by Chant, Zoe
The woman said nothing. The fingers of her left hand still rested lightly on the door handle, while her right still cradled the egg protectively to her chest.
“Those guys are wildlife smugglers,” she said finally. “Is that what you were tracking them for?”
Wildlife. That’s one way of putting it.
“Yes.” That was the easiest explanation for now. What the woman held was no ordinary egg, which was why he’d been sent in after it, though no one even knew if the egg was real – though they’d know soon enough now. As a mythical shifter, he’d know as soon as he touched the egg whether it was real or not. But recovering a possibly fake egg had only been half of his mission
The other half had been finding out who wanted to buy it, and why. Which, thanks to this mess, they now definitely wouldn’t know. Unless the woman across from him turned out to be an especially good actor.
He glanced at her.
No chance, his griffin said. She’s not lying. We could sense it if she was.
“So if they’re smuggling poor defenseless animals, shouldn’t you go arrest them?”
“That’s not the only thing they’re smuggling,” Hector said. “The cops up in the Gold Coast’ve been tipped off, and they’re gonna pick ’em up for the six mil worth of meth they’re moving.”
“Oh.”
That was something the human cops could definitely deal with. This egg and whoever wanted to buy it… not so much.
Hector glanced at the egg curiously, doing his best to ignore the way it nestled against the full curve of the woman’s breast.
Could it really be…?
It seemed hard to believe. Pegasi were rare enough – the idea that there could still be an unhatched one anywhere in the world that no one knew about until now almost defied belief. His fingertips prickled with the desire to touch it and find out if it really was what the bikies had claimed.
Be patient, his griffin counseled him. She already doesn’t trust us. Try to snatch the egg off her now and she never will.
It was right. The griffin, despite how irritating it could be, sometimes gave surprisingly good advice and made him think twice about the best way to approach a situation. It was only when its blood was up and the red mist of rage descended over its senses that Hector’s human side needed to pull it back, and temper its wild animal instincts.
The woman hadn’t said anything else, and Hector realized he couldn’t just keep referring to her as ‘the woman’ in his head.
“What’s your name?”
She glanced at him, hesitating. “Myrtle,” she finally said. “Myrtle Atkins.”
Myrtle.
For some reason, the name seemed to echo within him, like a bell had been struck within his chest.
“That’s… a pretty name,” he eventually said, still confused as to why it would have such an effect on him.
To his surprise, Myrtle let out a small, bitter laugh.
“Do you really think so? I’ve always hated it.” She gave him a tight smile. “But when your mom seems determined to name all her kids after flowers and plants, I guess eventually you start to run out of nice ones.” She shook her head. “Anyway, that’s not really important, is it? What’re we going to do about this?”
She held up the egg, gently cupping it in her palms. She was holding it carefully, like she was used to dealing with delicate things.
“If it doesn’t stay warm, whatever’s growing in here will die,” she continued. “And that’d be just as bad as whatever those guys were planning to do with it. We have to get it under something warm, like a heat lamp. And fast.”
Hector nodded. “I know. And I can do that. But you might have to trust me a bit.”
Myrtle laughed again, but once again there wasn’t a lot of humor in it. “Trust the guy who says he’s a cop but won’t show me any ID, who’s currently speeding across the outback without headlights on? Sure, why not. I don’t have much other choice, do I?”
Well, she has a point there.
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re only doing this because you have no choice,” Hector said.
“Well, I don’t really. Like you said, bikers aren’t really the forgiving type, and there’s no way I’m giving them back this egg. So unless I really want to end up at the bottom of a lake with concrete shoes on, I guess I better stick with you.” She paused. “Not that I guess there’s a lake anywhere ’round here for them to dump me in.”
“Trust me, they have their own way of taking care of things,” Hector said grimly. “So yeah, that’s about the long and the short of it. Whatever you might think of me, I can’t just let you go waltzing back into town. Not until we know it’s safe. Which may take a few days.”
Myrtle stared at him, her eyes wide. “A few days? I’m not here on a vacation, though. I’m here to do research. I can’t drop everything just because –”
“Just because some bikies are after you for revenge for stealing from them?” Hector asked, shaking his head. “Sorry, but whatever it is, it can wait until after I know those bikies have been picked up. They have a delivery schedule for their meth, but who knows – they may decide to hang around if they think what you have there is worth more to them.”
“Now, wait just a minute,” Myrtle said, the volume of her voice rising. “I thought it’d only be – I mean, like I said, I’m here for work, and I have my grant money budgeted down to the last dime. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. And I prepaid for my accommodation. I’m happy to let one night slide, but days –”
“Whatever you’re studying, I’m sure it’ll still be there when you get back,” Hector said.
“But that’s just the point!” Myrtle threw a hand up in the air, while still cradling the egg carefully with the other. “It won’t be! I’m studying moth migrations! As in, they’ll migrate! Before I’ve had a chance to find or count them!”
“Moth migrations?” Hector asked, shooting her a confused look.
“Yes! Moth migrations! I know it may not sound very interesting or cool to you, but it’s actually really important! Lots of animals – you know, the kinds of cute animals that people care about – eat the moths, and without them, they’ll starve. So think about it that way, if you have to.”
