Speedo Down

by Winnie Winkle

  “Locate more demis, and you’ll find the merge, a junior Thundra.”

  Junior or not, fire is fire. Double crap.

  Chapter Twelve

  No fewer than six wolves stood guard outside Loboli’s oceanfront mansion, and if looks could murder, I’d be steak tartare for twenty. I parked my Beetle and forced myself to walk, with minimal limp, to the front entrance, but my nerves shrieked and I had every confidence I fooled no one.

  Loboli’s face, when he opened the door, was the confirmation I needed. Cleopatra O’Keefe was on the wolf shit list, line number one.

  “Keeper.” Loboli gestured not to the patio where we conversed before, but to an ornate dining room, the heavy table and chairs filled with shifters of every stripe. Bears, big cats, and even Bingo, who gave me a tiny smile. This wasn’t a meeting; it was a grilling. I requested the meeting to update Loboli, but it appeared he broadened the audience. Good thing I called for the conversation. If he’d sought me, I’d be in, if possible, a worse predicament.

  “Thank you,” I rasped, voice betraying the innate terror. Hard wired to flee these signatures, instead I was leading the conversation. And, I hoped, not peeing my pants in the process. The chair’s brocade looked and felt expensive.

  A cat that I knew only tangentially growled. “Are you friend or foe? You brought our greatest enemy here, but only after you set us up in one place in the forest. Is shifter annihilation your end game?”

  A bear spoke next. He’d drank in The Boogey many times and was sweet on a fairy. I liked him; too bad his face resembled my worst nightmare.

  “Did you have any strategy when you upended our world, Keeper? How d’you expect your grand plan to work?”

  En venterim, Patra. You can do this.

  “Thank you for coming to talk with me. I share your valid concerns. I promised Loboli I’d apprise him of this situation and I keep my vows.”

  Nada. Not even a nod from Bingo. Tough crowd.

  “We are in a great imbalance. This took place before. The record clarified that Poseidon’s and Nereus’ vanishing was against their will. Apollo shared both the reason this occurred before and why it’s happening now.”

  Loboli leaned forward, and I squeezed my thighs with my palms to keep my legs still.

  “Poseidon and Nereus vanished? How can that be?”

  “Because immortals are tied to the balance of the creation and we’re tipping. I have more to share.”

  This was a low-level no-no, but I pulled the battered journal from the small of my back and laid it on the table. “Like you, this booklet functions as a symbiont of sorts for the record. Entries are fluid between the two.”

  I had their attention. My willingness to share the record, in a tough interview, was a tremendous show of respect. I opened the journal; the pages were blank. Now they leaned in and my hands shook. Damned grateful I didn’t need to write. Splotch city, baby.

  “Show me the entry on recording the dragons.”

  The words rose onto the page. The writing was old-fashioned, from the early 1400s. There were lines joining the human and magical worlds in several places across the earth. Every entry from those lines were recorded in the same book. This Keeper was in Britannia, based on the language.

  I cleared my throat and read. Bingo, seated next to me, leaned over to study the words.

  “Thee efforts to control the dragons failed once more. Terror within the tales of these creatures rises and colours the decision making. I chose to speak to the Welsh leader, Kornu, and listened to his plea to heare the full story. Kornu spake with significant force, insisting dragons want only to live, mate, and thrive. He posits dragons cannot be vanquished. To live amoungst them in peace is better than quaking in terror that they might break their banishment. I told him I would mark the conversation into the record, but that the deaths, by fires within, cannot continue. He forsook speaking further, shaking his head at my folly.”

  I closed the journal and tucked it into the back of my waist.

  Bingo looked at the group. “She read the words as written.”

  Nods bobbed around the table. Cool. I survived round one.

  “Based on your full knowledge of lore, what does that entry mean to you?”

  “A ploy to deceive, and a poor gambit,” the cat answered with a drawn out hiss. “The Keeper can’t help them.”

  “Kornu just wanted to mate and produce more dragons,” offered a bear.

  “The world needs no more dragons,” Loboli said, fingers drumming the table top.

