Chapter 23
Throwing on clothes and shoes and racing through the place and then pushing through the pub and the Tarikians on the street to reach the dragons had seemed like a good idea until Pan was standing on the sidewalk with the cold sliding beneath his clothes, his breath clouding in front of him, and his underwear becoming slick.
It was still preferable to facing whatever had been happening.
The Strega’s words echoed in his mind. He couldn’t open his heart to a human…not that Noah was human anymore.
He was a god; he couldn’t open his heart to anyone. People died. And even though he wanted Noah as his consort and could extend his life if he had magic…how long until Noah got bored and wanted to leave him?
Noah was only with him to learn about magic. He didn’t like him because of what he was, even the Strega had seen that. So why had it been so easy to fall into bed as if they were lovers?
That was a mistake.
A slip that he hoped Noah hadn’t noticed, even though he’d questioned it…
Fuck. He wanted to blame Samhain, or stress, or something other than his own desire to be closer to the human-turned-selkie.
Heat from the dragon’s flames dragged him out of his tumble of thoughts. The gout of flames wasn’t big enough to set fire to anything and was more of a warning to what he assumed were humans in garish costumes, chanting.
“What is going on?” Pan murmured, keeping hold of Noah’s hand.
It was clearly some kind of confrontation, though what, he couldn’t be sure, as no one appeared to be dressed for war unless this was how humans now dressed for battle.
Though he doubted some of the clothes were particularly practical.
Some humans appeared to be wearing bedsheets with eyeholes cut in them.
“I would like to say it’s a human Halloween parade given that people are dressed up as ghosts and vampires and such.”
“Am I supposed to be able to tell which ones are the vampires? And will it offend the vampires?”
“Anyone in a black and red cape with fake blood on their chin.”
“Oh…a vampire would never dress so badly.” The clothes were so ill-fitting that the vampires might take offence based only on bad taste.
“I doubt you had polyester on Tariko.”
“I don’t know what that is, so probably not. And if it is not a parade for the human celebration, what is it?”
Noah frowned. All the desire in his eyes was now gone. “A protest.”
“What are they protesting?” Pan asked even though he could guess.
“Your presence. Not you specifically, but all mythos.”
It grated that Noah used the abbreviation of mythological people instead of saying Tarikian, but now wasn’t the moment to discuss terminology.
“What are they chanting? Is it Welsh?”
“Well, it’s not English.” Noah lifted up onto his toes to see over the mythos who’d spilled out of the bar and onto the street to see what was going on.
The dragons were becoming more agitated. If they gave more than a warning burst of flame, things were going to get bad, fast.
“We need to get the Tarikians off the street, and I need to calm the dragons before they do something dramatic.” He loosened his hold on Noah’s hand.
Noah turned and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Okay. Please don’t get eaten.”
“That is not how I wish to start the year.” Pan hesitated, torn between dragging Noah with him and letting him go. It should have been easy to let him go. “What will you do?”
“Get everyone inside and encourage them to disperse out the back door. I need to find Feryn, or someone they will listen to.”
Pan gripped Noah’s shirt. He hadn’t thrown his jacket on. Neither of them had. Shit, he hadn’t put his hat on, which meant his horns were visible. “They will listen to you.”
The drak pushed through and surrounded them, like a knee-high personal army. “What do you wish us to do?”
The last thing Pan wanted was for them to be trampled and injured. They should stay inside where they’d be safe, but drak were ferocious and asking them to hide might be offensive.
It was Noah who spoke before Pan had figured out a plan. “I need you to tell Linda that we will be sending people out the back door to safety.” He pointed at one, then another. “Tell Feryn to seal the palace doors.”
“And us?” The other three stared up at them.
Pan glanced at Noah, trying to silently convey the need to get the drak out of the way.
“I forgot, Linda needs to call Meredith and tell her there’s trouble at the pub. Make sure you stay to help Linda lead everyone safely away.” The drak nodded and scampered inside, leaving only two. “One of you come with me, the other with him.”
Pan frowned. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“I may need a translator,” Noah said. “And you may need someone to run a message.”
Pan couldn’t argue with that. “Stay close, we’re going to the dragons.”
He gave Noah a last glance before sliding through the crowd with a drak at his heels.
