Firefighter Sea Dragon (Fire & Rescue Shifters 4)

Neridia reached for her purse, only to realize that she’d forgotten it in her headlong flight from the scene of her humiliation. Water swirled around her ankles, waves rising higher even though she hadn’t moved. It was as if the lake itself was responding to her distress, the previously calm waters becoming more and more agitated.

“I, I left my money behind in the pub,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, as if they were all just having a perfectly civilized discussion. “But of course I’ll pay you. If we just all go back-“

“Do you take us for fools?” The spokesman for the group knotted his fists, scowling at her. “You think we’re going to let you just stroll back into public and scream for help? No, you pay us here. Now.”

“I can’t!” Neridia flung out her hands so that they could see she wasn’t lying. “Look, see, I don’t have anything!”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “What about that pretty trinket round your neck, eh?”

Neridia’s hands flew protectively to her pendant. “No. You can’t have that.”

“Fuck me, it’s a real pearl then?” One of the other men let out an impressed whistle. “What’s something like that worth?”

“I think it’s worth five spilled beers,” the spokesman said. “Hand it over, and we’ll call it quits.”

“No!” Neridia would have backed away from him even further, but the water was up to her knees now. She didn’t dare go any deeper. “Please, don’t. It was a present from my late father. It was his final gift to me before he died.”

“I see. Means something to you, does it?” The man’s face twisted with gleeful malice. “Good.”

Without warning, he lunged for her. Neridia tried to evade him, but two of the other men cut her off. In seconds, they had her pinned, rough hands closing on her wrists and forcing her arms down. The spokesman snatched the pearl pendant from around her neck, easily breaking the thin golden chain.

“No!” With the strength of desperation, Neridia twisted free of the men restraining her. “Give that back!”

The man dangled the pendant from his fist, taunting her with it. “Come and get it.”

“Your challenge,” said a deep voice, impossibly, from behind her, “is acceptable.”

Neridia whirled, and found herself staring at a man as he rose out of the lake. Water streamed from his immense shoulders and bare, muscular back. He didn’t stand up fully, but halted in a kneeling position, head bowed respectfully. His long hair shadowed his face, droplets of water glinting like diamonds in the narrow dreadlocks.

“My lady,” he said to her, completely ignoring the gang of men goggling at him from the shore. “Forgive my intrusion, but I cannot help but notice that you appear to be in need of a champion. If you would allow me the honor?”

Neridia stared at him, utterly lost for words.

Whoever he was, he appeared to take this as assent. He raised his head, his features still in shadow, and looked across at Neridia’s would-be attackers.

“I am the Walker-Above-Wave.” His voice rang out like a church bell, sending shivers through every bone in Neridia’s body. “Emissary to the Land from the Pearl Throne, Knight-Poet of the First Water, Sworn Seeker of the Emperor-in-Absence, and Firefighter for the East Sussex Fire and Rescue Service. You appear to have a treasure which does not belong to you. I strongly advise that you return it.”

As one, all five drunks gaped at him.

“You what?” one of them said at last.

“I am the Walker-Above-Wave,” the man began again, speaking more slowly this time as though he’d just revised his estimate of their intelligence sharply downward. “Emissary to the-“

“You’re fucking mental, is what you are.” The man still clutching Neridia’s pearl rallied, knotting his free fist. “Piss off, fishboy. This is none of your business.”

“As I now have the great honor of being the noble lady’s Champion in this matter, I believe that you will find that it is.” There was an odd, musical quality to his voice. Neridia couldn’t quite place his accent. “Do you wish to withdraw your challenge?”

The spokesman set his feet in an aggressive stance. “There’s five of us and one of you, fucker.”

“Ah.” The man nodded gravely, his mane of dreadlocks shifting over his massive shoulders. “Yes, that is an inconvenience. I too have other matters to which I must attend tonight. Though it is unorthodox, in the interests of concluding this disagreement swiftly, I would be pleased to duel you all simultaneously rather than sequentially.”

“Whazzat mean?” one of the drunks said, looking at the leader for translation.

The spokesman’s scowl deepened, as if he thought the stranger was mocking them all. “It means he wants to get his fucking thick head kicked in. Get him!”

It happened so quickly, Neridia could barely follow the stranger’s movements. One second, he was kneeling at her feet; the next, he’d surged past her, a solid wall of muscle interposed between her and the gang. The first two drunks to reach him were met with a blur of motion that sent them staggering back as if they’d run straight into a cliff face.

That was enough to give the rest pause. The stranger settled back into a poised, balanced stance, hands held loose and relaxed. Despite the fact that he was facing off against a pack of angry drunk men while wearing nothing more than a pair of swimming briefs, he seemed for all the world to be enjoying himself. He was even humming, a strange but unmistakably cheerful tune.