Flight From Death

  “Patrick Strand? You’re sure it was him?” He looked puzzled. “I haven’t heard that name for a long time.” He gazed at Bette, his expression thoughtful.

  “Twenty-some years, if I’m on my game.” Bette polished off the last of her meal and wiped her hands on a paper napkin, then tossed the bag and container in the garbage. “The last time you two talked, it ended up with a major argument, if I recall correctly.”

  I perked up. I hadn’t heard this story. I’d only been around a few months. And so far, with what I had heard of Alex’s exploits, I had come to realize that I was dealing with someone as volatile and chaotic as myself, which was in itself a scary proposition. Although he could be a real charmer when he wanted to.

  “What happened?” I had no shame when it came to butting in.

  Alex glanced at me, a smirk on his face. “Patrick conned me out of a thousand dollars that I happened to need very badly—”

  “Tell us another one, sugar. You know you lost it in a poker game. Patrick won fair and square. But you know that’s not the real reason you two parted ways.” Bette snorted as she tapped a cigarette out of the pack, shoving it in one side of her mouth. She smoked like a chimney stack and smelled like one, too.

  “That was reason enough. Patrick cheated—”

  “You choked!” Her laugh was raspy as she lit up. The NO SMOKING sign above her desk never detoured her. She ignored it, just like she ignored just about everything Alex told her. But she ran the company with an iron fist. There was no doubt who held everything together for us.

  “You old bitch . . . I never choke.” Alex snorted.

  “Sure you don’t, sugar. Sure you don’t. But like I said, you know that wasn’t the real reason you parted company. And I know you’ve regretted it ever since.” She winked at him. They teased each other constantly. It was their pattern. “Why don’t you run along and call him, Alex. Patrick needs your help, and you two need to settle up and put your differences behind you. It’s not like it was with Julian. Trust me on this one. Isn’t it time to let the past go?” She held his gaze and I had the feeling something unspoken passed between the two.

  Instead of arguing, Alex let out a grunt. “Whatever you think best, then, love. E-mail me the number.” He turned and went back into his office. And just like that, we were back to work.

  • • •

  So . . . I’m Shimmer, in case you’re wondering. And I happen to be a dragon. A blue dragon, specifically. If you don’t know what that means, here it is in a nutshell: I’m a water dragon. I’m connected to the element of water in more ways than you’d think, and I’m most at home when I’m in a lake, ocean, swimming pool. Hell, even a bath makes me feel more secure. I can sense heightened emotions, and tend to be a little volatile myself, just like Mama Ocean.

  That’s where my trouble came to play. I got myself in a really bad jam and—long story short—was exiled from the Dragon Reaches for five years and stripped of some of my powers.

  The Wing-Liege—one of our main council members and the advisor to the Emperor—commuted what could have been a death sentence and sent me Earthside. He assigned me to work for his friend Alex Radcliffe. That the Wing-Liege even admits to knowing a vampire still boggles my mind. But friends they are, and so Lord Vine—the Wing-Liege—gave me two options. Accept the punishment, or face certain assassination at the hands of my enemies. Exile seemed the better option.

  So I’ve been here about five Earthside months, and I’m slowly acclimating myself to human culture, but it’s not easy. I don’t understand a lot of the mores and customs, and I’m still not sure how I’m supposed to fit in. I don’t even understand the other Supes very well. I miss the Dragon Reaches, but since I was never accepted there in the first place—another long story, best saved for another time—I decided to give Earthside my best shot. It’s a chance for me to make a fresh start. One I’d never get at home.

  Essentially, I’m on probation. I screw up, and I get sent packing to a fate that might well include my execution. And while working for Alex can be nerve-racking, it’s not as frightening as the thought of having an assassin on my tail.

  Oh . . . last thing. As to what I did? Well, let me give you one piece of advice: Never, ever steal from a white dragon. Even if you think he might have clues as to who your parents were. Even if his sons tortured and humiliated you. Being an orphan is rough, especially in the Dragon Reaches. Being dead? Even harder.

  • • •

  I was just finishing up on the computer, entering some info on a case we’d recently resolved when Alex called me into his office. I made sure I had my iPad and headed in to see what he wanted.

