In unison, they blew wisps of healing stone magic from their nostrils and onto her diata.
Bloodstone.
Aragonite.
Lapis Lazuli.
Sunstone.
Soul Stone.
Jade.
Amethyst.
Carnelian.
Onyx.
Citrine.
Ten Stones of Dracontias, one mighty fog of transformative healing magic.
Human science could never duplicate this, the giving of stone magic to birth an Afiya with a Stone of Dracontias.
Kya saw the stone take form in the center of the magical fog. Armstrong’s stone, golden-brown with a silky luster.
Collectively, they pushed the fog and gemstone downward. The stone would have to accept Armstrong and he the stone.
Kya heard Armstrong’s deep intake of breath. He coughed. Choked. The fog formed a funnel, the tip of which was in Armstrong’s mouth. With labored gulps, he sucked down the stone and the magical fog.
It was done then.
Lowering to the ground, Kya and her family, still in a protective circle around Armstrong’s prone human body, they waited.
“What’s going on? I can’t see anything. Is Dad all right?”
“I don’t yet know. Be patient. If you must, transform and come sit behind me. You may not enter or join the circle, however.”
Her son transformed quicker than she’d known him to do. Soon enough, Kya felt his smaller frame snuggled against her lower back.
“Comfortable, Red Jasper Dragon?”
“Yes, what will be Dad’s Dracontias name?”
“Tiger’s Eye Dragon. Willpower, confidence, and good fortune.”
“It suits him.”
Kya agreed. But Armstrong hadn’t yet shifted, and he no longer breathed.
Two excruciating hours later, the transformation began. Wrinkled skin, gray hair, and brittle bones curled in on themselves as golden-brown magic seeped from Armstrong’s eyes, nose, and ears and engulfed the human.
Elijah stirred where he’d fallen asleep against Kya and tried to peer between Kya and Ledisi and to see what Kya could only gaze upon with awe and rapture.
From the golden-brown fog of magic emerged a dark-brown Afiya, his chest and legs golden-brown and his eyes, which repeatedly blinked at the dragon’s around him, were a rich shade of gold.
At that moment, Kya was sure she didn’t breathe. The thirty-foot dragon of muscle and might stood tall and strong, and Kya was afraid to trust the sanity she saw in the eyes that found hers.
Unable not to, she inched forward, which gave Elijah enough room to dart past her and straight to the large golden-brown dragon.
The red dragon skidded to a halt. Instinctively, Kya began to reach for her son with her tail.
“Let me. I’ve always wanted to hold our son the way you do.”
Excited, Elijah squealed when Armstrong wrapped his golden-brown tail around him and lifted until father and son were face-to-face.
Her family drifted away, leaving Kya alone with her son and dragon mate.
“You did it. I never doubted you, Kya. Not for one minute. Thank you.”
He may not have. But she’d certainly doubted herself.
“So, this is what it’s like to be a dragon. Except for looking down on everything, I feel the same.”
Only Armstrong Knight could manage the impossible and make such an outrageous claim.
Kya closed the distance between herself and Armstrong, Elijah pressed between them. Her head fell to Armstrong, and she caressed him in the way of familial dragons. Later, she would show Armstrong how mated dragons touched.
“Will you teach me all there is to know about being a dragon?”
“Of course. For a fee.”
“A fee?” Armstrong placed Elijah on the ground, and the dragon ran around their legs, hyper and happy. “What kind of fee?”
“Hmm, I don’t yet know.”
Armstrong returned her caress, his tail finding the spot on her side he knew sent flutters of pleasure through her.
“When you figure it out, let me know. In the meantime, teach me how to fly.”
Elijah jumped onto Armstrong’s back and scrambled up his body until his neck lay propped on the top of his father’s head.
“Flying takes a lot of concentration, Daddy.” Elijah cut his red eyes at Kya, lowered his voice and whispered into his father’s ear as if she couldn’t hear him. “Mother is a stern instructor. Believe it or not, she’s worse than grandfather.”
“Oh, really? Well, I can’t wait for your mother’s lessons.”
He winked, a gesture she’d never seen by a dragon.
“Say it again, Kya.”
“I just said it.”
“That’s when I was human Armstrong Knight. I want to hear it as the Tiger’s Eye Dragon.”
“It will sound the same.”
“I don’t think it will. Say it again.”
Kya increased her pace, leaving Armstrong behind her. “You want too much,” she threw over her shoulder.
“I’ve only ever wanted you. I love you, Bloodstone Dragon.”
Kya stopped, waited for Armstrong to catch up. They faced each other, and she blew Bloodstone magic in his face.
“And I’ve only ever wanted you. Now and forever.”
