by C J Matthew
He jutted his chin. “Slower. Looks like a harpoon.”
The impact made a loud, metallic crunching sound and the engine on Drake’s side burst into flames. “We’re going in the drink,” he announced calmly. “Can you reach your life vest?”
“No.”
“I’ll land her flat. Give us a minute or two to get out. Grab your vest. Jump. I’ll deploy the raft.”
“We have a raft?”
He wrestled with the controls and the nose of the plane eased up from the dive. They smacked belly first onto the water and waves shoved at the plane.
She wrenched her life vest from under the seat and turned to Drake. “Got my vest. Jumping now. You coming?”
He shook his head. She strained to see his face, “Are you okay?”
“Listen.” The roar of a high-powered boat grew louder. “Do you have a gun?”
“No.” She couldn’t breathe. “Do we need one?”
A bright search light swept the cabin. The crack of a gunshot. Drake grabbed his shoulder, and whispered, “Pirates,” as he slumped forward.
Chapter 3
Liam
Liam heard the dragon shriek out a warning. The beast was airborne and flying within the magical confines of Draíochtia, so any Hunters in nearby waters could neither hear nor see the huge dragon. Liam had spent the evening submerged, patrolling the bottom tip of the western coast where it became the southern coast, and griping to himself about the lack of Willow Guardian help. The early warning system he’d installed two years ago ended at the island’s lower tip. Last year it should have been extended along the entire southern coast.
An early warning signal from further up the west coast beeped in his head. Again. Two boats filled with Hunters had spent hours testing for magical barriers and setting off his early warning, silent-to-humans, alarms. Knowing his Sea Dragon could sink both boats in a matter of minutes only added to his frustration and anger.
Drown the hunters, his beast roared and shot through the water, startling and scattering a large school of fish venturing near the invisible island to enjoy the slightly warmer water.
Simmer down, pal. We’re on the same team. But we can’t do anything that might confirm the location of the Island.
He’d had this argument before with several shifters:
‘If we had dragons, griffins, and birds, they could drive off the Hunters.’
‘Wait a minute. They show up and you’ve confirmed that something is here.’
‘Can’t the flying dragons, purebreds, make themselves invisible to humans?’
‘Mythical shifters? I believe so, but then the fight begins, and a stream of fire appears in the sky. How do you explain that? What could cause that?’
And it always came down the same conclusion: ‘No matter what, we can’t do anything or encourage shifters to do anything that would give away the location of Draíochtia.’
The Hunters already had a good idea where the Druids were hiding. Earlier this year, Harte had been shot right outside the barrier. And rumor was, Ronan had been wounded.
At least the Willow Druids had been delighted to see him.
Yesterday afternoon Liam slid ashore on the sandy beach beneath the cliffs marking the Willow’s shoreline. Above him on the flat rich land atop the cliffs grew the sacred Willow Grove. Further inland, where the willow trees drooped to kiss the river, stood Willow Village.
After his sea dragon spent a moment soaking up the sunshine, he shifted. As the huge aft portion of his body and his even longer tail curled into his human body, his wings disappeared, thick legs narrowed into human legs, and his claws retracted into human hands, he breathed in the clean air. The hybrid genes, half Sea serpent and half fire dragon, gave him the dragon’s ability to shift with all his clothes and some accessories intact. He could become invisible in his sea dragon form, but it wasn’t automatic. He had to will it and expend some energy.
As he climbed the cliff, the smell of wood smoke, cauldron cooking, and oxygen from all the trees grew stronger. At the top he stopped. Glanced back at the surf and along the shore. When he couldn’t wait another minute, he turned and absorbed the view of the Willow Grove.
He took off at a brisk pace until he was far enough in the grove that trees were all he could see, on all sides. Then he slowed and extended his hand to touch the leaves and droopy branches as he walked along.
He had always imagined the trees were happy to see him. Fantasy. Yes, the entire island hideaway was based on magic but sometimes his private imaginings went beyond that.
