Celtic Dragons

by Dee Bridgnorth

  This time, when the transition began it was reactive and defensive, and Kean didn’t stop it. In the blink of an eye, his body expanded, darkened, and grew scales, taking the shape of a majestic dragon with wings that were both agile and powerful. He raised his neck high, the top of his head brushing the ceiling as one of his wings swept through the air in front of him, dissipating whatever force was there. Smoke came out of his nostrils, a clear indication of his anger, and he stalked forward, proving his point with a puff of fire that left his mouth and hung in the air, floating there before flickering out.

  Immediately, Kean knew he was alone in the room.

  Whatever force was in Dhara’s house might have been as strong as his human form, but there were few beings who could compete with Kean when he was in his dragon form. The witch who had cursed his Irish village hundreds of years ago could never have imagined what the Dragon Clan would do with the spell that she had put on them. They had only grown stronger over the years, even if their numbers were fading fast.

  As Kean stalked around the bedroom, his large body inevitably knocking into objects and sending them crashing to the floor, he both confirmed that there was no power lingering in any corner of the bedroom and continued to make his point—that he was more powerful and more determined. He had won the battle.

  The only problem was that the spirit might punish Dhara for it, and Kean wouldn’t allow that. He wasn’t going to be able to let Dhara be alone in the house until he found a way to rid it of the angry evil presence that was lurking. It meant spending a great deal of time with her, which was just fine with Kean.

  As long as he could guarantee that she would come out of the situation alive and oblivious to just who was saving her life.

  Chapter Eight

  Dhara

  It was impossible to go very far from her house in the hour that Kean had asked for. Dhara couldn’t concentrate on anything else other than what Kean might be experiencing in the house. She was in equal parts terrified and hopeful about the possibility that he would see what she had been seeing for all these weeks. She needed his validation, and yet she was humiliated to have to be dealing with any of this at all.

  Ghosts don’t exist.

  She repeated that to herself all day, every day, and yet it did nothing to mitigate the paralyzing fear she lived in whenever she was home. Somehow, she was in a parallel universe where ghosts did exist, and at least one seemed determined to ruin her life.

  When Dhara arrived back at her house, she was almost fifteen minutes earlier than the hour-mark she’d been aiming for. But she parked anyway and let herself into the house, slipping quietly into the front entryway, part of her hoping to catch Kean in the middle of whatever investigation he was conducting.

  She didn’t see him anywhere on the first floor, though, and she frowned, glancing at the staircase. The worst part of the house was the second floor, and she dreaded it each time she had to go up there, even though that was where she slept—or at least tried to sleep—at night. Her hand touched the bannister lightly, and she put her foot on the first carpeted step, swallowing hard as she began to slowly walk upward.

  The sixth step creaked—it always did—and she froze, her heart pounding in her chest as she listened for some reaction.

  “Kean?” she whispered, glancing upward. “Kean …are you in here?”

  There was no answer, and Dhara licked her lips, walking a little further up, her ears pricked for any hint of a sound, natural or supernatural. But she stepped on to the second floor without hearing so much as a whisper, and she turned, glancing behind her to see if she could catch a glimpse of Kean on the first floor before she ventured further.

  A hand touched her shoulder, and Dhara jumped, screaming as her hand flailed out, pushing away whatever had touched her. She turned to run, but a strong hand grasped her, yanking her back and stopping her flailing.

  “Dhara, it’s just me!”

  She was breathing hard, looking up into Kean’s handsome face, her chest pressed against his. He looked different, almost like he was glowing with something. His eyes were brighter, and there was sweat on his brow, and he was …

  “Did you change clothes?”

  He laughed, not letting go of her. “That’s your first question?”

  “It seems like a pertinent one,” she pointed out. “It’s as good as any, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” he agreed, his hands moving infinitesimally lower on her back. It set her pulse racing all over again, but with lust this time, rather than fear. His hips were pressed against hers, and she could feel that he was experiencing the same reaction that she was. Dhara pressed against him, rather than pulling away, and in the back of her mind, she knew this wasn’t the sort of thing she ever did. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. From the moment she had laid eyes on Kean, something about him had tugged at something deep inside of her.

  She saw his lips part, and she could have sworn he was going to lean in and kiss her, but then he dropped his hands from her altogether, so abruptly that she almost stumbled.

  Before she could get her bearings, there were several feet between them and Kean’s handsome face was shuttered, nothing there to indicate how he was feeling.

  “I didn’t change clothes,” he said, although Dhara knew very well that he had. “But we should probably look at your bedroom.”

  He turned and walked away from her, but Dhara was still reeling from their almost-kiss. She had been so sure that they were both being drawn toward each other, his body every bit as much in need of hers, but then he had done a complete one eighty, leaving her cold and rejected at the top of her staircase.

  The reasonable part of her knew that he was trying to be professional, and that while he likely wanted her every bit as much as she had thought he did, he wouldn’t let himself get involved with a woman who was a client. That was an admirable quality in a man. But it did nothing to mitigate the sting she felt, and her emotions, for once, felt stronger than her sense of logic.

