Being a true shifter isn’t the blessing it may seem. But through pain and darkness Perdita seeks to find her own life despite the ambition of others…
Chapter Two – Reparation (part one)
As soon as the bus disappeared around a sweeping bend I felt the snowbird feathers settle around me. At the same time something cool and sweet-smelling was wiped over my face and neck. Moth cleaned me with care and once I was sure my eyes were clear I looked into her worried face.
“I’m okay, Moth. But I’ll see that wolf at hell gates.”
“We see him there.” My partner’s eyes were fierce. “Can sit up, beloved?”
I sat, and she cleaned my hair and neck.
“Whatever he thinking?”
“Oh. He always wanted to mark me somehow. But I wouldn’t let him. I never quite trusted his motives. Turns out I was right.”
Moth showed her teeth. “I put tracker on the bus.”
“Thank you, my love.”
Her smile grew more genuine. “Beloved is entirely welcome. What now?”
“I need food so I can make the change.”
The fairy put a hand in her pocket and pulled out a cube of ambrosia which she popped into my mouth.
“More?”
“Please. I need to put on a lot of flesh.”
“Going for big one?”
“Yes, sweet fae. The biggest.”
She kept feeding me, and I felt the beginnings of the change pushing lumps and bumps and bulges into my skin.
“One more and I’m there.”
She fed me one more cube.
“I’m there. Can you call for reinforcements while I do the thing? And, Moth, better tell them to hurry or there may be nothing left to mop up.”
After which I lost the impetus to speak, as the business of making the change took up all my attention. Becoming a fire-breathing monster isn’t a sinecure even for a Shifter as old and experienced as me. It must be done carefully, as the skipping of any one of a thousand tiny steps could spell disaster. You don’t want a wing malfunction when you are hundreds of feet above the earth, any more than you want a leak in a fireproof tube so that you cook your own innards. It pays to concentrate.
When I was satisfied that I had the body right I took a moment or two to adjust myself to dragonish thoughts and appetites. When I opened my eyes I was surprised to find Moth was no longer alone. We were surrounded by dragons. A full squadron – or as dragons have it a wing – in my estimation surrounded us. I knew their wingleader by reputation, and I was grateful that the Queen had sent us her best – although I’d know why we merited such consideration before I moved an inch.
As always, Moth knew my mind. She came to my side and laid her hand on my neck. “They say,” she explained, “dragons lost two queens in egg and some drones. Majesty is angry. Was at agency when I call for help.”
“Okay. That makes sense as long as we have the chain of command worked out.”
The wingleader bowed his handsome head and the facets of his eyes whirled appreciation of my draconic form. “The wing is yours to lead my lady.”
“Thank you….” I thought hard. “Mandrake.”
He bowed his head, both pleased and humbled that I had remembered his name. He would have been happier if he had known my name in return, but only Moth holds that secret. However, he seemed a decent beast, and intelligent, so he didn’t hold it against me.
“What is the plan?”
I hadn’t actually got as far as planning, but I was sure Moth would have at least an idea. With her body resting against my foot the mind link was possible and I could see the outline of a viable plan of action.
“We have a tracking device on the bus carrying the females, which we believe will rejoin the bus full of males before both reach their destination. When we find their lair we will see how to proceed.”
Mandrake smiled a dragonish smile. “At least some must survive to face human justice, I suppose.”
“Yes. Pain us though that might.”
Moth poked me hard in the brain.
‘No eating.’
My dragon appetites rebelled, but Moth anchored me to reality and I beat down the desire for blood.
“It will,” I forced my lips to say, “be unfortunate if too many miscreants get eaten.”
I heard Moth sigh and silently promised her that I would control myself.
It didn’t feel like she believed me too much. I couldn’t actually reassure her and I felt sorry about that, but being a dragon, however temporarily, brings its own set of problems.
Moth made herself as big as possible and took her seat between the ridges of my neck. I spread my wings and she carolled her joy to be flying together. Once we were all airborne the dragon wing formed a rough arrow formation with me in front.
‘Are you in touch with the tracker?’
‘Of course,’ the laughing confidence in Moth’s mind voice strengthened me.
‘Direct me then, my dear one.’
She took the metaphorical reins and as our company gained height my heart lifted too.
‘I always forget the joy of flying.’
‘Me never,’ but Moth sounded as happy as I felt. ‘We shall enjoy the only bit of this day that is comfortable?’
I swung on a wingtip in obedience to the unspoken directions that filled one part of my mind. Below us the road meandered like a yellowish snake in the somehow grimy snow. We soon sighted the bus barrelling along at a pace that gave the lie to its general air of age and decrepitude, and once we were assured of being on its tail I whistled – in that dragonish pitch that is above the hearing range even of wolves – for more height.
‘We don’t want anybody cottoning on to the idea of being followed, do we?’
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