by Livia Quinn
The power down doesn’t affect “future” Paramortals, those who haven’t had their “quickening” which can happen at any age I’m told. Tempe didn’t go through hers until a few weeks ago, at twenty-nine, and there’s no sure way to know where the next Paramortal will come from or which…species he’ll be or if the bond will be from blood or spell. I sound like I know more than I do. But I learn more every day…every hour.
Our Paramortals were not only affected physically and mentally but their bond to each other and to their mission—the defense of weaker beings—is on vacation and won’t return for hours yet.
This is how the bond was explained to me. It’s a Paramortal’s compunction to carry out their mission to protect others even if their power is diminished like with the blood Paramortals. That makes them good guys like me. The question was would there be enough good guys with power left to protect mortals and their defenseless comrades for the twelve hours of the power down? And more importantly—to me, at least—who were the bad guys? What were they?
For sure I could count on Conor, the faeries, and Montana who lost her Dinnshencha powers but retained her spellbound vampire half, and her fighting skills.
By now, I’d expected an all out good vs. evil war, but so far it hasn’t happened. Maybe they’re gathering somewhere like that last Hobbit movie. I felt a chill zip up my spine at that image. Better find out what Ryan wanted.
“Yeah, Ryan. What’s so urgent?”
Ryan laughed. “Well, that was a bit of a joke, Jack.”
I ground my teeth and pinched my burning eyes. Just what I needed, my wingman making jokes. Ryan had actually been my wingman in the service. I’d talked him into moving to Destiny when he got out and taking a job as a deputy. I knew he missed the excitement and danger of being on the front lines. If he only knew.
“So…”
Ryan said, “One of the locals was doing some night fishing on the lake, due east of Destiny. He swears he saw a flock…” Ryan went off in a series of breathless chuckles.
“Ryan…”
“Roger, Laser.” Laser was the handle painted on the side of my F-18 in the Navy. Ryan reluctantly got himself together. “He said he was pulling a fish out of the water and something dove at his rod. He couldn’t tell at first what it was, figured it was some kind of buzzard. Then, he hit one with his paddle and it fell into the boat. Not for long, but he ‘says’ it was long enough to tell it was some kind of um…pterodactyl.”
More laughter.
Chapter 2
Jack
Don’t step on the dragon’s tail.
Now it was my turn to stall the conversation. I thought through the possibilities. With my added knowledge of Destiny’s secrets, it had to include actual pterodactyls, but it wasn’t likely.
I asked, “Dinosaurs? Are you there with him?”
“No, dispatch put me through to his cell phone. I’m on my way though. He’s apparently still in his boat and ’says’ they are circling like buzzards. Probably are buzzards, still, that would freak anyone out. He’s alone on the lake…”
“Let me know what you find out. I have a few things to do here, then I’ll back you up.”
“Jack, I threatened to send the wildlife guys out to check him out. I mean… pterodactyls?”
Instead of laughing I asked Ryan for the man’s name and number, just in case.
There was a loud roar from the direction of the Forge that pierced the thickening layer of fog. Tempe had seen the creature in the swamp responsible for that sound. And Dylan had nearly been drowned by it…would have been if not for Conor, the newest addition to our band of heroes. Conor is a real live dragon with scales and everything. Massive—about forty-feet tall and dark as a black hole—with fiery red rimmed eyes and mouth, and a Scottish accent. He’s also a knight with the biggest flashiest swords you’ve ever seen.
The jury is still out on the nature of the beast in the swamp though because Tempe had also seen what she thought might be a fae, a naked woman with blazing green eyes near where she’d seen the ‘swamp thang’ as Dylan had called it.
Nakedness is a common theme around Destiny, especially with the Fae, who seem to think of clothing as a human anomaly, whereas I would prefer every one keep their clothing on to prevent a different kind of exposure—Destiny’s secrets.
I finished tapping the nails into the giant Cypress by the Forge. The tree was probably over a hundred years old and the mass of roots, known as Cypress knees, at the base looked like a congregation of smart wizards. If only…
The NO TRESPASSING SWIMMING OR FISHING sign I’d attached to it was a suggestion from one of the local moms. She’d seen the naked woman with the neon green eyes on the bank as well, and then heard the roar. She’d grabbed her boys, tugging them out of the swamp while they wailed at the adventure of it all. They wanted to “see a monster”. They just thought they did.