  “Anyone else glean anything?” My eyes ran along the group, holding each gaze. I think my vapor was helping, because the terror felt mitigated to a level below flipping the car on the interstate. Or it’s possible I’d run out of adrenaline.

  Sorry, adrenal glands; I’m a handful.

  “When the wolf alerted me to the dragon signature in the blend, I started studying. The witches lent me books from their library and I read them.”

  Loboli raised an eyebrow. “Witches shared knowledge? That’s interesting.”

  “You shared lore too,” I replied. “And so did the dragon, Campe. Here is where we stand. Dragons, as original shifters, have always been able to mate outside their race. Knowing that, do you understand which part of that entry jumped out at me?”

  Bingo’s eyes widened. “Fiery deaths from within? So, not deaths from throat fire?”

  “Yes. Spontaneous combustion. Impetus. The pieces fit together and I realized, even sequestered and unable to leave their forest prisons, the dragons adapted.”

  “There are more.” Loboli’s flat tone filled the room. “You’re saying there’s always been more.”

  “Yeah. And I’m leaning toward the idea they’re seeking one another, to build stronger offspring.”

  “It’s what I’d do,” the cat concurred. “Rebuild the line.”

  “Campe is operating under en venterim. As long as a race returns respect to him, he remains an ally. The blend you met survived his impetus and is somewhere nearby. He evidenced fire, but not a full shift or flight. Whether that changes with time, I can’t say.”

  “Keeper, we’ll discuss this turn of events. We appreciate your shared knowledge.” Loboli rose. My opportunity just had its curtain call.

  “Will you advise me of your outcome?”

  “No promises. If we agree that doing so is in our best interests, you’ll hear from me. The safety of our lineage is paramount.”

  “Loboli, my task is to restore the balance, reduce the uptick of fire, and return water to equal weight. I am allied with shifters to preserve their lines. But be aware, when Campe left his prison and flew across the globe, the Vapors shielded his body. The peace mentioned in the entry I showed you is another factor.”

  “We’ll keep that in mind. Please show yourself to the door.”

  Poseidon chortled. “These walls are now dripping. She’s rolling.”

  Nereus poked at the wall, his finger making a slight indent. “That woman will cost me a pile of gold if she keeps going. Not,” he added, “that I want to spend eternity with a smug bastard who can’t lose with any degree of grace.”

  A fish swam through the water wall and dropped onto the sand, flopping in surprised protest.

  “Permeable both ways? A new opportunity, perhaps.” Poseidon lifted the fish and pushed it through to safety. “Maybe a mer will swim in, make himself useful.”

  “I’ll bet you a throne in Olympus the mer won’t help you,” Nereus laughed. “For one of the big three, your lack of a clue is comedic. How you manage not to implode the seas every moon is astonishing.”

  Poseidon rubbed his forehead. “I’ll concede the point, Nereus. I have been inconsistent.”

  “Holy Hades. Are you serious? Inconsistent my ancient crabby ass. Boinking your way across the beach for decades on end is avoidance. You don’t want to manage the mer, and now you act surprised because they don’t want you to either?”

  “The bridge is not broken.”


  “Hanging by a tiny thread the size of your dick, Big Red.” Nereus snapped the waistband of Poseidon’s Speedo.

  Thick fingers reached in and pulled a protesting crab from his suit, flicking it through the wall of water. “The only god here who thinks you’re amusing is you.”

  Drago sat in the fire, flames licking the scrub and trees between him and the campground as the sirens drew closer. After slapping sparks, he pushed up from the ground in a single, fluid motion, feet leaving the sooty soil before landing with a light crunch.

  As the fire’s edge crept toward the cottages, people streamed out, clutching their belongings and shouting, while a few cried. Drago avoided all of them and sidled to his cabin, where Daisy barked in panic.

  “I’m here, Daisy girl. We're gonna take a ride, get you a safe new home.”

  Drago pushed the flimsy door open with a two-finger tap; it slammed into the wall with a crack as he strode in, grabbed his tote, banana boxes, suitcase of books, Daisy’s leash, and his backpack, lifting everything as though it weighed nothing. Daisy at his heels, he walked from the human world for the last time.

