by Zoe Chant
“Some shark shifters tried to scare me into surrendering to them, by telling me that it would be much worse if you caught me.” Ivy hugged herself, her body language an odd combination of fear and determination. “They said you can burn anything. Even a shifter’s inner animal.”
Commander Ash inclined his head in silent confirmation.
Ivy's lower lip started to tremble. “Can—can you burn away my wyvern?”
Ash considered her for a long moment. “I could. But why would you wish that?”
“I can't touch anyone.” Ivy held up her bare hands. Chase's own wrists still burned an angry red where she'd briefly grabbed him. “I'm poisonous, all the time, even in human form. I just want to be normal.”
“If I burned your wyvern, you would be an ordinary human,” Ash said dispassionately. “But you would not be the same person.”
“I don't care.” Tears welled up in Ivy's eyes. “I'd rather be anyone else but me. I can't have a regular job. I sell my poisons on the black market, but sometimes even that isn't enough. Then I have to take dirty money for dirty work, or else my little sister doesn't eat, and, and I've never even held her hand! I don't want to live like this any more.”
“She's telling the truth,” Griff said softly, his golden eyes compassionate.
“Wait,” Chase said suddenly, something about what she'd said earlier nagging at him. “What do you mean, some shark shifters came after you?”
“They said their boss was pissed because I damaged his plane.” Ivy swiped her sleeve across her eyes. The PVC hissed where her tears touched, acid eating pits into the shiny black material. “I don't know anything about that. My employer just told me to make sure I killed the pilot. He didn't care about the plane.”
“Connie.” Red rage misted Chase's vision. He would have gone for the wyvern shifter, but Ash flung out an arm to block him. “You tried to kill my mate.”
“I'm not an assassin,” Ivy flared up, her own fists clenching. “I took the money, but I only ever meant to make the plane crash. I tried to do it slowly enough that the pilot would be able to bail out safely, once they realized what was happening. I didn't want to hurt anyone!”
Chase glanced at Griff, who shrugged. “Still telling the truth.”
Chase stared hard at Ivy. “So if you're not working for Sammy Smiles, who are you working for?”
Ivy shook her head. “I don't know. I've worked for him for years—selling poisons for him to use against his rivals, mainly. Not to kill them! Just, just little doses, enough to take them out of action for a while, when he needed them out of the way.” She didn't meet any of their eyes, shame clear in her young face. “Anyway, he's always been very, very careful not to let me find out who he is.”
“Who else would want your mate dead?” Griff asked Chase.
“I don't know, but when I find out they'll be dead,” Chase growled. “Ivy, if you want to have any chance of not spending the rest of your life behind bars, you'd better tell me everything you know about this employer of yours. Now.”
Ivy flinched a little, her back pressing against the wall of the alley. “I—I don't know much. He normally texts me with what he wants, but occasionally he mindspeaks to me, so I know he's got to be some sort of mythic shifter. Um. I know he's rich. Oh, and he's got a thing about pegasus shifters.”
“You mean he hates us?” Chase tried to think if anyone could want him dead. The list was, he had to admit, potentially quite long.
“No, the opposite. He was very clear on this job that I mustn't harm any pegasus shifters.” Ivy glared at him, rubbing her side absently. “Clearly you didn't know that, though. You should thank me, Rainbow Dash. It's pretty hard to hold back when someone's trying to kick your ribs in.”
Chase furrowed his brow, trying to make the pieces fit together. He had a nagging sense that it should be obvious, that he just wasn't seeing something…
“Ivy,” he said slowly. “Did you say that your employer told you to start this fire?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Connie fought with all her strength, but Killian easily restrained her as Sammy strolled into the room. The shark shifter was followed by a lean, cold-eyed man, clearly one of his thugs.
Connie filled her lungs and screamed as loud as she could, desperately hoping to attract the attention of someone in the neighboring apartments. She only got off one yell, though, before Sammy's henchman slapped a calloused hand over her mouth.
