Speedo Down

by Winnie Winkle

  A surprising crack in known shifter lore occurred today, as I verified that not only can dragons mate beyond their species with success, but that the offspring will exhibit partial to near-full power. This occurs during a process called impetus, where the symbiont arises and takes its place as an equal partner in the living host.

  No shifter races, all of whom experience impetus, duplicated mating outside their species — but the dragons, the original shifting race, claim they’ve been capable of creating a demi offspring since the time of the dinosaurs. I confirmed both the existence of a dragon demi with a human, named Drago, and the lore confirmation from the Elder of the Thundra, Campe.

  This creates a breach in magic lore that’s poised to upend the order. Dragon history of slaughter and attempted annihilation of other shifting and magical species cannot be discounted. Campe posits those stories were exaggerated as a support for imprisoning the dragon’s race. As I write this, I cannot say with certainty which history I believe to be the truth. With conflicting truths, often, it’s neither.

  Tonight I spoke to Apollo, who agreed to divulge the reason he disappeared during the Salem witch trials. Then, the human world pursued a course of extinction of witches that pulled the balance of left and right brain thinking apart, shredding the relationship between logic/order and creativity/pushing the boundaries of thought. Because the annihilation was intentional, the creation faced a tipping point. Apollo, as the god of arts, music, and creative endeavors, found himself walled off from the universe because witches, the embodiment of logic and law, were under siege.

  His efforts to free himself were futile. Nothing he attempted enabled him to release the trap. It was only as the humans laid aside their commitment to rid the Earth of a sovereign species that cracks appeared within Apollo’s confinement.

  It is my belief that the dragon demi, who holds no sense of self, lore, or law beyond what is gained through embedded instinct, is a threat to the balance. One so great that Poseidon and Nereus, acting as the water’s counterpoint to fire’s menace, are now encased in a similar prison.

  As Keepers, we vow to bring the demi dragon to a place of reason and protection, creating the path that restores Nereus and Poseidon to their roles in the creation. We cannot guarantee the magicals won’t choose war. An upheaval of this magnitude threatens the Triune, and within it, the fabric of the continuance of our lives on Earth.

  At least my tingling hand took my mind off my knee.

  “Ready?” Parker poked his head through the door between the office and The Boogey.

  When the gods left, Parker and I swapped places, and he poured while I wrote. Now the sun was less than an hour from rising. I gestured, and he sat, then creaked forward on the teak chair, eyes on the record.

  “It’s not dry yet. I’m going to handle last calls and tabs. Don’t start reading until the ink sets. Blotches are problematic. God knows who will need this information in a century.”

  “Crap. Is the news that great?” Parker slid into my desk chair and held the pages apart.

  “Nightmare level-9000,” I assured him, and limped into the bar.

  Poseidon glared at the tiny crab on his massive shoulder, waving its claws at Nereus. The Father of the Sea slid the card he’d begun to pull back into his hand, drew a different one and discarded.

  “I cheat?” Poseidon roared. “You’ve got an entire army telling you my cards. What the Hades did you do during your forced vacation in Tartarus? It’s obvious you didn’t boost your Gin Rummy skills.”

  “You’re overreacting.” Nereus clutched his beard under a shocked expression as a rain of crabs landed in his lap.

  “It’d be a far more effective protestation if seventeen of your little crime partners didn’t fall out of your face, Nereus. Concede this game. I demand it.”

  “Ooh, demand? How quaint. In this arena, we’re equals. The sole concession you’ll get from me is that you’re a whale sized asshole.”

  “At least I’m not a crab infested carcass whose time came and went, and nobody gave a shit.”

  “Without my help, your liaison with the mer would be in the toilet. Keto set everything up and you, true to form, screwed the octopus. No thanks from you, Speedo Bum, for yanking that truce back into place. Which, to be accurate, is also typical.”

  The card table flew into Nereus’ gut from Poseidon’s kick, followed by a hard punch to the nose. Nereus hit the sand floor with a thud, and Poseidon belly flopped on top of him just as Nereus twisted away, swinging and landing a sideways roundhouse blow to the side of Poseidon’s head with a satisfying crunch.

