by Livia Quinn
She huffed, disgust clear in her voice. “Well, sorry I interrupted. Have you talked to Conor about this…um… hunger problem?” Tempe asked.
“Nope.” I spotted two nearly whole turkey legs lying on top of a trash bag like someone had tossed them over the side on their way to their car and reached in snagging them—with two claws that shot out of my fingertips! “Shit.”
“What is it?” Tempe jumped forward, alarmed.
I held up my hand to show Tempe the drumsticks speared on a pair of five-inch claws. “How am I supposed to investigate when… claws pop out of my hands when I least expect it?”
“Um, well…” her lips twisted in a grimace. She shrugged.
“Right.” I took two chomps on the grimy, rotten legs then tossed them over my shoulder into the dumpster as I walked away, staring as the claws receded when they weren’t needed anymore. Which actually kind of rocked.
“Jack,” Tempe’s voice sounded tentative.
I turned but her expression was firm when she said, “I’ll help you anyway I can, but don’t shut me out.” Not a request.
I blew out a breath, belched and wiped my mouth with my sleeve. “I’m doing what I figured you and Conor wanted. I’m getting on with my life, one step at a time. Taking care of business. And I’m late.”
“Maybe you should’ve passed up the junk food then.” Her temper was showing.
I paused before I admitted, “I seem to have turned into a trash food addict. I can barely resist the barrels along the road on trash day. I’d be at the M.E.‘s office by now if I could have passed that dumpster up.”
Tempe grimaced, her revulsion evident.
“You’re not the only one that’s stumped, sweetheart, but hey, I’ll get through it. Look, I’ll have to talk to you later, all right? I’m late for lunch with my parents.”
“Real food—not garbage, right, Jack?” She asked, halfheartedly which sent a tiny pang to my chest, but I meant what I’d said. I was taking each situation as it came, trying not to project into my future, our future, living in the moment as the gurus of Destiny say. If I got beyond that I’d want to find a fiery volcano and jump into it, and I was beginning to suspect it would do no good. I could remain a whiny self-pitying dragon man or I could deal. So, I’d keep moving forward wherever that would take me.
An undying hope whispered from deep inside me. Up?
Chapter 13
“He came in like a wrecking ball.” Freddie’s ringtone
Jack
I was running late due to my unplanned snack attack, so I just put in a call to Dan. There was no need for a personal visit as he had no definitive answers. Driving down the street I saw my parents’ large one story stone house, which butted up to the swamp across from Harmony, Tempe’s Antebellum money pit, and it struck me for the first time that their house sat on the edge of the super pulse of leylines that was a major source of power for the Paramortals.
Had my parents noticed anything strange during the Chaos? No, they’d been out of town. They’d traveled extensively since I was a kid, so their being gone was nothing unusual. I’d actually been relieved that they were safely away from the craziness of the Para-moon.
Now that I knew more about Destiny and Paramortal relationships and G-crazy, my ex, more questions rose to the surface. A memory niggled at me, something Aurora had said months ago, the night I’d found out Jordie was going to be a Paramortal. She’d said, “You might want to talk to your parents.” What did she mean by that? My parents were just two middle-aged traveling gypsies who were great grandparents. As far as I knew they were still out of the loop about Destiny’s real nature.
Approaching the driveway I was tingling all over, my senses alive, awareness at its peak. Suddenly, I was blindsided by a hunger so fierce I knew the pittance of nourishment I’d found in ten trash dumpsters wouldn’t assuage it. My nerves jangled against each other and my blood slowed to the speed of sludge coagulating in my veins. My eyes blurred. I put all my effort into driving but my vision and other senses were almost completely dismantled.
I managed to guide the unit to the side of the curb, barely missing a pickup truck parked there, I fumbled with the handle and followed a nebulous urge to escape the confines of the SUV. A distant corner of my mind was concerned about changing in broad daylight, but it flitted out of reach, and then I was rushing forward, stumbling toward an aroma, a pull so strong my feet rushed faster towards the gate to the backyard where it waited.