I wake up periodically after a nightmare in which a portal opens up and a hoard of really big, really bad creatures swarm the town, but so far that hasn’t happened. I was going to ask somebody why first chance I got. Not that I’m not grateful.
I’d love to think it’s all some kind of faerie tale passed down through the ages but I have proof of the Para-moon’s influence. I almost lost Tempe last night. I haven’t had a chance to show her how real my feelings are for her or to make up for the hard times she went through after her parents and the rest of the Paramortals came up with a plan to make her and her brother, and their enemies, think they’d been abandoned. It made me mad just to think of it.
I felt a tickle on my neck, a sixth sense I’d learned not to ignore in the Navy, confirmed many times by the sudden appearance of enemy fighters on my six. I spun and ducked just in time to miss the flailing arm of a blocky flesh-colored creature with an awkward gait. No, not the color of flesh, but actual flesh. It swung its ungainly limb again and something told me not to let it touch me. I nearly did the limbo the next time and stumbled, tripping over a fallen log.
It raised both arms to deliver a deathblow when I saw two giant swords flash. I found myself staring into the creature’s hollow eyeholes, its head and forearms on the ground next to me. I scurried away from them while the headless body above me simply turned toward its attacker—Conor. It didn’t have a brain, so it didn’t know…that was a mistake. In an instant what was a trunk and legs had been carved up into tiny chunks that resembled tofu. That was it for me and tofu.
“That should take care of the wee zombie until I can char the remains,” said Conor.
Montana leaned over to offer me her hand. I took it, once again noticing how weary I was. I’d been going on adrenalin for too long. “Thanks.”
I saw Dylan over Montana’s shoulder. She turned and watched him skip down the hill toward us, his expression curious, like one of that mom’s boys looking for adventure. He stopped when he reached the remains and bent over to get a better look.
His eyes widened comically. “What’s that? A zombie?” He reached down obviously intending to poke it. I grabbed for his arm but Montana was quicker.
“You doof, what are you thinking?” She thumped him on the head and he whined, making a face. I shook my head and met her gaze. Apparently I wasn’t the only one astounded by the change in Dylan. He was a far cry from dark and dangerous Diablo, the nickname I’d given him on our first meeting.
Conor offered to make a quick round and look for more zombie men. In the blink of an eye Conor shifted. Montana was already grabbing for a hold on Conor’s neck preparing to vault onto his wide back. Montana said, “I see why you like flying so much, Jack.”
I jumped in front of the dragon. Smart, Jack. “Montana, wait. Can you stay? I need your help with Tempe. I haven’t had any luck getting her up and around.”
“Sure.” Her right hand stroked the dragon’s neck, and she looked at him regretfully. “You can handle it without me, can’t you, big guy?” Something passed between them, and emotion flickered in his eye, making the pupil
flare and then snap back into a slit.
“Hrrmph!” Conor’s massive head jerked around. We followed his gaze.
Dylan was attempting to play jump rope with Conor’s three-foot high tail. The way the dragon eyed Dylan, it was obvious he was toying with the PI Just when he got a rhythm going, over-and-back, over-and-back, Conor jerked his tail out of the way and put Dylan on the ground. Conor’s teeth bared in a grin as he continued to twitch his tail, teasing the Inspector.
Dylan was persistent, though. He waited, eyes tracking back and forth, counting the flicks per second, and then he launched himself at the tail’s thick tip, wrapped his arms and legs around it and hung on like a mad spider. It was bizarre… and comical…and kind of sad.
“What does he think he’s on, a Carni ride?” I asked Montana.
All Conor had to do was bring his tail down harder and he could put an end to Dylan’s shenanigans forever, but his plan was more ingenious, and compassionate. When he lifted his tail off the ground, Dylan hunched, tightening his grip, butt end up. There was a quick burst of flame and Dylan’s pants seat ignited. He dropped to the ground with a yelp, clamped his hands to his ass, and took off for the swamp. Conor’s head swung back toward us, his big golden eyes full of mirth.