  Grunts punctuated the thuds; crabs scuttled to the water wall, pushed through and burrowed, tiny claws the last part to recede, clicking in irritation. Poseidon regained a knee, grabbed Nereus by an arm and a handful of crabby hair and hurled him toward the bubble’s edge.

  “Stop! Stop, you idiot! Look at this!”

  Poseidon stared at Nereus, his chest, face, and thighs glistening from hitting the wall.

  “Well, Zeus be damned. Cleopatra figured something out. That was dry to the touch before.”

  “Would you care,” Nereus leaned in, yellow teeth glinting, “to double the wager?”

  Drago stood on the front porch of his single bedroom cottage, number sixteen in a group of thirty stilt cottages at the far end of the enormous Stars RV Park.

  The Place Where Wishes Come True.

  After checking out the clientele, Drago doubted it. On the door’s opposite side, Daisy whined. Drago’s stomach growled.

  “Daisy girl, I gotta give you away. I can’t be sure with the fire in my belly that I won’t hurt you.”

  Daisy’s whine ended in a bark. Drago nodded. “I can feed you, girl, but I can’t sleep. The dreams are gettin’ crazy. Like I dreamed I exploded, and a giant black god healed me. Not THE god. I’m a Baptist. The whole thing is just plain unnatural.”

  Drago opened the door, and Daisy jumped with happiness. He stroked her head, distrusting the roar that was ratcheting up in his belly. He grabbed the big bag of kibble and poured a gigantic bowl, then filled Daisy’s water bowl plus a big pot he found in the kitchenette.

  “It’s the best I can do, Daisy girl. Something in my gut is weird. I’ll try to be back in a couple days to get you someplace safe.”

  Drago locked the cabin and staggered toward the clearing’s edge, muttering.

  “Was damn sure I talked to that Keeper woman too, but I exploded, so it must’ve been the same dream. I ain’t myself.”

  A rusted gate gave way to his shove, and he started walking, until the trees got thicker. Then he sat, leaned up against a tree, and let sleep take him. The dreams weren’t far behind, lurking in the dark corners of his mind.

  “Patra?” Parker stuck his head into The Boogey. The sun, clear of the distant horizon, blazed slanted golden rectangles across the floor.

  The bar was empty except for us, and two Keepers remained on the line. Win.

  “Hey Parks. Got another sunrise.” I grinned and poured a two-finger bourbon for myself. I figured the transpired events qualified me for a three, but my gut said to stay alert. So, no threes for me.

  “We’ve got company,” he replied, and I spun, expecting Drago. Instead, Vapor mist danced in the sunlight, twisting into symbols.

  “Oh, wow.” I pointed to one clot of Vapors. “Read them, Parks. I have the others.”

  Two groups, writing in tandem, listed out a series of emblems that expressed emotion. The emotional groupings represented a language. Messages from the heart, in a way.

  Together we watched in silence. I jotted into my little pocket notebook, but I didn’t need to. Whatever Clep put into that forehead tap let me translate in real time.

  Fear, death, betrayal.

  Love, help, acceptance.

  Pain, uncertainty, denial.

  Rage, depression, loss.

  Kindness, redemption, peace.

  “Hoo boy,” I whispered as the mist drifted out the open win
dows of The Boogey. “They gave me a path; what’d you get, Parks?”

  Parker is a big guy, packing decent muscle, and he’s fit. Good assets for a demanding job. Well, except for the whole blood drained from his face thing.

  “You OK?”

  “I got a warning, Patra. Check this.” He pulled his little notebook where he’d copied the symbols and linked them.

  “One path is survival, Patra. The other is death. Of humans, most magicals, and even the gods, although I don’t understand how that’s possible. It’s not that Drago could kill on that scale, but once the planet tips too far, it’s permanent.”

  I handed him my notes. “The key to repairing this imbalance is focusing on Drago. Respect is a tactic he responds to, but while focused on him we’re dealing with magicals in full-blown meltdown mode. Figure out how to handle Mr. Hot Pants and we might, if we’re lucky, get ahead of the tip.”