I crashed through the gate before I realized I was no longer in human form, but I didn’t slow down. It wasn’t a vast yard but my mother had some intricate wide trails carved between beds of flowers and statues. My broad feet stomped down the main path heading for the back of the lawn and I came to an abrupt halt at the sight spectacle me. It was a feast for a king, or a dragon, piled six-feet high around the barbecue pit. I searched for more guests. My parents had known I was coming. This was a bit of overkill on dinner for the prodigal son, though.
I looked down. What would they think if they saw me like this? My stomach lurched but the urge to feed replaced my human manners, any thought of waiting for the others, whoever they might be, flew as I stepped over to the table, reached down with my claws—thank you, God for claws—and ripped half a hog loose from the bone, while I snagged a whole redfish with my left. Putting that away in a few gulps I made myself comfortable plowing through the rest of the pile. Finally the hunger had been dulled enough for me to recognize fish, quail, whole chickens, some kind of root vegetables, gourds and squash, even venison. With a loud buuurpp I sat back numbly looking at the empty platters. I glanced over my shoulder, feeling like a child who’d raided the party buffet, one who deserved to be put in time out.
Dull witted from gorging on the mountain of food, for the first time in months I was full, my hunger completely satisfied. It might not last long, especially if it took this much food to sate me.
They should have basic training for dragons. Were virgins around the corner? Hopefully not. My sense of humor seemed to be returning after getting my first good meal in months.
I leaned against an old oak that groaned as it took my weight, and took a power nap. I must have, because I woke to a finger tapping my shoulder.
“Son…” my father’s voice. It was hard to raise my eyelids but eventually I cracked them open. “Who are you?” I asked before I realized I was still in dragon form and the words came out sounding more like, “guhruuru?”
The large slate colored dragon in front of me tilted his head. He was about my size but I got an impression of maturity. There was movement to the dragon’s left…no, more like a shimmering reflection of everything around us… sky, leaves, and the dark dragon’s image as if the approaching being were a living mirror. The shimmering stopped as she—a female, I don’t know how I knew this but I did—came to a halt next to him. The details of her features, her feathery wing-like “arms” and fluid streamlined upper body were elegant and gave her a stately air. Like a queen, she was to be revered.
I’d been sagging against the tree, mouth agape, but this new creature made me snap to attention. I was in awe of her majestic beauty, the wings changing into flames, though they weren’t smoking, or red, or on fire. The surface of the “flames” and her “skin” was like crystal, and more of her face was distinguishable now with a beak and a smooth head like some kind of bird. She shone like the sun and overwhelmed my senses with a feeling of sweet peace over some powerful magic. I had no idea what she was—a bird, a dragon, or some kind of fire goddess.
She blinked, pale green eyes staring directly into mine and in the next instant I gasped, recognizing her. My head whipped toward the tall dragon as he leaned into his “mate” and nodded at her. “You were right, my darling, our son needed a good meal before he could accept this kind of a shock.”
Tempe
My phone rang on the way to the house and Mylie’s voice filled the cab singing, “He came in like a wrecking ball”. I groaned and started pr
aying as I accepted Freddie’s call.
His cheerful voice—always a bad sign—came on the other end, ” Ms. Tempe, I just wanted you to know, I had some time on my hands,” this was getting worse, “so I knocked a couple things off my list at your house. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Not now, not…
I gripped the wheel tighter and turned into my subdivision. The Voracious Monster sat in the middle of a long “bayou block” known as Harmony Lane, which backed up to the lightning bayou—the Forge. River and I called it that because it was a money-sucking monster of a DIY project. We’d been remodeling it ever since River got into the contracting business. It seemed like the job would never end. Things had gotten even worse after River went missing in February and I’d had to rely on his “helper” to fix things that couldn’t wait for his return.
Freddie needed constant supervision and with my job as a mail carrier for Universal Mail, supervision was hit and miss. Once again, I fleetingly considered selling Harmony. And just as quickly rejected the idea.
