by Amelia Jade
“Like he was an animal,” Miranda finished, not shying away from it.
“Mir, I’m sorry, that’s not how I meant it.
The shifter woman smiled. “Yes, Riss, it is. It’s okay though, because that was how he would fight. Especially so outnumbered. There could be no backing down, or they would do to him what he did to them.”
“But he started it,” she protested. “They hadn’t done anything. I saw it all happen.”
“There was probably a good reason,” Miranda said. “Killers don’t become Guardians. They get weeded out along the way, and they definitely do not manage to stay Guardians for as long as Zander’s been one. Did you ask him why?”
“No,” she said, embarrassed. “I just sort of told him to go away.”
“You should let him talk, explain his side,” Miranda urged. “I know Zander. Not personally mind you, but by reputation. By all accounts, he’s a good guy with a short fuse, is all. But the key words are he is a good person. That’s what matters.”
“You’re probably right,” she admitted, feeling ashamed that she hadn’t given him a chance to speak. “I should talk to him. After work I guess I’ll call him or something.”
There was a knock on the door that interrupted anything further Miranda was going to say.
“Riss, what the hell is going on? Why isn’t the store opened up yet?!”
“Oh shit,” she swore. “Coming, Mr. Barnesworth!”
She stood, pulling the black dress with white floral print on it back into place, smoothing out her hair, and hurriedly trying to wipe away the tears and puffiness she knew was around her eyes.
Pulling open the door, she almost slammed into her boss.
“What is the meaning of this?” he snarled.
“Sorry sir, I had a terrible morning. Miranda was helping me cope. No excuse though, sir. I should have had the store open on time.”
“You’re damn right.” He turned to head upstairs to his office. “Typical human. Always thinking of themselves. You’re lucky you even have this job, lady. I wouldn’t push it!”
“Well that was rude,” Miranda said when he was gone.
“I have a feeling today isn’t going to be a pleasant day for me. I’d try and stay, otherwise he may take it out on you as well,” Riss said, giving her friend’s arm a quick squeeze before she darted into the store to open it up.
Not that we’re going to lose out on a ton of business on a Monday morning. Slowest time of the week!
***
As things would have it, the day ended up being quite busy. While Riss was happy for the extra money it brought in, it also had a rather unfortunate side effect. The increased customer traffic meant Mr. Barnesworth actually had to do work, to come down and be on the sales floor when there was more than a customer or two in the store at any one point in time.
This had the effect of putting him into close contact with Riss on a regular basis, which only seemed to heighten his disdain for her. As the day wore on his comments became more and more blatant, the veil of politeness that he’d mostly kept in place slipping with every occasion she was in his visual range.
The more it went on, the more she realized that Zander was right. Her boss, somehow, was involved in what was going on. He had to be; there was no way around it. It irked her to admit that the dragon was once again correct, but Mr. Barnesworth had changed too much since the day Zander set foot in the store. Something was going on. She just didn’t know what.
Things came to a boil near the end of the day. Riss had been helping a customer, who decided he didn’t want to pay the price for the quality of goods that he wanted. As the bear shifter left the store, Riss could feel Barnesworth’s eyes boring little circles into the back of her skull.
Turning, she walked toward the counter after putting the articles of clothing away. The entire journey of perhaps seven steps, she could feel him staring at her.
“I knew I should have hired a nice little shifter girl instead of you,” Barnesworth hissed. “She wouldn’t have lost that sale.”
Riss stopped in her tracks, eyes closed. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she tried to ignore the comments, letting them slide by without saying anything further.
Don’t do it. He’s not worth it. He’s just a bigoted old man. You can’t change that. Just let it go.
“A shifter would have made that sale, but I guess like the rest of your kind, you just aren’t good enough.”
Okay, that does it.
“Are you fucking stupid?” she snapped. “I’ve made this store more money today than it’s made in a single day in months, and you’re complaining because one person couldn’t be convinced to buy your horrifically overpriced shit? Seriously? I get that I’m human, and you can’t wrap your tiny little brain around the fact that we aren’t completely useless. But looking at the numbers alone should be enough to prove that I’m a damn good employee you flea-bitten mongrel!”
Uh-oh.
Riss had gone too far with that last comment, and she knew it immediately. There was no sense in apologizing though as Barnesworth cleared the counter in a single bound, advancing toward her even as Riss backed away, trying to circle around to the door.
“What did you call me?” he asked in a low voice, easily keeping himself between her and the front.
“I should probably apologize,” she said, no trace of apology in her voice. “But something tells me not only is it too late, but that you’d probably just find some way to discredit me as a human thing. So you know what? Fuck you, Jerry,” she spat, using his first name.
“It’s Mr. Barnesworth,” he shrieked, charging at her.
Riss had known that, but she had intentionally used his first name to try and provoke him. Why he hated it with such a passion, she wouldn’t know. But he did. It had taken her three years of working at the store to learn it, and she’d hoarded that knowledge until the proper time to use it came about. Now she had.
