by Zoe Chant
She thought of her neat little box of a life, the high point of which was Friday night meetings at the bakery, and thought, why not? She’d liked Joey, and she was dying to hear those stories of Mikhail’s badassery. “Sure!”
Joey Hu came to her cottage to pick her up in a sleek sports car. As he began to drive, a little faster than Bird cared for, she said, “Mikhail said you’re a shifter, too. What is your animal? Or is that a question that isn’t supposed to be asked?”
“If you know about shifters, you can ask. Some will tell you, some won’t. I’m a Nine-Tail Fox, a rare throwback. My mother was an ordinary fox shifter from a family of ordinary fox shifters, and my dad a grey wolf shifter. What kind of food do you like? We can go to my favorite place, unless you don’t care for spicy.”
“Anything is fine,” she said. “What’s it like, being a shifter? Maybe that’s a stupid question. I realize it’s everyday to you. What was it like transforming for the first time? Or was that habit from the time you were born? Were you born human?”
Joey laughed, a light, friendly laugh. “We’re born human, yes. My first shift was in the cradle, I’m told. I don’t remember it. I do remember shifting to my fox when I was small, rather than try to learn to walk on two legs. Four were so much better. My mother had to put a collar of shiftsilver on me until I learned the basics of walking and talking before she let me shift, or I might still be running around the woods with her trying to catch me!”
Bird laughed, then said, “Shiftsilver?”
“It’s a special metal that prevents us from shifting. In a very small amount, which is what some parents use to train their rascally young ‘uns like I was, it doesn’t hurt. They just use a little bit in a necklace or bracelet or armband of ordinary silver. But a great deal of it can hurt us mythic shifters. It feels like being burned to the bone by dry ice.”
Bird shuddered, not liking to think of how Joey knew that.
“Once I learned to talk I’m told I didn’t shut up,” Joey said, chuckling. “Especially with the ‘why’ questions. I suspect my mother wished sometimes she could keep me as a fox just to get some peace and quiet. Though I got up to just as much trouble as a fox, just different sorts. That’s probably why I don’t seem to have wound up with any kids of my own. They might have turned out like me.”
Bird sensed a trace of sadness under the light words. Then he called out cheerily, “Here we are,” and she decided she’d imagined it.
He’d chosen a Sichuan restaurant that Bird had passed by on her bike many times. She didn’t want to admit that she could seldom afford to eat out, but Joey didn’t ask if she’d been there before. The restaurant was dim, decorated with brightly colored lanterns and lovely art that Bird instantly liked. Joey greeted the owner by name, and they sat down in a corner booth.
Once they’d ordered and received a pot of tea, Joey said, “So what other questions do you have?”
“I’m still trying to imagine shifters as children,” Bird said softly, though the hum of conversation in the busy restaurant was a good safeguard for not being overheard. “I have difficulty imagining Mikhail as a mischievous little dragon.”
Joey’s grin diminished to a rueful smile. “I doubt very much that he was. He was sent out on missions from the time he was a teen.”
“Missions like . . . what?”
“Protecting the mythic realm. Its balance of energies, you might call it, requires constant vigilance. There are plenty of enterprising types in the world who would like to take its power for themselves. Including among the mythic creatures, unfortunately. Which is one of the reasons why five-clawed silver dragons have become increasingly rare. Battles at that level rarely end with band aids and kisses all around.”
“Oh,” Bird said softly. “It sounds dangerous.”
“It is. But he’s dangerous, too.”
She remembered Mikhail wielding that blue-white sword as impossible numbers of lava wyrms tried to get at them. To be that skilled had to take a lifetime of constant work—and hadn’t he mentioned he had no real home?
Bird got a sudden, vivid image of Mikhail standing guard, sword in hand. Tension shivered through her nerves, and she consciously breathed out in an effort to relax. “Are Nine-Tail Foxes all warriors, too?”
