Chapter 15 #2
Guivre nodded. “Tomorrow morning in my office.” She caught Pendragor’s eye.
“Ten-thirty?” When he nodded, Guivre repeated it.
Tanner sent the confirmation to Avelunne as Pendragor closed his laptop, and Guivre stood to collect her cloak.
He watched them leave, then glanced at the clock. At last, it was time to go.
He felt relief that he didn’t have to balance protecting Avelunne and protecting the town today, but he also felt guilty for having that feeling. Sometimes he envied Pendragor’s innate certainty about what was right and Guivre’s ability to take the long view.
He logged off his computer, gathered his bag, then briefed Shiloh and transferred command to him. Tanner didn’t even mind Shiloh’s smart-ass insinuation about Tanner being in a hurry to pounce on a certain dragon.
He walked quickly toward the Transition Center to spend the rest of the afternoon with Avelunne. With only two days before Christmas Day, the place would surely be chaos central. She’d be in her element with all the excitement, and he’d love being with her.
The next morning’s flight to town was smooth and easy.
They landed on the sturdy roof of the Town Hall building and shifted forms in the brisk air.
Tanner walked Avelunne to Guivre’s office door.
She insisted she would be fine without him in the meeting.
His thunderbird side grumbled about it, but the human side trusted her judgment.
He spent the rest of the morning conveying gifts to his friends.
To Shiloh, he dropped off the detailed plans and the promise to help build an outdoor roost. He and his husband had agreed to foster one of the rescued Ice Age shifter children whose other form was a prehistoric giant owl.
Tinsel laughed delightedly at the enchanted sleigh ornament that flew in circles.
Florida-born cougar-shifter Osborne gleefully clutched the charmed warming socks and gloves as if they were catnip.
Shepherd Knight beamed at the lead on someone selling a vintage Tiger 1 tank from Africa.
Giving was one of the best parts of Christmas time.
Back at the station, Tanner surveyed the mountain of gifts piled in his office.
He would need hours to determine which were for him and which were for the staff.
Later, he decided. Right now, he wanted Avelunne and food.
The snow had delayed all sorts of parties and celebrations, so gifts could be delayed, too.
When he told Shiloh he was cutting out early again, his second-in-command grinned.
“I’m so proud of you! Look at you, having a life outside the department.
” The coyote shifter was as bad as Tinsel with the matchmaking.
Tanner good-naturedly ignored the jab and texted Avelunne about his plan to grab takeout and head home.
She arrived at his cabin an hour later with snow in her hair and a smile on her face. They ate lunch next to his picture window. “How did the meeting go?”
“Well enough,” Avelunne stabbed a piece of chicken.
“Pendragor enjoys a challenge. I think Guivre was not surprised by the Storm Mouth gift. It was more like she was reminded of it. She may have known one of my ancestors.” She chuckled.
“Maybe I should ask her if she knows what the moonwing curse means.”
“She might,” Tanner agreed. “Or you could try the Scholar of the Skies. He’s the wyvern on the Town Council.”
Avelunne shook her head. “Wyverns have never forgotten that the First Dragons ate them for breakfast.” She shrugged. “What can I say? I come from a long line of scoundrels.”
Tanner laughed. “You wouldn’t have survived the demesne if you didn’t.” He picked up her hand to kiss the back of it. “I love that about you.”
They cleaned up the remains of lunch, and he gave her a quick lesson on how to operate the dishwasher.
She eyed the sloshing machine with suspicion but accepted the modern magic of it.
They retreated to the bedroom for a long, languorous afternoon of finding new ways to give each other pleasure and climaxes.
The nap that followed was deep and restful.
Avelunne said she wanted to watch the sunset because she missed them, so he followed her to the window. Darkness came early near the winter solstice, and the mountains blocked the sun even earlier.
“I have it on the highest authority,” said Avelunne in a mock-solemn tone, “that in these modern times, tomorrow is the official day for showering deserving children with as many presents as they can carry. Tonight is for adults to give small gifts to other adults.” She reached under the table to pull out a wooden box and presented it to him.
He lifted the lid and moved aside a small piece of velvet to reveal a glass sculpture. When he held it up, he realized it was an elegant suncatcher with inner glowing wire, shaped as a thunderbird, with a wingspan twice as wide as his palm.
He turned it in the light. “It’s stunning. I love it. I’m guessing this is your work. How did you make it?”
She smiled. “I’m glad it pleases you. I traded pencil-drawn portraits for the glass and the spell-wire.
I used dragon magic to heat and form the glass.
It’s based on an old technique for making ceramics.
Modern glass is tricky. It took a few mistakes to figure out how to cool the piece without shattering it. ”
“This one is mine, and I am keeping it,” Tanner said. “But I bet this kind of thing would sell well in the tourist shops.” He kissed her.
