Page 4 of Gryphon’s Fire

The scarring was extensive, and I suspicioned would appear worse in the light of day. Touching my face, I could feel areas of that same thickened skin, although it was less than other areas. From my vantage point, it appeared that my torso had taken the worst of the damage. I thought that until my fingers raked across my neck. Of course that area would be worse. Verona and Axios would have gone for the kill zone, and nowhere was more vulnerable than the jugular.

Thickly swallowing, I considered how much worse things could have gone had Grayson Delarue not been able to draw Axios away, tempting and entrancing Axios with Grayson’s wisp form. One-on-one, I’d been able to hold out a little longer against Verona. My efforts would not have been enough. Thalia’s guards would have arrived too late to save my sister’s eggs. I doubted Verona had been in her right mind for centuries. The day of the battle, Verona had lost what little presence of mind that remained, and I thought it just as likely she would have unintentionally destroyed Vidia’s eggs as escaped with them.

Thankfully, that was a fate we need not ponder. Verona’s ultimate fate was up to Thalia and the other ancient wyvern who policed our society, and Thalia was not so forgiving the second time around. For the most part, Fairy law left wyvern to govern themselves, much as they did most species. It was to our advantage to make certain Fairy rarely had cause to intervene.

A small building caught and held my attention. It was the only part of the Magical Usage Compound that was above ground—an entrance into a labyrinth of incalculable tunnels and rooms below. At least they’d once seemed that way. Given that this would be my home for as long as Vidia’s young wanted to stay, I would have plenty of time to explore those seemingly endless tunnels.

My clawed toes dug into the earth, the feel of dirt and green-growth welcome. Each step brought me closer to a building that should not be. Verona had well and truly destroyed the previous structure. The one taking its place was similar enough to be recognizable. Just like the surrounding ground, the structure had been healed by the pixie magic encasing the compound.

This close to the surface, I could feel the magic dancing along my skin. It should have felt intrusive. It didn’t. The touch was gentle, as if it knew my freshly healed skin was fragile and overly sensitive. The magic’s caress felt more like a greeting than censure. I took a moment to concentrate on feeling nothing but gratitude. I pushed that emotion outward and felt a pulse of warmth in response. I’d need to work on ways to communicate with the magic surrounding and protecting those I cared for. My current effort felt like a good start.

The rebuilt structure loomed in front of me. A heavy, oaken door barred the way. Raising my hand, the tips of my claws barely scraped the wood when the door opened on its own, welcoming me inside. When I stepped through the doorway, no one was there. When I moved farther into the room, the door silently closed behind me. Eyes slipping closed, I inhaled deeply, allowing the familiar scents of the compound to fill my lungs and ease the pressure in my chest.

Getting used to the magic Martin released—the magic now infusing every molecule of the compound—would take some getting used to. I’d rested long enough. I needed to get back in the game, back to caring for my sister’s eggs, back to getting to know the fiercely loyal gryphon who’d risked everything and everyone he loved to protect their precarious future.

As I walked deeper into the compound, I wondered if Keir had kept my room as I’d left it and if there were extra clothes to be had. While I didn’t mind walking around with all my bits and pieces on display, I did not believe that would be the proper way to greet my sister’s eggs or the handsome gryphon watching over them. My future nieces or nephews had been traumatized enough already.

Three

Keir

“I’m just saying, he needs to stay away from my stuff. It’s mine. I collected it and…it’s mine, not Grayson’s.” Jima sat on my couch, knees pulled up to his chin while his fingers fisted his T-shirt. “I know it’s not intentional,” Jima went on, his gaze tracking to the side, unable to hold my eyes as he told that lie. Jima did not believe Grayson’s actions were unintentional, and that was the problem.

“It really isn’t intentional,” I said before taking a sip of tea.

“That’s what I said,” Jima huffed, still unable to meet my gaze.

“But it’s not what you meant, what you truly believe.”

Stretching out his T-shirt, Jima pulled it over his knees, cocooning himself. As distressed as he was, I was surprised Jima hadn’t transformed into his ferret form.

“Jima,” I started, “You know that Grayson can’t control what calls to him. He follows the song treasure sings and⁠—”

“But it’s not treasure!” Jima protested. “It’s just mine. It’s…”

“It’s important to you,” I softly finished when Jima’s anger finally lost steam.

Jima gave a slow nod. “They’re things I collected. I didn’t steal them. No one missed the things I took, and most of it’s just silly stuff, easily replaced.”

My smile was understanding. “I realize.”

Jima acted as if he hadn’t heard me. “It’s not something I can really help. When I’m in my ferret form, I just want to take things. Little stuff, just like I said. It’s like a compulsion I can’t really stop. I collect it and place things in different piles. A lot of the time, I can’t even remember where those piles are.”

I was truly puzzled. “Then why are you upset when Grayson finds these locations?” As a will-o’-the-wisp, it was what Grayson Delarue did. Treasure wasn’t always something monetary. In fact, since spending so much time with Grayson, I was beginning to think that very little treasure was truly financially lucrative. Turns out, treasure was anything someone coveted, and that treasure didn’t have to be something one could physically touch. Sometimes the most valuable treasure was a secret one held close to their heart and never verbally revealed.

“Because it’s mine!” Jima flinched at his outburst. When I remained silent, Jima released a weighty sigh. “I know it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t even sound reasonable to me, and I’m the one feeling that way.”

I could understand Jima’s confusion. “Have you spoken to anyone else in your business regarding how you feel?” From what I understood, Jima’s business—or his ferret shifter group—was small and mostly consisted of a few family members. I’d found over the years that most who joined the Magical Usage Council either had a shortage of biological family members or were trying to get away from the biological family they had. Unfortunately, my story was no different.

Jima’s shoulders rounded, shrinking into himself. “I called my brother, Darren.”

“And what did he have to say?” I took another sip of tea, attempting to preempt the wave of irritation that would be shortly forthcoming. I’d heard snippets of Darren’s questionable advice before.

“I…uh…I don’t think you really want to know.” Jima pointedly stared at his exposed toes. “Let’s just say that I don’t think what he recommended is entirely legal or, uh…morally okay.”

Goddess above. I placed my forehead in my hand, rubbing my temples. “Perhaps Darren is not the best option when advice is needed.”

“Probably not,” Jima agreed. Wiggling his toes, Jima’s earlier ire had deflated to something else, something that was a lot quieter but not terribly reassuring. “I don’t dislike Grayson. In fact, I like him. I just wish…”