by Alix Nichols
Hopefully, soon.
Father had been tipped off that Chief Ultek and possibly Boggond himself were onto him. The Gokk houses, offices, and factories had been searched. The police found nothing. But knowing Ultek, the next time his people came looking, they’d arrive with incriminating evidence in their pockets.
Father had asked his oldest to go to Norbal and prepare the family’s relocation. Since then, Geru’s life—at least the parts he remembered—consisted of working toward that goal by day. In the evenings, he drank himself into oblivion in his hotel’s bar. Some mornings, he woke up in his bed. On others, he came to out on the street, naked.
Lucky for me there are no fines for public nudity on Norbal!
Geru pushed his empty glass toward the barmaid. “Another one.”
The man on Geru’s right slid his own empty glass forward. “The same for me.”
Geru had seen him drinking at the counter several times already. Probably a guest. A business traveler, judging by his neat and conservative clothing.
When their drinks arrived, the man raised his glass. “To your long and prosperous life.”
“To yours,” Geru said, raising his and struggling not to smirk.
A long life was not on his agenda. All he wanted was to last until he concluded his business on Norbal. Once his family was safe, he’d be free to take care of the other business. The business of ridding Xereill of the moron who’d gotten Etana and Areg killed.
“Why are you smiling?” The man asked, looking a little hurt. “You don’t think I look like someone who’ll live long. Is that it?”
Geru shook his head. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure. It was me who might not—should not—live long.”
Why in hell am I opening up to a stranger like this?
Geru wasn’t a talker, no matter how drunk he was or how wretched he felt.
The man dragged his stool closer to Geru’s. “Come now, it can’t be that bad.”
There was genuine sympathy in his eyes.
As soon as that thought formed, Geru winced. He’d judged Voqras sincere, too, when the cyborg had promised Etana would be spared if Geru gave him Areg. He’d sold out a better man than himself—a true hero—for an empty promise. Even assuming Voqras had intended to keep his word, Geru had known Ultek was involved. He should’ve predicted the police chief would have no qualms about ordering his men to shoot Etana.
“It’s worse than you think,” he said before emptying his glass in a single gulp.
“Did you kill someone?”
“In a way. My stupidity got people killed.”
“I’m sorry.” The man waved to the barmaid. “Another one for my friend, on me.”
Geru turned away unwilling to let the man see his face as self-hatred came down upon him. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He grimaced, his ears ringing and his heart pounding wildly.
When Etana was alive, her mere presence calmed him.
A laundry maid in his parents’ house, she’d been too far beneath him socially to build a friendship, like he’d done with Marye, his favorite “Bookworm.” It had been difficult to have any meaningful relationship with Etana, for that matter. Even engaging in small talk when he ran into her was undesirable. It could give rise to rumors and damage her reputation.
A good name was all a menial girl possessed.
So, Geru did his best to stay away despite the effect she had on him. Despite sensing she was a kindred spirit, a being who in some deep incomprehensible way, was his peer.
I need that drink. With a nod to the sympathetic stranger who held a full glass out for him, Geru grabbed it and swigged the contents down.
The man patted his shoulder. “Was one of those people a woman? Did you love her?”
Had he loved Etana?
Geru thought so. How else could he explain the way her presence had always soothed him? Not to mention how greatly he’d admired her resourcefulness and courage when she stood up for Areg, defying the realm’s most powerful people for a just cause.
It didn’t matter that he’d never been physically attracted to her. Lust and love were two very different things. For example, the way his body reacted to Marye’s curves was pure lust. Considering Bookworm was like a sister to him, that reaction was extremely improper and something to be quashed. What he’d felt for Etana—the affinity, the admiration—had to be love.
“I’d proposed to her,” he said.
“Really? Had she said yes?”
He shook his head.
The man’s eyebrows rose. “She rejected you? You? Such a handsome young man, an heir to a fortune, a rich-blood with a gift so powerful—”
“What the hell?”