He went to his woodworking shop and fetched the gift for her that he’d put together with expert advice.
He set out the pads, papers, pens, paints, and brushes.
He included a sturdy easel and a dragon-carryable travel bag so she could take art supplies anywhere.
She explored them with delight and wonder.
While she tested the weight and flexibility of a brush, Tanner installed a hook in the window casing to hang the suncatcher.
He admired the glowing bird, then admired the woman at his table. He couldn’t ever remember being this happy.
Christmas morning involved more stillness than Tanner expected.
Avelunne wanted to test her new charcoal sticks, and she needed a subject.
He agreed to model. The nudity part was easy.
Sitting perfectly still on a stool for twenty minutes was torture.
His nose itched. His left foot fell asleep.
He wanted to be next to her rather than across the room.
He wanted to see the sketch instead of the wall.
Being a thunderbird meant constant motion and riding the wind.
Being a model meant being a statue. He held the pose because the look of intense concentration on her face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
The peace shattered when his phone buzzed on the floor. Then his tablet pinged. Then the phone rang. Avelunne sighed and lowered her charcoal. Tanner checked the screen and swore softly.
Town Councilor Lin Wolcz had gone rogue. The cave dragon had issued unauthorized eviction notices to three refugee families in town housing. He gave them twelve hours to vacate the valley. On Christmas. After the great Snowmageddon event.
Guivre had convened an emergency remote session and fired him five minutes ago. Now the ex-councilman refused to leave his office. Duty had a fucking terrible sense of timing.
The Town Hall was empty and silent except for the shouting coming from Wolcz’s second-floor office.
Shiloh leaned against the doorframe of the Council office and watched the show with a bored expression.
Tanner walked past him and placed a cardboard box on the desk.
Wolcz turned a shade of red that clashed with his iron-gray hair.
The dragon ranted about rights and voters.
Tanner didn’t engage. He picked up Wolcz’s full trash can and dumped the contents into a bespelled evidence bag.
“I thought you didn’t get involved in politics,” Wolcz sneered. He slammed a desk drawer shut. “Neutral town guardian, my ass. You’re just the town’s yappy little lapdog.”
“I don’t do politics.” Tanner gave him a benign smile. He sealed the bag and handed it to Shiloh. “I’m just taking care of the trash.”
Wolcz made a wet and ugly sound. He shoved his personal effects into the box Tanner provided.
Tanner escorted him out and down the stairs, with Shiloh following.
He kept his hands free, but his magic was ready to slam the dragon into the railing if he twitched wrong.
If anyone deserved a one-way trip out of the valley, it was the asshole dragon stuffed into an expensive suit.
They reached the high-ceilinged atrium. Wolcz slowed and shouted, his voice booming off the marble walls. “Just thought you’d want to know that your much-vaunted sheriff is fucking the traitor moonwing dragon!”
Tanner clamped down on his instant rage with iron control. He merely raised a single eyebrow at the juvenile outburst. The idiot politician had to know they were the only three people in the building.
Shiloh’s laughter echoed louder than Wolcz’s outburst. “You tell ‘em, Captain Obvious.”
Wolcz pugnaciously jutted his chin forward as he stormed out the double doors and onto the sidewalk. Tanner watched him go until the heavy doors clicked shut. Some idiots could never get out of their own way.
Shiloh clapped him on the shoulder and told him to go home. Tanner didn’t argue.
He returned to the cabin and Avelunne. He gave her a blow-by-blow account because she deserved to know that Wolcz was reaping what he sowed. A moment later, his personal phone and Avelunne’s smartphone beeped with message indicators.
An official text from the Council announced Wolcz’s resignation, diplomatically thanked him for his service, and directed all complaints to the remaining members. Then another text came through for Avelunne.
She shook her head in confusion, then showed the screen to Tanner. “What does this mean?”
It was a message from Tiziri, the sand dragon. He didn’t realize she and Avelunne were friends.
LOL. Ding, dong, the witch is dead!
He laughed out loud. “It’s a quote from a famous movie from last century called ‘The Wizard of Oz.’ Munchkins sing it when the bad witch dies.”
“What? Humans made a singing movie about witches and wizards?”
He realized she had no references for anything he could describe. “Want to see it? I can probably get it from a streaming service.” While he was setting it up, he got a non-urgent text from the station, which he forwarded to Shiloh. This was more important.
They sat on the floor and watched a girl in red shoes follow a yellow brick road. Avelunne laughed at the Munchkins. She curled into his side and rested her head on his shoulder. It was almost perfect.
But he felt it. In the quiet moments between scenes, a shadow passed through their telepathic bond.
It was a flavor of sadness he couldn’t name.
It felt like she was memorizing the moment rather than living in it.
He tightened his arm around her. She squeezed back, but the distance remained, and he didn’t know what to do about it.