by Zoe Chant
Griff buried his face in his hands. “You want to go for a swim. In sea dragon form. In Loch Ness.”
Chase and Hugh were both tight-lipped and shaking with repressed laughter. Griff raised his head in order to shoot the pair a dirty glare, which only appeared to increase their mirth.
Even for humans, this was most peculiar behavior.
“Am I missing something?” John asked.
“Never mind,” Griff said to him with a resigned sigh. “Go on, then. Just for God’s sake, don’t let anyone see you.”
Peals of laughter followed John out, undercut by Griff’s muttered curses. John closed the door behind him, shaking his head.
“Humans,” he said out loud, to the uncaring clouds and the unconcerned waters below. “I shall never understand them.”
Neither the clouds nor the lake answered, not that he had expected them to. Water did not listen to the graceless human tongue.
But all water was one water, and if you spoke with the language of the sea…
His blood rose with anticipation as he strode away from the hotel, passing out of the harsh glare of unnatural human lights and into the more welcoming embrace of moon and star. He followed the curve of the lake shore, the quiet song of the water becoming clearer the further he went from the noise of the human world.
Finding a quiet spot out of the view of any window or passing car, he loosened the buttons of his shirt, shrugging out of the constraining fabric. The irritating pants and even more irritating shoes quickly followed. Chase had complained ceaselessly about the cold and damp ever since they had arrived in Scotland yesterday, but to John the night breeze felt pleasantly warm and welcoming. He was always too hot on land, accustomed as he was to the sunless depths of the Atlantic ocean.
The night breeze caressed his skin, whispering echoes of distant clouds. Despite his eagerness, he made himself take the time to carefully fold his clothes. He had only a handful of human garments, since they’d all had to be personally tailored for him. Even clerks at specialist shops for humans of unusual size had blanched when he’d ducked through their doorways.
He could have shifted with his clothes on, of course—all mythic shifters could. But he’d discovered that although his human clothes could survive his shifting, they fared less well with his swimming. Wherever it was they went when he transformed, it didn’t keep them dry, and he’d shifted back on more than one occasion to discover himself clad in bedraggled, ruined garments. Human clothes were not nearly as practical as his own people’s traditional garb in that respect.
He hid the hated human clothes in the shadow of a water-smoothed boulder, and finally, finally, he was ready.
The lake whispered welcome as he waded out into it. As soon as it was deep enough, he dove, striking out away from the shore with swift, powerful strokes. Even in this feeble form, he could have kept pace with a seal, let alone any human swimmer. But it was still slow, so slow, compared to the supple speed of his true self.
The water rolled curiously over his skin, exploring his hard planes and long limbs, murmuring with surprise. Its song echoed in his veins, carried by the tides of his blood: All seas are one sea, and all water is one water. You are of the flow, and yet apart. What are you?
He sang back, as best he could with tiny human lungs and a tongue like a beached fish: All seas are one sea, and the salt lies hidden under my skin. Patience. I will show you.
Bearing in mind Griff’s warning, he swam until the lights of the hotel were pinpricks in the night, and the lake yawned deep and dark beneath his fragile human feet. Like all mythic shifters, John could prevent humans from seeing him in dragon form…but he couldn’t prevent humans from noticing the effect he had on his surroundings.
When he was certain that he was far enough out that the wave wouldn’t attract attention, he shifted.
His own true body was incalculably vast compared to his tiny shifted, human form. A shock wave of displaced water exploded outward in all directions. The entire lake leaped, calling out in a mighty cry of delight and recognition.
Opening his jaws wide, he was at last able to proudly proclaim his name, his true name, every mighty chord and rippling arpeggio of it. The sound of it shook the water, and the lake trembled in awe.
The lake embraced him like a long-lost lover. It wasn’t the saltwater of the ocean, but it was still a taste of home. He luxuriated in it, weightless, stretching out every coil and claw to fullest extent.
I am born of water, and borne by water, and to water I return! he sang, and the lake picked up the melody and joined him in joy.
He could have happily spent hours there, swimming and singing and listening to the lake’s tales of season and sky…but his duty called him.
Do you know my song? he queried the lake. Do you know my shape? Did an even greater one ever grace your depths, a secret power amongst your swift-darting fish?
He’d asked this many times over the past two years, to many different waters. He had swum the fractal coastline of Britain and queried its bays and harbors. He’d called out to lakes both smaller and greater than this one. He’d even ventured into the oily, metallic waters of the great Thames river, and shouted his question over the crash and clamor of London.
Every time he’d received the same answer: No.
And this time was no different.
No, said Loch Ness.
His heart sank within his chest…and then thudded in shock as currents curled coyly around him. Despite the lake’s denial, it did know something. There was a secret here, concealed in its depths.
And it was debating with itself whether to tell him.
Please! he cried out to it. The heart of the sea lies empty, and my heart is empty too. If you know what I seek, if you can fill that void, tell me!
The waters of Loch Ness whispered and swirled around him for a long moment, eddies breaking apart and reforming like the thoughts of a divided mind.
Then it said, simply: Come.