Leaning against the battered side of my mail truck I studied the old girl’s exterior. I’d chosen a soft lavender blue for the house and the palest yellow we could find for the porch, windows and shutters. I used to think of it as sunshine but ever since the Para-moon, I hated it. If you’d gone through what we had during the big double purple tinted full moon you’d feel the same way.
Still there was something special about the wide-open veranda that ran across the front and rear of the house. I always found a measure of peace from the pressures of my job on the porch out back where it overlooked the Forge, a hotspot for the leylines that run through Destiny. It’s almost like a Paramortal spa.
So much had happened here. A stranded elemental dragon in the swamp turned out to be a blessing in disguise. We’d held a séance to find River, and most recently, the healing ceremony to save Dylan. Harmony had also been a safe zone, as if an invisible sign had been posted on the perimeter “do not enter, bad guys” during Chaos, and protected by our fae friends Petre and Arabella and their folk.
All that, and still my brother hasn’t come home. I miss him. And not just his expertise with the house, though it was no small thing. Eager to relax with a glass of tonic on my last night off I skipped up the steps to the door. Tomorrow, bright and early would be the start of another heavy mail week leading up to Labor Day and the first of the month.
I stopped when I saw the note on the storm door. I never thought about it before, but what a cool name for a door. Lifting the tape from the glass I read: Mz Tempe. I wanted you to know I fixed the latch on this door.
As if I couldn’t tell.
I groaned when I saw the latch. Let’s just say Freddie’s fixes always involved some breaking. He usually managed to complete the task but the finished product was crooked, disfigured, inside out, or like a car mechanic, he left something broken so he’d have job security. Nah, Freddie’s heart is pure, his brain just works different than most “handy” men, but they and Fred have one thing in common, they love their tools.
Straddling the threshold I saw that he’d fixed the storm door so it would no longer fly open in a heavy wind, but he’d broken off the bottom of the brand-new handle, the part that makes it a handle. I didn’t dare mention it to Freddie; he might try to “fix” it again.
Last month he’d caulked behind my kitchen sink making a gloppy mess of what had been a smooth line. I dug out his attempt while he was gone, sanded off the residue and picked up a new container of caulk, but before I could get home he’d made another pass through the kitchen. My look of consternation when I saw the new mess didn’t register on him. He just beamed, “I took care of it for you.” So I gave up. Now I’d have to add the door handle to River’s list along with the caulking project for when he returned.
I breathed in as I stepped into the foyer, hoping to feel what I had before the Para-moon. But River had been gone for months, and Georgeanne had stood on this very doorstep. Illness and conflict, or in Georgeanne’s case—evil—seemed to have disturbed the aura of our house. I didn’t think it would be right until River came back.
I tossed my keys on the mantle in the front room and walked to the kitchen for some ice. The sight that met my eyes was downright depressing. I’d told Freddie he could fix the leak under the sink because it should have been simple—turn off the water, apply a little teflon tape to the threads on the pipe and reattach. Wrong. My brand-new cabinets had been demo-ed to gain access to the plumbing underneath. Then they’d been nailed back into their old position, only crooked—with three sixty-penny nails—leaving gouges in the brand new finish. It was a desecration!
Grabbing my hair with both hands, I screamed, “River. I need you.” If my brother, the contractor, didn’t get back home soon, the condition of our house would continue to digress under Freddie’s care. Poor Harmony, her timbers probably moaned when the human wrecking ball stepped onto her confines.
I made an about face and took the steps outside to the slope. I needed the restorative effects of my swamp before I hunted Freddie down and took him out, or fired him. It wouldn’t do any good. No one fired Freddie. He was a sweetheart of a guy, who meant well. Besides, he was supporting his sister and a disabled relative.
See what I mean?
Chapter 14
“I know the drill—it’s the “offspring” paradigm.”