Noah’s voice was clear over the chanting as he called the Tarikians. “Come in, off the street and away from the protesters who want to start trouble. The dragons will stop them from getting into the pub…tavern and palace.”
The crowd inched toward the door, but Pan wasn’t sure it was breaking up.
The male dragon huffed out another breath of fire. That made people move a little faster to get off the street. The humans in their costumes stopped advancing, but didn’t run away.
Pan stopped within fire range, which was closer than he wanted to be to an annoyed dragon.
The female scratched at the road, tearing up chunks and lashing her tail.
He was also within range of her tail, and he knew from experience that getting hit by a dragon’s tail was rather inconvenient and painful, and this time he didn’t have magic to assist with broken bones.
“Why are you upset?” Pan whistled and clicked at them.
“They have come to attack the palace, and they smell bad. We will protect the palace.”
A bag hit the ground at his feet and split open, spilling out shit.
For a heartbeat, Pan was tempted to tell the dragons to burn them all, but if they did, that was the kind of thing they couldn’t walk away from, not without losing all the progress they’d made.
And even though it felt like not enough had been made, they were still not where they’d started.
Another bag of shit hit the ground and exploded in front of the dragon.
“They are throwing shit!” the dragon said as if Pan hadn’t realized what the brown stuff was.
“I can see that. But we cannot attack them.”
The dragon growled.
“Our people are still on the street, and they will get hurt.” The humans were lobbing bags of shit at the Tarikians, and he couldn’t see Noah.
They were supposed to be returning to the party, to eat Samhain cakes and have a drink when everyone else was gone. They were not supposed to start the New Year cleaning up shit.
That the costumed humans were shouting in Welsh, which the Tarikians hadn’t learned, was another kick to the balls he really didn’t need.
While he wasn’t known for smiting, he was fucking tempted to start practicing.
A little flaying of skin, a bit of boiling of blood, perhaps even a lightning strike or three.
“We will fight them.” The drak produced a knife no longer than one of Pan’s fingers.
The dragon had bigger claws and teeth.
“We will not be fighting,” Pan said. The centaurs would love a fight. They’d been willing to raise arms against the humans and would do so even if it meant their death.
The drak hissed with fury, and the dragon joined in.
What the fuck was Noah doing?
A bag of shit hit the dragon. The dragon roared and expelled a breath of fire as long as five men. People screamed, and even the Tarikians scattered, not wanting to be accidentally barbecued.
The dragon’s legs bunched, preparing to leap into the air and scorch the road.
Pan gripped the dragon’s leg as if he had the strength keep him grounded. “Please don’t. Please stay here and protect your mate.”
“Stop!” Noah’s voice rang out like a bell over the noise.
Pan still couldn’t see him. There were too many Tarikians between him and Noah and the humans. He glanced at the drak. “Get me something to stand on.”
The drak stared at him, then pointed. “Stand on the dragon.”
That was a sure way to die, but he asked anyway because he didn’t have a better idea. “May I stand on your foot?”
The male dragon glanced at him. “A sun-eyes needs a favor?”
“I found your mate.” Pan glared at the dragon, wishing he had some magic if only for effect. “And if you like living near the palace, you should assist.”
“You do not want me living near the palace.”
Pan laughed. “I don’t care where you live. Those humans making the noise do not want you living near the palace. They think you are dangerous and will burn everything down.”
The dragon’s claws raked at the road. Pan wasn’t sure if it was out of frustration or because he understood the implication—that if he kept breathing fire on the humans, he would be forced to move.
He’d also fucked up, as they wanted the dragons to move away from the palace, and he’d just given them an excuse to stay. One problem at a time. Incinerating the protesting humans was not going to end well for any of them, including the dragons.
“You may stand on my foot, and if you are still too short, tiny sun-eyes, you may climb a little higher.”
Pan forced a smile because getting closer to the dragon’s teeth was exactly what he wanted, but he stepped onto its foot, which was almost enough to see over the heads of the werewolves. He climbed a little higher to the dragon’s elbow.
“What are you hoping to achieve by interrupting the memorial for the dead?” Noah called out.
“What about our dead?” one of the human men replied.
The chanting had stopped, and the protesters were all looking at Noah.
“Have you not had church services and burials? Have you not organized wakes? This one is for the mythological people.”