by Erin Johnson
In fact, I was an owl shifter… or used to be, before my jealous former coworker had cursed me. But not like I was going to tell Daisy that and give her any more ammo.
She’d pretty much immediately figured out I was a shifter when I spoke to her. You’d think the context, me saving her life, might have mattered a little, but the dog was a stickler for telling the truth and a wee bit overprotective of Peter. Though, I could appreciate that.
I glanced up at the puzzled officer who admonished his dog. “Daisy! Be nice.” He turned to me and grimaced. “Sorry. Not sure what’s gotten into her lately.”
I blinked innocently at him. “Maybe she’s rabid.”
His eyes widened behind his mask and he paled.
Oops.
I made a face. “Kidding.”
“Oh.” His broad shoulders relaxed.
Behind his back, Daisy bared her teeth at me, and I did the same back at her. We had a healthy relationship.
Behind us, more footsteps sounded as more officers and their dates climbed the gangplank. Soon we reached the deck and our footing leveled out. Not a moment too soon, either. It’d been a long time since I’d worn heels and I was still getting back into the swing of it.
Daisy’s dark eyes watched me, and she snorted. You look like a newborn foal, just learning to walk. Her mouth split into a panting grin.
I made a face at her. With the music and crowd louder now, I felt confident Peter wouldn’t overhear, and let out a couple of quiet woofs.
Yeah, well, at least I can brush my own teeth.
Her expression soured, and she snapped her jaws shut.
I drew myself up taller and grinned at the fellow partygoers we passed. Yep. Nothing made a girl feel like she had her life together like trading insults with a dog.
A few men and women, dressed in their finest uniforms, tuxedos, and gowns, strolled by on the deck or stood at the railing looking out at the moonlit sea. With the tide up, our home of Bijou Mer was once again an island, disconnected from the human mainland. The view on one side (I got my starboard and port mixed up) was of the mountain island, the lights of homes and businesses glowing against the sky. And out the other, the shimmering sea, lit by the bright moon.
The sea breeze rustled my skirt, and I grinned up at Peter. Despite all my (pretty legitimate) fears, I was glad I’d come with him. I pulled my lips to the side as I took in his expression. He held his shoulders stiff, and a muscle in his jaw jumped. What had his rope in a knot?
I nudged him with my elbow as we moved across the deck toward the open double doors to the cabin. “Still finding your sea legs, or…?”
He glanced down at me, his eyes far away, then shook himself. He plastered on a smile. “Uh… just feeling thoughtful, that’s all.”
I pinched my brows together. “Mm-hm. If you say so.” What had my normally peppy Peter so down in the dredges?
An older man in coattails stood beside the open doors to the cabin. He bowed as we approached, then held a white-gloved hand out to Peter. “Invitation please, sir.”
Peter slid a hand into the breast of his uniform. He withdrew a scroll of parchment and handed it to the doorman, who unrolled it and peered at the writing. “You are Officer Peter Flint, presumably?”
He nodded.
The older man’s eyes slid from the paper to me. “And this is your date?”
I held up a hand and grinned. “Guilty.”
The man’s bushy brows drew together as his gaze lingered on me for another moment, and then he looked up at Peter, perplexed. “And your partner?”
Peter stepped back and gestured at Daisy, who’d been hidden on his other side. “Daisy. She’s right here.”
The older man gave a dry chuckle. “Very amusing. Where is your real partner, officer?”
I raised a brow. The guy looked completely unamused, if you asked me.
Peter cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder. A line of several couples had formed behind us. He grinned at the doorman. “I realize it’s a bit… unconventional, but Daisy really is my partner. See—she’s even got her own badge.”
I bit back a grin. “Really?”
Peter bent over and turned Daisy’s navy blue collar until a gold star came into view through her thick, tawny fur. “See?”
The dog held quite still, her nose lifted—a pose of perfect dignity.
I cackled. “Sea snakes! She really does have her own little collar badge.” I threw my head back. “That’s adorable.”
Daisy narrowed her eyes at me and snarled. What are you laughing at? I am an officer of the law. She huffed. I deserve to be shown respect.
