by Shae Mallak
An attractive, blonde reporter was standing at the edge of town, the headline on the bottom of the screen reading, Freak Fire Sets Mountain Ablaze. Behind her, Ash Mountain was obscured in smoke and fire.
"No one is sure how the fire got started," the reporter said, "But authorities say it is proving difficult to tame, burning hotter and faster than a normal campfire-gone-wrong."
The feed flicked over to a man in a police uniform, thumbs hooked on his belt loops as he spoke into the camera. "It came out of nowhere," the man said, "It's turned into an uncontrollable beast before we were ever even aware it was happening. I don't know how it got so out of control so fast – it's like nothing I've ever seen!"
"Because it's dragon fire," Greg scoffed, hitting the mute button as the officer continued followed by more footage of the fire. "It seems Jonah's got his hands full," he commented, "you might be here a while."
"It's not like I can go back to the cottage," I snorted, dropping onto the cushion beside him. "It was destroyed even before the rest of the mountain lit up like an active volcano."
"I never understood why he built a glass house," Greg chuckled, shaking his head at his absent friend. "It's like he was asking for it to get destroyed. It's not like dragons and glass go well together!"
"Do dragons go well with any building materials?" I remarked jokingly.
"Touché," he laughed. "Puts my problems in perspective a bit, I guess. I thought I had it bad because I tend to break furniture. I've gone through three couches this year alone."
"Then buy a sturdier couch," I suggested with a grin. "Really? Three?" I laughed, twisting on the sofa to give him my full attention. "Do you like, just forget you're a huge grizzly bear and try to take a nap or something?"
"Something like that," he chuckled. "My friend Luca—his wife complains all the time because he sheds all over the furniture. If I wanted a dog, I would've gone to the shelter!" he imitated the high, cross voice of a woman. "But hey—she knew what she was getting into, so it's not really his fault, right?" he shrugged.
"So are there a lot of you?" I asked, not sure how I felt about the new knowledge. How many people did I know who could secretly turn into an animal? How many animals had I met who were secretly people? "People who can change like that?"
"Around here there are," Greg replied. "Sinclair Falls is a sort of...nexus," he shrugged, "A gathering place, if you will, for paranormals."
"Paranormals?" I prompted with a frown.
"Those who aren't normal humans," he clarified. "Like shifters."
"That's what you're called? A shifter?" I asked. "Not like a werewolf or...uh, I guess were-bear?"
"Shifter is the broad term for it. Were-creatures are lunar-locked and completely animalistic in their other forms, but shifters are different. We're still us. There are all kinds, too; I once knew a guy who turned into a house cat. Fell in love with a mouse."
"No way," I retorted dubiously. If I hadn't just seen Jonah change—shift?—before my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed a word he said. But I did see it—I saw him shimmer and sprout wings and a tail, spit fire, and chase after a dragon. I suppose it made sense, in a weird sort of way, that other mythical things really existed too. But in what world did a cat love a mouse?
"Oh, yeah," Greg replied, giving me his trademark goofy grin. I wasn't sure if I believed him more or less seeing that grin. "She was this tiny little thing, even in human form. Course, he wasn't exactly a large man himself. I was always afraid I'd break her every time I hugged her! Definitely not my type."
"So is that the norm, then? Paranormals with other paranormals?" I asked next.
"Sort of," he said hesitantly. "Depends on the type, really."
"How so?" I pressed.
"Well..." he paused, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of giving me more details about this strange new paranormal world I suddenly found myself in. "I mean, you should really let Jonah—"
"Greg," I scowled, using my threatening Mom voice. Surprisingly it worked. Greg held up his hands in surrender and continued.
"Okay, okay," he gave in. "But just the basics."
"I just want to know what's going on," I pleaded.
"Well, when it comes to partners—" he hesitated again, but continued when I shot him a glare. "Witches," he went on, "do basically whatever they want, and vampires—they can only stand the company of other vampires." Greg shook his head like he thought the notion was nonsense."Shifters, though, are a bit tricky," he said carefully.
"What do you mean?" I pressed, not understanding.
"Well, our biology is just...different," he shrugged, avoiding my gaze. His eyes searched the ceiling for the right words. "It's not just a regular human body with magical qualities. It's two forms squished together and are interchangeable." He frowned, sighed, then continued. "Like, the bear is always a part of me—inside me—even when I look like a human. You know?" he glanced at me, looking for signs of comprehension on my face.
I wasn't sure what he saw there—I was so overwhelmed by everything; there were probably a million different emotions flickering across my face. Confusion. Irritation. Disbelief. Awe. Fear. Worry. I glanced at the TV, still showing footage of the fires. There was no sign of Jonah anywhere—of course, there wouldn't be—and I wondered if he was alright. I mean, he was fighting a dragon, after all! I guess I always kind of thought of Jonah as untouchable, even before I knew his secret. He was powerful and rich but he was also strong and intimidating and smart and manipulative. No one, I thought, would be able to cross him and get away with it. But dragons? That sort of changed everything. It was weird being the one to worry over him instead of the other way around.