  “Cool, I’ll reach into my non-magical human bag, cast a pile of ‘calm the fuck down’ spells and we’ll be fine.”

  “Sarcasm is not your best look, Parks.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Other than the hitching noise of barfing in the background, the porch exuded peace. Sadie staggered out and dropped onto the overstuffed chair.

  “Would you prefer the swing?”

  A greenish tinge colored her face. “Oh, I’m staying right here. Swinging sounds like hell.”

  “I’m afraid this is a business rather than pleasure visit.”

  “That’s OK. I planned to call you. It’s shading weird around here.”

  “Could I get you a glass of water?” Since I had zero recollection of my pregnancy, watching the literal ins and outs of Sadie’s morning sickness was a queasy bullet dodged.

  “No, no. I can’t keep food or liquid down until at least two in the afternoon. I’ve given up trying.” Sadie waved a hand, and I plunked back onto the swing.

  “What’s happening in your readings?”

  Sadie settled into the cushions and relaxed, color returning to her face. “It’s super odd. As a norm, I don’t ask for the birth dates of the people I read, because I can tell their sun and moon signs, for the most part, by the energy they exude. So, pure supposition, but here’s the crux of it. Clients I believe are fire signs, every one of them, is in a frenzy. Energies are maxed; they arrive, vibrationally, unhinged. It’s damn weird, Patra. And their readings have urgency, as though an invisible deadline drives the other events in their lives.”

  “In general, I see unfoldings.” Sadie’s hands mimed opening a book in her lap. “If an individual makes certain choices, and the person they should cross paths with does too, that connection intersects. The choices are clear to me, but whether they pan out remains a function of free will. These fire signs have strings of broken connections. It sounds wild, but it’s as if the Universe as a whole made a shift. Is that even possible?”

  Crud.

  “Before I answer that, what else is happening?”

  “Earth signs are emoting extreme fear. When I read the object they hand me, a coating of terror lies in every psychic image that emanates. By the end of the reading, I’m overwhelmed.”

  “Not helpful with morning sickness.”

  Sadie nodded. “Well, that’s the job. The pain and dread are real, and I feel sorry for them. None understand the root of their anxiousness, and many are making free will decisions — not because it’s the calling path, but because their spirits are in fight-or-flight mode with no clue why.”

  “And the water signs?”

  “Wild. Normally they’re my bread and butter. As intuitive and open as most are, they tune in to their psychic energy and are regular clientele.” Sadie rubbed her eyes and shrugged.

  “What’s going on with them?”

  “Patra, I wish I knew. I haven’t read one in six days. They’ve dropped out of sight.”

  “Six? Are you positive?”

  “As sure as an afternoon summer shower in Florida.”

  I slid off the swing and paced the porch. The threat to the balance was deeper, delineating lines, and driving through humanity, too. It’s not just Poseidon who’s MIA. Crap.

  “Sadie, six days ago, Poseidon vanished, and I suspect he’s the counterweight to the onset of an imbalance of fire.”

  “Forest fires?”

  “Girl, I wish. Remember that reading you mentioned with the man who was looking for me?”

  “Yes. I see him in dreams, and I’m worried.”

  “I met him. He’s the key to figuring out how to pull the balance back to a steady, rolling flow and halt this violent pitch. To get him sorted is paramount.”

  “But he’s one man. How can he cause such global disruption?”

  “Because he’s a dragon shifter, and my gut says he’s ending the separation of shifter power. He is an alpha threat in the magical world. If he comes back here, Sadie, hide. I suspect he feels the pull of your water baby; he found mine.”

  I bent and hugged her for a long minute. “If you need to run, go. Chelsea could protect you if asked.”

  “No, Patra. My dreams involve me standing next to you, a wall of fire, and a single path. The man stands on the line, waiting. If I don’t stay, the way forward fades and he burns. Of that, I’m sure.”

  I smoothed her hair. “And we thought high school sucked.”

  Sadie had no choice in bringing her demi along for the showdown, but I could hide mine. Huddled under the umbrella canopy at a poolside table, watching Aegeus and Justice swim, Chelsea, Ballard and I yanked strategy around like puppies with a rope.