“We’ll take care of him,” Montana said to him. “I’ll be here when you get back. Be safe.” He took the time to char the tofu on the ground, then, with one glance at Dylan lifted into the sky.
I should have known Montana wouldn’t follow me up the hill. No, the Dinnshencha advanced toward the back door as if it were a den of abusers to be conquered, her feet making mushy noises on the dewy grass. “Montana!”
She turned. Her cobalt eyes glimmering with determination. I wasn’t sure what would be the right thing to do for Tempe, but I wanted to know what Montana had in mind, in case I didn’t agree.
And if I didn’t? A mere man wouldn’t have much to bargain with in this case. Montana’s Dinnshencha nature was in its sweet spot putting women out of their misery by slaying their abusers, the biggest percentage of them male. If Montana thought she was right about a woman or a child’s needs, she couldn’t be swayed.
“Look, I know you and Tempe are close—”
She made an impatient sigh. “Wasting time, Jack. Spit it out.”
“What if we can’t…” I closed my eyes feeling the muscles in my neck tense as I tried to put my fear into words, knowing now, like never before in my life, that words have power.
Montana stalked back toward me. I worried she might pull her imaginary sword from wherever but she did something totally unexpected. She hugged me. A hard-muscled reassuring hug followed by a short squeeze. “Don’t think like that, Jack.” And with that abrupt order, she released me.
Okay, then. Following her, I asked, “I don’t know anything about this power–down, do you? Specifically, I mean? Does it normally kill Paramortals? Aurora wasn’t looking too good yesterday, and Dylan…” We both turned and looked toward the swamp where Dylan was soaking his hindquarters.
She stared at Dylan for a full three seconds, and then back to me. With an arched black brow she said, “Let’s not borrow trouble. We have enough as it is.”
We were minutes away from more.
Chapter 3
Montana
You’ll have at least a second, while I draw my sword, to convince me you’re innocent.
I stopped in the doorway to the living room. Before I could call out or respond to what I was seeing, Jack had Phoebe’s wrist in a vice-like grip. “What did you do to her?”
I couldn’t believe he’d beaten me to Phoebe. And just as shocking was the large knife Phoebe had been holding to Tempe’s neck.
The growl that emanated from Jack’s throat was the declaration of a mate to back off. Alriight, Jack. Phoebe’s eyes flared as she looked down at her wrist and back up into Jack’s hard eyes.
“Just because I’m not at full power, Lang, doesn’t mean I couldn’t pull your body apart and send all the tiny pieces to the ends of the globe.” Phoebe’s eyes so much like Tempe’s were lit with something I recognized, an impending storm. But, she was bluffing. I thought.
I knew Jack was aware of the danger he could be in. And yet, he not only didn’t back down, but retorted, “Try it. After being absent for most of Tempe’s life and nearly getting her and your son killed last month—”
“I can’t believe you have the nerve to threaten me.” Phoebe stared at him in shock. I couldn’t quite believe it myself.
He said, “Stand down, and explain what you’re doing with a knife to your daughter’s throat. You’ve got two seconds to drop the knife.” Really. Then I saw what Jack held in his hand, aimed at Phoebe’s heart. When had he drawn his handgun?
My brows rose as I looked from Jack to Phoebe. This should be interesting. Phoebe took a second look at me, then—surprise—she dropped the knife. It clattered to the floor, but Jack didn’t release her arm. He did lower the gun.
“What are you doing with the knife?”
I addressed Tempe’s mother for the first time. “I’m afraid I need to hear that as well, Phoebe.”
At first Phoebe glared at us, then she sagged, the arrogant air so second nature to the oldest of the Paramortals faltering momentarily. “I couldn’t wake her…”
Jack scowled. “So you decided to stab her awake?”
“I wasn’t trying to stab her. I was trying to help, take some of her blood.”
I was speechless. Jack was used to interrogations though, and asked, “She’s already weak. How was taking her blood going to help?”
