After nine nights of searching for the Mover, the view had lost much of its appeal. At least the city’s relatively quiet after-hours scene made movement as a less-than-human much easier.
His wings caught the last of the day’s heat rising off the pavement, and he let the thermal carry him upward. Tyrez remembered nothing of his first childhood flights except excitement, but the landings were memorable... and they took considerable practice to get right. Injuries in those early days had been common. It was a good thing Dragons healed easily.
Navigating from the air also took a bit of practice, but tonight’s goal was an easy one—all he had to do was follow the two major rivers that ran through Winnipeg to where they joined. This juncture had housed human settlements for thousands of years and was now located in the heart of the city. Dubbed the Forks, it featured public gathering places and a thriving market.
He was here to meet with Jacques, who had been charged with the second search phase—the cross-realm hunt for the Warlock, Rindek.
It was the more important of the two searches, but also the more difficult. Rindek could be anywhere—and was likely hiding out somewhere remote. Tyrez’s father, the Emperor, had assigned other Legion members the unenviable task of searching the realms for any sign of the Warlock.
But Tyrez had resources they didn’t. Unlike most Dragons, he’d formed useful friendships with other species. Sabres, Dires, and one rather annoying Satyr.
Avoiding the few late-night couples strolling the river walk, Tyrez found a deserted stretch around a bend and folded his wings, diving headfirst toward the paved path below. At the last second, he backwinged, the air cracking against the wing membranes.
It halted his progress feet above the ground. By the time his hind legs touched pavement, he was already shifting form to human, the wings shrinking as rapidly as possible. He winced as they crammed their way into the skin and muscles of his back.
With the power of crystal dust, his transformation from fifty-foot beast to seven-foot scale-clothed human took only seconds to accomplish. Tyrez checked that his phone was still cradled in his scale pocket, and bent to retrieve the crystalline sword that his tail had dropped.
Unfortunately, modern humans did not walk around with five-foot swords. So, he drained the power from it and dumped it into the river.
Scale clothing in place and sunglasses firmly perched on his nose, he strode along the river walk as casually as any seven-foot human in form-fitting scales could manage. Moments later, he was at the bench where he’d told Jacques to meet him.
There was no sign of a furry Goatman in a trench coat.
His sensitive ears detected a “poof” sound from a nearby tree, and a millisecond later, Sparkle blazed into view only inches from his face.
If Dragons didn’t have a natural resiliency to heat, it would have singed his eyebrows. Tyrez glowered and stamped out an errant ember before it could set fire to the hedge.
The Phoenix chirped at him and flew along the path, then hovered, looking back at him.
Tyrez sighed and followed her. The Phoenix led him to where the path passed beneath the Assiniboine River bridge, and then she vanished in a cloud of soot.
A female giggled from the shadows. Tyrez could barely make out a male voice that was smooth as silk. “Sorry,mademoiselle, but I have another assignation. Not of the romantic kind, you understand. But I am afraid I require privacy. Shall we reconvene tomorrow, same time, same place?”
His words were received by yet another titillating female laugh. “Oh, Jacques. You are such a frigging womanizer. Lucky for you, I’m enjoying all this secret stuff.”
A woman appeared on the path, fastening the buttons on her blouse before patting at her hair. She was middle-aged, pleasantly curvy, and human.
Just the way the Satyr liked them. Bored middle-aged women were his specialty. If the women ever saw past the creature’s natural confusion spells to the furry, goat-horned reality, Tyrez was pretty sure they wouldn’t be giggling. Perhaps it was fortunate that they were distracted by Jacques’s more—prominent—physical characteristics. Or his famed endurance.
The woman eyed the Dragon shifter as she passed, her gaze lingering between his thighs before the well-groomed eyebrows twitched, and she shot him a smile. Tyrez allowed her an upward tilt of his lip.
He waited until she scurried out of earshot before addressing the shadows. “I certainly hope you haven’t been spending all your time fornicating beneath a bridge.”
“No, no,mon ami,” Jacques hurried to reassure. “I have only been here a short time.”
Tyrez eyed him dubiously. The Satyr’s secret weapon was his powerful sex pheromones. If the women weren’t so willing and pleased with the dalliances, the Sabres would have put a stop to his activities long ago.
The Dragon raised a brow. “She seemed content.”
“I focus on quality, not quantity.” The Satyr sounded smug. “Although there is a quantity component...”
“Relative to what, exactly?” Tyrez hid his amusement when the comment elicited a glare, and he continued. “Was your client pleased with our efforts to free his daughter?”
His dark eyes glittered and his jaw stiffened. “Your efforts, maybe, but based onmyintel. Yes, he was thrilled to have her returned. Have you managed to extract any information from the slave boss?”
Tyrez’s amusement vanished. “We are in the queue for one of the Examiner’s acolytes. Should be any day now.”
Jacques’s ears wiggled, but when he wisely said nothing, Tyrez snorted. “Do you have anything more for me?”
