by Zoe Chant
The plane. He gambled my mother's airplane. The only thing we have left of her, and he staked it in a bet.
“Right,” Chase said, swinging round. There was a determined set to his jaw that Connie had never seen before. “I'm going to fix this. Mr. West, I'm going to need to talk to Sammy. I presume you've met him?”
“Yes, I met him in the Marina a few days ago,” Connie's dad said. He was looking at Chase with the sort of hopeful, ingratiating expression he usually turned on Connie when he wanted her to clean up his messes for him. “He's in town for the race. I think he's staying on his yacht, though. Do you think you'll be able to find him?”
“If he's within my range,” Chase said, mysteriously. He stared at her dad in an oddly intent way. “Can you describe him for me? And the men who attacked you, too.”
“Well, they were about—” Connie's dad began.
“That'll do,” Chase interrupted, his smile reappearing. “Yes, I can find them. Connie, don't worry. Everything's going to be fine.”
“No it won't,” Connie said numbly. She gestured at her dad. “Sammy Smiles wants my plane badly enough to do this. There's no way he'll listen to you.”
“Oh, I think he will,” Chase said, flashing a grin that was rather more feral than usual. “I can be very persuasive.”
Chapter 4
“Why did I let you talk me into this?” Griff shouted into Chase's ear.
Chase snorted. *You've been sitting behind a desk for too long. You said you wanted to get out into the fresh air.*
“I didn't say I wanted to fall into fresh air!” Griff clung onto Chase's mane for dear life. “Do you have to go so high?”
*High? This isn't high!* He beat his wings harder. *Look, you can still see the boats on the water below.”
Chase felt Griff's weight shift on his back as the dispatcher peered down.
*They're those tiny little specks,* Chase pointed out helpfully.
Griff let out a low moan, burying his face again in Chase's neck. “Oh, this was a bad idea.”
*You're afraid of heights? Really?* Chase let out a whinny of laugher. *You can't be afraid of heights! You're half eagle shifter!*
“And no doubt I wouldn't be afraid of heights,” Griff snarled, his knees squeezing Chase's flanks hard enough to bruise, “if I could actually shift!”
*I've always wondered about that.* Chase curved his neck to look back at Griff thoughtfully. *Maybe you just need proper motivation?*
“Chase, you bastard, don't you daaaaaaare—!”
Griff's last word turned into a drawn-out yell as Chase folded his wings, arrowing down out of the sky. Chase was tempted to do a barrel roll, just to see what other interesting noises the dispatcher might make, but there wasn't time for horsing around. A long, sleek white yacht cut through the waves below, and Chase's pegasus senses told him that their quarry was aboard.
A couple of crew members looked up as he soared overhead, pointing out his black-winged shape to each other. They had to be shifters; no ordinary human could see a mythic shifter who didn't want to be noticed. But unfortunately, Chase's 'don't see me' mind trick didn't work on other shifters, not even those who turned into ordinary animals rather than legendary beasts.
Well, he hadn't counted on having the element of surprise. Chase beat his wings, landing neatly on the raised deck at the rear of the superyacht.
Griff slid off Chase's back. He pushed his wind-swept, tawny hair back from his face, eying the crew members who were rapidly converging on them.
“I hope you know what you're doing, Chase,” he muttered.
Chase shifted back to human form. “Trust me.”
“This is private property,” a uniformed crew member yelled at them. From the man's thick neck and beefy arms, Chase was pretty sure his role on board wasn't just to serve drinks. “You need to leave!”
Chase flashed the thug his most dazzling smile, along with his firefighter badge. As a mythic shifter, his clothes and any small items in his pockets came with him when he shifted, which came in handy for situations like this. “We're here to see Sammy Smiles. Official business.”
The thug paused at the sight of the metal shield. “Uh…”
Chase flipped the leather wallet shut before the man could realize it wasn't actually a police badge. “I suggest you fetch him right away.”
The thug dithered for a moment, then snapped his fingers at a smaller man. “Go get the boss.”
*Well?* Chase sent silently to Griff as the crew member ran off.