Chapter 2
Neridia couldn’t believe it, but so far, the first date was turning out to be a total success.
Maybe all that work will actually pay off!
She’d left nothing to chance this time. After a long string of disastrous dates with the freaks and perverts who were attracted to her own online profile, she’d gone fishing for herself.
She’d scoured the profiles of every man within a hundred miles. She ignored their pictures—except to weed out the ones who were clearly far too good-looking for someone like her—and concentrated on their words. She’d created spreadsheets to analyze their professed interests and backgrounds and dreams, comparing them against her own.
Out of a sea of disappointment, she’d found Dave.
He came from the Loch Ness area, just like her. He liked classic Hollywood movies and gardening and long hikes through the Highlands, just like her. He dreamed of having two kids and a dog one day, just like her. He was even Scottish-Chinese, so he’d understand the challenges of growing up looking a little different from most of the other people around.
To top it off, he was a park warden! There couldn’t be a more perfect match for a conservationist. They were clearly made for each other.
And there wasn’t the slightest chance that he would ever, in a million years, message her.
So Neridia had screwed up her courage, tweaked one tiny fact on her own profile… and messaged him.
As she’d hoped, they’d instantly hit it off. Now, after two months of increasingly flirtatious online conversations, here he was, sitting in a romantic little pub on the north shore of Loch Ness. With her. And, to all appearances, having just as good a time as she was.
Neridia pinched herself again, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
“I wish we’d done this sooner.” Dave wagged a finger at her teasingly. “I warn you, I’m not going to let you find excuses to delay our next date for another two months. No matter how busy you may be.”
Neridia shifted a little in her
chair, a stab of guilt twisting her stomach. She was glad that her dark skin hid the blush rising in her cheeks.
Despite what she’d told Dave, she hadn’t been busy at all. It had been the same quiet, lonely routine as always—long, solitary treks cataloging evidence of deer activity for her job, followed by long, solitary evenings back in her small lakeside cottage. She could have gone out to meet Dave at any time.
Except, of course, that then he would have seen her. And that would have been the last she’d have seen of him.
“Oh, w-well, there’s been a lot of work to do, what with the proposal to reintroduce wolves into the area,” she said, her words sounding unconvincing even to her own ears.
She’d never been a good liar. Dave was looking at her a bit funny, as if he could tell something was up. Seeking to distract him, she placed her hand on his, smiling across the table at him.
“I’m glad we got to know each other first, before we met in person.” That was perfectly true. “Don’t you think there’s something to be said for discovering who a person is on the inside before getting distracted by what they look like on the outside?”
Dave’s furrowed brow smoothed. “Oh. And your profile picture only showed your face…Neridia, did you deliberately delay meeting me because you thought I wouldn’t be interested once I saw all of you?”
She flinched, unable to meet his eyes. “I’ve…had some bad experiences.”
“Then those guys were idiots.” She looked up in surprise, and discovered that he was smiling at her. “You’re stunning. Maybe some fools can’t appreciate a curvy woman, but I certainly do.”
“U-uh, um.” She was tongue-tied by mingled fear and hope, simultaneously marveling at how perfect he was and utterly terrified that she was about to mess it all up.
I’m never going to get a better opportunity to broach the subject.
“It, I, well…” She let go of his hand, before he could notice how much her own palm was sweating. “Um. It wasn’t my weight that I was worried about.”
Dave’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”
She’d made sure to arrive at the pub a full hour before they were due to meet, to ensure that she’d be safely seated behind a table before he arrived. He’d clearly been a bit surprised that she’d stayed sitting down when he’d walked up, but better to be thought a bit odd or old-fashioned rather than revealing her secret too soon.
I have to do it. I can’t stay sitting down for the rest of my life. He’d be bound to notice eventually.
“Your glass is empty,” she said, striving for a casual tone and no doubt failing miserably. “I’ll go get the next round, shall I?”
She took a deep breath, steeling her nerves.
Then she stood up.
Dave recoiled as hard as if she’d just tasered him. “Holy fucking shit!”
She’d changed one tiny detail on her online dating profile. Just one number, one single digit. She’d told herself that it was okay, that men did it all the time.
Of course, they were usually adjusting their heights in the opposite direction.
Still, it wasn’t like she’d claimed to be short. Dave should have been prepared for her to be taller than him. Five foot six inches was pretty tall for a woman, after all.
From Dave’s expression, six foot six inches clearly went past “tall” and into “monstrous.”
The raw dismay and revulsion in his previously friendly face rocked her back on her heels like a shotgun blast to the heart. She stumbled as she caught the backs of her knees on a neighboring table. Off-balance, she flung a hand out to catch herself, and only succeeded in upending the entire table with an almighty crash of breaking glass. The gang of men who’d been seated around it surged to their feet with startled curses.
“Hey, bastard-!” The angry voice stopped dead as the speaker got an eyeful of her unmistakably female curves. “Jesus Christ, the circus must be in town.”
“Nah, it’s just one of them lads what pretend to be lasses,” slurred another drunk. Neridia yelped, batting his hand away as he made a grab for her breasts. “I’ll prove it. Burst them balloons down the front of that dress.”