“No, it’s fine, I know how important moths are to the ecosystem,” Hector said – which he did. He knew this land. He’d grown up on a cattle station not far from here, which was why he’d been chosen for this mission. It was the perfect cover story: he was just back paying a visit to his childhood home. Even people who’d known him as a kid who had no idea what his job was now would vouch for him. And he cared about this place more than he could say. It’d been his home for twenty years, and he knew it like the back of his hand.
“You –?” Myrtle blinked at him as if surprised, but then quickly closed her mouth and looked away.
“But I’m sorry,” Hector continued. “Now that you’re here, it’s my duty to protect you. And I can’t let you go out there until I’m sure those bikies won’t be a threat.”
Myrtle said nothing. She sat back in her seat and stared out the window at the total darkness beyond. Hector glanced at her.
“Look, I get it,” he said. “The drought’s been hard these last few years. Moth numbers are down, and while that may not seem important to most people, it has a knock-on effect to the rest of the environment. You do important work, and I admire it. I’m not saying you can’t go back just to be an arsehole. Those bikies mean serious business, and it’s just not worth the risk. The moment I know it’s safe for you to be out there, you can go.”
Myrtle had turned to him while he spoke, her eyes still guarded, but she was looking at him now like she at least wanted to trust him.
“You mean it? As soon as you’re sure?”
“I can’t make a promise about the time frame. But yeah. As soon as possible.”
Myrtle sat back again, looking out the window. “Okay.”
They drove on in silence. Hector knew where he wa
s heading, now that he was certain the bikies hadn’t tailed them. And he knew they didn’t have much time, if what Myrtle was holding really was a genuine pegasus egg.
They didn’t like to get cold – not that there was a huge chance of that, what with the way Myrtle was cradling it against her, uh, chest.
Hector swallowed, pulling his eyes back to the front.
Inappropriate in the extreme.
Just because Myrtle was gorgeous and sexy and curvy and –
Eyes in front!
Hector cleared his throat.
“We’re almost there,” he said.
Myrtle turned back to him, stormy gray-blue eyes narrowed. “Almost where?”
“Where we’re going to have to stay for the next few days.”
It hadn’t been his plan to take anyone back to his headquarters – and really, he wasn’t even supposed to. But thanks to his impulsive move, he didn’t have any other choice. He didn’t really trust anyone else to look after Myrtle just now – and besides which, he needed to take a closer look at the egg.
“It might look a bit… shabby from the outside,” he warned her as he pulled the car up. His griffin’s night vision had guided him perfectly to the right place, a little off the road and far enough out of Good Fortune that he’d know it if anyone tried to sneak up on him. “That’s why I said before you might have to trust me a bit.”
“Oh… kay…” Myrtle said. She hesitated; then, setting her strong jaw – Unf, Hector thought – she opened the car door and swung her legs out.
“It’s… really, really dark out,” she said when she closed the car door and the overhead light went out again. “I can’t see my hand in front of my face.”
“Your eyes will adjust in a moment. There’s plenty of starlight to see by,” Hector said. Starlight he didn’t need in order to see everything around him perfectly.
He could see her hesitating, looking around her, still clutching the egg protectively to her chest. Hector realized that leaving her effectively blinded was not likely to engender any trust, so he walked around the car to join her on the other side and extended his hand.
“Here,” he said. “I’ll help you.”
He reached out, placing his hand gently on her shoulder, over her tank top. A warm tingling sensation immediately began throbbing in his palm, before running up his arm.
Within him, his griffin sat up, tail twitching. What is this?
Hector pulled his hand back, looking down at his palm. The sensation stopped.
It’s nothing, he told the griffin. Just been stuck out in the desert for three months, and Myrtle’s the best-looking thing I’ve seen in a while. That’s it.
“Does the offer of help still stand, or am I just going to have to stumble around until we get to your house?”
“Uh – right,” Hector said, swallowing hard. “This way.”
Placing his hand back on her shoulder, he guided her over the dusty, rocky path to the place he’d called his home for the past several weeks.
It was nothing to look at from the outside – which was exactly the point. It was two battered old shipping containers, abandoned here in the middle of nowhere, dented and scraped up, their paint peeling off under the harsh, unyielding sun. Anyone who happened to see them while driving by would barely take a second glance at them.
But inside…
Hector unlocked the heavy steel door at the rear of one of the containers. It creaked as it opened, and the light from inside flooded out.
“O–Oh…” Myrtle’s eyes went wide, one hand raised to her open mouth. “I – is this – wow.”
Chapter 3
Hector watched as Myrtle stepped inside the shipping container, her eyes wide.
“My headquarters, I guess you’d call it,” he said.
Seeing her surprised awe made Hector look at the place he’d lived for the past few weeks with new eyes. And feel relieved that he’d thought to tidy up a little earlier in the day. This place would probably have been a little less impressive as it had looked about six hours ago, with instant noodle cups sitting in front of the computer screens and protein bar wrappers littering the blinking server banks. Not to mention the pile of dirty clothes he’d collected from between the satellite monitors and the police scanner equipment and tossed into the hamper in his sleeping quarters.