* * *
The End
* * *
To read more paranormal romance novels by N.D. Jones, from angels and demons to witches and shapeshifters, begin with her complimentary audiobook and eBook versions of her Fire, Fury, Faith novella, the first book in her Winged Warriors series.
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https://www.ndjonesparanormalpleasure.com/newsletter/
About the Author
N. D. Jones lives in Maryland with her husband and two children. Having earned a M.A. in Political Science, she is a dedicated educator. She taught high school social studies and served as chair of the social studies department. Currently, she is a professional development teacher specialist with a local Maryland school system, working on increasing student achievement through teacher and administrator efficacy. She is a lifelong learner, pursuing her doctorate in Community College Leadership.
A desire to see more novels with positive, sexy, and three-dimensional African American characters as soul mates, friends, and lovers, inspired the author to take on the challenge of penning such romantic reads. She is the author of two paranormal romance series: Winged Warriors and Death and Destiny. She's also embarked on a science fiction romance series, Forever Yours. N.D. likes to read historical and paranormal romance novels, as well as comics and manga.
Read More from N.D. Jones
https://www.ndjonesparanormalpleasure.com/
The Mermaid’s Puppet
Cate Farren
The Mermaid’s Puppet © copyright 2017 Cate Farren
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All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
The Mermaid’s Puppet
Mermaids versus dragons.
Tameka Hamilton is just your simple police consultant until an incident with a troll introduces her to the twin sister she never knew she had; a twin sister who is also a mermaid.
Soon Tameka becomes embroiled in a world s
he never knew existed, a secret world of mermaids, dragons, hidden plots, and a black market dealer who may be the world’s last kraken.
A cold war is brewing. It’s mermaids versus dragons with humanity caught in the middle.
1
The door looked like it had been smashed in with the fist of an angry giant. Tameka stepped through the debris, hoping the familiar vile smell permeating from the inside wasn’t just in her imagination. She’d had enough of meth heads to last her a lifetime. Of course it could be a homeless clown or a drug dealer. Her world was filled with weird things.
I had such a camaraderie with the Blue City Strangler!
She pulled out her gun.
“You mother fuckers going to come out or am I going to have to blast this place full of bullets?” she shouted into the gloom. “You have five seconds.”
“Five!”
She checked the kitchen. There was a steaming bowl of porridge on the table, along with a carafe of orange juice. A chair was overturned. The silver refrigerator had photos of sunsets from around the world pinned to it. There was a pair of sneakers by the wall, reeking of human sweat.
“Four!”
She turned back, heading through the hallway. The wallpaper was seventies kitsch, vomit yellow with swirls of pus green. A side table held a lava lamp that was leaking its contents onto the tattered carpet.
“Three!”
The living room was in chaos. The sofa was smashed to pieces and the flat screen TV was torn in half. Even the wallpaper, same as in the hallway, had been ripped from the walls. There was human blood dripping from the ceiling.
I better check upstairs.
It took Tameka a moment to realize there was no upstairs.
“Two,” a voice whispered behind her.
She spun around and punched the intruder in the face, catching him off guard. He went down like a lead balloon, unconscious.
She pulled out his ID and smiled. This was Spencer Rott, the man she’d been hired to find. He was a meth head, and a drug dealer too. He was also wanted for the murder of a local fireman.
“So what’s leaking blood from the roof space?” she wondered.
Tameka cuffed Spencer and found a ladder to take her into the roof space. What she found made her want to scream, though the sounds of the dozen or so pigs going cannibal on each other sort of drowned that out.
“He’s pig farming?” she exclaimed.
A small piglet walked up to her and made a cute little noise. She went to stroke it and the thing bit her finger.
“Little shit.”
Tameka watched as animal control placed the last of the pigs in the back of their van. She still couldn’t get the image of the creatures eating each other out of her mind. She hoped Spencer rotted in jail for what he put those poor animals through.
Her cell phone rang.
“What do you want?” she demanded. “I smell of pig shit and I need to go home and have about half a dozen showers.”
“I have a case for you,” said Red. “It’s important.”
Tameka laughed. “I like to be needed, but…”
“Please, Tammy.”
“Fine. Just let me shower first, okay?”
Tameka hung up and drove home. She reminded herself to have the inside of her car cleaned when she had the chance.
“Is this supposed to be a joke?” Tameka demanded.
Sergeant Deacon “Red” Redmond shook his head. “This is serious, Tammy. Why would I joke with you over something like this?”
I hate it when he calls me Tammy.
“It’s hardly what you’d call exciting.” She paused before adding, “And stop calling me Tammy. You make me sound like a show poodle.”
There was a file by his keyboard. She read the name “Galina Trade” and saw a picture of a dragon figurine on it before he grabbed the papers and shoved them in his drawer.
What’s that all about?
