by Karin Shah
All his brothers had shared similar struggles. Each had been alone due to the machinations of the Kincaid group and the chimera nature that most petties seemed to sense and fear.
Thalia took a swig of her beer, tapped the glass with her fingernail, frowned and glanced pointedly at Ky. Apparently she had more to tell them, but it seemed Ky would be the bearer of the bad news.
His oldest brother released a weighty sigh. “You know the deputy was a scam. What Thalia and I decided to wait to tell you until we were all together is that he’s a remnant of the Kincaid group, and Thalia was too low energy to be sure she was able to wipe more than his short-term memory of the last few days.”
Jake’s head came up. He growled, and his eyes glowed golden. Claws curved on the fingertips of the hand wrapped around his beer bottle. “What are you saying?”
Thalia put a hand on Ky’s arm and answered for him. “He’s saying the asshole will probably be back with reinforcements.”
Chapter 32
“Typhon!”
The dragon lifted one semi-transparent eyelid and stretched his black—red forelegs in front of him, arching his spine to stretch the rest of him.
The human standing there speaking was a stocky female. She had a name, but he didn’t care. He only cared about his hunger.
With cobra-like speed, he snaked his long neck toward the woman, intent on filling his belly, but she must have expected the move.
A tiny prick of pain registered in the thin scales of the underside of the bridge between his thigh and his torso. He halted the motion of his head before he could reach her and eyed the place. A tiny green-tasseled dart had pierced the tough hide.
Warmth and heat began to spread from the site. Knowledge flooded back. The dart had delivered the serum his handlers called Proteus. Several seconds later, he lay on the cave floor in human form, naked.
His head ached with the memories that swamped him. He was in a cave in Nod, another parallel dimension to Earth. This woman, Eris, brought him food, and restored the humanity he’d lost.
If he did her bidding.
She threw a pile of clothing at him. “Get dressed. There’s food for you on the other side of the bolt hole. Be quick, time may run faster here, but it’s still limited.”
Food.
His stomach grumbling, Typhon swiftly yanked on the black tactical clothes she’d tossed him and padded to the area in front of the glowing purple bolt hole, where a rack of boots and other gear waited.
He’d barely jammed his socked feet into the boots before diving through the portal.
A feast awaited him on a battered metal desk. Roast chicken, dinner rolls, mashed potatoes, a variety of starchy vegetables. All intended to give him the most calories in the shortest amount of time. No doubt, they would have fed him candy, if they weren’t afraid he might crash too soon.
He reached for a handful of potatoes, but stopped himself.
He was human now.
He scooped up the plastic fork beside his plate—they didn’t trust him with metal until he’d eaten—and plunged it into the fluffy vegetable.
Eris checked a smart watch on her wrist, her square face impassive under her gray helmet of hair. “Five more minutes.”
Used to this, he didn’t hesitate, making short work of the potatoes and ripping into the chicken, determined to cram as much food as he could into his stomach in the time allotted.
He’d pretty much demolished the lot when she announced, “Time’s up.” Still, he was thirsty and reached for the plastic water jug. An electric shock jolted through him.
He snarled and flashed his teeth at her, but he couldn’t transform at the moment, and she simply lowered the cattle prod she held and rolled her square shoulders. “There’ll be water on the transport.”
~ ~ ~
The engines of the plane roared. Across from him in the seat, latched into sturdy webbing, Deimos flashed a white grin at Typhon. “How you doing, Spot?”
Typhon ignored him.
Eris had been conferring with the pilot. She staggered back as the plane began to move and secured herself in a seat with several loud, rapid clicks.
Deimos turned to speak to her. “Status?”
Her lip lifted into a sneer, but she replied, “The witch thinks she can keep the plane cloaked for the necessary time.”
Deimos rolled his head on his thick shoulders. “Nod is such a pain in the ass.”
Mechanical things worked okay in Nod, though most didn’t bother with them since magic, wings, scales, and the like made them ineffective, but the Ethereal Council who was the authority here, didn’t allow them.
This flight was very much covert. Whoever Eris wanted him to kill must be important to risk it.
“Damn, I miss Aeetes,” Deimos said, referring to the powerful witch who had once been part of their team. Typhon didn’t know exactly what had happened to him, but he assumed the man had been killed in whatever debacle had led to Scorpius being dismantled. “He wouldn’t have needed a plane,” Deimos continued. “God, Aries was an asshole.” Aries had been the code name for the head of Scorpius.
Eris rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “No use mourning the dead. Aries bit off more than he could chew.”
“Yeah,” Deimos bellyached. “If only he hadn’t taken our strongest witch with him.”
Eris huffed. “Stick to the plan.” She glanced at her smart watch. “Typhon is at thirty minutes. We should arrive with a couple hours leeway before instability sets in.”
Typhon didn’t bother being annoyed at being talked about as if he weren’t cognizant. To them he was merely a weapon to be pointed at a target and as long as they had Proteus, he was.
