, new plan.” This time, no one scowled or argued. “Wolfe, come to the Franklin Inn. Walker, would you scout the farm? Don’t take any crazy risks.”

  “Didn’t intend to.”

  “I hate the idea of waiting a day, but I don’t think we have a choice. We need to know how many Fangs are here, what’s happening to my Flight, and where that curse tablet is.”

  A tall order. Yet this time, the Rat simply nodded. “Can do, bossman.”

  Which was as close to being called ‘Alpha’ as he was likely to get.

  Chapter 11

  Dinner was a cardboard disk covered in cheese and pepperoni. The convenience store called it a ‘pizza’; Dakota disagreed. It was a quiet meal. Refueling, not fun. Only Walker seemed to enjoy himself. The Rat chomped through three bags of chips, gulped down four sodas, and even ate any crusts people left behind.

  No one stayed to talk afterwards. Tess went for a spin on her bike, Walker scuttled off to catch a couple hours of sleep before his spying mission. Only Michael remained in her room, helping to clean up.

  “Hey. You did great.”

  His red hair smoldered in the room’s dim light. “Thanks to you. That was good advice.”

  In this shabby place, with its faded carpet and cigarette-burned tables, Michael glowed. Perhaps it was the presence of his Dragon, or his joy over the meeting’s success. Dakota didn’t know. But in the fading light, he looked like a prince. Fine features, muscled body. The strong, confident tilt of his chin. This, her heart swore, was a man you could depend on. Someone to protect you, who wouldn’t back down no matter how terrible the threat.

  This was her Mate.

  Time to make that word reality, not just a promise.

  Michael collected the pizza box and chip bags. “I’m going to toss this junk in the dumpster. Do you need anything else tonight?”

  Well, that did give her the opening she needed. Dakota stroked his arm, marveling at the firmness of his muscles. “Would you come back afterward? I’d like to apologize.”

  “You don’t need to do that. I know you’re sorry and that you were tricked.”

  Nice of him to say that. But the cool, slightly formal tone of his words revealed the lie. Michael hadn’t forgiven her.