Rubber chicken. Why did she—
No.
He pulled himself together with an effort, relieved when he sensed that only a few seconds had passed. He turned to find his newest, youngest recruits standing side by side, wide-eyed with question.
“Petra. Cleo,” he said in an effort to be casual. A non-event should not be made into an event. “You’re here to practice your English as well as to learn. Here is some American money.” He extracted some bills from his pocket. “W
hy don’t you get a snack while I consult with Joey and Mikhail?”
Petra smiled. “This shop, it smells like a bakery,” she said in Greek, with the hungry teenager’s single-focus passion for sweets. “Such very good smells.”
Cleo examined the bills, her brow furrowed. “What boring money they have here. It’s all the same size and such dull colors. So easy to mix up!”
“But at least it is not as heavy or noisy as gold coins . . .”
“English,” Nikos reminded them.
“Yes sir,” they chorused in English, then whirled around and scampered into the shop. Where he knew Jen Carlsen sat. He could feel her presence there.
It’s nothing if I say it’s nothing.
Flat silence from his unicorn.
Nikos turned his back to the bakery, and faced Joey Hu, who gazed back innocently. Expectantly.
Nikos could still feel every point on his body where Jen Carlsen had touched. And it had been touches—she was far too skilled to land a blow unintentionally. One shoulder. A patch below the other collarbone. His right bicep. The outside of his left knee when he blocked a kick, The flesh on those points glimmered with inward warmth.
Control.
He pinned Joey Hu (who was notorious for mate-matching) with a look, almost a glare, as he said, “You issued the alliance call. I was dealing with significant threats at home. Can you brief me quickly, please?”
Joey’s smile widened for a moment, but then he answered seriously. “We’re in rather a bind here. The celestial empress has ordered Mikhail to guard an oracle stone that recently emerged in a sea cliff after an earthquake. It’s been hidden for thousands of years. Unfortunately someone is after it—we don’t know who. But the rogue red dragon Long Cang has clashed twice with us over it.”
Nikos frowned, wrenching his mind away from the warmth of that spot below his collarbone. He could swear he could feel Jen Carlsen’s fingerprint lingering there, as if she had imprinted him with golden dust. Resisting the urge to rub his knuckles hard over the spot to eradicate the . . . call it an itch, he said, “I remember Long Cang. He is quite formidable. I thought he was a Guardian, watching over shifter communities in this area. I didn’t know he went rogue.”
“He did. We’re on guard against him,” Mikhail said grimly.
Nikos gave a nod of respect. When usually-mild Mikhail used that tone, Cang had better watch out. Cang might be formidable, but Mikhail, when roused by injustice, was quite dangerous—he and Nikos had fought as defenders together numerous times over the years.
Joey continued. “Where we need your help is in identifying what type of oracle stone it is. We can’t put together an effective defense until we have some idea why this one is a target, and perhaps who is targeting it. I have so little experience with this type of ancient artifact.”
Mikhail spoke in his quiet, Chinese-accented voice, “My experience is limited to the oracle stones used as records of mythic shifter communities in days of old. In my brief time with this one, I suspected it might be even older than the petroglyphs in the cave where it is hidden.”
Nikos turned his way. Oracle stones were usually repositories of spoken and sung records, captured by magic. But the stones could hold anything. Ancient records would be easiest. He could identify the content, turn the matter over to an expert, and be on his way back home. “By all means, let us—”
He faltered, aware that Jen was moving. He fought every instinct to turn and stare as she exited the bakery. He could feel her, like the shimmer of the sun on water, as she moved around the side of the building to a bicycle in a rack. She rode away, and as the distance between them lengthened, there was the unicorn again. We must find her, the unicorn hummed, in the low chords of a mighty organ.
She has nothing to do with the present task, much less the evils at home. He slammed the inner door on the unicorn and wrenched his attention back to Joey and Mikhail. “Let us see this cave of yours,” he said. “I’ll summon my two apprentices—”
He turned his head, to find them running up, paper bags clutched in their fingers. “We brought some for you, kyrios,” Petra said.
Cleo bounced on her toes, her ringlets jouncing at either side of her round, cheerful face. “We also found out where the female warrior has her training place. And guess what? She teaches women—the one called Doris wrote down the address for us. Can we go, kyrios, can we can we can we?”
Petra added shyly, “You always tell us we need to observe and experience other styles.”
Nikos looked from one to the other.
Cleo said wistfully, “I want another go with her. She was so good, and you made us stop just as we were getting started.”