“I'm afraid there's no one nearby to hear you,” Killian told her, stepping back as Sammy's man took over the job of restraining her. The pegasus shifter turned to Sammy, frowning. “I thought you were just going to send someone. If anyone asks me if you were here—”
“Now, why would they have any reason to do that?” Sammy replied. He kept his hands in his suit pockets, being careful not to touch anything. “Just wanted to make sure the job was done properly.”
Killian jerked his chin at the henchman. “You're positive no one will be able to recognize him?”
“See, that's the nice thing about working with undersea types.” Sammy's sharp smile flashed. “A lot of us hardly ever come up on land. Makes it real easy to find someone for this sort of quiet work.”
“Good.” Killian looked at the henchman. “Tell me you're a wyvern shifter. Out loud.”
“I'm a… wyvern shifter?” the thug said, baffled.
“That'll do.” The pegasus shifter took a small, sheathed knife out of his pocket. “I need to be able to say that I thought you were one. We're ready, then.”
Killian unsheathed the knife. It was only a small blade, but Killian handled it as gingerly as if it was a loaded gun. The edge of the steel looked corroded, and was coated in some thick, oily fluid.
Killian held the handle in the tips of his fingers, offering it to Sammy's henchman. The man glanced at it, then looked questioningly at Sammy.
The shark shifter rocked a little on the balls of his feet. “Now, I can't tell you what to do, son. But I will just say that the little lady here has been a mighty sharp thorn in my side. Not that I'd ever want anyone to hurt her seriously, mind.”
With a shrug, Sammy's henchman took the proffered knife in one hand, still restraining Connie with his other arm. Connie tried to cringe away from the blade, but even one-handed, the thug easily held her motionless.
With a quick, practiced flick, he drew the sharp edge across her cheek.
It happened so fast that Connie didn't even feel any pain. Then she realized that she couldn't feel anything. The absolute numbness spread out from the cut and across her face, terrifyingly fast.
“I hope it doesn't hurt,” Killian said to her, in genuine concern. “I specifically told my wyvern to make me a poison that wouldn't hurt. I don't want you to suffer, Connie.”
“You… won't… get away,” Connie forced out around her numb tongue. “Chase…”
“Will never know the truth,” Killian finished for her, calmly. He held his arms outspread, cocking his head at Sammy's henchman. “I need to be able to truthfully say that I tried to fight you off. Please, make it look good.”
Connie collapsed helplessly to the floor as the man released her. She could only watch, paralysis spreading through every muscle of her body, as Sammy's thug delivered a swift, thorough beating to Killian.
Chase, she thought desperately.
She remembered Ash saying that mythic shifters were telepathic. Chase was her mate. Would he be able to sense her distress?
CHASE! she called out mentally, praying that he could hear her. Praying that he was on his way.
“Enough,” Killian gasped after a few brutal minutes. He held up a hand. “That'll do.”
The henchman glanced at Sammy, who lifted one finger, scratching his nose. The henchman swiveled on one foot, swinging one last blow straight at Killian's face. The pegasus shifter cried out, hunching over.
“That was for sending my plane to the bottom of the sea,” Sammy said, his smile cruel and savage. “It's going
to cost me a pretty penny to get it fixed up. You sure your cousin isn't going to notice that it's gone?”
“I'll handle that.” Killian straightened again, blood streaming from his broken nose. “He'll be too devastated over losing his mate to care about anything else.”
“You better see that you do.” Sammy glanced at his henchman, his black eyes cold. “Just one last thing to do, then.”
“Boss?” His thug looked confused.
He never saw the pegasus's hooves coming.
“There,” Killian said, shifting back again. “Now I can say that the wyvern shifter broke in here and I killed him, but not before he managed to poison Connie. Even if Chase calls in his truth-teller friend, the story will check out. You should go now.”
“Not yet.” Sammy crouched down on his heels next to Connie, staring intently into her face. “No one crosses me and lives to boast about it. I want to see the light go out of her eyes.”