Joey chuckled. “No! We do all sorts of things. We’re very independent creatures, we foxes. I was actually born blonde, or as it’s said when we want to be pretentious, gold. My silver is entirely due to my venerable years. I have, oh, let’s call them diplomatic ties with the various hierarchies. But not the sort that would force me to marry.”
“Mikhail did tell me he’d been married, and that it had been a long time before he’d gotten to know his son. But he seems to be very proud of him.”
“Fei Zhan is a four-clawed earth dragon, intelligent, loyal, and able. He manages the clan’s considerable tea import business. He was not born an imperial dragon, but there’s always hope that his offspring will be. No doubt the empress will be matching him with a suitable bride before too long, if he doesn’t find someone on his own.”
Those arranged marriages sounded sad, Bird thought. A vivid image of Mikhail ordered to marry a stranger seized her thoughts. On the other hand, she’d had a lot less success with her marriage, which hadn’t been arranged. And she’d thought she knew Bartholomew.
Once again a powerful, insistent image of Mikhail standing vigilant with a sword, his eyes that flat gray, took precedence in the forefront of her mind. It made her anxious—it was that slate gray gaze that she’d only seen when he was somber, or angry.
“So tell me how you met,” she asked in an effort to distract herself, as the server brought their plates. She sniffed the delicious aromas of red oil wontons, dry-fried green beans, and twice-cooked pork in fermented black bean sauce, and told herself her mood was just hunger. That and residual emotions from a wild morning. She was unused to wild mornings, or wild any times of day. That was all.
She dove in, letting the flavors burst on her tongue. “Oh, this is wonderful!”
“Glad you like it. This is one of my favorite spots in town.” Joey shut his eyes, savoring his Yu Xiang, or ‘fragrant fish,’ and let out a sigh of pleasure.
“How we met,” he said as he speared another bite. “Well, this was off the coast of Catalina, where . . .”
Once again, Bird got an intense image of Mikhail, so vivid she could almost hear his breathing. No, she wished she could hear his breathing. She longed for him to be sitting across from her instead of this perfectly nice, genuinely friendly man who was telling her a story she very much wanted to hear.
But she could not get past that persistent, worrying image of Mikhail breathing hard, his eyes a cold gray. Then she remembered how he had been able to think words into her mind. He’d said that mates could do that.
She tried thinking a question at him: Where are you?
But it felt like the words vanished into thin air. She shut her eyes and tried harder. Are you all right?
Her thoughts reached a polished steel wall and slid off.
Then she became aware that Joey’s voice had ceased. She opened her eyes, to see him sitting quietly, looking at her with concern.
“Bird? Are you quite all right? I’m getting the feeling you haven’t heard a word I said. And I know I’m not that bad at telling an exciting story about an air to ground assault on a vindictive kraken.” His slanted brows quirked, and he cocked his head to one side, suddenly looking very fox-like.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I’m worried about Mikhail. I know I’m being silly, that just because we’ve spent the last couple days together—”
“Bird,” Joey said softly. “What is it you’re feeling, or hearing?”
“That’s just it, I can’t hear him. Yesterday, I could. I keep getting this image of him that I don’t quite like, and it makes me worried. But I realize I’m just—”
Joey raised a hand. “No ‘just.’ I realize this is all new
to you, but I take the mate bond absolutely seriously. You can’t reach him, you say?” He tapped his head. “Here?”
“No.” She breathed the word with overwhelming relief. “I can’t.”
Joey’s expressive face went blank. “He went back to the cave. But I know he called for reinforcement from one of the other Guardians . . .”
He paused, his eyes narrowing. Bird was going to ask what was wrong, but he shook his head.
“Mikhail knows them best,” Joey said under his breath, not firmly, but as if convincing himself. “There should be at least another high-ranking dragon with him, plus some backup behind him or her.”
He braced his hands on the table, his half-eaten meal forgotten. His gaze went distant, the friendly light brown glowing like molten gold. Bird looked down at the delicious food she’d been eating so mechanically, and couldn’t take another bite. Her insides churned with worry.
Joey’s gaze snapped to hers. “I think I’d better go check.”