Jack
I stared dumbfounded at the two people—beings—before me. There were no words, and not because I was a dragon but because this revelation was likely to be the last straw. Shock and awe had taken on a whole new meaning. I looked from one to the other. They patiently waited for me to come to my senses and speak. I tried, but not even a gasp came out.
My eyes widened as the female… I gulped, tears blurring my eyes. “Mufhar,” escaped before I knew it. She reached one “wing” toward my face. I ducked, nearly tripping.
She sighed, “Jack, honey, you’re scaring me. Do you truly not recognize us?”
I was scaring her? My mouth worked but as I was unable to speak intelligibly as a dragon it came out more like the whine of a puppy. I was tempted to see if my big tail was wagging.
“Maybe this would be better.” She transformed before my eyes into the sweet middle-aged woman I’d always loved, my silver-haired lithe and elegant mother—Jordie’s grandmother, the wife of my steel-haired father who now stood beside her looking more physically fit than anyone his age had a right to, though very much the ex-Admiral, with his dragon temporarily under wraps.
What the— I gathered my senses enough to call the change and shifted back into— unfortunately for my mother, my nude human form. I shrugged and covered myself with my hands. “My clothes are in the car.”
My father said, “I’ll get them.” He kissed my mother on the cheek, squeezed her hand as if she needed reassurance, for what I could not guess.
Then, a dragging sound had us turning toward the path as a strange wraithlike creature approached, shuffling along with slow painful steps. There was no sense of alarm or fear from my parents as we watched the faerie creature walk slowly toward me, dragging its heavy load, a basket full of folded laundry, one laborious step at a time. It was instinct to help but I wasn’t sure how. When I reached out, my hand went right through her shoulder. She didn’t even pause.
My mother nodded as if to say, be patient and I settled in to wait with my hands dangling oh-so casually around my groin. Finally, the creature stopped in front of me, pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from her pocket and ran a gnarled, crooked finger down the page until she saw what she was looking for. With a tap of her finger, and a glance into the basket, the parchment disappeared.
There was a creak of ancient limbs, or it might have been a ghostly breeze, and she bent over sifting through the contents of her basket. When she rose, in her spindly transparent hands were my pants, shirt, socks and shoes. She extended them toward me. “Oh, I get it. You’re auditioning.” A weird sort of grin sp
read across that creepy face and she bowed low, her back creaking like an old, worn out Cypress. “Uh, thanks. I’ll throw your name—er, you into the pot.” She left in a blink.
When I turned back I almost expected everything I’d seen previously to have been a mirage. My mother’s expression held so much regret and empathy I felt bad about my conflicting feelings. I could understand how Tempe had felt about her family’s betrayal, the hurt and anger at being lied to.
I felt like I’d been duped.
I’d mistakenly believed my parents to be idle wanderers. “Traveling gypsies” I’d called them, but I… I was “Offspring”. I spat the word out and my mother jerked, her hand going to her mouth as tears filled her eyes. My father cursed under his breath and enveloped her in his arms. “Get dressed, Jack. We’ll meet you inside with the answers to your questions. If you have it in your head to blame your mother just get over it before you come inside.” It was an order from the dragon admiral.
As I jerked my clothes on, I suspected it would be a while before I could think straight enough to figure out whom to blame, if there was anyone.
How the hell had they kept it from me for thirty odd years? Why didn’t I know this would happen to me? What did it mean for Jordie? I felt a new urgency to see her.
I’m sure everyone in-the-know had been laughing when I spouted all that crap about Georgeanne being the weirdo in the Lang family—and lookee here—Jack Lang was the son of a dragon and a—what was my mother? She was beautiful—as stunning as any creature I’d seen so far, except maybe Tempe. I dropped my head into my hands. I had to get my act together, had to get to Jordie. I had a case to solve… keep telling yourself that… keep moving forward…
I got up and walked slowly toward the house. In the kitchen, looking as normal as any human parents, sat my father at the table, while my mom waited, her back to the counter by the coffee pot. “I made it just… like you like it,” she said, her lower lip trembling.