Even as Geru spoke those words, his mind clouded and his body began to shake. Nausea surged in his stomach, whirled, rose to his throat and foamed at his mouth.
“He’s had too much to drink,” the man said to the barmaid while Geru slid down his stool.
“Can you help him to his room?” the barmaid asked. “His name is Geru. The front desk will give you the number.”
The man nodded as Geru looked at him from the floor before his eyelids fluttered shut.
The world went dark for a while. He was cold, extremely cold. Several men picked him up, carried him out of the bar and upstairs. They laid him down on a bed.
Was it his bed? He couldn’t open his eyes to check.
“I’ll stay for a while to keep an eye on him,” the man from the bar said.
“You’re a good friend,” someone replied.
Retreating steps, the door closed.
A hand touched Geru’s forehead. “I didn’t poison you to kill you.”
Poison…
“Given your earlier confession,”—a note of sarcasm tinted the man’s voice—“you probably wish I had.”
Yes… but not before my family is safe.
“I had to poison you to open up a channel,” the man said. “So that you could hear his voice.”
Whose voice? Geru was too weakened to open his mouth and ask the question aloud.
The man spoke again. “You’ll be sick for a couple weeks, very sick, but I’ll take care of you.”
Hello, dearest Geru.
This was a different voice, different accent. And it came from… from inside Geru’s head.
We won’t be able to talk much this time, I’m afraid, because the poison will soon make you very ill. My sincere apologies for that.
Geru strained, trying to form a mental message out of his frantic, disjointed thoughts. Go to hell!
You’re upset. It’s understandable. But everything will be explained.
“Get! Out! Of! My! Head!” Geru yelled.
There was a brief pause.
No one has ever resisted me like this. Your mind is as strong as your body.
If Geru had had the force to laugh, he would’ve guffawed at the ridiculousness of the comment. But his body was limp and feverish. What do you want?
No, Geru, what do you want? All those strange things you experienced, your difference, all those questions… Don’t you want answers?
“You have them?”
I do, and I look forward to giving them to you. I can’t wait to unlock your—
Suddenly, the voice ceased. Everything ceased—the trembling, the sweating, the nausea. A vision appeared before Geru’s closed eyes. A woman. He knew her. She beckoned to him. He had to go to her.
Shaking his lethargy, he jumped out of the bed, shoved his dumbfounded poisoner aside, and ran out of his room, out of the hotel, and toward the park.
His body began to change as he ran.
By the time he reached the familiar spot—a lawn in the deepest and darkest corner of the park—he was no longer Geru Gokk. He was still bipedal and shaped like a man, but his body was harder, his bones both stronger and lighter, and his skin rougher. A Ra-dragon.
He knew his transformation wasn’t complete yet. The next phase would last longer. It would alter him on the deepest, cellula
r level, causing pain and suffering. He’d rather not go through it if he could help it. But he couldn’t.
It was the only way for him to get to his mate.
Less than an hour later, Dragon flew over his mate’s place—a big house with the red roof surrounded by orchards and ponds. She had stayed in that house since Late-Spring. He’d been coming here to lie with her for just as long.
Except now, she wasn’t in the house, or anywhere near it. Her delicious scent still lingered, but she was gone.
A blackness came upon him and engulfed his mind, a hunger to tear the place apart, to destroy it simply because his mate had abandoned it.
The breath that rushed out of him was filled with the same blind rage that filled his heart. It hit the house in a powerful gust, just as a deafening roar exploded inside his head.
The fruit trees in the orchards around the house groaned and rustled. Defenseless, they bent down, trunks cracking. Some broke, others were uprooted. But that sacrifice wasn’t enough to assuage Dragon’s anger.
Glass shattered and the windows blew in. The power of his anger and frustration ripped shingles off the roof and propelled them high and far into the air. As they tumbled down, Dragon’s rage grew, and with it, the destruction it caused.