“Please take me. Please. I know I can’t fight. I’ll try not to get in the way, but I have to know.”
Joey dipped his head in a nod. “Let’s go.”
His sporty car was fast. Bird did not like speed in ordinary circumstances, but she kept her hands clasped tight, her toes curled, mentally urging him on as he swerved smoothly between cars. At last they pulled up alongside the chained and padlocked opening to the old parking lot above the rusting rest station, with tufts of grass and weeds poking through the cement cracks. A steep, crumbling path marked the old stairway down to the beach level.
“Stay here,” Joey said, low-voiced. “I’ll come back to report before we decide anything.”
Bird managed a tight nod, though her neck felt as wobbly as a dashboard bobble doll. Joey’s dapper human self shimmered in sparkles of light. She caught a glimpse of plumed, curling tails, elegant and mesmerizing as they lashed in the air, then he was gone.
She stood alone as the sea breeze toyed with her hair. Below, the surf boomed and hissed.
Mikhail? she called mentally.
And got an answer: Stay with Joey, my love. Be safe.
Then nothing.
Her heart beat frantically in her throat as she began counting the seconds dragging by. If Joey didn’t return in two minutes, she’d . . . what? Call 911 and report a lava wyrm attack?
She nearly jumped out of her skin when Joey popped back into sight.
“Joey,” she exclaimed thankfully.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” he said, his mouth tight, his brows slanting wickedly.
“What . . .”
“Okay, the news is not the best.” He scowled out toward the sea, then back at her. “Are you serious about wanting to help?”
“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” She gritted her teeth. “But I’m not going away.”
“I don’t think there’s time for me to bring in reinforcements—not that I know many at that level. But between the two of us, if we’re quick, we might just be able to bring this off. The key is freeing Mikhail.”
“Freeing him?”
“Remember that shiftsilver I told you about? Right now he’s in the Oracle cave, entirely bound in it. Can’t shift, or even move. And that much pure shiftsilver, worked into chain, is very painful.”
Bird’s stomach lurched at the thought of Mikhail, trapped and in pain. “Who did that to him?”
“This is the next part of the bad news: the reinforcement he called upon, quite properly, is a renegade.” Joey Hu’s normally pleasant face altered to white-lipped fury. “Fu Cang Long is a red dragon, the Guardian here in Southern California. Think of him as a dragon of volcanoes. I never liked him, but Mikhail does. They worked together in a number of very dangerous situations. Mikhail believes, or wants to believe, he’s as loyal and honest as Mikhail is himself, but I’ve increasingly had reason to doubt that. Never mind why right now . . . turns out, I’m sorry to say, I was right. I’m guessing the entire situation is a setup.”
“What can we do?”
“Cang brought backup—his own. There are two quite nasty mythical beasts on guard at the cave entrance below. Don’t worry about them. They are mine to distract. When I do, you slip in and make your way to the Oracle cave. You know where it is, right?”
“I do. Though I don’t have a flashlight . . .”
“No lights, I’m afraid. You don’t want to alert Cang to your presence. Right now he’s doing his very best to convince Mikhail to throw in with him. But you and I know Mikhail won’t give in. Once Cang figures that out, I’m afraid he’s going to get . . . creative. He’s determined to force Mikhail to lift his ward binding the Oracle Stone, now that the trap has been snapped.”
Bird’s nerves chilled at the way Joey’s friendly voice went cold on the word “creative.” She pressed her arms across her stomach, feeling sick. “How do I undo the chains?”
“They aren’t locked—they don’t have to be. Even those using them against someone will touch them as little as possible, using armored gloves. That many chains, just wound around one of us, renders us entirely unable to move. The effect on us is quite deadly, but to you, they’ll be mere metal. If you can get Mikhail even partially free, he should be able to take it from there.”
“But what about lava wyrms?” Bird asked, making no attempt to control the trembling of her voice.