“Whatever it is, it spilled my drink,” growled a heavyset man who barely came up to Neridia’s elbow. “Nobody spills my drink.”
Neridia cast a frantic glance at Dave, but he was still staring up at her in frozen shock. He didn’t make the slightest move to help her as the pack of men closed in.
Turning on her heel, she fled, driven as much by that blank look of rejection as by the gang of angry drunks looking for revenge. Her stupid, oversized elbows and feet knocked into more tables and chairs as she stumbled for the door. Angry exclamations rose around her, turning into startled gasps as people craned their necks to gawp up at her.
She burst out into the night air and ran blindly down the street, hot tears of humiliation spilling from the corners of her eyes. She didn’t know where she was going, or care. All that mattered was getting away.
I should never have come. I should never have dared to hope.
I should know better by now.
This was why she never went anywhere, outside of her tiny home village where everyone already knew her. She hated being at the center of attention. She hated the way her size dragged every surrounding eye to her. She hated hearing the whispered and not-so-whispered comments rise in her wake.
Maybe it would have been tolerable if she’d been supermodel-skinny to go with the supermodel height. But a ridiculously tall, fat woman of color? The sort of comments she attracted weren’t ones of admiration. She was too big in every way. She occupied too much space just by existing.
Her lungs were burning in her chest. She was forced to stop, gasping for breath. Looking around, she realized that she’d unconsciously fled straight to the lake shore. Loch Ness spread out before her, vast and serene under the glimmering stars.
Stepping off the path, she picked her way down closer to the water. The lake’s surface seemed curiously agitated tonight, even though there was no wind. Small waves lapped over the rocks, their gentle murmur washing away some of the hurt in her heart.
She’d lived next to Loch Ness all her life, and its lonely shores had always been a place of refuge. She liked the unapologetic bigness of it, and the way it made her feel small in comparison. It was vast and wild, and yet no one could deny that it was beautiful.
She had so many happy memories of standing by the lake at night, just like this. Feeling so totally at home, surrounded by beauty and love, with the waters sparkling in front of her and a large, strong hand engulfing her own…
Neridia’s hand crept up to her neck, closing around the pendant she always wore. The single, large pearl felt warm to the touch, heated by her own body. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it pulsed with a life of its own, like a steady, protective heartbeat.
“Miss you, Dad,” she whispered, tears prickling her eyes again.
“Oi!”
Neridia leaped at the shout, letting go of the pearl. Whipping round, to her horror she recognized the five men whose drinks she’d spilled in the pub.
There was nowhere to run. Heart hammering, Neridia could only back away as they came stumbling and swearing down the rocky slope of the lakeshore toward her.
Her left foot splashed down into cold water. For a split second, she had a mad urge to turn and dive, anything to avoid the pack of men…
Water may look pretty, my Neridia, her father had always said when she’d been little, usually while pulling her back from trying to toddle straight into the loch. But you must never forget that it is also deadly. Don’t allow it to lure you into its trap.
There was no escape that way. And though she was big, she wasn’t a fighter. She didn’t stand a chance against so many men.
“Oi, freak show!” one of them called out again, with the loud aggression of a very drunk man spoiling for a fight. “You ruined our night!”
“I-I’m so sorry.”
Neridia’s mouth was dry with fear. “It was an accident.”
“Apologies won’t buy us a fresh round.” Another man thrust out his hand, palm open. “Twenty pounds. Each.”
Neridia reached for her purse, only to realize that she’d forgotten it in her headlong flight from the scene of her humiliation. Water swirled around her ankles, waves rising higher even though she hadn’t moved. It was as if the lake itself was responding to her distress, the previously calm waters becoming more and more agitated.
“I, I left my money behind in the pub,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, as if they were all just having a perfectly civilized discussion. “But of course I’ll pay you. If we just all go back-“
“Do you take us for fools?” The spokesman for the group knotted his fists, scowling at her. “You think we’re going to let you just stroll back into public and scream for help? No, you pay us here. Now.”
“I can’t!” Neridia flung out her hands so that they could see she wasn’t lying. “Look, see, I don’t have anything!”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “What about that pretty trinket round your neck, eh?”
Neridia’s hands flew protectively to her pendant. “No. You can’t have that.”
“Fuck me, it’s a real pearl then?” One of the other men let out an impressed whistle. “What’s something like that worth?”
“I think it’s worth five spilled beers,” the spokesman said. “Hand it over, and we’ll call it quits.”
“No!” Neridia would have backed away from him even further, but the water was up to her knees now. She didn’t dare go any deeper. “Please, don’t. It was a present from my late father. It was his final gift to me before he died.”
“I see. Means something to you, does it?” The man’s face twisted with gleeful malice. “Good.”
Without warning, he lunged for her. Neridia tried to evade him, but two of the other men cut her off. In seconds, they had her pinned, rough hands closing on her wrists and forcing her arms down. The spokesman snatched the pearl pendant from around her neck, easily breaking the thin golden chain.