Griff's piercing golden eyes swept the ring of men surrounding them. Even though he couldn't shift, he still had an eagle shifter's ability to see tiny details that others would miss.
“Mako sharks, mostly,” Griff murmured. “The big one is a tiger shark.”
Chase's smile widened. *No one in our league, then.*
Griff shot him a sidelong, exasperated look. “Will you at least try not to tempt fate?”
“Now, I'm fairly certain I would have heard about a pegasus shifter joining the police,” said a new voice, sounding amused. The crowd of shark shifters parted to let the speaker through. “So I'm guessing Chase Tiernach has dropped by for a visit.”
*What was that about tempting fate?* Chase sent to Griff.
Sammy Smiles towered a good foot over both of them. His bald head seemed to slope directly into his wide shoulders, which were as thickly muscled as a body-builder's. He was not so much clothed as upholstered in a brilliant white suit.
His wide smile showed way, way too many teeth.
“Well now,” drawled the Great White shark shifter in a strong Texan accent. “No fires here, boys. Aren't you a little out of your jurisdiction?”
Chase matched his shit-eating grin with one of his own. “I'm here on behalf of a friend. Shane West.”
“Ah, good old West. Great pilot. Great gambler, too.” Sammy's brilliant smile didn't touch his flat, cold eyes. “I'm so looking forward to seeing him fly in the Rydon Cup in a few days. Should be quite the race.”
“Sadly not,” Chase said lightly. “Seeing as he has two broken arms.”
“Really.” Sammy's expression didn't change. “What a pity.”
Chase held the shark shifter's stare. “Naturally that means all bets are off.”
Sammy sighed regretfully, his teeth sharp and gleaming. “Ah, no can do, boys. I've got my reputation to consider. West bet me his plane, and, well, a deal's a deal.”
“Do you cheat on a deal?” Chase countered. “Because I know for a fact you were responsible for landing West in hospital.”
Sammy's smile never wavered. “That's a mighty rude accusation, son. Folks could take offence.”
Chase raised an eyebrow. “Are you claiming you knew nothing about it?”
Sammy spread his stubby-fingered hands. “Nothing whatsoever.”
“Lying,” Griff said, very softly.
Sammy looked at the dispatcher, his smile turning just a shade less friendly. “Excuse me?”
“I'm sorry, I should have introduced you,” said Chase. “This is Griff MacCormick. Have you heard of the MacCormicks? They're a Highland eagle clan. They are remarkably good at spotting things. Prey. Body language. Lies. That sort of thing.”
“We know that two of your people started that bar fight,” Griff said. “And that bar fight turned into a fire. And that puts it under the jurisdiction of Commander Ash.”
“You may have heard of him,” Chase added.
“The Phoenix,” Sammy said. His smile was still fixed in place, though it was looking more and more like a predator baring its teeth rather than any sort of human gesture. “Well now, that's all mighty fine, but I have to say I don't know why you think my boys were involved in any bar fight. Let alone a fire.”
Chase gazed contemplatively up at the clear blue sky. “There's an interesting legend about pegasus shifters. Says that we were created by Hermes, the God of Messengers. Do you know what a messenger needs to be able to do, above all else?”
<
br /> “Fly real fast away from bad situations?” suggested Sammy.
Chase looked the shark shifter straight in his black, dead eyes. “Find people.”
“West saw his attackers,” Griff said. “Chase picked their faces right out of West's mind. And so he knows they're right here on this boat, right now.”
“Still claim you know nothing about the attack, Sammy?” asked Chase.
Sammy held Chase's stare for a long, long moment.
Then the shark shifter tilted his head. “Rusty,” he said to one of his henchmen. “Ask Hammer and Eights to step up here, would you?”
*I told you this would work,* Chase sent psychically to Griff, as the henchman disappeared off below decks.
“Don't count your chickens too early,” Griff muttered grimly. “Or your sharks. He's up to something.”
A few uncomfortable minutes passed, during which Sammy and Chase continued to smile at each other. Chase's jaw was starting to ache by the time the henchman hurried back, escorting two other men.