Druids will be happy the sea dragon observed.
Right. Especially when we handed over the list of foods and barrels of drinks the sea dragon cousins will be supplying for the festival.
Good party.
Glancing up, he saw a slender Druidess in her long white gown and sandals approaching.
He’d dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
“Welcome home, Liam,” she’d said in her best ceremonial tone. But when he looked up he noticed the edge of her mouth twitched with a suppressed grin. “Nice to see you so soon after your last visit.”
Like he had a choice. Okay, the woman wanted to be a comedian? Liam kissed her fingers, rose, threw open his arms, and shouted, “Surprise.” That bit of sarcasm freed her smile and she also indulged in a faint chuckle. In a Druid that amounted to hysterical glee. Bet she saw my arrival in her scrying dish months ago.
“Touché,” she acknowledged. “I’m a tiny bit sorry you were inconvenienced by having to return so soon, but honestly, you are the best Bealtaine festival coordinator we have. And…” She leaned forward and went on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, “You will never regret giving us this extra month of service.”
He shivered.
She checked for a backpack. “No luggage. You swam to us?”
“Yes. And tomorrow I want to check on my warning system.”
“I’ve wondered if it is somehow interfering with the Hunter boat’s sonar or something. They have moved away from out western shore, mostly.”
“I’d love to believe that, however, the system is designed to give a warning, nothing defensive.”
“Too bad.” She stepped closer and patted his chest. “And welcome to you, mighty sea dragon. Thank you for defending us.”
The dragon purred in Liam’s chest and for once, the purr was audible. The Druid smiled and waved goodbye as she hurried away.
“Let’s go see what I left here in the way of clothes.”
He approached the clan house, a long squat building, with a pitched roof over the central common room used for meetings and feasting like a Viking long house, from the near end. Inside the door he was pulled into a fierce hug by the leader of the lion shifter pride from Canada. They pounded on each other’s shoulders.
“This is great. Heard you were coming out of order. You guys need a new calendar?”
“Right. If you’re here maybe this’ll put us on the same schedule for a few years.”
“Good thought. My guys fight to be chosen for service the years you’re running the Bealtaine party.”
“That reminds me, if you’re mated and want to have her here, we getting a dispensation for mates to come for the party.”
“Excellent. Can I spread the word?”
“As soon as I get the OK from the Druids.”
“Let me know.”
He continued down the hall and was met by more shifter Guardians. The clan house sat in the middle of the village with private houses and cottages built on circular roads spiraling around it. Before he could get to the clothing storage, he was inundated by shifters saying hello. He was careful not to mention mates at the festival.
The hallways on either side of the main room held private bedrooms, larger communal rooms with sets of bunkbeds and an occasional office scattered between. The last room at the far end of the hall had been designated storage.
Each shifter on the island had his or her own issues with clothing so the smart dua
l-natured brought lots of extra clothes. Also, the Island’s weather was mostly regulated by the local witch’s magic but mid-April to mid-May was unpredictable so it payed to have coats or jackets and cold gear handy.
As he opened the storage room door, a young boy burst out of the meeting hall and pounded down the hall toward Liam.
“Sir Sea Dragon. Guardian. The Lady Druid sent me. A flying vehicle shot by hunters—”
“An airplane? Big or small?”
“Small. Two humans inside. On top of the waves but sinking.”
“Outside the magic?”
“Waves bringing it in.”
“Shit. Sorry. You didn’t hear that.”
“No, Guardian.”
“Can you show me?”
The tough little guy was winded, but he stood straight and said, “Yes sir.”
He grabbed the boy and swung him up to sit on his shoulders and then he ran for the door. “Duck.”
The boy was already hunched over and careful not to grasp Liam’s neck. Outside, Liam said, “Point the way.”
The boy pointed to the grove. Ah, near the spot where he’d come ashore. Liam wrapped his big hands around the boy’s legs just below his knees to reduce the bounce and started running toward the sacred trees.
