“Yes, here I am,” Lily said. “What are you doing out here in the woods?”
“I was looking for ye. The men were afraid that you’d wandered too far and I wanted to see about finding you.” A smile had plastered itself on Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s face which seemed forced, as though her muscles were fighting her on the decision.
“Why didn’t the men come themselves?” Something was working its way up Lily’s spine, telling her that the numbers weren’t adding up. Mrs. Fitzpatrick had headed back to town that morning; why had she even been at the Old House at this hour?
“They were enjoying their time together, those men of yours, and I wanted a nip of fresh air. Come, I’ll guide you back.”
“That’s all right,” said Lily, her feet taking root in the damp soil beneath them. “You go ahead. I can get back on my own.”
“Of course, of course.” Mrs. Fitzpatrick also froze in place, seemingly unwilling to budge. Lily tried to find her way inside the mind that, in that moment, eluded her own. “Only, you see, Lilliana, I was hoping to speak to ye. You know—woman to woman.”
“About what?”
Mrs. Fitzpatrick took a step towards her as Lily attempted to maintain a façade of interest. Every instinct was screaming to allow the creature within her to show itself, but she repeated to herself what Merriman had said: no déors.
“You must know by now that you will be having a child at some point.” The smile remained on Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s face, her teeth looking oddly menacing. As she spoke, the woman’s accent seemed to alter, or else it was Lily’s imagination. It seemed suddenly to be more high-end London than charming countryside.
“I…” Lily began, who worked at trying to decipher what was taking place in Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s mind. “I suppose…”
The older lady’s eyes narrowed into something that resembled a snake’s, her pupils seeming to take on a new shape. “You suppose? You suppose that all your hedonistic sexual endeavours might lead to pregnancy? Why, how clever of you to put one and one together and come out of it with two. You arrogant, spoiled child.” The words came out in a snarl now, as though spoken by a being who wasn’t quite human.
“I beg your pardon? What are you talking about, Mrs. Fitzpatrick? Forgive me, but are you all right?” Lily’s voice remained calm as she attempted to piece everything together. The birds…the sudden appearance of this woman, who’d always claimed to be a friend. This woman whom Merriman trusted. Who was she, really?
“A girl who transforms into a fire-breather, calling me a lunatic,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick laughed. “Ridiculous. Incidentally, I hope you enjoy the smell of onions.”
The last sentence made no sense, though given the woman’s apparent state of mind, it was no great surprise. But a moment later Lily understood as she caught a scent: a déor, she thought, or at least a shifter, was nearby. Before she could spin around, some sort of fabric sack was pulled over her head, and Lily felt a sudden weight around her neck, snapping into place; something cold, hard and impenetrable.
* * *
As her dragon threatened again to burst forth, it was stopped in its very tracks. Alongside the sack, which smelled of onions, garlic and several random spices, someone had thrust a large iron choker around Lily’s neck. This was an old trick to keep shifters from changing into their déors, and unfortunately it was a very effective one.
To change into a large dragon would put too much strain on her scaled flesh and at best slice into her. At the worst, the object would live up to its name, choking her until she had no choice but to shift back to her human form or to lose consciousness. Neither was an appealing option.
“I don’t understand,” said Lily from within her cloth prison. Her voice remained calm, despite the dragon thrashing around within her. “What’s going on?”
“We’re going to show you what it is to suffer,” hissed the woman before her, whose breath was creating a hot, damp pattern on the burlap that covered Lily’s head but did not entirely prevent her from seeing. “As I suffered all those years ago, and continue to suffer today. Women like you, taking our lovers. Our rightful mates. All because you’re some sort of a freak of nature with scales and a vile tail.”
“But, Mrs. Fitzpatrick—“ Lily attempted to sound innocent, childlike. To charm the woman she’d once felt was charmable. At the same time she tried to work her way into her captor’s mind, to read her and to understand her intentions. But she was met with resistance that once again seemed inhuman.
Something was being attached to the back of her neck brace: a chain, perhaps, and a moment later she felt a tug as though she were being led like a dog.
She would not accompany them easily, though. Instead, she stood in place, using her significant strength to keep her feet planted.
“Come on then,” said a man’s wiry voice, irritated at having to work for this.
“I don’t think so,” said Lily. “There is no damned way that I am going with anyone.”
“What are you going to do, Lilliana?” The name came out as an insult; a too-florid assemblage of letters that the young woman had never earned. Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s voice was emerging as nothing more than an ugly hiss now, anger radiating through her very flesh.
“I’m not going to do anything. That’s precisely the point. Unless your man here intends to carry me, I’m afraid that I’ll be staying right here.”
“You heard her, boy. Carry the bitch.”
Lily felt an arm around her waist, attempting to lift her off the ground. Well, this man was a poor excuse for a shifter. She knew that she could hold her ground for a time. But those flyers that she’d seen above had almost certainly been a surveillance party, and no doubt they would arrive within minutes.
“Conor,” she thought, assessing what it might take to convey the message through the air to his mind. “Please, come to me.” She didn’t know if it would work, if the power was strong enough to reach him from such a distance.