  Alex’s office always gave me the creeps. The ceiling was high—which I did like. At about twelve feet, it gave the room an open, airy feel. But against one wall, a line of trophies faced the door. A rhino, a hippo, a giraffe, and a crocodile all jutted out in 3D living color from their mounting. Over his desk was a giant swordfish. Occasionally I’d hunted them when I was in dragon form underwater, but I never thought to stuff one and stick it on the wall.

  At one point in his two-hundred-some-odd years, Alex had taken up big-game hunting and this was the result. He had told me when I’d questioned him that it had been during a time when things like sport hunting was accepted—almost expected in some circles. And he also said that while he’d never do it again, he wasn’t about to disrespect the animals he’d killed by dumping the trophies in a thrift shop or just tossing them away.

  “I keep them as a reminder that I really don’t want to play judge, jury, and executioner anymore,” he told me.

  The rest of the office was a mixture of brilliant wall colors, old wood, and chrome and glass. Glass-covered cases displayed the numerous blades Alex had collected. He even had a bow and quiver of arrows slung over a coat rack. I wasn’t sure if he could use it, but chances were, he could. Alex was rough-and-tumble. He’d never pass for a cowboy, but he sure could pass for Mad Max.

  I slid into a chair opposite his desk, looking around. Two of the vases that I had liked were gone, and one of the panes of glass on the display cases was also missing. No doubt the victim of Glenda’s temper tantrum. But I decided it best to tiptoe around that subject and leaned forward, readying my tablet.

  “Ready. What you got for me, boss?”

  He laughed, folding his hands against his stomach. He had a flat stomach. Nicely flat. Way too nice. In fact, I noticed far too many nice things about him. It had been quite a while since I’d paired up back home, and I was feeling the lack.

  A grin spread across his face, showing the very tips of his fangs.

  “What are you laughing at?” I squirmed a little. His gaze was cool and yet, since the first time we met, there had been an underlying heat between us that made me uncomfortable. Half the time, I wanted to smack the guy. Half the time I was tempted to push him up against a wall and rip open his shirt and run my hands over that smooth, cool chest of his.

  “You. You’re always so to the point when you come in here.” He leaned forward. “You need to learn how to loosen up.”

  “I just . . . you’re my boss,” I muttered. Truth was, I’d almost staked him a couple months back. Granted, I’d been under a charm at the time, but the end result? I’d just about dusted my boss and any chance I had at making a go of things. I still was amazed that he wasn’t holding a grudge.

  “Yes, I am your boss. I also hope you consider me your friend. Okay, here’s the deal. Patrick Strand? He’s an old friend of mine. We go way back.”

  “He a vampire?” Usually vamps associated with their own kind.

  “Actually, he is, yes. At least now. He wasn’t when I knew him. He runs a B-and-B joint up in Port Townsend geared toward Supes—especially vampires. He bought it a couple years ago but just recently got around to converting it over. That’s when the problems started.” Alex winked at me. “Patrick always did know how to pick ’em, whether it was women or houses or jobs.”

  Now, I could
n’t resist. I set down my iPad and stared at him pointedly. “And you do? So what gives with Glenda? Your succubus girlfriend has anger management problems, you know. Bette won’t ask you outright, because she probably knows better, but I don’t have her filters.” Alex had just claimed me as a friend, and I was used to being up front with the few people I had befriended over the years. I found it saved a lot of trouble and misunderstandings.

  Or maybe not . . . As his eyes began to turn a dangerous shade of crimson, I thought maybe I had pushed too far. But a moment later, they faded back down and he slumped back in his chair.

  “Truth? I couldn’t take it anymore. Shimmer, that woman . . .” He paused. “I refuse to take orders from anybody regarding my business or who I associate with.” He waved toward the door. “Make sure the door’s shut, will you?”

  I hesitated. Alex didn’t usually open up to me; he usually talked to Bette when he wanted to mull things over. Something must have happened. I crossed to the door to make certain it was closed. “Okay, spill it. What did she want?”