She waited, needing Red to give her something else, something a little meatier than trying to track down an internet troll. She should be out there tracking down serial killers and con artists! She was better than this. Hadn’t she shown him what she was capable of?
“There’s something you don’t know,” said Red.
His handsome, square jawed face looked somber all of a sudden. This case was affecting him on an emotional level. Even his perfect, wavy strawberry blonde hair looked limp today, and she’d always suspected he took more time styling his luscious locks than she did.
Not that I’m jealous about his hair or anything. No way.
She crossed her arms, content to listen. “Hit me with it.”
“There’s been a spate of suicides in Blue City in the past three months,” he explained. “We thought at first they weren’t related, but we’ve discovered evidence that proves otherwise.”
“Do you think they were murdered? Their deaths made to look like suicide?”
He paused uncertainly. “No, they did kill themselves. That much is true. It’s just we think their deaths are connected to the work of a particularly nasty internet troll.” At her dubious expression he added, “Eleven people have died. This internet troll is a serial killer, and a particularly evil and ruthless one at that.”
Tameka despised internet trolls. She’d had the occasion to tangle with them in the past. Your faith in humanity could always be questioned by one insidious comment on an internet message board.
“I know internet trolls are viler than a blocked toilet, and it’s sad that people have killed themselves, but what can I do?” Tameka asked. “It’s not really my forte, cyber crime. I mean, I know how to use a computer, but I know shit about hacking and stuff like that.”
“I just want to know if they’re connected,” Red insisted. “I need to know whether the troll is really responsible for the deaths.”
“Just get your CSI cyber nerds to trace the ISPs. Simple.”
“We’ve done that. We got nothing.”
Tameka sighed and took the files that Red handed her. She flipped through it, examining every detail, every death, every printed out email or Tweet or Facebook message. The victims included such diverse people as a wealthy stock broker and an orchid farmer. The messages sent by the troll to the victims were brutal and nasty, but hardly newsworthy. The only thing that linked them was that they lived in Blue City, they were all targeted by an internet troll, and they all committed suicide.
But I’m bored. I might as well.
“Is it the same internet troll every time?” she asked.
He shrugged. “You tell me.”
If there was one thing Tameka hated more than serial killers, con artists and arsonists it was internet trolls. They were the lowest of the low.
“I’ll take it,” she said, her stomach grumbling. She could do with a cheeseburger right about now. “The usual rates?”
Red nodded. “Just…try to keep it quiet.”
“Is this case off the books?” Tameka asked, surprised. “Naughty boy.”
She didn’t think Red had such a rebellious streak in him. He was always so by the book, though not nearly as uptight and anal as most police officers she’d met over the years.
“The higher ups don’t think it’s important,” said Red. “But I do.”
Tameka nodded. “Then I’ll get right on it.”
“And be careful.”
Her gut screamed out there was something he still wasn’t telling her, something that linked him personally to the case, but she kept her mouth shut. Did he know one of the victims? Had he himself or someone he knew been a victim of an internet troll’s bullying campaign?
“Are you telling me everything I need to know?” she asked.
He watched her carefully for a second. “Everything you need to know is in the files.”
She had a good deal going with Blue City PD. The last thing she needed was to rock the boat. So she kept quiet.
Red waited for Tameka to leave, only realizing too late that she’d decided to read
the files in his office. She smiled as she started to read. He looked away, hating that sincere smile. He shouldn’t like it. He shouldn’t like her. It wasn’t part of his job description.
“Do you want a coffee?” he asked, eager to put some distance between them. “Or a donut or something?”
“Your coffee tastes like shit,” she said, eyes on the files.
He stood up, knocking his chair over. He felt flustered. “I need some fresh air. Ill get us both some proper coffee.”
“You do that.”
He closed the door to his office behind him, feeling like an idiot.
It didn’t take Tameka long to read the files thoroughly. She was often accused by lesser minds of never reading anything properly, but her brain just took information in quicker than other people. She once read War and Peace during her school lunch break and got detention for lying to her English teacher. The poor sap couldn’t understand how her brain worked. Either that or was jealous.
Do I understand how my brain works?
Her IQ was high, though not exceptionally so. She’d taken the test for MENSA once, but decided they were dull and declined an invitation to join them. They’d spited her by sending her their newsletter every month, no matter how many times she tried to cancel it.
Her brain could take information in quickly and store it like files in a digital drive. Some people called it a photographic memory, or an eidetic memory, yet it was so much more than that. She could switch accents at the drop of a hat so convincingly people would swear she was born in that country. She could pretend to be anything she wanted, from a schizophrenic bag lady to a bitchy socialite, and become that person so convincingly it even fooled her own mind. She was a human chameleon.
“Why is Tameka pretending to be British?” Doctor Miranda Hamilton had once inquired. “It’s irritating.”
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