“This is like something out of James Bond,” Myrtle murmured, looking around. “Am I allowed to be here? Am I going to have to swear an oath of silence or go into a witness protection program or something?”
Hector hesitated. It was true that technically he was breaking a lot of rules by bringing her here.
But my first priority is always to ensure the safety of civilians, he thought. Doesn’t that override everything else?
Not really, but that was what he’d be arguing to his handler, Callan. Who he’d now have to call and explain himself to.
He’d just have to hope Callan saw things his way.
He watched as Myrtle wandered amongst the blinking computers and equipment. She hadn’t been far wrong when she said this was like something out of James Bond. Working alone out here in the middle of nowhere meant he had to be pretty self-sufficient. All this equipment allowed him to access everything he needed – whatever data, whatever information he required to complete his mission was at his fingertips here.
“How do you power all of this?” Myrtle asked, turning to him.
“Solar batteries,” he said. “The hidden panels on the roof soak up rays all day, and all the excess is stored. I have a generator for emergencies of course, but as you can imagine, ‘not enough sun’ isn’t usually a problem out here.”
Myrtle only nodded. “And… this is all for the sake of catching some bikers… bikies… whatever they’re called out here… with some meth? And an egg?”
“Not quite.” Hector hesitated. How do I explain this?
It wasn’t like he could just say, Yeah, the meth was part of it, but what I’m really interested in is the egg of a mythical creature we all thought was extinct long ago. Which, by the way, you’re holding in your hands right now. Maybe.
Until he touched it, he wouldn’t know if the egg was genuine. It didn’t seem likely. No one had seen a pegasus in centuries. Amongst shifter types, they were the rarest of the rare. Even his griffin – uncommon as it was – was nothing compared to the rarity of a pegasus.
Which was what made the egg so valuable – and why, Hector was guessing, the mere possibility it was genuine was enough to tempt a buyer with deep, deep pockets all the way out here from the United States.
Not that I managed to find out who they are.
Shaking off the gloomy thought, Hector pulled in a deep breath.
But at least I have what they were after.
“Pass me the – the egg,” he said, holding out his hand. “I need to make sure it’s genuine.”
Myrtle glanced at him, holding the egg against herself. “We should warm it up. It’s gotten cooler since I took it off that guy.”
“I will in a moment,” Hector said. “I just need to inspect it first.”
Myrtle visibly hesitated. “But then you’re going to put it under a lamp, right?”
“Yeah, for sure.” In fact, he had an incubation lamp all set up on the off-chance the egg was for real.
Somehow, Myrtle seemed reluctant to give up the egg. She held it against her chest, her fingers wound protectively around it. She was looking at him with narrowed eyes, as if she suspected he might snatch it from her at any moment.
Finally, with what looked like a lot of effort, she held it out to him.
“Here. Take it. But be careful.”
“Ta.” Hector reached out for it. It really was beautiful – an iridescent blue, and perfectly smooth. He had no idea what a pegasus egg was supposed to look like, but if this was fake, someone had done a good job of it.
“Carefully,” Myrtle told him again, her voice hard.
Their fingers brushed.
Zap.
“What was that?!” Myrtle snatched her hand back, still holding the egg in one hand, staring down at her fingers, eyes wide.
“I – I don’t know,” Hector started to say, before his griffin reared up inside him, beak open in a mighty screech, talons raking the air, wings extended.
Mine!
Hector’s breath caught in his throat. He stared down at his hand, almost expecting to see the pads of his fingers branded from the shock of electricity that had passed between them. There was nothing there of course, but he could almost still feel the aftershocks coursing over his skin.
Shit. She’s my mate.
Dragging his eyes upward, he stared at her.
He’d thought she was a very attractive woman before – and she was. But now, she’d taken on an almost otherworldly gloss. Nothing about her was different from how it’d been five seconds ago, but at the same time, everything had changed. It was as if he could see her heart in her beautiful storm-colored eyes: her heart, her soul, everything that made her her…
“Uh, hello?”
Myrtle’s voice snapped him out of the rapture he’d wandered into.
C’mon, get your head together. Concentrate. Shit.
The truth was, though, he was shaken right down to his bones.
His mate? Here?
I can’t think about this right now. I have to concentrate.
He forced his mind back to the here and now. Gritting his teeth, he reached out again.
“Nope, no way,” Myrtle said. “You almost dropped it! You could have killed whatever’s in here – just show me where to put it, and I’ll take care of it. I’m a scientist, I’m used to handling these kinds of things.”
“I told you, I have to inspect it,” Hector managed to get out. He was so distracted he could hardly think straight. His mate was standing right in front of him, glaring at him.
“Then you can do it while I hold it,” Myrtle said. “Or once it’s under the lamp.”
Hector’s brain was too addled to argue with her. “Okay, fine.” Turning away, he uncovered the incubator he’d kept warming up while he’d been away, just in case the egg was real. It was a simple thing – just a heat lamp positioned over a soft bed of feathers and hay, the kind of nest pegasi were supposed to have built for their eggs many eons ago, before they’d disappeared. “Bring it over here.”