I grinned and let out a quiet whine. Yeah, well, you also chase bunnies in your sleep, so…. I lifted my palms like I was weighing scales and Daisy bared her teeth.
“Yes, hm, very well.” The doorman curled up the scroll and handed it back to Peter, then ushered us inside, turning to the couple behind us.
We stepped through the double doors, and I let out a low whistle. “Wow.”
I guess I’d been expecting fancy (it was a masked ball after all) but this was a whole other level. A jazz band with an upright bass and a beautiful crooning singer played on a raised stage in the corner. Couples in masks swayed and twirled before them on the dance floor.
Across the huge space with its white-clothed tables and gently swaying chandeliers, an enormous aquarium took up most of the far wall, glowing blue. Fish, eels, and squids lazily drifted through the space. And in the center of the back wall, a raised podium stood. A banner hung on the wall behind the podium.
CONGRATULATIONS TO OFFICER of the Year, Dylan Davies!
A HUGE, magically moving photograph of the man spanned the wall. The blond with a buzzcut and stern look that screamed “cop” mugged with the best of them. He glared, lifted his chin and looked off into the distance, and pressed a hand heroically to the breast of his navy and gold uniform, cap in hand.
I smirked and nudged Peter to get his attention. “So that’s the Officer of the Year?” I chuckled. “And snakes, does he know it.”
He followed my gaze to the banner and paled. “I need a drink.” Peter spun on his heel and led the way toward the bar in the back. Daisy trotted along after him, sliding between all the glittering attendees.
I frowned at Peter’s back for a moment—what was that reaction?—before gathering up my skirt and following them.
THE BAR
I leaned my elbows on the wooden bar beside Peter, mimicking his position. He lifted a finger and caught the bartender’s attention. The mustached guy drifted over, drying a glass mug.
“Whiskey, neat.” Peter’s throat bobbed. “Make it a double. And a bowl of water for my dog. And—” He gave me a wan smile. “And whatever the lady is having.”
I leaned toward the mustached guy in suspenders. “Sea salt sour.”
The bartender nodded and moved off to make our drinks. My order got a grin out of Peter.
“Sea salt sour, huh?” He chuckled.
I planted a hand on my hip. “You have something to say about that?”
He shrugged. “I just would’ve expected something a little more… hard-core.”
I nodded to myself, grinning. “Normally, you’d probably be right. But sometimes a lady wants something a little more”—I held up my pinky finger—“refined.”
His grin gradually faded as he continued to stare at me, his eyes growing more focused.
I frowned. “What?” Seriously. Did I have something in my teeth?
He shook himself and cleared his throat. “Uh—nothing.” His face turned bright red.
I bit my lip and made a mental note to thank Heidi again for scrounging up this dress—I’d made an impression.
I glanced back over my shoulder, past the dense crowd of masked attendees, to the banner of the Officer of the Year. That had been a weird reaction—especially for Peter, who was generally so upbeat and positive. Was he… jealous?
I slid closer to him so that o
ur forearms nearly touched. “So… Officer Davies. What’s his deal? What’d he do to win Officer of the Year?” I grinned. “Did he save a kitten from a kraken or something?”
Peter snorted but kept his eyes down on his laced fingers. “He, uh—he was voted Officer of the Year by his peers.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Didn’t realize the award was a popularity contest.” I lowered my voice and leaned closer, a conspiratorial tone to my voice. “Did you vote for him? I promise not to tell anyone.”
I’d meant it to be teasing, but a muscle in his jaw jumped.
“No. In fact, I didn’t.”
“Oh.” I drummed my fingers on the wooden bartop. “Interesting…. Don’t mean to pry, but… why not?”
Peter’s nostrils flared, and he stared straight ahead at the shelves of glowing potion bottles, though I doubted he was seeing any of them. “It’s—he’s just—” He hiked his shoulders up. “I don’t want to speak ill of another officer but—”
“Chug chug chug!”