She tried to communicate to him everything that had occurred, thrusting images into her mind: the hateful woman, the unseen minion. The birds in the sky.
Of course, even if Conor did come running as a mere human there wasn’t much to be done against a potential small army of shifters. They would need Graeme’s help, too. Or Lily would need to rid herself of this aggravating iron neck-cuff. Where had these two jackasses even found such a thing? It was a medieval device; not exactly the sort of thing one bought at the local department store.
“Lilliana,” hissed Mrs. Fitzpatrick. “You have two options: be a bratty little bitch, or come with us. If you stick with the former, I will cram my pen-knife into your side.”
Lily felt a sharp point dig suddenly into the soft flesh of her belly and once again she sought the woman’s thoughts. Her assailant meant business, and the one thing of which Lily was certain was that nothing would have pleased her more than piercing her captive’s flesh.
“All right,” Lily said, trying her best to sound properly frightened. A sudden thought had occurred to her. “I’ll come with you. Are you going to take me to Him?”
“Him? What are you on about, girl?”
“The leader of the Stranieri.”
A low laugh erupted from the other woman. “God, no,” she said. “He can’t be bothered to deal with you. No, no. We’re going to ask you some questions. And then, if you’re a good girl and tell us what we want to know, we’ll kill you swiftly.”
15
Mrs. Fitzpatrick and her companion wouldn’t have a chance to do either, though.
The sound that interrupted their plan was a soft rumble at first, seeming to shake the ground underfoot in small, rhythmic tremors. Lily sniffed at the air, a feeling of calm washing over her. The mixture of aromas in the confounded sack over her head meant that she couldn’t make out the scent of the creature who was coming at them.
The rumble grew until it was a violent, deep roar, the earth giving in to the beat of large feet on hard soil.
Another sound qui
ckly joined the fray, a frenzied shuffling around Lily’s form as the two would-be kidnappers tried to decide what to do, and as though their confusion served to clear her own mind, she could suddenly read them.
In Mrs. Fitzpatrick there was utter rage, but terror as well. The woman had not expected this, whatever this was. This was something altogether new.
In the man, there was a sinking feeling of failure. He considered running, leaving the woman there to fend for herself. Shifter or not, he was a coward, plain and simple.
A hard gust of wind blew by Lily as a rough shape swept past her, tall and wide enough to fill her entire limited field of vision. The form knocked the man sideways so that Lily remained standing alone, the collar still around her neck. But now no hand held it.
Suddenly, another pull at the chain, and she found herself bending sideways as Mrs. Fitzpatrick tried to take matters into her own hands. The creature who had taken out her companion was still occupied with that task.
But Lily was not willing to move, and the other woman’s was no match for her stubbornness.
Once again the giant shape came at them, and this time Lily was pulled over sideways, crashing to the ground as the iron collar pulled hard at her flesh. But a second later the chain was granted slack as Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s hand let it go, never to reach for it again.
Lily lay on the ground. Nearby, a quick cry.
And then silence.
And finally she could smell it: a déor, musky, strong, powerful. But no dragon, this.
This was new.
* * *
“Conor.”
The word came from within the sack which still masked her. To Lily the form beyond the burlap was still nothing more than a large mass, moving about outside of the constraints of the fabric and the bloody frustrating shackle about her neck. But without question this was the man she’d met in that London classroom, who had now found his way fully into the world of shifters by becoming one of them.
Hot breath huffed in her direction, a large muzzle pointing herself at her face. Perhaps he hadn’t worked out the ins and outs of moving back and forth between human and déor.
“Are you able to change?” she asked, knowing that he might well fail to answer.
A moment later the shape backed away, and the breathing faded, changing to something more like a male voice emitting a soft moan.
“Does this answer your question?” His voice was strained, as though he’d suffered a coughing fit.
Hands tugged at the cloth which was wedged under the iron collar, tearing it away from her face. A moment later she saw those eyes: the two colours, which were bright and clear close up. The two dimples which had remained ensconced in the face that had never truly changed—well, not until a few minutes earlier.
“Hi,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Miss me?”
Lily’s arms shot around his neck, pulling him close in spite of the stiffness of her own.
“What took you so long?” she asked.
“Well, for one thing, I had a little trouble getting into my new outfit.”
“Yes, about that—what is it?” Her hands grabbed at the collar, tugging at the spot where it came together, the chain link holding it locked in place.
“Something large. Here, allow me,” said Conor, reaching around to the back of her head. In one smooth gesture he pried it open, pulling the iron into two solid pieces and dropping them to the ground. “Well, what do you know?” he laughed. “I’m strong.”
“You are,” Lily said, impressed and excited. “And for future reference, I normally prefer gold necklaces. And earrings are acceptable too.”
“Well, I have to admit that I prefer you in nothing at all.”
“Tell me what happened.” Lily was aware of several things: one of her lovers stood nude in the woods before her. Two bodies lay nearby on the ground, which failed utterly to interest her. All that mattered in that moment was him.