Chapter 4
Heather
The plane bobbed in the choppy waves. It was taking on water. Heather lifted her sopping heels, considered her freezing feet, and shivered. Cold water. They were sinking. Drake groaned. Still alive but the poor man was bleeding all over the place. The high-powered engine slowed to a putter and something solid, (the pirate’s boat?) bumped against the plane. The searchlight was back. A man stepped on the plane and it lurched toward him.
She swallowed a scream.
He jerked open her door, reached behind her seat. He was stealing the luggage.
“Hurry, Jack,” a raspy voice penetrated the airplane cabin. “That piece of shit won’t stay afloat much longer.”
A different voice yelled, “Grab whatever you can.”
Jack tossed her overnight bag out the door followed by a sports bag and then her camera case. She braced herself. If he put a hand on her laptop, she’d bite his arm. A wave splatted against the plane. They rocked and the thief almost fell off. Ocean water flooded into the cabin floor. They were sinking faster.
The minute Jack disappeared, she groped for a cloth to press against Drake’s wound. Wadding up a cotton shirt she’d discovered behind his seat, she pressed gently on his uninjured shoulder. He fell back against the seat, groaning in pain.
“Listen,” she hissed at him. “Pressure. We need pressure on the wound.” The sound of the pirate boat accelerating, going away, leaving them to fend for themselves, gave her one hell of a kick in the ass.
“Drake,” she barked. Not a request. A command for his attention. “Listen. Press on this.” She pried his hand away from the wound, pressed the pad of cotton right on the spot, and Drake screamed. “Harder.” She replaced his hand and pressed hard on both his hand and the cotton bandage. He screamed again. “Good job.”
Now what? She was shaking, gulping in air. Terrified. Drake was dying, she was going to drown. Those bastards shot her plane and shot her pilot and stole her expensive camera. Now they had the balls to abandon her?
“I hope you scumbags have a mega disaster of your very own,” she yelled across the water and immediately felt better. Now how was she getting Drake off this—what had the pirate called it—this piece of shit?
In the distance the pirate boat exploded. The fireball expanded and lit up the ocean in a huge circle around them. Chunks of debris shot into the air. After a moment, the burning debris rained back down making hissing sounds as it hit the water.
Heather stared across the water. Then she stared at Drake and whispered, “Was that me?”
Drake snorted. Was the man even conscious? What the hell. Good enough. Absolution from a dying pilot. Just to be on the safe side, from now on she’d wished for only good stuff.
“Right. We need that raft. And somebody to show me how to get Drake out—”
In the flickering light of the burning pirate boat, she saw the packaged mini raft and first aid kit float past her open door. She grabbed both, secured the tie-rope of the raft to Drake’s door handle, then she tossed it out the door as she pulled the auto-inflate. Then she unfastened the pilot’s seatbelt.
“Prepare for evacuation, Drake. And please don’t get more hurt.”
She eased him out his door until he fell into the rubber raft. She tossed in the first aid kit, her purse and almost forgot her laptop. What the hell.
Sitting in his seat, her favorite business suit soaked up blood. She started to slide out feet first. At the last minute, she kicked the heels into the ocean and landed on her bare feet. The waves propelled them away from the plane. Out to sea? She had no idea where they were or where they were going.
The pirate’s burning boat sank beneath the small waves and took the light with it. “I’m going to need to stay busy until rescue arrives.” She found a waterproof light stick and two big paddles.
Sitting on her butt in the back end of the tiny raft, she paddled on one side then the other like she’d seen in a movie with a canoe race.
She really didn’t want to mess with Drake’s gunshot wound any more than she already had. She’d been positive about applying pressure on a bleeding wound but bandaging it? Shit. Way past her skill level. Now if Drake needed a spin press release about the crash? She was his woman. “Hang in there,” she whispered to him. “You’ve stopped bleeding, I think. And we’re almost there. Somewhere.”