Now, as the wolf-shifter charged at her, practically foaming at the mouth, she ducked out of the way, pulling the clothing rack down on top of him. Suits and pants cascaded over, covering Jerry completely. He stood up with a growl, tearing them off his head, just as the thick metal bar came after them, conking him perfectly on the side of his face.
Barnesworth let loose a wolf’s howl and ripped himself free of the mess.
Riss was almost to the door by that point, but he easily got there first, barricading himself in the door frame. A hand reached out and seemed to just tap Riss in the chest, but she went flying back ten feet, crashing through a table and coming to a halt among the display shoes and their boxes.
Despite all that, she smiled.
Mr. Barnesworth paused as he took a step forward.
“Why are you smiling, you pathetic human? I’m about to end your life.”
Riss laughed, which only seemed to enrage him even more. “Stop smiling!” he howled. “Why are you so happy?”
“She’s happy,” a deep voice growled from the doorway, the angry basso filling the shop with ease. “Because she knows that you’re done picking on her.”
A giant hand grabbed Barnesworth by the neck and pulled him back through the door and deposited him into the middle of the street.
Riss scrambled to her feet and followed Zander outside as the Guardian advanced on her boss with slow, measured steps.
“Please don’t kill him!” she shouted.
Zander paused. Barnesworth took that time to try and push himself farther away, but Zander’s booted foot descended on his ankle, pinning it in place.
“Why not?” he asked, twisting his head back to look at her.
Riss saw the rage burning in his eyes, the fuse of his temper ignited and burning brightly. She needed to defuse it, and quickly, before he did something he regretted.
“Because he doesn’t deserve it. He’s not worth such a quick end.”
Zander’s muscles twitched as she watched, but he stayed where he was, looking at her angrily. Riss star
ed him down, knowing the anger wasn’t directed at her, but was simply a reflection of his feelings toward Barnesworth.
“So I should just let him go?” he growled, “after all that he did to you?”
Riss shrugged. “I mean, you can break some of his bones I guess. I’m not opposed to you hurting him. Just no killing,” she said, stepping forward and laying a staying hand on his shoulder.
“Very well,” Zander said, releasing the ankle he had trapped.
Mr. Barnesworth got to his feet and looked back and forth at the two of them. “People will hear about—”
Zander’s fist crashed into his mouth, smashing his jaw and sending the man tumbling across the cobblestone roadway until he landed against the stone wall of the storefront there, leaving a baseball-sized dent in the wall from where his head impacted.
“Of course, now I have no job,” she said, staring in disgust at her boss.
Former boss, I guess. Time to start looking for a new job if I want those niceties like a roof over my head or food on the table.
“What happened?” Zander asked.
Riss looked up at him, not sure she felt like talking.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” she said. “I do sincerely appreciate it, though I’m not sure I want to know how you were able to get here so swiftly. But regardless, I am appreciative of that. But I don’t know if I’m ready to move past that, and accept that the Zander I saw this morning is the Zander that lives within you.”
The big dragon shifter visibly wilted, his shoulders slumping.
“Listen, Riss,” he tried to say, but she held up a hand.
“I’m sorry, Zander. I just need more time, I think. I need to think this over. I’m still appalled by what I saw from you earlier.
His sandy hair seemed to droop along with everything else. The normally vivid, brilliant brass-brown eyes were dull and glossed over at her words.
“Very well,” he said dejectedly, his voice devoid of its normal power. “I shall leave. You have my number if you wish to talk and hear my side of things.”
With that, he was gone.
Across the street, Jerry groaned and began to stir.
Time to go. Best not to be here when he comes to, because without Zander around, he’ll be looking for a target. I should tell Miranda too, if she doesn’t already know.
Riss grabbed her things and ran for home.
Chapter Nine
Zander
Rejected by Riss, and not on Guardian duty for several days, Zander had nowhere to go.
So, he ended up at a bar.
Although the shifters of Cadia liked their ice cream, they liked their booze better. Nearly two dozen bars and pubs existed in and around the town at the heart of Cadian territory. Some were classy joints where people went to be seen. Where the rich and powerful showed their faces, to prove that they were, in fact, rich and powerful. Where those below them could get a glimpse of them, but still never be allowed past that black velvet VIP rope, which just enhanced their prestige even more.
Others were rundown, ramshackle joints were people went not to be seen. Zander initially contemplated one of these places, but decided if he did, he would just end up in another fight. So, in a move born of logic, and likely from the memory of what Riss had said to him, he chose a middle-of-the-road establishment.
The Barking Squirrel was not a place he frequented often, which also meant that he was unlikely to run into any old foes or comrades there. Hopefully it meant he would be able to drink in peace, without having to make any small talk.
He pushed his way through a set of double doors spaced just far enough apart to ensure one had time to close before the other opened—thus ensuring no sunlight entered the bar. Zander surveyed the place, looking for a good, quiet area to set up shop and do some drinking.