“Hammerhead and… octopus, I think,” Griff informed Chase under his breath.
He didn't have to point out which was which. The hammerhead shark shifter was nearly as big as Sammy, while the octopus shifter had uncannily long, supple fingers. Both looked incredibly edgy.
“Pay attention, Mr. Eagle,” Sammy said to Griff. He switched his attention to his two fidgeting thugs. “Boys, you remember I mentioned a certain Mr. West the other day?”
“Yes boss,” rumbled the hammerhead shifter.
“What exactly did I say?” Sammy asked, glancing over at Griff.
The octopus shifter twined his hands together nervously. “That he was such a good pilot, the only way he'd lose the Rydon Cup was if he broke both his arms.”
“Did I tell you to break both his arms?” Sammy pressed.
Both shifters shook their heads.
“Was I, in fact, laughing and smiling in such a way that might indicate I was just joking around?”
The hammerhead and the octopus shifter nodded silently.
Sammy swung back to Griff. “Seems to me that my boys had what you might call an excess of initiative. A bit of high spirits that just got a little out of hand. Don't you agree, Mr. Eagle?”
Griff mouth set in a thin line. “He's telling the truth. As far as it goes.”
Damn! Chase thought. He maintained his smile, though it took all his willpower. He wasn't going to give the shark shifter the satisfaction of seeing him wrong-footed.
Sammy put his hands in his suit pockets, rocking a little on his heels as he contemplated his cowering henchmen. “Now, boys, from what these nice folks tell me, the Phoenix is very upset about that fire.”
“It wasn't us!” the octopus shifter blurted out.
“It was the girl,” said the hammerhead. “She started it.”
“Yeah.” The octopus shifter nodded vigorously. “If the Phoenix is gonna burn anyone, it should be her.”
“Thank you, Hammer, Eights.” Sammy dismissed them with a flick of his hand, and they scuttled off gratefully.
“Don't you worry, boys,” Sammy said, turning back to Chase and Griff. “I'll make sure my men learn a real good lesson from this little incident. It won't be happening again in future, you have my word. Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention, and please do give the Phoenix my very warmest regards.”
“But what about the plane?” Chase's mind raced frantically. “What about the bet?”
Sammy shrugged. “West already took my money. I intend to collect the payment.”
“I'll pay the money back myself,” Chase said, his fists clenching. “Double. Triple. Whatever you want, just name your price.”
“Now, that's a mighty fine offer. I know your family has deep pockets. But, see, here's the thing.” Sammy gestured around at his luxurious yacht. “So do I. Keep your money, boy. I don't want it. But I do want that plane for my collection. And I intend to have it.”
“Wait!” Chase called, as the shark shifter started to stroll away. “You can't take Connie's plane!”
“If West's plane doesn't win the Rydon Cup, then it's mine,” Sammy said over his shoulder. “That was the bet.”
Chase paused.
If the plane doesn't win…?
He threw back his head and laughed, long and loud. Griff stared at him as if he'd started barking. Sammy paused mid-step.
“Oh, Sammy.” Chase chuckled. “You have no idea how glad I am you said that.”
Sammy turned around again, folding his arms across his broad chest. “And why might that be, son?”
“You just said that the bet is on the plane, not the pilot.” Chase grinned at him. “West's plane is going to race. I'm going to fly it.”
Sammy's eyes narrowed. He didn't otherwise move, but the group of shark shifters surrounding Chase and Griff started to circle them, drifting closer.
“And if you think West is good,” Chase added, “you should see me fly.”
“Now why,” Sammy said softly, as the circle of shark shifters closed in like a trap, “do you think you're going to be flying anywhere? This is the open sea, boys. You're a long way from the Phoenix, or the Parliament of Shifters, or any of your dry-lander laws. We have our own rules out here. And you two are way out of your depth.”
Chase's grin widened. “Funny you should say that.”
The yacht tipped to one side as a massive, scaled head erupted from the water. Sammy's shark shifters scattered in panic as a long, sinuous neck arched into the air, dwarfing the boat. Seawater streamed from indigo scales, falling like rain onto the yacht's deck.