His stomach rolled, but it wasn’t due to the rough ride. He’d done their dirty work long enough to feel dirty. The only comfort he could take was their targets were usually just as bad as they were. He’d like to think he would refuse to kill an innocent, but if he was honest, he couldn’t say. Without the drug, he was only an animal and who knew who he might slaughter then?
At least they kept him contained.
He glanced at his restraints, he could easily break them and jump from the plane. Since he couldn’t transform, he’d be dead on impact. There would be no more of this ceaseless torment. No more hunger, no more guilt.
The world would be safe.
He felt the tingle of passing through a bolt hole and the rumble of the landing gear descending. Damn, he’d hesitated too long. He sagged into the harness. He already felt the humidity and relative warmth of their destination, wherever it was, on his skin.
He closed his eyes.
Even now he could feel his dragon gradually strengthening. All he had to do was obey and wait, and the numb peace of his feral side would return soon enough.
~ ~ ~
A bubble of elation filled Sofia as she glanced around the crowd of men gathered around Roan on the risers. Roan spoke animatedly to his brothers, his face human, his posture relaxed in a way she’d never seen.
The man she’d met those weeks ago had been constantly on guard, vigilant, as if ready for an axe to fall and his world to be upended.
She hummed as she set down another six-pack. Nothing could make her happier than to see him this open and carefree for the rest of their lives.
She settled down on the riser below him and cracked a bottle open, gulping a bitter swig of beer. As she drank, she studied Roan’s family.
Surrounded by his brothers, for the first time in her life, she felt petite. In his half-shifted state Roan hit about seven feet, but unshifted, he and his brothers were only shorter by perhaps a handbreadth.
Except the actual twins, Connor and Tyler, the Maras were what her father had called Irish twins, descending in age from Ky the oldest at thirty-four, to J
ake the youngest at twenty-eight.
He reminded her the most of Roan. Their mannerisms were similar. Jake had a way of ducking his head and not quite looking directly at you that might seem evasive, but she quickly realized from the conversation was ingrained from years of being close to shifting.
As far as looks, they were all very similar, inky black hair, pale skin and light eyes, running the gamut between blue to green and a mixture of the two. And all almost painfully good-looking.
They also put off the feeling of danger she’d perceived when she first met Roan, as if something about them triggered some innate primeval fear response deep inside her. Maybe some part of her recognized the way they moved was too fluid to be quite human?
Sofia drained her beer and yawned. The men had been catching up for a couple hours and seemed ready to go on through the night. She rose and kissed Roan’s shoulder. “I’m going to sleep in your bed.” Even in his human form, his legs would hang off hers. “Join me whenever you get sleepy?”
His Adam’s apple dipped. His eyes gleamed with joy. “I won’t be long.”
She chuckled and found the ground with her feet. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter 33
Typhon stared down the scope of his sniper rifle. The night out here in the countryside was pitch black. There was no moon and the decorative fairy lights had been turned off hours ago. Another sniper would have needed a night vision scope, but though he couldn’t transform, he retained superior night vision in in his human form.
Eris pressed her earpiece and spoke from her angle on his perch. “Holcomb, come in.”
There was a moment of static and a voice responded, squeaking on the first word as if nervous. “Go for Holcomb.”
Eris closed her eyes and issued an impatient sniff. “This had better pay off.”
“It will. I’ve been watching since I got back from dinner—”
“Got back?” Eris bit off the words as if they were a rotten piece of meat.”
“I have to eat.”
Though Typhon’s eyes were focused through his scope, he could almost see her grimace and faintly heard civilians mouthed like a swear word.
“Are the targets in there or not?”
“Yes! I saw them go in.”
“And who else?”
Holcomb sighed. “Does it matter? They’re carnies, not spec ops. I told you, the only one besides the targets who might give you trouble is the witch, and she wasn’t strong enough to make her spell stick, so I’m not worried.”
Eris almost audibly groaned, but when he added, “Just be ready for them to come out.” She sank into fuming silence.
Typhon focused on the obstacles between him and his target’s eventual path. Whatever Holcomb’s inadequacies, he’d staked out the campground for most of the day and knew the lay of the land. He’d said Target A would exit from the large tent and walk to an RV in the center of the grounds.
Numerous trailers, tents, campers, and vehicles littered the campground, although there were several empty spaces where the grass and gravel were flattened.
Experience allowed him to gauge how many seconds he had at each point in the path, but he wouldn’t know exactly when to fire until the target left the tent.
His instructions were strict. He was only to shoot Target A after Target B had taken the bait.
A growl escaped him. When they’d worked for Scorpius, he’d never had so little information on his targets. He would only know his target when Deimos grabbed him.
He heard a metallic click as Eris adjusted her grip on her weapons. His growl must have reached her ears. As always, she was loaded for bear—or dragon in this case.
A bullet in the right place from her beloved Glock would be enough to incapacitate or end him while he was in human form.