  “If I take her into the coven, her instruction is a ten-year training, at least. Our lore will not allow me to break that, Patra. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s out. I can’t bear to lose her, and Poseidon gets a say in when she undertakes those lessons.”

  “Provided he returns.”

  “Hey now, I’m making headway, Chelsea.”

  “We’ll see. What I know is a week ago we were missing a god, but hadn’t enabled a Thundra.”

  “I could take her to Mom’s in Asheville,” Ballard said. “How comfortable she’ll be or can handle being landlocked is another guess.”

  “She didn’t do well at Disney, and we rode water rides the entire day. The meltdown in the car on the way home, while informative, did little for the upholstery.”

  “To be fair, we didn’t know she could liquify on land, Babe.”

  “Well, now we, and my car’s interior, are privy to her latest talent. The car still smells fishy.”

  “It’s a convertible,” Chelsea interrupted. “Drop the top. Besides, how positive are you she could be hidden?”

  “Low certainty. To be blunt, Drago can sense her, and I believe he sensed Sadie’s unborn. Out of a hundred psychics in Cassadaga, he strolls in on her?”

  “Convenient.” Ballad’s eyes narrowed.

  “Agreed. Is it a stretch to guess he could locate every child of Poseidon? We’ve got to get in front of Drago, now.” I traced a heart on the tabletop and Ballard dropped a smile that melted my own.

  “There are protections built into your home and I can strengthen them. Place a witch inside full time is another weapon. Glenna might stand guard. Or,” Chelsea grinned, “Dracena may be available.”

  I shoved a tangerine slice into my mouth and chewed.

  Ballard looked up. “Who’s Dracena?”

  “A witch of considerable talent.”

  “We’ll appreciate anyone who will help protect Aegeus,” Ballard peeled another segment off the fruit, missing the mirth on Chelsea’s face.

  He rose and squatted by the pool, watching Aegeus swim underwater.

  “Dracena?” I hissed. “You’re my friend, remember, and Ballard likes my lips intact.”

  “All I can do is inquire who is interested in taking the risk, Patra. Witches aren’t a solid defense against a dragon. They’re impervious to spells. Potions can work, but most dragons stopped ingesting anything of unknown orig
in centuries ago. When the battle grows too fierce, we fade. To stay and slay takes another level of magic. Even other shifters hide, although they’ll fight longer.”

  “Fair enough,” I sighed. Knowing Chelsea, Dracena would move in tonight.

  Ugh.

  “Listen, I know you’d prefer Glenna, but resolving Aegeus distracted you from a significant piece of the puzzle.”

  “Which is?”

  Chelsea gazed at Aegeus and shrugged. She won’t tolerate intellectual laziness, and me asking instead of attempting to solve was a total non-starter for her.

  Think, Patra. Campe gave you a fat stack of history and backstory. You know more about dragons and current dragon behavior than anyone alive. Well, more than anyone who isn’t a god, and Apollo left no doubt he’ll provide no additional information. Clep too, I guessed. Although he might show; he does his own thing. Why did the gods step back? Was it because of their unique relationship with the balance and their roles as immortals? An excellent question to parse with the record.

  If they sequestered dragons during the rise of the Big 12, beyond a few rogue sightings....

  Shit, I’m an idiot.

  I stared at Chelsea. “There are other demis.”

  Chelsea patted me on the head like I was six. “Very good.”

  I yanked my head away and tapped the table. “If I were a top secret shifter, where would I hide?”

  “That’s the best you can do?” Chelsea snorted. “They’ve hidden undetected for thousands of years! Any magical who believed this was possible would pursue with vengeance. It’s why the wolves revealed Drago to you; they want to know.”

  Crap.

  My mind wandered back to Drago’s explosion through my roof, hellfire raining. Impetus. The rising symbiont. Loboli’s voice rolled through my brain.

  From that year forward, they seek their bonded mate.

  “Holy Hades. It’s not where to hide. It’s who to fuck! If they find a human, the magic dilutes, finding a demi enhances. The logical action is for demis to search for each other.”