“I think that you'll agree that he is very much not out of his depth,” Griff murmured.
Sammy lost all traces of his smile at last. “Ah,” he said, looking up.
“That,” Chase said conversationally, “is the Walker-Above-Waves, Emissary to the Land from the Pearl Throne, Oath-Sworn Seeker of the Emperor-in-Absence, Anointed Knight-Poet of the First Water, and… you know, it's so tricky to remember all these titles. What was the last one, Griff?”
“Firefighter for the East Sussex Fire and Rescue Service,” Griff supplied, grinning himself.
“Oh, yes, that was it.” Chase turned back to Sammy, who had gone as pale as his suit. “His real name is a little tricky to pronounce above water, so we just call him John Doe. Say hello, John.”
The sea dragon rumbled, with a sound like continents colliding. The shadow of his great, fanged head fell over the shark shifter.
“So you see, Sammy, I will be flying West's plane in the race,” Chase said. “And I'm going to win.”
Chapter 5
Connie stared numbly out of the bedroom window of her cheap rented apartment. From up here, she could just about make out the colored lights of Shoreham Airfield. Even in the dark, she knew exactly which speck of light marked the location of the small hanger that housed her plane.
Her mother's plane.
Connie had only been twelve when her mom died. But she remembered her mother's strong hands, wrapped over hers on the handle of a wrench, showing her how to disassemble a wheel assembly. She remembered the comforting smell of engine oil mingling with her mother's floral perfume. She remembered her mother's delighted laugh when a repair went well, and her inventive cursing when it didn't.
And she had a distant, dreamlike memory of being very small, small enough to curl on her mother's lap as she worked on restoring the plane's controls. Small enough to be perfectly happy, cocooned in the cockpit with her mom, utterly secure and safe. Because mom could fix anything.
“I wish you were here, mom,” Connie said softly to the distant, hidden plane.
She drew in a deep breath, scrubbing the back of her hand across her face. There was no time for tears. For a long time now, she'd had to be the one who fixed things. She would fix this now.
She wouldn't let anyone touch her plane.
Chase's head appeared, upside down, at the top of the open window. “Good ne
ws!” he announced cheerfully. “I'm going to fly your plane!”
Connie leaped backward with a strangled yelp. “Chase, what are you doing?”
“Hanging by my knees from the guttering.” He flashed her an inverted grin. “It was the fastest way down from the roof.”
Connie rubbed her forehead. “Do I even want to know what you were doing on the roof?”
His devil-may-care smile faltered. “Probably, but that's one of those things I'm not allowed to talk about. Sorry.”
Oh. One of those things.
She'd frequently run into those things with Chase, during the brief summer they'd spent together three years ago. There had been certain topics that made him go uncharacteristically silent if they came up in conversation. Some of them were silly, innocuous things, like his favorite type of animal or why his whole family seemed to treat his desire to fly airplanes as somehow perverse.
But there were more significant things he wouldn't discuss either. Things like why a rich playboy who was notorious for countless flings with supermodels would abruptly become obsessed with the plain, dumpy daughter of his flight instructor. Things like why he’d pursued her so relentlessly, despite her initial refusals. Things like why someone like Chase would want someone like her.
Compared to that, his habit of turning up on rooftops seemed positively normal.
Connie knew from experience that questioning him further would only result in him doing something astonishingly random, and usually quite dangerous, in order to force a change of subject. “If I don't let you in, you're going to hang there all night, aren't you.”
Chase's trademark grin reappeared. “How well you know me, my love.”
“I'm not your love.” Nonetheless, she stood back from the window, gesturing him in.
Chase flipped himself neatly through the window, landing on his feet. Connie's heart, which was still hammering after the shock of his abrupt appearance, gave an odd little skip. He'd changed out of his firefighter uniform into black jeans and a slim-cut button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to show off his tanned forearms. The neck of the shirt hung open a little, displaying the strong lines of his throat and a hint of muscled chest.
