Silver Dragon (Silver Shifters 1)

“Mikhail gave me your number,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind. I’d love to take you out to lunch and get to know my old friend’s newly found mate. I can fill you in on stories of his past badassery.”

Badassery? Bird looked around her kitchen, laughing to herself. She remembered Mikhail wielding that hidden sword, and felt as if she’d stepped into a runaway train. Was this what life with Mikhail was going to be like?

She thought of her neat little box of a life, the high point of which was Friday night meetings at the bakery, and thought, why not? She’d liked Joey, and she was dying to hear those stories of Mikhail’s badassery. “Sure!”

Joey Hu came to her cottage to pick her up in a sleek sports car. As he began to drive, a little faster than Bird cared for, she said, “Mikhail said you’re a shifter, too. What is your animal? Or is that a question that isn’t supposed to be asked?”

“If you know about shifters, you can ask. Some will tell you, some won’t. I’m a Nine-Tail Fox, a rare throwback. My mother was an ordinary fox shifter from a family of ordinary fox shifters, and my dad a grey wolf shifter. What kind of food do you like? We can go to my favorite place, unless you don’t care for spicy.”

“Anything is fine,” she said. “What’s it like, being a shifter? Maybe that’s a stupid question. I realize it’s everyday to you. What was it like transforming for the first time? Or was that habit from the time you were born? Were you born human?”

Joey laughed, a light, friendly laugh. “We’re born human, yes. My first shift was in the cradle, I’m told. I don’t remember it. I do remember shifting to my fox when I was small, rather than try to learn to walk on two legs. Four were so much better. My mother had to put a collar of shiftsilver on me until I learned the basics of walking and talking before she let me shift, or I might still be running around the woods with her trying to catch me!”

Bird laughed, then said, “Shiftsilver?”

“It’s a special metal that prevents us from shifting. In a very small amount, which is what some parents use to train their rascally young ‘uns like I was, it doesn’t hurt. They just use a little bit in a necklace or bracelet or armband of ordinary silver. But a great deal of it can hurt us mythic shifters. It feels like being burned to the bone by dry ice.”

Bird shuddered, not liking to think of how Joey knew that.

“Once I learned to talk I’m told I didn’t shut up,” Joey said, chuckling. “Especially with the ‘why’ questions. I suspect my mother wished sometimes she could keep me as a fox just to get some peace and quiet. Though I got up to just as much trouble as a fox, just different sorts. That’s probably why I don’t seem to have wound up with any kids of my own. They might have turned out like me.”

Bird sensed a trace of sadness under the light words. Then he called out cheerily, “Here we are,” and she decided she’d imagined it.

He’d chosen a Sichuan restaurant that Bird had passed by on her bike many times. She didn’t want to admit that she could seldom afford to eat out, but Joey didn’t ask if she’d been there before. The restaurant was dim, decorated with brightly colored lanterns and lovely art that Bird instantly liked. Joey greeted the owner by name, and they sat down in a corner booth.

Once they’d ordered and received a pot of tea, Joey said, “So what other questions do you have?”

“I’m still trying to imagine shifters as children,” Bird said softly, though the hum of conversation in the busy restaurant was a good safeguard for not being overheard. “I have difficulty imagining Mikhail as a mischievous little dragon.”

Joey’s grin diminished to a rueful smile. “I doubt very much that he was. He was sent out on missions from the time he was a teen.”

“Missions like . . . what?”

“Protecting the mythic realm. Its balance of energies, you might call it, requires constant vigilance. There are plenty of enterprising types in the world who would like to take its power for themselves. Including among the mythic creatures, unfortunately. Which is one of the reasons why five-clawed silver dragons have become increasingly rare. Battles at that level rarely end with band aids and kisses all around.”

“Oh,” Bird said softly. “It sounds dangerous.”

“It is. But he’s dangerous, too.”

She remembered Mikhail wielding that blue-white sword as impossible numbers of lava wyrms tried to get at them. To be that skilled had to take a lifetime of constant work—and hadn’t he mentioned he had no real home?

Bird got a sudden, vivid image of Mikhail standing guard, sword in hand. Tension shivered through her nerves, and she consciously breathed out in an effort to relax. “Are Nine-Tail Foxes all warriors, too?”

Joey chuckled. “No! We do all sorts of things. We’re very independent creatures, we foxes. I was actually born blonde, or as it’s said when we want to be pretentious, gold. My silver is entirely due to my venerable years. I have, oh, let’s call them diplomatic ties with the various hierarchies. But not the sort that would force me to marry.”

“Mikhail did tell me he’d been married, and that it had been a long time before he’d gotten to know his son. But he seems to be very proud of him.”

“Fei Zhan is a four-clawed earth dragon, intelligent, loyal, and able. He manages the clan’s considerable tea import business. He was not born an imperial dragon, but there’s always hope that his offspring will be. No doubt the empress will be matching him with a suitable bride before too long, if he doesn’t find someone on his own.”

Those arranged marriages sounded sad, Bird thought. A vivid image of Mikhail ordered to marry a stranger seized her thoughts. On the other hand, she’d had a lot less success with her marriage, which hadn’t been arranged. And she’d thought she knew Bartholomew.

Once again a powerful, insistent image of Mikhail standing vigilant with a sword, his eyes that flat gray, took precedence in the forefront of her mind. It made her anxious—it was that slate gray gaze that she’d only seen when he was somber, or angry.

“So tell me how you met,” she asked in an effort to distract herself, as the server brought their plates. She sniffed the delicious aromas of red oil wontons, dry-fried green beans, and twice-cooked pork in fermented black bean sauce, and told herself her mood was just hunger. That and residual emotions from a wild morning. She was unused to wild mornings, or wild any times of day. That was all.

She dove in, letting the flavors burst on her tongue. “Oh, this is wonderful!”

“Glad you like it. This is one of my favorite spots in town.” Joey shut his eyes, savoring his Yu Xiang, or ‘fragrant fish,’ and let out a sigh of pleasure.