Chase…
Her vision was going dark. The last thing she saw was Sammy's sharp, triumphant smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Chase…
Even though they weren't fully bonded, Chase could feel Connie calling his name. Her faint mental voice was growing weaker by the second.
Chase flew as he'd never flown before. All the aches and pains of his battered body fell away, as nothing compared to the overwhelming need to get to Connie. He flashed across the night sky like a shooting star, not even bothering to make himself invisible. His mate needed him now, now!
…Chase…
Even as he arrowed down toward her apartment building, her psychic call faded away into silence. Terror filled his heart. There was no time to land, no time to shift. He folded his wings as tightly as he could, aiming straight at her window.
He burst through in a shower of glass and splinters, taking the entire window and a good deal of the wall with him. Even in the chaos of flying debris, he knew with crystal clarity exactly where Connie was. She lay prone on the floor, barely breathing, Sammy Smiles crouched over her like a vulture.
He tucked up his hooves, leaping Connie's limp form as he knocked the shark shifter away from her. Sammy went flying, smashing hard into the far wall. Sammy bared his teeth, his form starting to swell into a monstrous shark-headed shape—but Chase whirled, kicking him hard in the chest with both back hooves. Sammy went down, and this time, he didn't get up again.
“Chase,” Killian gasped. His cousin staggered forward, hand outstretched, his face a mask of blood. “Thank God. Sammy brought—”
*LIAR!* Chase slammed into him. Killian gasped as a thousand pounds of angry equine crushed him into the corner. *You hired the wyvern! You tried to kill my mate! YOU!*
“I—I would never have hurt you.” Killian's eyes swiveled, searching for any way to escape, but Chase had him boxed in with no room to shift. “Just calm down and I'll explain. You don't want to hurt me either, not really. I'm your cousin!”
Not kin. Chase’s stallion laid its ears flat back against its skull. Rival!
Chase reared over his cousin, his iron-hard hooves directly over Killian’s head. It would be so easy…
Too easy.
He flicked out one foreleg, clipping Killian neatly on the side of the head. His cousin collapsed, knocked out cold.
Kill! urged his stallion.
No, Chase told his pegasus, turning away. He hurt our mate. He must lose everything, as he sought to take everything from us. He will never fly again, never run again, never be free again. He will live the rest of his life behind bars, and every day, every minute of his wretched existence, he will know that he lost.
Chase heard the sing-song wail of an approaching siren. Griff’s friends in the police were on their way. There was no time to wait for them, though. He could feel Connie's faltering pulse as if her heart beat inside his own chest.
Chase seized Connie’s collar in his teeth, awkwardly jerking his head round to sling her across his broad back. She hung limp, arms and legs dangling down. As soon as he had her secure, Chase launched himself out the hole in the wall as smoothly as he could, soaring back up into the cool night air.
*HUGH!* he sent telepathically, his pegasus senses reaching out to find the paramedic. *I need you, NOW!*
*I'm at a traffic incident.* Hugh's mental voice was as terse and clipped as his physical one. *I'm a little busy—*
*I'm bringing Connie to you.* He wheeled round, locking onto the paramedic's location. *I think she's been poisoned by wyvern venom.*
Hugh swore, the mental picture bright and profane. *Then you'd better get here fast.*
Chase flew as quickly as he dared. Every slight slip of Connie's body across his back made his heart leap into his mouth. He kept having to twitch one way or the other to keep her from sliding off.
Fortunately, Hugh wasn't far away. In mere minutes, Chase caught sight of the paramedic's distinctive white hair. Hugh was standing some way back from a couple of smoking, smashed cars piled up at the side of the road. John Doe was there, too, wielding a hose to put out the flaming vehicles—and no doubt surreptitiously using his sea dragon ability to control water to assist the process.
“You're in luck,” Hugh said as Chase touched down next to him. The paramedic was cleaning blood off his bare hands with an antiseptic wipe. “I just sent off the ambulance with the casualties. Let's see her, then.”