We both whipped our heads to the right and looked down the length of the bar. Two cops who looked to be in their midforties with buzzcuts that matched Davies’s pounded the bar with their fists, chanting. A third officer, thinner, with square glasses and a prominent Adam’s apple, stood between them. The younger guy held a shot of something that glowed green and just happened to also be on fire.
I raised a brow. “That’s not going to go down well.”
A deep growl sounded beside me, and I turned my head, already indignant at being called out by Daisy. “It’s true, though!”
Instead, it was Peter who scowled in their direction, lip curled.
Whoa. Hadn’t seen this side of Officer Flint before.
He gripped the edge of the bar, knuckles splotchy. “Davies is just like those guys over there. The kind of cop who’ll pick on someone just because they’re new, or different, or willing to speak up and out against dishonesty.”
“Uh.” I held still, blinking, as Peter’s face grew redder.
“Excuse me a moment.”
Without waiting for a response, he pushed back, eyes on the chanters, and disappeared into the crowd. I watched him for a moment before turning back to face the spot where he’d just been standing. Daisy, who’d been sitting under the bar, stood and stared off after Peter, her bushy tail drooped and ears flattened.
She let out a whine. Peter? Where’d he go? He forgot me. Peter?
Oh, snakes. If I didn’t know what a pill she was normally, I might feel sorry for how pathetic this was.
I cleared my throat, and Daisy swung her dark eyes toward me. I let out a few woofs, confident that the noise of the crowd and band would keep anyone nearby from overhearing.
So… what the shell was that all about?
Daisy glanced toward where Peter had disappeared into the crowd one more time, then swung around to face the bar and lowered down on her haunches. She barked, the noise nearly drowned in all the hubbub.
Peter should have won Officer of the Year, if you ask me.
I rolled my eyes and whined. Yes, Daisy, we all know what a lick butt— I mean, how loyal you are.
She bared her teeth at me.
I snuffled and whined again. Does that mean Peter’s feeling jealous?
The dog snorted and her pointy ears pricked. Of Davies? Hardly. Peter’s just disappointed the award didn’t go to someone more deserving.
I turned to face her, leaning my elbow against the bar. “Woof!” And what makes Davies so undeserving?
Daisy’s ears flattened and she growled. He’s so immature. And, he lies—all the time! Always reeking of untruths. The dog huffed. It’d be like you winning consultant of the year.
I shot her a flat look, then perked up and sniffed. Wait. Is that a thing? I grinned. I nominate myself.
Daisy’s lips parted in a grin, and her tail swished across the floor, scattering tawny hairs behind it. Yes, and that’d be your one and only vote.
I cocked my head and huffed. Good one, flea bag.
The German shepherd snorted. Back at you, hairless skin sack.
I grimaced. Wow. Taking it a little far now, aren’t we?
A commotion sounded to my right and interrupted my superproductive talk with Daisy. I spun around and found Peter standing between the guy with the flaming shot and the other two officers.
I leaned forward and watched Peter’s mouth intently, trying to read his lips. I could just barely hear.
“I said, back off.” He shot the other two a challenging look.
The two buzzcuts gripped each other’s shoulders and shot Peter dark looks, though they kept grins on their faces. “Lighten up, Flint.”
But Peter stood his ground, glaring at them.
One of the guys grabbed Peter’s shoulder, and he shrugged it off.
The kid in the glasses winced, red spots burning on his cheeks. “Thanks, Officer Flint, but it’s alright. These guys are just—just razzing me.”
One of the buzzcuts snorted. “Yeah, Flint. We’re just razzing him.” He threw a hand toward the cop in the glasses. “Russo likes it.”
The one in glasses tipped his head side to side noncommittally. “Well… likes it might be pushing it a tad but—”
“Ahem.”
I turned and found the bartender handing me a short glass of whisky, a shallow bowl of water, and a tall cocktail glass with a sugared starfish and umbrellas sticking out of it. That would be mine.
I grinned and pulled them toward me. “Thanks so much.” I glanced down the bar but other patrons blocked my view of Peter and the other cops. I turned back to the bartender and flashed my eyes. “I think we’re going to need these.”