  Alex shifted in his seat, playing with a pencil. The squeak of his pants against the leather was the only sound in the room for a moment. Finally, he looked over at me. “What I say in here stays here. You understand?”

  I grinned. “I didn’t survive this long by opening my mouth at the wrong time, dude.” The realization that I could actually smile about my past—at least to some degree—hit me. That was a lot more than I’d been able to do a few months back.

  With a laugh, Alex threw the pen back on the desk. “No, I don’t suppose you did. All right. Glenda ordered me to fire Bette.”

  I blinked. Bette was the glue that held the agency together. She made it run like a well-oiled machine. And Glenda . . . didn’t have a stake in the business, so to speak. “Why the hell . . . Wait. Was it because you two were an item way back when?”

  He nodded. “Glenda’s insanely jealous, but she expects me to accept her nature without question. She’s a succubus, for fuck’s sake. I know I’m not enough for her. But if I accept her need to feed on sex from others, she’s jolly well going to accept that I have women friends. I don’t usually sleep around, not anymore. But I’m not about to kick out one of the best friends I’ve ever had just to make my overly possessive girlfriend happy.”

  Now I understood why he was talking to me instead of to Bette. “You don’t want Bette to know about this.”

  He inclined his head. “Exactly. First, it would just piss her off, and a pissed-off Melusine is a dangerous enemy. Second . . . I think it would hurt her feelings, even though I told Glenda to fuck off.”

  “So you broke up with your girlfriend to save a friendship.”

  “No, I broke up with my girlfriend because I’m tired of batshit crazy. I can handle regular crazy. I can even handle temper tantrums. But I can’t handle someone trying to run my life for me or dictate who I do—or do not—befriend or hire for my agency. If Bette asks, I just had enough. That’s what I’m going to tell her. Just . . . one argument too many.” He leaned forward, a pale smile on his lips. His voice dropped as he said, “I’ve been thinking for a while that it’s time I moved on. Find someone more my speed, you know?”

  His gaze was unwavering and I couldn’t look away. Those frosty eyes were gorgeous, wide and luminous, and below them, the narrow, sculpted nose, and pale stretch of lips mesmerized me. The intensity of emotion that I felt rushing across the desk overwhelmed me—blue dragons were good at picking up on emotions—and I found myself wanting to reach out and touch those lips, to draw my fingers across them.

  All too aware that I was breathing rapidly, I forced myself to lean back and clear my throat. “Yeah . . . I know.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm the heat that was beginning to work its way up my body. From the beginning, I had found Alex attractive, but I knew it would be a mistake to act on it. He and I were like oil and water. And he was my boss. And he had a jealous girlfriend.

  Strike that last . . .

  “Shimmer . . .” The corner of one side of those delicious lips began to curve upward. “Oh, Shimmer . . .”

  Shaking off the images that cascaded through my mind, I very slowly picked up my iPad and forced myself to say, “Maybe you’d better tell me about the job we’re going out on?”

  And just like that, he paused, let out a soft laugh, and returned his attention to the papers on his desk. “Right. The job.” Another pause, and the moment passed. We were back to business. “As I said, my friend Patrick owns a bed-and-breakfast up in Port Townsend and he’s having problems.”

  “What kind of problems? And what’s the name of the place?”

  “The High Tide Bed-and-Breakfast. It was supposed to open last month, but a series of accidents forestalled that. There’s more, though.” Alex frowned, staring at his notes. “Patrick thinks he’s being haunted.”

  Ghosts. Wonderful. I had very little experience with spirits and wasn’t eager to add to my repertoire. “And what makes him think that?” I tapped in a few notes on my tablet.

  “Strange noises, poltergeist activity . . . cold spots. Typical stuff. I told him we’d come up and investigate.”

  Annnnd . . . there we had it. A real case landing at my feet at last. Over the past few months, we’d taken on some low-key items, but nothing out of the ordinary. Mostly taking pictures for divorces or court cases. Supes were really good about knowing when they were being followed. It took another Supe with a good camera to record the necessary proof. But until now, Alex hadn’t thrown me into anything major.