"That sort of ability is unique—" Greg continued, interrupting my internal struggle and recapturing my attention. "To reproduce that same ability takes a special kind of person. I mean," he scoffed, "It's not like just any normal human being can carry a baby bear in their womb for nine months! Let alone a dragon!" he gestured to me.
I blushed at his implication. Dragon babies? Me? Like...with Jonah? The idea wasn't entirely appalling by any means...which surprised me. After all, just before we were almost set on fire, we had been...well, kind of headed that general direction, so to speak. Geez! Was I seriously considering it?! Had the smoke fumes rattled my brain or something?
I was supposed to hate Jonah! I did hate him. He took me away from...from my family, and...and...he was a dragon, and...and...and I really wanted to kiss him again to see if it still ignited the same spark and made me sizzle all over.... Good grief, I was addle-brained!
"No one is really sure what that special trait is that makes them compatible, we only know when we find it," Greg said, catching my attention again.
"Wait, what? What do you mean? Like soul mates?" I asked dubiously.
"No," he shook his head. "It's like a gut feeling—but it isn't a soul-mates sort of thing like in books. There's not just one person for each of us; I can choose to be with any bear-breeder—assuming they choose me back. It doesn't have to be a specific person, but it can't be just anybody either." He paused, seeing the confused look on my face. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"
"Not really," I admitted. "But—what did you call them? A bear-breeder?" I sneered at the word. "Is that really all you want us for?" Suddenly the idea of having dragon babies with Jonah wasn't so cutesy. He'd made no secret about wanting me—in his bed and as his wife—but was it purely because I could breed with him?
"No! No!" Greg shook his head quickly in denial and held out his hands, placating me. "It's just an old term—a terrible term, but it's what stuck," he explained. "It just means someone who can reproduce with that particular kind of shifter, which is," he winced. "An incredibly crass way to explain it. Granted," he sighed, "there are still some archaic people out there who do some terrible things to breeders, but it used to be a lot worse, and a lot more prevalent. Nowadays its mostly couples who choose to be together, or fall in love, or both."
"So...Jonah ch
ose me?" I clarified, glancing at the television again. The headline on the bottom of the screen had changed—Body Found in Freak Fire, identity still unknown. My stomach dropped. Could it be Jonah? Or was it the other guy?
"Kind of," Greg hedged, not paying attention to the TV. "This is really a conversation you should be having with Jonah," he said.
"Jonah isn't here," I pointed out softly before tearing my eyes away from the news. "You are. What do you mean, kind of?" I pressed.
Greg groaned, tipping his head back and staring at the ceiling then turning his attention back to me. "Breeders are said to occur about as often as their paranormal counterpart," he explained. "So, hypothetically, a hundred bears are born all around the world in a year, and, in balance, a hundred bear-breeders are also born. It's not an exact science, by any means," he shrugged. "But it's the working theory."
"Okay... your point?" I prompted, waving my hands at him to elaborate.
"Okay, so...there are a lot of wolf-breeders everywhere because wolves are the most common type of shifter, but there are a good number of us others, too. Especially in Sinclair Falls. But dragons—well, they're rare. Extremely rare. Like, I've only ever heard of one other dragon besides Jonah and he is in prison in China at the moment."
"Prison? Could a prison even hold a dragon? I mean, couldn't he just...force his way out?" I cocked my head curiously.
"It's a special prison," Greg replied seriously.
"But if they're so rare, how come there are two battling it out on Ash Mountain as we speak?" I pressed. Well, maybe not anymore... "And why attack us?"
"That is a very good question," Greg agreed.
TWENTY
By the time night fell, the fire was under control on Ash Mountain, which meant no one would have to evacuate from Sinclair Falls, but there was still no word from Jonah, despite our attempts to contact him. There was also still no more information on the identity of the body they found in the fire, and the two circumstances together worried me. Damn him for making me worry about his lying, dragon ass!
"He'll be fine," Greg kept repeating, but I was pretty sure it was more to convince himself than me.
At some point after dark, the TV returned to its regular programming and soon after I fell asleep on the sofa during a Golden Girls rerun. I dreamt of fire and dead bodies and I woke up with a whimper in someone's arms—someone who smelled strongly of smoke and pine. Jonah.
My eyes shot open and I instinctively tried to sit up, throwing off his balance—again.
"You've got to stop doing that," he muttered as he stumbled forward a little before getting centered again.
"Stop startling me awake," I countered a little more sour than I intended.
I was still mad at him for not telling me about the dragon thing. Or the breeder thing. Or anything, for that matter! What did Jonah really tell me about himself, after all, besides surface-level stuff and the fact that he wanted me? I almost slept with the man—if the house hadn't burned down around us—and I hardly knew anything about him!
"Stop falling asleep in places other than your bed, then," he grouched back.
Like he was one to talk. He'd spent the last two nights in the hallway outside my bedroom. Besides, both times I fell asleep in weird places was because I was upset about something involving him.