He grinned, his mustache bristling. “Just don’t get too far gone.” He leaned forward and winked. “Got to keep your wits about you with the captain wandering about.”
I frowned and wrapped my lips around the straw. “The captain?” I took a sip and winced. Woo. Someone liked to pour with a heavy hand. I grinned. My kind of bartender.
He leaned on one elbow and looked around, then lowered his voice. “You don’t know the legend? This pirate ship went down off the coast of Bijou Mer over two hundred years ago.”
I flashed my eyes at him from behind my feathered mask. “For a wreck, she looks pretty good to me.” I took another sip of my strong drink. Some might say the same thing about me.
The tanned guy grinned and leaned closer. “She was dredged up a couple years ago and magically restored. But legend goes, it’s haunted by the ghost of the pirate captain who went down with her.”
“Spooky. I’d better keep an eye out for the ol’ captain.”
“You know, I’d be happy to show you around below deck when my shift is over.”
My eyes widened and I froze. Holy carp. Was I being flirted with? Was this dress enchanted or something?
I shot him a warm grin. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll be getting my kicks above deck tonight.”
He pressed his lips into a tight grin, gave me one last look, then patted the bar and moved down the line to take another order.
My, oh my. I raised my brows and grinned to myself. Maybe I still had it. I sipped my drink and scanned the room, then jumped when I caught Daisy staring up at me.
I pressed a hand to my chest. “Snakes! I forgot you were there.”
She lifted her snout and her wet, black nose twitched. What are you drinking? It smells good.
I smirked. Sorry, girl. I held a hand at my waist, palm down. You have to be at least this tall to ride.
Her ears flattened and she glared at me. Her lips parted, as if to retort, but Peter cut her off. He pushed through the crowd, stalked right up to the bar, and swiped up the glass of whiskey.
“Yep, that’s—” I watched him down the whole thing in one gulp, then slam it down onto the bar. “—your drink.” I flashed my eyes at him. What had gotten into Peter? Was I going to have to be the logical, sober one tonight? Man. Talk about role reversals.<
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He shot me a tight smile. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He found my hand and pulled me into the crowd. I teetered behind him in my heels, my sea salt sour held high in my other hand to avoid sloshing it onto anyone. “Go where exactly?”
His nostrils flared. “Away from here.”
Daisy trailed behind us as we slid into the dense crowd. Right.
RAINCHECK
Peter lifted a long arm and waved, though, as he stood a good foot taller than me even in heels, I couldn’t tell who he’d spotted. Still holding my hand (no complaints from me) he led me through the dense crowd of men and women in tuxedos, gowns, and jeweled masks. A waiter slid behind me, a tray of champagne flutes on a magically hovering tray, just above his head.
As we moved on, the jazz band in the corner grew louder, their sparkling singer crooning out an impossibly high note. The crowd seemed to grow even more dense, and Peter slowed.
“Edna!” He cupped a hand to the side of his mouth and called out to the precinct’s office manager.
The older woman spun to face us, and her hot pink lips split into a grin. “Peter! C’mere, doll.” She sported a sparkling, floor-length leopard print gown with a furry shrug. She still wore her purple cat glasses—just over her leopard print mask.
As we neared, she reached two plump hands up and grabbed Peter by either side of his face. She pulled him closer and planted two big kisses on his cheeks, leaving behind bright pink lip prints.
Then she turned to me and opened her arms wide. “Oh, don’t you look a picture.” I awkwardly gave her a one-armed hug, both because I was trying not to spill my drink, and because I was unused to affection from near strangers… or anyone, really.
The thing about Edna was that I’d actually interacted with her a few times in my former life as a lawyer when I’d had to go up to the station to take statements.
She closed one eye and shook a finger with a brightly pointed nail at me. “I’ll remember where I know you from, one of these days….”
“Heh.” I let out a nervous chuckle and took a generous sip of my fruity cocktail. Sands, I hope not. Peter had no idea about my past—and I intended to keep it that way. It was easier, and safer, for everyone.