She plunged the paddle as deep in the water as possible and pushed them forward. There was a loud bang, like a transformer exploding. The air shimmered and pinched her skin like static electricity; it smelled like a smoldering electrical wire.
Drake groaned. Had they been hit by some sort of weird lightening? The raft seemed intact. Actually, the pilot appeared more awake than before. She dug the paddle in the ocean on the other side of the raft and looked up. In the distance, a beach backed by cliffs. It was a coastline, straight ahead.
“Land. We’ve almost made it.”
The pilot was still, silent. All right, we could use a few Air Force Pararescuemen right about now. Heather shouted, “Help. We need help.”
A white rowboat with an old-fashioned lantern swinging from a pole attached to the front, skimmed through the surf and arrowed straight toward them. A young man pulled in his two oars, guided the rowboat alongside, grabbed the rope at the front of the raft, and tied it to his boat.
“Hi,” Heather said, “Thank heaven you saw us, and came to help. Can you get us to shore? The beach? Do you have a blanket?” She couldn’t tell if the young man understood. He looked friendly enough and was almost rescuing them, but he never said a word.
When both boats were beached, she pantomimed the two of them getting Drake out of the raft and flat on his back. She peeled off her suit jacket and spread it on the sand. When she approached Drake’s shoulders, the youngster waved her to lift his feet. The kid was a heck of a lot stronger than he looked.
Her heart racing, she knelt over the pilot, felt his neck for a pulse. Hers beat so fast and loud, she wasn’t sure. The young man brought his lantern. Drake looked deathly white. Was he breathing? She tried putting her cheek to his mouth and wasn’t certain. Assuming the cardiac compression position with both her hands overlapped on his sternum, she put her lips at his ear and said, “You’ve got twenty seconds. Get that heart pumping and those lungs breathing or I’ll do it for you. And I broke the dummy.”
After a few seconds, Drake coughed and followed that up with a deep breath. The artery in his neck was clearly pumping.
The teen gasped, dropped the lantern and fell over backwards. He started scooting away on his butt.
“Don’t you dare leave me,” Heather commanded. “Pick that lantern up. I need a blanket.”
The young man stared ove
r her shoulder. And yelled, “Willow Guardian. This man was dying. The wiccan saved him. Now she fears he is cold.”
A large man, tall with broad shoulders and powerful looking legs, stepped off the last level of the cliff and strode through the sand toward them. He carried a child on his shoulders. Another boy, younger and smaller than her pre-teen rescuer.
“Am I glad to see you! Sorry to be a bother. I’m Heather Daniels and this is the pilot, Drake. A boat full of bad guys, Drake called them pirates, shot the plane down with a harpoon, stole our suitcases and left us to sink with the aircraft. I have no idea where we are, but this young man pulled our little life-raft to shore and I’m extremely grateful. I’ve been trying to get a blanket for Drake in case he’s going into shock.”
She watched the big man’s eyes glass over. Rambling. Well hell, she was entitled.
“All finished?” he asked and slid the boy to his feet
“Just taking a break.”
“You really have no idea where you are?”
“From everything I just told you, that’s the hot question?”
“A very critical question.”
“Then let me review. I’m on a business trip to Inverness, to meet a client. As a favor to my supervisor, Drake agreed to fly me there. We got off course in the turbulence. Then came all the unimportant little details. Attacked, crashed, nearly drowned, and here we are.”
The big man just stared at her. She stared back. “That explains why I don’t know where here is.”
More silence.
“Um, Mister Guardian, we—”
“Guardian is my title, the name’s Liam.”
She froze. Nah, it’s a common Irish name. “Okay Guardian Liam, we need medical attention for Drake, and an airport for me.”
Chapter 5
Liam
Liam shook his head both to clear it and to stall for a moment. He needed to carefully tone down his orders to the Druidess, via the youngsters, into polite requests. No matter how accustomed he was to total command over his chunk of Muirdris Shipping, here on Draíochtia, he wasn’t in charge.