“Marty sent me a message. We have to get Tempe up and get over to Aurora’s.”
“A telepathic message?” Jack asked.
Phoebe tried to shake Jack loose and rise from the sofa bed but he wasn’t having any of it. “No, a text message. Our mindlink is down. He said the Faewith the snake tattoo that bit Tempe was a Naga. They are enlightened healers and generally good creatures. When it bit her, instead of delivering venom, like he thought, it injected Tempe with something akin to antibiotics. Marty said if Tempe hadn’t received the bite, she might have…” her hand went to Tempe’s cheek as if to test her temperature. She brushed Tempe’s dark hair away from her forehead.
Jack loosened his grip on her other wrist, apparently understanding the importance of Phoebe’s information. He’d been with her right after the Naga’s attack the night before. “Does this mean she’s going to be okay?” He looked worn and edgy, like it wouldn’t take much for him to snap.
Phoebe’s worried look met his and then mine. “There are no absolutes, Lang, but if we can get her awake and motivated, the Naga’s healing effect on her blood should only increase as the day goes on.”
Jack leaned over and kissed Tempe’s forehead. “Tempe, Sweetheart, wake up. Come on baby.” He motioned to me with a jerk of his head.
I stomped noisily to the bed and shouted like a drill sergeant, “Tempe, are you going to just lie there while that floozy blonde gets her hooks into your man?” This brought a frown from Jack. I shrugged.
Phoebe stood over Tempe with her hands on her hips, in a typical aggravated maternal posture. “Zeus’ limp noodle, Tempe. Are you going to lie there all day? Get out of that bed.”
Jack jerked back at Phoebe’s harsh words but when he cast a glance toward Tempe’s mother, he saw the same thing I did, the stormy swirling of her irises and a wash of rainy tears clinging to the long black lashes.
Tempe
Those things only go downhill with age…
“What did you do to her?” Angry voices stabbed into my consciousness. I felt a hand running over my cheek and down my arms, recognized the feeling of soft down beneath my other cheek. I was dreaming then. That’s why the voices sounded familiar.
My eyelids resisted. They were heavy, like a sleep faerie straddled my nose, holding the lids down with her tiny green booties on my eyelashes. I smiled.
“Open your eyes, and tell me why you’re smil
ing.” It was Jack’s voice. Oh, Jack.
“Ahr…” My voice croaked as I tried to speak. A callused hand ran over my hair, cupped my cheek, and when my eyes cracked open, Jack’s handsome face stared down at me, concern wrinkling his brow. He pressed his lips to my forehead gently, as if I might break.
“Are you okay, Tempe? How do you feel, Sweetheart?” He spoke so softly, soothingly.
“Zeus’ limp noodle—” Phoebe repeated.
“Phoebe!” I looked at Jack who chuckled. “Don’t encourage her,” I said, my voice raspy, but sounding a little clearer.
Phoebe went on, waving her hands about. “Well, you know it’s true. I’ve seen it. Those things only go downhill with age and Zeus is very ol—”
“Mother…” I groaned, pushing up on my elbows. Jack put his hand under my arm to lift me into a sitting position, but when I saw her expression I fell back on the bed, the soft fabric rustling. “What are you really up to?”
“…erm, what?” Her smile was sly, and satisfied. “It’s time you got up and tended to business, Tempest. You’re doing considerably better than I expected.” Both Jack and Montana looked at her with shocked expressions.
Flat on my butt and she thought I was doing better…than what? She droned on while I tried to tap into the molecular energy in the air. It wasn’t happening, though I did feel the connection between Jack and myself when he touched me. Was that in my head? The last thing I remembered was being outside, and being so cold.
My mother was still rambling. “…without the mindlink I was unsure. I’m very concerned about Aurora. Have you checked on her? Dylan is…”
“The village idiot,” Montana offered.
Dylan hadn’t been himself yesterday so I took this to mean he was worse. “Where’s Dutch?” My voice came out hoarse.
Phoebe’s shoulders slumped and she sighed, a martyr’s sigh. Pathetic but heartfelt, I thought. “You always were your father’s girl. Dutch is still with River. I came because I thought you needed me.”