Chase shifted, catching Connie in his arms as he did so. He lowered her to the ground, stepping back to allow Hugh access. The paramedic crouched over her, his face going intent and focused as he ran his long fingers over her skin. His breath hissed out between his teeth.
“Close your eyes,” Hugh demanded abruptly.
“What?” Chase stared at him, taken aback. “Why?”
“Because I have to shift to heal her.” Hugh shot a quick glance at John Doe, but the sea dragon shifter already had his back to them, fully occupied with the car fire. The paramedic looked back at Chase, scowling fiercely. “If you want me to save your mate, then close your Goddamn eyes!”
Chase would have happily plucked out his own eyes, if it would save Connie. He squeezed them shut as tight as he could, desperately praying as he did so.
Please. Please let this work…
A soft, silvery light shone through his closed eyelids. A faint, elusive fragrance filled the air, like lilacs after rain. Everything seemed to go very still and quiet. All of his aches and bruises faded away, washed clean by that subtle, healing radiance.
What's this? His pegasus pricked up its ears, nostrils flaring as if catching wind of a familiar scent. Kin?
Hush. Chase kept his eyes scrunched shut, not daring to risk distracting Hugh from his task. Privately, he swore he would never, ever again tease Hugh for his mysterious ways, if only he could heal Connie now.
The light faded. “There,” Hugh said, sounding exhausted but satisfied.
“Connie!” Chase flung himself down next to her. He cradled her as she drew in a deep, hacking breath.
“She's stable now, but she'll still need fluids and rest.” Hugh rose, pulling his customary surgical gloves back on. “I'm going to call an ambulance.”
Chase stroked Connie's hair back from her white face. “I'm here, Connie. I've got you. Everything's going to be okay.”
Her eyes fluttered open. They fixed on him, widening.
“Chase,” she said, joy and love shining from her face. She nestled against his chest, leaning on him with perfect trust. “Yes.”
EPILOGUE
One Week Later
“Are you peeking?” Chase demanded.
“I'm not, I promise!” Giggling, Connie clung to his neck, the blindfold over her face tickling her nose with every step Chase took. “But I swear I will, if you don't put me down soon. When you said you had a surprise, I thought you meant close by!”
“Nearly there,” Chase promised, which was what he'd said five minutes ago, when he'd swept her up in his arms, and fifteen minutes before that, during
the car ride from the hospital. Connie was starting to wonder if the next stage of the mysterious journey was going to involve a charter jet. She wouldn't put it past him.
This time, however, it seemed that they really were nearly there. Connie felt him fumble in his pocket, and heard a beep followed by a louder rumbling that sounded like a vast garage door sliding open. After a moment, the noise stopped, and Chase finally set her down on her feet again.
“I couldn't find a 'Glad You've Finally Fully Recovered from Being Poisoned By A Wyvern' card,” Chase said as he untied the silk blindfold from around her head. “Hallmark seem to have overlooked that opportunity, strangely. So I got you a present instead.”
Connie blinked, briefly dazzled by the bright lights after having had her eyes closed for so long. For a second, she just had a vague impression of a large, gleaming, olive-green blur in front of her…
“Oh,” she gasped, as her vision came clear. “Oh.”
The Spitfire listed a little, propped up by scaffolding on one side where the left wheel assembly had been torn away. There were great, crumpled gashes in the plane's underbelly, and both cockpits were completely smashed. The propeller was bent and twisted.
But it was hers.
Her Spitfire.
Her mother's plane.
“I know it looks a mess,” Chase said anxiously, as she drifted dreamlike toward the Spitfire. “But John spent ages searching the sea floor, and he swears on the honor of his people that he found all the parts. I've dried everything out and cleaned it as best I could, but I don't know how to fix it myself and I didn't trust anyone else to work on it without your approval. I promise, we'll get her restored, no matter what. You can have whatever you need to repair it, or I could hire specialists, or, or… Connie?”
Gently, as if the Spitfire might bolt away like a startled deer if she moved too fast, Connie laid her hand flat on the plane's battered surface.
“Hello again, baby,” she whispered.