  The truck threatened to overheat, so Drago opened the window and exhaled out into the rushing wind. The engine light slipped out of the red and he headed beachside, crossing the big Dunlawton Bridge. After a quick turn into The Boogie’s parking lot, he slid out of the pickup, listening to the motor tick.

  “I gotta figure out this heat, Daisy. Hard to move around without wheels.”

  Her tail thumped against the seat as he yanked open the door.

  “We did OK, girl, but I ain’t sure I can care for you. Time to pick yerself new people.”

  Drago stopped in front of The Boogie’s doors, puzzled there were two, then touched the ornate wooden one. It swung wide, and with Daisy by his side, he stepped into the cool darkness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sulfur gave him away. Problem was, I was alone, and without a witch to drop the Keeper’s safety hatch, a goner. The joyful bark was unexpected. Dragons have dogs? Goofy grinning ones?

  If I’m dying in a hot, literal minute, might as well snuggle a pooch. I bent and rubbed the goofball between the ears.

  “Who’s the happy pup? Aren’t you the sweetest thing?”

  “She’s mine, but I gotta travel, and I can’t keep her. Figured people would be partying, and I’d find her a new owner.”

  What in holy Hades? Does he not remember me? Or The Boogey? He owns and loves a doggo? I can use this.

  “I have a daughter, and I’m sure she’d love to care for your dog. What’s her name?”

  “This here is Daisy. My Daisy girl.”

  “If you want me to keep her safe, she’ll be part of the family.”

  “Ma’am, that’d be helpful.” Drago’s skin was glowing.

  “Sir, are you alright?”

  “Not for a while. But I had to get Daisy situated.”

  A heavy step hit The Boogey’s floorboards and Campe came around the corner, fast. I put a finger to my lips, hoping he’d let me lead.

  “Care for a beer?”

  Drago swayed, glow intensifying.

  I reached across the bar, and he dropped a sooty leash on my palm.

  “She likes good kibble, and my leftover steak.”

  “I’ll make sure she gets plenty of both. She’s a sweet girl. Thank you for trusting me to take care of her. She’ll be happy.”

  Campe watched, silent, as I clipped the leash on Daisy and enticed her with a bit of cheese. With a sniff and a wag, it disappeared; my actual goal, of keeping her safe behind the bar in case Drago launched Boogey Blast 2.0, achieved.

  “Two beers,” Campe said, gesturing to the stools by the window. The sun, almost set, covered the sky in a billowing crimson streaked with tangerine and lavender. Drago stumbled to seats and sat, chugging half the beer in a single swallow.

  Campe’s eyes glittered, and he took a swig as he observed Drago’s struggle for control.

  “Heat’s hard to manage at first. It doesn’t hurt you, but everything around you burns.”

  Drago drained his beer with a second long pull, and I slid a fresh one onto the window sill along with two steins of ice cubes.

  Campe popped a cube and gestured to the other stein. “Try these.”

  Drago pushed one into his mouth and sucked on his beer. “Better. That’s a decent trick. I hear you about the burning. It's why I wanted to find a place for my dog.”

  “Wise idea,” Campe replied, selecting another cube. “When you hurt someone you love, it’s a tough burden.”

  “When.”

  “Until you possess control, when is more certain than if.”

  “How d’you know so much about me?”

  “Because I know your father, your real one.”

  “Mama said she never knew, so how the hell could you?”

  Campe held out his palm and spit a perfect fireball, running the sphere of flames in between his fingers like a magician. “I know. What’s more, I can show you how to control the inferno that’s torching campgrounds and hotel rooms. Interested?”

  Drago tried to keep a blank face, eyes glued to the ball of fire. “Nope. I don’t get what you’re talking about.”

  “You do, and that is the last lie you’ll tell me.” Campe’s head shifted, teeth dropping through an elongating snout, scales lapping from nostrils to the back of his skull. Drago jumped, stumbled over his falling stool and crashed to the floor amid Daisy’s frantic barking.