  He had pushed her away, all but recoiling from her touch.

  And he had lied to her. She knew he was wearing different clothing, though how or why he was doing so escaped her entirely.

  She was still standing where he had left her when he turned back to face her from the doorway of her bedroom. “Are you coming?”

  Dhara nodded, swallowing hard as she walked toward him. The only good thing about their encounter was that it had broken through the almost-paralyzing fear she had felt coming up the stairs. But as she walked into her bedroom and saw the disastrousstate of the room, the fear returned, clenching around her heart like an iron fist.

  “Who did this?” she whispered, her eyes scanning over the shattered jars that had lined the top of her dresser, the cracked mirror, the torn drapes, and the deep scuffmarks on the wooden floor. “What happened in here?”

  He reached out as though to touch the small of her back, but then dropped his hand before it made contact with her. “I’m sorry, Dhara. The agency will pay for the damages.”

  “You did this?” Confused, she turned to look at him, shaking her head. “I don’t understand any of this, Kean. What’s happening to my house? What’s happening to my life?”

  There was genuine sympathy on his face as he stared back at her. “There’s something here, in the house. Whatever that is, did this. There’s so much anger and violence trapped in the spirit—or spirits—that live here with you. And my presence is not welcome.”

  Nothing he said computed in her scientifically-based brain. Spirits? Anger? Someone living here in the house with her? It meshed perfectly with her experiences, but she was still in denial, and she hadn’t realized until that moment just how much he was going to tell her that her suspicions were unfounded and that there was some perfectly rational explanation for what had been happening.

  Instead, she felt short of breath again, and the tightness reappeared in her chest. She tried to walk toward the bed to sit down before she fainted, but then power
ful memories of the nights when she had been trapped in that bed, held by the throat by an invisible force, hit her, and she stumbled away from the piece of furniture.

  “I don’t want to be here,” she whispered. “I can’t be here. I—I—”

  “Shhh.” Kean was near her again, pulling her into his arms, this time to comfort her rather than to inspire lust. She leaned against his broad chest, her arms circling around him so that her hands pressed against the muscles at his back. “It’s going to be all right,” he promised her, his hand stroking down her slick hair. “I know you’re afraid, but I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you, Dhara.”

  She looked up at him, wanting so badly to believe his words and yet sensing that there was something very important that he wasn’t telling her. “I just want my house back. My world back. I can’t keep living like this.”

  “You won’t have to.”

  Their eyes met and held, and still that powerful chemistry pulsed between them. Dhara wished that his hand would grip her hair, pulling her face close to his, and that his lips would claim hers. Maybe if he kissed her, he could somehow erase all the fear and anxiety she felt, giving her pleasure and comfort instead. His lips were so full and his body so hot and hard against hers, and though she didn’t understand how she could be so fixated on him, given the things happening all around her, she couldn’t deny that she was.

  Regret flickered in his eyes, and he sighed before letting go of her again, leaving her feeling cold and abandoned. “Come on,” Kean murmured. “Let’s get you out of here for now.”

  She nodded, and he led her down the stairs without touching her, leaving her to stare at the wide breadth of his back. And as she did, one thought kept playing in her mind.

  That is definitely not the same shirt.

  Chapter Nine

  Kean

  “It almost triggered a transformation,” Kean told Ronan, standing in his boss’s office, leaned up against his wall, strong arms crossed over his chest. “Whatever is in Dhara’s house, it’s powerful. I held off the transition it tried to trigger, but I had to transform on my own to compete with it. This is no joke, I’ll tell you that.”

  Ronan sat at his desk, rubbing a hand along his jaw as he thought. “How is she reacting to it?”

  “How do you think?” Kean waved a hand through the air. “She’s a scientist. She thinks she’s crazy for even being open to the possibility that this is happening to her.”

  “So she’s a natural skeptic. That works in our favor,” Ronan pointed out. “She’s not as likely as a paranormal believer to jump from witnessing a spirit haunting to concluding that you—we—are paranormal too.”

  Kean shrugged. “Fair enough, but it’s still complicated. If I go up against whatever’s in that house, there’s no guarantee that I won’t be triggered into transformation in front of her. Or that I won’t have to transform to save her.”

  “She can’t be involved in the investigation,” Ronan concluded, steepling his hands beneath his chin and meeting Kean’s gaze. “And I know you well enough, brother, to know that you won’t like that suggestion at all. You’ve got it bad for her.”

  Kean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

  “Do you deny it?”

  “No, but I’m not going to just admit to it either,” Kean pointed out. “By the way, how was your luncheon tryst? That’s the reason I landed this case to begin with.”

  Ronan’s face darkened slightly. “It was fine.”

  “That’s hardly a positive review.”

  “Not reflective of the girl,” Ronan said, looking out his window. “I seem to be…off. Somehow.”

  Kean lifted his eyebrows. “No shit?”

