“Yeah. Eyes in the sky.”
“Up, lass. Time to hunt.”
Smiling at him, Ferguson rocked onto the balls of her feet. The protective web around her dissolved. Green smoke swirled as she stood, grabbed his hand, hauled him to his feet, then murmured, “Clothes, please.”
Her closet doors flew open.
Dark fabric whirled across the room. Soft cotton puffed against her skin. One second she stood naked, and the next she was dressed and running for the door. Instinct took her out of her bedroom, down the hall, into the living room. Her feet thumped against hardwood. The French doors opened without her asking. She sped onto the private patio far removed from guests and the public areas. Rubber soles of her running shoes squeaking over flagstone, she jogged down the steps onto the lower level.
Her vision flickered. A switch flipped, allowing her to see in the dark. Gaze narrowed on the edge of the woods, she scanned the ground. Footsteps everywhere, glowing white against black earth, leaving tracks for her to follow.
Looking over her shoulder, she met Kruger’s gaze. “You shifting?”
“You got a trail to follow?”
She nodded.
He grinned at her. “Go, lass. I’ll track you from the—”
A snarl sounded beside her. Her attention snapped to the right.
The twin statues sitting at the bottom of the stairs moved. Stone teeth became gleaming white fangs. Alarm tightened her chest. She breathed through it, backing away a little at a time as stone transformed into living beings—huge creatures, a pair, one male, one female. Half lion, half dog, a bladed horn jutting from the center of each one’s forehead. Massive paws tipped with hooked, lethal-looking claws. Long, shaggy black manes around a lionesque head with short, tufted ears. Sleek body covered in hard scales overlaid with dark gray fur. And…
Bright blue eyes with vertical pupils fixed on her.
“Shit,” she muttered, glancing at Kruger from the corner of her eye.
Boots planted on the upper patio, he shifted his weight, widening his stance. She felt his muscles tense in preparation, sensed his magic spark as the pair prowled toward her.
“Kruger, don’t.”
“Fazleima—”
“Give me a second,” she said as he prepared to enter the fray, to put himself between her and danger again.
A noble gesture, one she appreciated, but didn’t think she needed. Not right now. The lion-dogs might not look friendly, but intuition reentered the equation, opening the vault of knowledge buried deep inside wider, allowing her to access ancient information.
Moving with care, she reached out her hand, fingers tucked under. The male came to her. Hooked claw clicked over hard stone. Time slowed, holding her prisoner as he butted up against her. A purr rumbled up his throat. She smiled, sinking both hands into his mane, ruffling his fur, scratching behind his ears.
“Fucking hell, lass.”
Reacting to his disgruntlement, she laughed, then beckoned to the female. Head low, eyes watchful, the beast prowled toward her, sniffed her knuckles, then pushed through to rub along her flank. With a hum of welcome, Ferguson took time she didn’t have to introduce herself, rubbing the sensitive spot between their eyes, enjoying the softness of their fur, marveling at their size and—
A gasp sounded behind her.
She heard the slither of scales before a door slammed shut.
A second later, Hendrix murmured, “Oh, my liege—the Haetae.”
“The what?” Kruger growled.
“Guardians of the Parkland, protectors to the innkeeper. We haven’t seen them in decades. Not since…”
As he trailed off, information flowed from the inn. She flipped through it like a student with a textbook. Finding the right section, she pulled the reason the Haetae had disappeared from the recesses of her mind. “Since my father died.”
“Was assassinated,” Hendrix said. “Yes, my liege.”
All the more reason to catch the assholes who’d tried to do the same to her. Still, she couldn’t resist asking, “Did you know him?”
“I served your sire for almost ninety years.”
“We’ll talk about him later,” she said as the Parkland pulled her strings, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand. Grabbing a handful of the male Haetae’s mane, she planted her foot on the second stair tread and swung onto his back. It came naturally, as though she’d been riding one all her life. “Shields are up. The White Hare is secure. Reassure the guests. I’ll be back after I catch them.”
“Oh course, my liege.” A gleam sparked in the gorgon’s eyes. The tips of his dreadlocks curled up as though smiling at her. “Happy hunting.”
A gust of wind blew across the terrace.
Heat pressed against her skin.
She glanced at Kruger. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. Awe and wonder collided as she got her first look at him. God, he was glorious…and huge, so big his bulk eclipsed the large patio. Dark eyes rimmed by a thin ring of crimson landed on her. Her gaze bounced around, taking him in: emerald-green scales, blood-red accents, enormous paws tipped with multi-bladed claws, clusters of spiraling spikes, some big, others small, snaking along his spine. And a barbed tail that looked wicked.
Pleasure and pride bloomed inside her. “Dragon glory.”
“Innkeeper magic,” he growled, sounding proud. Opening his wings, he leapt skyward. “Get moving, lass.”
She watched him go. Instinct whipped through her. Wildness followed, transforming her into a goddess of the hunt.
Tipping her head back, she shouted into the night. Her battle cry echoed, beating through the woodland. A long staff appeared in her hand, one end a lethal blade shaped like a sickle, the other fashioned into a spiked club. With a tug on the Haetae’s ruff, she wheeled him around, urging him into a full run.
They sprinted past huge gates into the Parkland. Ancient trees murmured their welcome. Birds and animals called out a greeting. Magic exploded across the landscape, narrowing her focus.
Movement to her left. Shifting shadows to her right. The scent of damp leaves and rich soil as vines flowed like running water, slithering alongside her.
Waking from decades-long slumber, more Haetae joined the hunt. An army of sleek silhouettes running in the darkness. Paws drumming against compact earth, beating through thick forest as she followed the faint glow of footsteps through the Parkland, running down the ones who’d tried to kill her.
16
Thick fog curled over his horns as rain started to fall. Heavy droplets gathered in the ridges of his scales, then rolled, making emerald green look black against the storm-damp sky.
A nice perk. A wee bit of extra insurance.
Not that Kruger needed it.
Protected by his magic, he flew undetected, tracking Ferguson from the air. He possessed the best of the best, a dragon’s-eye view, the entirety of the Parkland laid out in front of him.
Dipping his horned head, he angled his wings and dove toward the dense canopy. The tip of his barbed tail whiplashed. A sharp whistling sound sliced through humid air, boomeranging inside the invisibility spell surrounding him.
He barely noticed, didn’t care he flew without a wingmate guarding his six…or that danger sharpened its claws on billowing storm clouds. The sinking feeling nipped at his senses. His sonar pinged, radiating out in circles, searching for the threat. He could feel it rising, a crackling force in the distance that told him he was being watched…