  “Shh, shh, he’s OK. Good girl.” I knelt, wincing from the knee, peeking at Campe’s restored head and Drago’s slow rise to his feet. The second beer vanished.

  “I’m a dragon. You are the child of one. And you have a lot to learn.” Campe flipped a gold piece across the room, landing on the bar.

  In an aside to me, he added, “Paxizu.”

  “Ready?”

  Drago, stunned, nodded. Campe climbed through the window, gripped Drago around the chest as he initiated his shift and lept, dragging the demi over the sill and up into the darkening night as Daisy howled.

  “Poor baby. How can you understand any of this? I think Drago’s OK. He sure loved you until he couldn’t. You’re a good girl.”

  A wet nose pushed against my neck, and I patted our new dog.

  “I hope Justice won’t eat you.”

  Ballard eyed the visitors on the balcony, then crooked a finger. Chelsea entered, followed by a second witch with the oddest hair Ballard had ever seen outside of Hollywood. It’s not as if the beach is full of conformers, but he considered her spiky do to be next level.

  “Dracena, this is Ballard.”

  “Hello, Witch Dracena. Welcome.”

  “She plans to stay and add protection for Aegeus.”

  “I’m grateful,” Ballard said, and Dracena’s resting bitchface melted into a sweet smile and her hair softened into ringlets.

  “Our coven looks forward to training Aegeus when the time comes. Imagine, a demigod with a shred of Vapor. What an opportunity for learning! But for now, protection is essential.”

  “Aegeus, come here, honey, and bring Justice.”

  Bare feet slapped along the hallway; Aegeus hugged Chelsea and eyed Dracena.

  “You’re new. Are you in Witch Chelsea’s coven?”

  “I am. Is this your kitterling?”

  “Yes! This is Justice. He stays with me always and is an excellent swimmer.”

  “I look forward to seeing you both swim in the morning. I’m staying here for a spell while the Keeper digs herself out of the mess she made.”

  “Dracena?” Chelsea’s eyebrows knit.

  Chelsea and Dracena eyed one another for a long moment, and Dracena smiled. “And of course I expect your Mom will do just that. She’s resourceful.”

  “We’re planning on pizza tonight. What toppings do you prefer?” Ballard asked.

  “I haven’t eaten a pizza in years, but I liked the little round disks.”

  “Pepper
oni it is. Shrimp and anchovy for you, kiddo?”

  “Yes, please! Justice loves shrimps and anchovies,” Aegeus confided. “I think they taste like mer.”

  Dracena snorted, then burst into laughter. “You are delightful, child. What are you reading?”

  “Dragons. We’re studying hard, every day.”

  Chelsea glanced at Ballard, who tapped his head.

  “I’m curating my own journal.”

  “You’re going to need it.” Chelsea bent and bopped Aegeus on the nose. “Be alert. If you smell sulfur, get behind Justice or Dracena and stay put. Understood?”

  “OK, but the dragon man isn’t coming.”

  “Why is that, child?” Dracena cocked her head.

  “Because he’s not here anymore. I felt him leave when I was swimming earlier. He was near, but after sundown, he went away.”

  Chelsea stared as Ballard mouthed ‘water’ and rumpled Aegeus’ hair.

  “Interesting.” Chelsea sounded surprised.

  “She’s known from the beginning,” Ballard’s poker face cemented as he held her gaze. “She is a piece of the water balance.”

  Aegeus wandered to grab a drink from the fridge door, and Ballard followed the witches to the balcony.

  Chelsea pulled a small sea turtle charm and passed it to Ballard. “For Aegeus. Two taps.” She raised an eyebrow. “The magical world is banking everything on this idea of Patra’s that the balance shifted. It’s a stretch.”

  Ballard pocketed the summoning charm with a skeptical expression. “Her last two stands for the Triune? No different, and she’s two for two. Right on both counts. Why the doubt now, Chels?”

  “Because if she’s wrong, witches and shifters lose everything,” Dracea answered. “Humans can’t comprehend the volume of knowledge and learning that ceases if dragons regain freedom. At day’s end, the Keeper is still a human.”