"Stop giving me reasons to be upset with you then!" I retorted hotly, glaring at him.
Jonah stopped walking and gave me a serious look full of regret and guilt. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Ev," he said. "But you gotta understand—"
"You didn't answer your damn phone!" I hollered, interrupting his apology and smacking him on the chest. "I thought you were dead!" An annoying smirk stretched across his face and I was suddenly incredibly aware of how close he was holding me.
"You were worried about me?" he asked too cheerfully.
"Shut up," I grumbled. "Greg was worried too," I defended weakly. "There was a body found and we thought—"
"A body?" he frowned. He stepped into my bedroom and set me down gently on the bed then sank down beside me with a weary groan. "No one is ever on that mountain but me," he mumbled. "did they say—"
"No," I shook my head. "All they would say is they don't know anything," I told him. "What happened, Jonah?" I asked. "Who was that?"
He glanced at me curiously. "I take it Greg filled you in," he sighed.
"On some basics," I replied. "He was reluctant to say much, though. Said it was your job."
"I should've told you before," he said apologetically. "I should've told you from the start, but I was afraid," he admitted.
"Of what?" I prompted. Whatever danger he kept spouting about? What on earth did Jonah Carson have to be afraid of? He was a giant dragon, for heaven's sake!
"Of losing you," he said quietly, halting my thoughts completely.
Oh. Honestly, I wasn't so sure I wouldn't have bolted for my life if he told me the truth earlier. If I hadn't seen it myself—if I wasn't completely certain after everything that happened that Jonah would never purposely hurt me—I would probably still run.
"I'm sorry, Ev," Jonah said again.
"I think I kind of understand," I said carefully. "But I'm still a little mad. And I have questions—"
"Anything you want to know," he promised.
"And no more secrets," I added with a scowl, pointing a finger at him accusingly.
"Done," he said quickly.
"But first, you look awful," I pointed out, plucking at the shoulder of his ruined t-shirt with a wrinkled nose and then reaching up to wipe at a streak of soot across his cheek. "You need a shower and some sleep," I said firmly. "We can talk the rest of this out in the morning."
"Can I borrow your bathroom?" he asked, hooking a thumb in that direction.
"Well, I wasn't going to make you hose off in the backyard," I scoffed. He chuckled and shuffled off to the bathroom. "Don't fall asleep in there," I called after him.
"You could always join me and keep an eye on me yourself," he smirked over his shoulder.
"Don't push your luck," I grumbled back. He was still laughing after he shut the door and turned on the shower.
I realized too late he didn't have any clean clothes to change into when he was finished. He certainly couldn't put his filthy, sooty clothes back on. My father's clothes would never fit Jonah—and the thought of Jonah wearing Dad's clothes creeped me out anyway—but maybe Greg had something to spare? He'd been spending the last few days with the twins, after all, maybe he had a few extras in an overnight bag.
I stuck my head out the bedroom door to ask him and found a t-shirt and pair of athletic shorts folded neatly in the hall outside my room. I made a mental note to thank Greg in the morning and scurried back inside to the bathroom door. The water was still running so I knocked a few times as I slowly opened the door.
"Jonah? Greg left you some clothes," I called, keeping my eyes averted just in case.
"The devil," Jonah grumbled, but there was amusement in his voice. "I was hoping I'd be forced to go nude tonight," he laughed. "Pick up where we left off when we were rudely interrupted." He poked his head out one side of the curtain and winked at me.
"Well, we certainly weren't naked!" I pointed out with a glare. He laughed, disappearing back into the shower to wash the suds from his hair. I left the clothes on the counter and scooped up the dirty ones to throw in the laundry—or throw away, I amended upon examination.
"Yet," Jonah said, poking his head back out. "We weren't naked yet," he grinned.
"Wishful thinking on your part, I assure you," I scowled at him. The traitorous heat that flared in my belly and spread all over said otherwise.
Jonah flicked water at me playfully and I scampered out of the bathroom to the dry safety of the bedroom. Temporary safety, anyway. It was only a few minutes before the water was turned off and he emerged, wet and shirtless. Curse him.
"Your tattoo—" I frowned at his inkless bicep. Jonah glanced down casually and shrugged.
"It takes him a bit to relax," he said as if that explained everything. The confusion on my face, I knew, was obvious. "I guess Greg didn't explain everything," Jonah commented. I shook my head. He turned around and there was the dragon tattoo—bigger than before—lined up along his spine with wings slightly extended over his shoulder blades, poised and ready if they were needed.
I stepped closer to him without thinking about it and reached out to trace a finger down the dragon's back—down Jonah's back—then out along one wing. The tattoo shuddered and wiggled beneath my touch, its wings fluttering. Then it moved like it was crawling across his skin until my hand rested over its back again, then slid forward until my hand ran all the way down to the tip of its tail then it settled on Jonah's shoulder blade, curled up beneath my fingers, wiggled a little, then went still.