If he metabolized the serum too quickly and was able to transform ahead of schedule, she had a rifle capable of taking down an elephant. His scales were the hardest material he’d come in contact with. Even with the gun she couldn’t pierce them, but she knew where to hit him for maximum damage. Through the eye would likely result in an immediate kill.
The places where his limbs joined his body would be less devastating, but there were arteries there too. He could bleed out pretty quickly. She could also shoot him through his open mouth. That might or might not kill him and would be tricky since he could breathe fire, but it was a risk he preferred not to take.
Of course, he was their golden goose. They’d rather not kill him, but Eris was a pragmatist. She wouldn’t hesitate to cut her losses.
Still, she had a tranquilizer gun loaded with a formula which would knock him out and one loaded with more Proteus serum. A second dose within twenty-four hours would send him into painful convulsions, incapacitating him enough for him to be subdued. Last, but not least, she packed her trusty cattle prod jacked up to eleven.
But none of those precautions were really necessary. As much as he sometimes yearned for the tranquility of his dragon, or the warm embrace of death, he needed to stay rational. Hope was a bitch.
These lucid periods were the only way he might someday find his mate and hopefully regain his humanity permanently—assuming it wasn’t already too late. The Proteus serum granted him these respites and as long as they controlled the serum, he was their dog.
He stretched the neck of his black T-shirt with a curled finger. He could almost feel the collar.
The campground was even more deserted than you’d expect at this time of night. It was too cold for crickets, but the low rise and fall of voices from the tent could hardly be heard over the faint chorus of various frog species chirping in the trees. In these conditions, picking out individual human voices was impossible, let alone words.
A chill breeze brushed the hairs on his nape, but thanks to the slowed healing from the serum, his nostril-lining still burned with diesel fumes. The lack of scent info riled his primal side.
His dragon was like an itch in his mind. Not a good sign. The Proteus serum had always had some variability, but his window of coherence seemed to be shrinking. The first sign was always mental, an initial lessening of impulse control, gradually increasing until his thought processes were more dragon than human.
He refocused on the tent. He had bigger worries than shifting early.
This whole situation sent unease rippling through him. Typically, his targets were criminals, the kind of people who had good reason to be heavily guarded. The lack of any such precautions raised a red flag.
A movement drew his eye. He watched a figure emerge from the tent.
~ ~ ~
Sofia ducked past the edge of the tent and paused, touching her lips. She probably had a dumb smile plastered on her face. She was sure she’d had one all day, but now it was probably particularly obnoxious. Watching the man she loved re-connect with his long-lost family was probably one of the greatest scenes she’d ever witnessed.
She meandered toward his trailer. Hopefully, he’d call it a night early enough for her to see another great thing. She almost giggled at the thought and stopped abruptly. Damn, was she drunk? How many beers had she had?
A faint noise near the edge of her route broke over her like a cold wave, slicing though the pleasant fog. That separate part of her she now understood was probably her dragon hissed, Danger.
Her heart slammed into her breast bone. She slowly surveyed her environment. The formerly friendly shadows lurking behind the trailers and tents were abruptly cover for fiends and monsters. The protective border of trees, a barrier to smother cries of help.
She slid her hand into her pocket for her keys. She’d never had call to use the pepper spray gel she’d bought years ago. Would it still work?
Movement in the corner of her eye swung her head around. A large, black-clothed, ma
sked form lunged from behind the slide-out of a fifth wheel. She screamed and raised her arm, thumbing the trigger of the spray, aiming the stream at the eyeholes of the mask, and pivoted on the balls of her feet to run.
Her attacker swore, his voice deep and resonant, but wrapped her up like an NFL player. She folded at the knees, dropping to the ground, hoping to use her weight to break free, but he followed her down and rolled her onto her front, wrenching her arms behind her back and dragging her into a standing position.
A clicking reptilian roar sounded from the tent and she stopped struggling, some of her fear ebbed, rage filling the vacuum.
Her mate was coming, and he wasn’t alone.
This dick was about to confront six pissed off chimeras and a vampire/witch. She grinned. “Whoever you are. You’re about to be very sorry.”
~ ~ ~
The scream shot straight to Roan’s heart. Shifting into his dragon wasn’t even a choice. His new form was too big to fit though the tent opening, but he didn’t give a fuck.
He barely noticed the dry, tearing sound of the canvas, clatter of the poles collapsing, and scrape of ropes as he burst through.
His brothers yelled, bright light flashed behind him, and he heard more dragons crash after him, but he had one thought and one thought only.
Sofia needed him.
As soon as he hit the open air, he located her not far from his trailer. She struggled in the grip of a masked man dressed in black.
Fury surged through Roan, but there was no sense of his dragon taking over. All his natures were in perfect accord. Whoever manhandled his mate had to die.
He roared, clawing the air with his talons, beating his huge wings on the air, and charged her attacker.
A crack sounded in the trees at the edge of the meadow.
A gunshot. The air deformed as the bullet whizzed past him.