There was a tiny voice behind the rage telling him something. But he paid no heed to it.
The roof of the house came off. The walls crumbled. The odor of burning wood reached his nostrils. Next, the piping burst and water gushed out in several places.
When he drew in air for another seething breath, the whisper in his head became more audible.
Your mate is safe. She’s in the other house.
The roaring in his head stopped. Rising higher, Dragon took in the site. Gray ash rained down, debris and household items flew around, fumes billowed over the ruin. It looked almost… peaceful.
He shut out all sounds so he could hear the voice more clearly.
Calm down. Let the bond take you to her.
2
Marye stared at the gorgeous mirror on the shop’s wall.
A smile touched her lips as she remembered Nyssa’s words. “You’re the only woman I know who, when she sees a mirror, is more likely to look at it than into it.”
Well, this one truly deserved to be looked at. With its imposing size, noble sheen and intricately carved frame, it immediately became the queen of the Atiz Antiques mirror collection.
A fitting title come to think of it. The mirror was a rare First Eckme Dynasty survivor that Marye had spotted in the Eckmes’ Orogate house a while back and had finally convinced Aynu’s parents to sell.
Father was proud of her for sealing that deal.
It went without saying, she’d offered their royal highnesses a fair price. After all, Father had built his business on his reputation as an honest man as much as on his knowledge of art and artifacts. He hoped that with the right presentation and promotion, the mirror would fetch at least twice as much as he paid for it. Marye thought so, too.
The back-office door opened, and Father came out of his dark lair.
He stood next to her. “Our summer house was destroyed last night, and my daughter is smiling.”
Marye could sense how desperately he’d tried to inject admonishment and parental authority into his voice. But he’d failed, as always.
“I’m sorry,” she said, not feeling it, but trying to sound it.
“Such a beauty!”
Her eyebrows rising, she gave him a sidelong glance.
Father’s gaze had slid over to the mirror’s frame, caressing it lovingly as if it were a woman.
Which reminded her.
“Poppa.” She turned toward him and folded her arms across her chest. “Did you return Lady Boskki’s courtesy call?”
He shook his head.
“Why not? She’s smart, good-looking, and unhappily widowed. I believe she genuinely likes you.”
“I like her, too. I do. It’s just…” He searched Marye’s face as if begging her to understand. “I’m too busy.”
“Oh, Poppa.”
She hooked her arm through his and put her head on his shoulder. It had been three years since Momma passed away. But he still carried her in his heart.
Constancy in love seemed to be an Atiz family trait.
“Forgot to tell you. I stopped by the police station this morning to see if they’d found any clues on the site,” he said.
She drew back. “And?”
“Nothing. No traces of explosives. No signs of foul play.”
It had to be Geru.
There was no other explanation. She should’ve listened to her instincts and stayed behind until he showed up. That way, she could’ve warned him to go straight to the house in Iltaqa next time. He’d been there before as a Ra-dragon. Marye expected he’d turn up there tonight once he’d cooled down.
She nodded. “And I stopped by the hospital.”
“How are they doing?”
“Great, actually. Both will be checked out between today and tomorrow.”
The two servants who’d stayed in the summer house after Marye, Father, and the others returned to Iltaqa had gotten away with a few cuts, a slight concussion, and multiple bruises. That both had survived should be ascribed to dumb luck, Marye admitted to herself with a sigh. Not Geru’s efforts to spare them.
Perhaps she should stop calling that creature “Geru.”
Perhaps she should make peace with the fact that her kind and charming friend was gone forever. That he’d relinquished his Ra-human form, and his identity as Sir Geru Gokk, son of Sir Haddu and Dame Disree Gokk, for good. He’d despised it since his fateful mistake.
“I’m so relieved they’ll be fine!” Father tilted his head to the side. “The cops think our summer house was hit by a highly localized tornado. What do you make of that?”
“I can see no other explanation.”