  “Not off sexually,” Ronan said, sending him a glare that had no real potency to it. “Trust me. That is not an issue, and I think she would agree with me.”

  “Oh, undoubtedly.”

  Ronan rolled his eyes and stood up, crossing over to the window so he could better see out of it. “I’m sure it’s only in my head, but afterward…I felt strange.”

  “That’s called love.”

  The head dragon’s gaze was much more cutting this time. “Hardly,” he retorted. “Where is Dhara now?”

  “She’s arranging short-term lodging,” Kean told him, recognizing that whatever was bothering Ronan about his earlier encounter was more serious than he’d originally thought. Ronan, like all of them, kept his feelings pretty close to his chest, but it was obvious that he was worried, and that was concerning. Still, he didn’t push the issue.

  “Good,” Ronan said, turning toward him. “Then the best bet is to keep her as far away from the investigation as possible. Do your thing and then present a cleansed house to her. It’s the easiest way to keep this from getting …complicated.”

  He didn’t disagree with Ronan, but Kean still didn’t like what his friend was saying. He wanted Dhara with him every step of the way, predominantly because he liked being around her, but also because he didn’t know if she would ever trust herself again if she didn’t see the investigation for herself. She wasn’t just a skeptic—she was a complete non-believer, now faced with something that was upending her worldview. She wanted to be, and deserved to be, involved.

  “I can feel your reticence,” Ronan said. “Why?”

  “It’s a gut feeling,” Kean said, unable to articulate it more thoroughly. “I just think she needs to see this for herself.”

  “And if she sees you for yourself?”

  “She won’t,” Kean promised. “I would never risk our existence that way. You know that. At least, I hope you do.”

  Ronan nodded. “I know you would never do it on purpose, but things happen, sometimes, that are out of our control. Think back to the stories that my father told of the dragons who ended up in the south of France and the total destruction that occurred there because they weren’t careful about exposing themselves.”

  Kean knew that his leader was right. There were huge benefits to existing in the paranormal world. How many people could say they had experienced soaring through the air at speeds that rivaled any airplane, feeling the wind moving against scaled skin and seeing the curve of the earth in the distance with vision that was sharper than any eagle’s? Very few could even imagine such a thing. But it was a lonely existence at the same time, and the dragons could only rely on each other for connection. Bringing a human too close into the fold spelled disaster not only personally, but for all dragons.

  “I’ll keep her at a distance,” Kean said, relenting slightly from his position. “Last time I was with her, she noticed that I had put on different clothes after transforming, and I had to just avoid the question. I couldn’t tell her that I’d had Eamon run over a spare outfit because I’d changed into a dragon while she was gone. She’ll be involved, but as minimally as possible.”

  “All right,” Ronan agreed. “I have business out of town for a few days. I’ll be out of touch.”

  Kean frowned slightly. “Really? Where are you going?” It was rare that the Celtic Dragons parted ways, and when one flew, they all flew together.

  “I have a case of my own that I’m working on,” Ronan said vaguely. “That’s all I can say for now. All will be clear eventually, but I have to ask you all to trust me for the moment.”

  They would all trust him implicitly—of that there was no doubt. But it concerned Kean nonetheless, as he knew that Ronan’s behavior was highly unusual. Part of being a Celtic Dragon, though, was trusting in the appointed leader without question, and Kean would follow through on that.

  “Good luck,” he said seriously. “You’ll call on us if you need us?”

  “I always do,” Ronan said, smiling briefly. Then he sat down at his desk, and Kean knew that their business was done. Outside of the workplace and under less serious circumstances, Ronan was as much a laugh as any of them. They had great fun together, all five of them. But at work, the responsibility for all of them weighed more heavily on Ronan’s shoulders, and he ten
ded to be more focused, more determined, and more somber. It made him a great leader and did nothing to diminish his worth as a friend either.

  As Kean left Ronan’s office for his own, he was again grateful that the Celtic Dragons had such an effective leader at a time when they so badly needed one. Though Ronan had never talked to him directly about his concerns, Kean knew that Ronan, like all of them, was all too aware that the dragon population was dying out so quickly that they would have a difficult time ever regaining substantial numbers. When the time came to procreate and create the next generation in the Boston clan, they would have to find dragons elsewhere to mate with. Their own clan was too small, and they were all too closely related. If they didn’t find other dragons to mate with, then the entire clan could die off, and it would not be long before the remaining clans in other areas of the world followed.

  There had been hundreds of dragons when they had initially been cursed,dragons with no ability to exist in their human form and very few powers to their name. So much had happened since that time, but no matter how much control they now had over their shifting abilities or what powers they had developed over the generations, there was no solution to the fact that they could only breed with each other and that their numbers were dwindling.

  It was on Ronan’s shoulders to find a solution, and it was not a position that Kean envied. Ronan’s decisions could either end the Boston Clan of Dragons or revive them, and while Kean had every faith in his friend and brother’s ability to find the answer, he knew that Ronan suffered under the weight of the task.

  He could only hope that they wouldn’t all suffer for it.