  He had told me that business was in a lull, but I suspected he’d been turning away clients until I got my wings about me. Now, it appeared, he thought I was ready. The thought actually excited me. I was tired of hanging around the office. Hell, I wasn’t even used to staying in one place for more than a few weeks. Settling down was proving to be a lot harder than I thought it would be.

  “Sure thing. Anything I need to bone up on?” I’d spent my life breaking into people’s—well, dragons’—houses and rifling through their stuff. I had a decent amount of experience at getting myself into tight places, if not out of them, but working on a team entailed other skills.

  Alex winked at me. “No worries, girl. We’ll head up tomorrow night. Find the ferry schedules, would you? We need to travel from the Coupeville ferry over to Port Townsend. We’ll leave first thing after sunset, so pack a bag for a few days. You might want to read up on the town. It’s an odd place. Supposed to be spook central, from what I gather. I’m telling Ralph to pull out all the stops and bring our ghost-hunting equipment.”

  “Equipment? But . . . you’re a vampire. Ralph is a werewolf. I’m a dragon. What do we need technology for?” I knew that the agency had a store of EMF meters and EVP recorders and whatever else humans had managed to create in their quest to prove that ghosts were real, but really?

  Alex let out a snort. “Listen to me, Shimmer, and learn. Always go in prepared. We probably won’t need this stuff, but better to have it with us than not. I may be a vampire, but that doesn’t mean I know when there are ghosts around. Same with Ralph and you. Not all Supes are psychic.”

  He made a good point. “Right, then. Tomorrow night, we leave right after sunset. Bette can pick me up, I suppose.” I still didn’t have a driver’s license but was doing my best to learn, though Alex refused to let Bette teach me. He was making me take lessons at the Supe Community Action Council, which was just fine. Somehow, the thought of speeding around Seattle in a two-ton metal cage just didn’t appeal on any level. Even though, in dragon form, I’d dived five thousand feet down in the ocean, driving a car intimidated me.

  “What do you know about the house?” I created a new section in my notes file.

  “Patrick said the place belonged to a friend of his in his pre-vampire days. Guy by the name of Nathan Striker. We’re going to need to look into its history, but I figure doing so might be easier while we’re up there.
Meanwhile, I guess I’ll go home and pack up Glenda’s stuff . . .” He let out a sound; whether it was disgust or regret, I couldn’t tell. My bet was on the former.

  “How long were you together?” The question spilled out before I could stop myself. I clamped my mouth shut and stood up.

  He gave me an odd look. “Too long? Two . . . maybe three years? I don’t know. I guess . . . it was easier to just stay with her than face the problems we had. Nobody likes to admit they’ve failed.” With a sheepish duck of the head, he told me right there all I needed to know. It had been over for a while. He just hadn’t gotten up the courage to end it.

  I headed for the door, but then it hit me that we’d be away for the weekend. Together. Granted, Ralph would be with us, but a lot could happen in unfamiliar territory. I glanced back. “Alex . . .”

  “Yes?” He looked up, already engrossed in his Werewyx Search—the newest Supe search engine.

  I paused, my hand on the doorknob, but then decided against saying anything more. Shaking my head, I gave him a gentle smile. “Nothing. Never mind.” As I closed the door behind me, I realized that I was beginning to care about Alex. Maybe a little too much.

  CHAPTER 2

  By the time I headed home it was six in the morning and the majority of Seattleites were just beginning their day. Because Alex was a vampire, we worked nights. Luckily, since I was a dragon, I didn’t need as much sleep as humans and so I would stay up till around two thirty to run errands and get my shopping done, then sleep until seven, and arrive at work by eight thirty.

  When the Wing-Liege had carted me off to Seattle, he’d provided me with enough Earthside cash to set myself up for the first year. I was able to buy a small house—albeit in a ghost-ridden district that still creeped me out. But my home was a comfortable two-story bungalow that had been built in 1938, and the lot was filled with indigenous plants. Over the months, I’d managed to cut back most of the tangle and now I had a tidy lawn, an arbor draping with moss roses, and knee-high ferns that gave my home a wild feel while still appearing cultivated. A trellised archway straddled the sidewalk up to my house, and I had pruned back the honeysuckle draping over it, so it was still thick but not quite so aggressive.