Marye felt a pinch of guilt, lying to Father, but she couldn’t very well tell him what she thought had really happened.
He wouldn’t believe her, for one. She herself often struggled to come to terms with the whole “Geru is a dragon shifter who makes love to me in his intermediary form and calls me his mate” thing.
Sometimes she questioned whether the dragon was Geru. Even if in his two-legged form, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the love of her life. It could be just that—a resemblance.
Other times, she thought she’d gone mad after Geru disappeared, and her sick mind and had conjured up the dragon and the Ra-dragon to comfort her. Last time anyone saw Geru as Geru was shortly after Rhori had suggested he should kill himself. What if he’d up and done it? What if everything that had happened this summer was no more than vivid dreams—dreams which allowed her to deny reality?
Father’s voice cut through her thoughts. “There’s something you should know. Governor Boggond wants me to give him a heads up every time we acquire an Early Ra or Middle Ra artifact. He’s passionate about them.”
Marye nodded in response, her mouth tightly pursed.
If she opened it, she’d say something about Caretaker Governor Boggond that she shouldn’t. Not in front of Father.
Poppa shunned politics at home and in the shop. Political discussions were forbidden. He had no idea of her involvement in the Association. Given how little interest he took in anything outside of the antiques world, he probably hadn’t even heard of its existence. And it was better that way.
The bell at the entrance door chimed.
“Next time Lord Boggond summons me, I’ll take you along,” Father said, making his way to the door through the narrow aisle between bookcases and table displays.
“You really don’t have to.”
“But I want to. You’re the future of the Atiz Antiques, and I want you more visible.” He glanced back and smiled. “You’re ready.”
Before Marye could find an argument why she shouldn’t set foot in Boggond’s residence, Father opened the door.
“Your Roy
al Glory, what an honor!” He knelt.
Marye followed suit. “Bless your endeavors!”
Aynu—Royal Prioress Eckme to the world—and Marye had become friends through the Association. But that was no reason to dispense with good manners. In front of Father, at any rate.
Aynu touched her hand to her forehead and bowed her head. “May your deeds please Aheya. Good afternoon!”
“My lord.” Aynu’s steward Leehash brow-and-bowed, towering behind her. “My lady.”
With the formalities out of the way, the four gathered around the counter.
“I came to see the chalices Marye mentioned the other day,” Aynu said.
With a nod, Father unlocked one of the cabinets and lined four ceremonial chalices on the counter. “They will be auctioned next week, but if you believe the Temple should have them, I’ll accept the starting price.”
Father was a pious man. Whenever he or Marye acquired a temple item, or something the temple could be interested in, he always showed it to a prioress or a priestess first.
Aynu studied the chalices. “They are beautiful… But not something the temple lacks. This design is one of the most common ones that we have.”
Father smiled with relief. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you, Lord Atiz.” Aynu bowed her head. “The temple appreciates your consideration greatly.”
When they bid their goodbyes, Marye accompanied Aynu and Leehash to their carriage. “I talked to Nyssa yesterday. She sends her regards.”
“Give her mine.” Aynu’s wrinkled her nose. “How is she coping with the confinement of her hiding place? A free spirit like her—”
“She’s in excellent spirits.” Marye’s lips quirked. “I believe Jancel Heidd has something to do with that.”
“Oh, good!” Aynu smiled.
“For someone who spent a year locked up in a windowless room, living in the Refuge with a man like Heidd is a positive change,” Leehash said. “I can see why she’s content.”
Truth was, Nyssa wasn’t just content—she was happy. Despite the circumstances and her uncertain future, Marye’s friend bubbled with joy and enthusiasm every time they talked over the commlet. Nyssa had convinced her betrothed, ex-commander Jancel Heidd, to let Marye in on the big secret he’d been keeping from everyone—the existence of fallout shelters in the contaminated zone. And with Timm Itkis’s space suits, it was now possible to get to them without putting one’s life at risk.