“It was Mrs. Fitzpatrick,” he said. “She came by earlier, and seemed intent on Graeme and myself remaining at home. She brought us beer, which I believe was intended to render us sleepy. But it seems that she didn’t recall entirely that I am a little adept at seeing the future.”
“I’m not sure that her poor skills of recollection were the issue,” said Lily thoughtfully. “I don’t think that this Mrs. Fitzpatrick knows all that much about us.”
“This Mrs. Fitzpatrick?” For all his Sight, Conor seemed puzzled.
“Just a theory. I’ll explain later. Keep talking.”
“Something told me that she was up to no good, and I didn’t like you being out here alone. And so I told Graeme that I was going for a walk and followed her from a distance. It was then that I heard you—felt you—call out for me.”
Lily couldn’t help but smile. So they really were connected, even from a distance. “I see,” she said. “And when exactly did you…”
“Shift? I don’t even recall. It was so odd. Suddenly there I was, a giant…whatever my déor is. Ridiculous that I can communicate telepathically but I can’t tell without a mirror what I look like when changed.”
“We’ll know soon enough,” Lily said, putting a hand on his chest. “I’m just glad to see my human Conor now.”
Her companion sighed. “At any rate, I feel responsible, Lilliana. I shouldn’t have let her get to you. I don’t know how I missed who and what she really is; I truly thought Mrs. Fitzpatrick was an ally.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that. This is not the woman we know,” said Lily, gesturing to the form that lay lifeless on the ground.
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“This woman was not Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and no ally of ours. She was a shifter, though I don’t quite know how she managed to look like our friend. And smell like her, even. I wasn’t aware of what was happening until I smelled her friend. Well, that and her behaviour; she was acting like someone who’d gone…what’s the term?”
“I believe you’re looking for the words ‘bat-shit crazy.’”
“Yes, those will do nicely.”
“Well, score one for you and slap me for not knowing what it was that I was seeing,” said Conor. “Here I thought we’d been betrayed, and even worse, that I’d just killed an old friend of Merriman’s. Speaking of which, he needs to know about this.”
“Yes, he does. I hope he’s all right; I have a bad feeling that he was summoned away by whoever was responsible for all of this mayhem.”
As they walked, Lily could see that the mansion on the hill, their beacon of safety, had become more than just shrouded in mist; it had grown blurry, as though a mere mirage, hovering over the landscape. The spell was breaking down.
16
It was on their way back to the house that they came upon Merriman, who, accompanied as always by a flying Barnabas, was jogging across the field towards them.
“Are you two all right?” he asked, removing the long coat that he wore and handing it to Conor.
“Fine,” said Lily. “Thanks to Conor, that is. Merriman, I’m so glad to see you…but I thought you’d been taken out of town on some errand?”
“I was, but it seems that I was tricked into being pulled from the house and you. I am sorry for it,” he said, running a hand through his wild hair. “I was told that important business awaited me in London and when I arrived, there was no business to be found. It took me a moment to realize what had happened, to my shame.”
“There’s something we need to tell you,” Lily began.
“I know,” said the man. “I know what’s occurred. Forgive me for delving into your mind: the woman who confronted you, who so resembled our Mrs. Fitzpatrick, was an intruder; a shape-changer, as you guessed. There are a few of them in this world, and they are very dangerous. Though it seems that our Conor here made quick work of her. Or possibly him, truth be told. A shape-changer is capable of altering its sex.”
“She—he—whoever it was—seemed to know Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s mind, somehow. As tho
ugh she’d read her past, or something,” Lily continued. “She talked about old resentments against female shifters…”
“Yes, when the changer takes on someone’s body, he or she often absorbs mental images. No doubt she used them in an attempt to manipulate you.”
“That’s one way of putting it. She tried to shame me. Basically accused me of being a whore.”
“Well, that doesn’t really sound like our Mrs. Fitzpatrick, now, does it?” Merriman couldn’t help but laugh. “Ours would have been much more passive-aggressive about it.”
“It did seem odd. But where is our Mrs. Fitzpatrick? How did this…shifter…know what body to inhabit?”
“It’s a well-known fact around here that she and I are old friends. It wouldn’t take much to find out where she lives and what she looks like, to observe her for a few minutes in town or elsewhere. But don’t worry; I’m sure she’s fine. It wouldn’t do for the Stranieri to harm her. Going after shifters is one thing; humans are something altogether different.”
“Well, this is all a relief,” said Conor. “Much as that woman can get on my nerves when she begins to talk a blue streak, I had no desire to discover that I was her murderer.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Dunbar,” said Merriman. “You’ve only killed two shifters.”
“Another dubious relief,” said Conor. “I’m not entirely happy about killing anyone.”
“Don’t you let this eat at you,” said Merriman. “You had no choice, and you will see that soon enough. All that we can hope for is that this incident will make you three extra-vigilant. These creatures mean business.”
“But—and I’m sorry to ask such a thing—what do we do about this? There are two bodies back there.” said Lily.
“I will deal with it,” said Merriman, in the tone of voice that said, “Don’t ask any more questions.”
Dragon Flight: A Dragon Shifter Menage Serial (Seeking Her Mates Book 3) Page 8