“Lava wyrms are usually harmless spirits that live in the liquid part of the earth’s core. They don’t normally attack people—they have to be forced to behave that way. Cang can’t control them and concentrate on Mikhail at the same time. Once you get inside the cave, you’re clear. If I can get rid of the two guards, I’ll come help you. But we have to be fast. Luckily Cang is arrogant. Always believes he’s the smartest person in the room. But Mikhail will be steadfast, and there’s no telling when Cang will lose it when he doesn’t get what he wants.”
“Got it,” Bird said tightly.
Joey reached out and gripped her shoulders. It was a friendly grip, a comradely grip that infused her with courage. “Are you sure?”
No, she wasn’t. She had never been good at confrontation, much less taking action.
But she had faced Bartholomew.
She had mated to a dragon.
She was going to do this. Or die trying.
“Let’s go,” she whispered fiercely.
A squeeze, friend to friend, and Joey led the way down, sometimes pausing to help her over places where the stone steps had crumbled, or fallen away entirely. She was glad of his strong grip, and appreciated how impersonal it was—so very unlike Mikhail’s touch, which shot the heat of the sun straight to her core.
They reached the shoreline. The tide was coming back in, Bird saw. That was a little unnerving.
All the more reason to be as fast as I can, she promised herself.
Joey motioned her to hide behind a jumble of rocks, then strolled out, light sparkling over his silvering hair and . . . ruff, fur, and tails, scintillating in the morning light. He had shifted to his mythic form, yet Bird could still see him.
“Well, fancy meeting you here, Liza,” Joey said. “I see you’ve taken up with Cang.”
The reply was incongruously high, as it came from the shimmering shape of a hulking creature vaguely fox-shaped, but with horns down her back, and huge teeth in a mad grin. “Joey Hu? Coming to tie a red string around my ankle?”
“Would you like one?” Joey countered.
“If you’re not,” she warned, “you’d best be moving along.”
“Awwww, now what fun would that be? How about you, Horace?”
A monster named Horace?
Bird couldn’t see Horace past the vast shape of Liza—but when she heard his deep, guttural growl, she didn’t want to. She wondered if she was seeing and hearing them at all because she had mated with another mythic being. Certainly no one in the fishing boat floating a half mile out seemed to notice anything amiss along the shore.
Horace growled again, a liquid
sound like something glutinous and nasty burbling down a cosmic drain.
Joey laughed, then said mockingly, “No, I really think I need to pass this beautiful sight along to the empress.”
“Butt out!” Liza shrieked like tearing metal.
“Catch me if you can.” Joey flashed his tails in what felt very much like the mythic beast version of flipping them off—and the chase was on.
Bird scrambled over a rock, scraping her hands in her haste. She pounded through the sand, staggering as an incoming wave foamed right up to her feet, then over them. Wet sand is easier to run on, she told herself firmly.
There was the cave entrance. She threw herself inside, fighting the instinct to look behind to see where Joey and those two monsters were. She ran past the jumble of small stones, trash, and the tangle of seaweed.
The light faded out fast. She slowed, opening her eyes as wide as she could in hopes they would adjust faster. The farther she walked, the dimmer it got. And then completely dark. She put her hands out, and began walking with her feet reaching forward at each step. It felt like she had been swallowed completely by the darkness.
Something fell on her forehead. She bit down hard on a shriek and brushed off—nothing but sand. Relief was fast followed by worry: trickling sand from overhead was not good. She remembered all those cracks that the lava wyrms had oozed out of.
So hurry, she told herself.
Forward a step, two. Four . . . she began counting them, because otherwise it felt too much like she was going nowhere.
Then she heard voices, off to one side.
A few steps more, and she perceived a faint glow far to the left.
She had managed to almost get herself turned around! She swung back, and, keeping her gaze firmly on the glow, eased forward until the great crevasse slowly emerged out of the darkness. It glowed faintly with unearthly color.
Trembling all over, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled to the bottom of the crevasse, then peeked in past the rubble that had fallen in the quake. Mikhail lay to one side, covered in chains. Farther in, a tall, powerful man wearing a long coat over a black shirt, jeans, and high boots stood with his hands behind his back as he eyed the mural.