The bar was fairly straightforward. Free-standing tables straight ahead, booths lining the left and right walls, and a big bar stretching across the middle half of the back wall. An employee entrance to the right of the bar, and washrooms to the left.
Zander went to the right, picking out an empty booth in the far corner, right next to the employee entrance. He order three beers and hunched over, back to the door, so that he would hopefully not have to deal with anyone who came in, keeping his presence anonymous.
His lips had no sooner touched the first glass of beer before someone spoke his name.
“Z, is that you? Z, it is you!”
Are you fucking kidding me? Of all the places, in all the…
“Hi Kieran,” he said, trying to hide his grimace as his cousin slid into the booth across from him.
“I thought it was you, by gosh!” Kieran said, slapping the flat of his palm on the thick wooden tabletop.
He looked at his hand and the sticky surface, as if hoping to be able to wipe it somewhere.
“What are you doing here?” Zander asked. “And don’t call me Z.”
“Come on, Z. I saw you walking on by, and I thought I’d stop by, say hello, say I’m sorry, all that stuff.”
Zander rolled his eyes. Kieran was his cousin, older by about a century. He never failed to rub in that fact, treating Zander like he was just a little child, despite him being almost a quarter millennia old.
“Sorry for what?” he asked, knowing Kieran wouldn’t rest until Zander asked the question he was waiting to ask.
“I thought you knew?” he asked with false surprise. “About me being named successor of house Pierce.”
“Nothing’s happened yet,” Zander replied dully, tossing back half the mug of beer in front of him in one go.
He was going to need more than three to put up with Kieran. His cousin was an asshole, plain and simple. Not just a jerk by nature, but he actually seemed to go out of his way to be rude to people, though he did it under the guise of being friendly.
Already Zander was resisting the urge to do to him what he’d done to Riss’s boss.
Riss.
She hated him now, and there was nothing Zander could do about it. She was right, in a way. He had lost control that morning. Attacking the panthers was still something he maintained was the proper decision. But the cold-bloodedness with which he went about it was not. The taunting and maniacal laughter, that was not acceptable. He needed to be better.
He would be better.
For her.
That revelation smacked into him like a closed fist.
Riss held that much power over him that he would vow to change his ways, simply because of her.
No, not simply because of her. Because she was right. It’s just that I’m willing to listen to her, compared to others. Because she’s worth it.
But was he worthy of her?
Zander wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question. A sinking sensation in his stomach told him it wouldn’t be what he wanted it to.
“I know nothing’s happened yet,” Kieran said, trying to appear solemn, but failing miserably. “Isn’t that the problem, though? Your little courtship isn’t moving fast enough for dear old mommy.”
Zander closed his eyes, teeth clenched together as he tried to let the comments pass.
He’s not worth getting into a fight over.
“What courtship?”
“Come on,” Kieran scoffed. “Don’t play that game with me, cousin.” Somehow he managed to make the familial word sound like a curse. “Your little tailor girlfriend. I hear she wasn’t too impressed with you this morning. Trouble in paradise?”
Zander stood up, downed both beers in quick succession, tossed some cash on the table, and walked out.
“Say hi to dear old mommy for me. I’d visit soon!”
The next time he saw Kieran, Zander vowed that punching his cousin square in the face would be the least of his troubles. It was unfortunate that Kieran was a fully trained shifter as well, having graduated from Top Scale like the others, instead of being some bumbling fool. That would have made taking care of him much easier.
Instead, Z
ander had to deal with a competently trained dragon shifter who had over a century more experience.
So far, every fight between them had ended with Kieran the winner.
Zander vowed that that was going to change if his cousin didn’t smarten up.
***
The flight out to his mother’s passed quickly, despite the growing misgivings within Zander about his relationship with Riss, and the foundations it was built upon.
She deserves better.
“Mother,” he said softly, sitting at her bedside.
Things had taken a turn for the worse since his last visit, the aging process accelerating quickly now as her energy and strength reserves ran out. It was like all the human aging that had been held off for so long suddenly came on at once, rendering her a frail shadow of what she had once been.
“Zander,” came the reply, so quiet it was barely audible. “My son.”
Taking her hand in his, he resolutely promised himself that he wasn’t going to cry.
“I’m here, Mother,” he said through a haze, trying to blink his way through the fog that was obscuring his vision. “I’m here.”
“It will be okay,” she told him, her weak fingers trying their best to squeeze his. “I’m ready for this.”
“I’m not,” he replied, and the ghost of a smile crossed her sunken features at the quip.
“Zander, my son. I love you so much.” It took her several tries to get all the words out. She was too weak, needing several lungfuls of air to speak so few words.
Warm heat tracked its way down his cheeks as he blinked, but he was past caring. His mother had always been there for him. She was his rock, the one person he could trust to give him no-bullshit answers.
“I love you too, Mom,” he replied, his voice breaking at the last word.
“You will—”
“Shhh,” he said as her voice failed her once more. “It’s okay, Momma, I’m here.”
Tears fell freely now, but he let them fall, unashamed of the grief he was feeling.
