Chapter 2

2

“ Y es, I know what I’m doing. No, I don’t need you stepping and muckin’ it up. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

Rafe held the phone away from his ear as he scratched at the three-day’s worth of stubble on his chin. Glad his brother, Gil had called to bitch and moan instead of using their telepathy, Rafe sat down behind his desk and put the phone back to his ear just in time to hear, “You know you have to go in soft. Be nice. No grumpin’ or growlin’.”

“Yes, Gil.”

“You’re a Fed, they’re Local. There’s no love lost.”

“Yes, Gil. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say after your last cock-up, I’m just covering all my bases.”

“I did not ‘cock-up’. I did what I was sent to do – rescue three POWs from a fuckin’ hole in the sand.”

“And blowing up an entire camp of insurgents?”

“Just a happy coincidence.”

“Yeah, well the DOD didn’t see it that way. They wanted to take at least a couple alive for questioning.”

“And…I made that happen to…kinda.”

“If you consider the guy was burnt over forty-percent of his body and it took three months for him to wake up a success then…”

“If I say yes, will you shut up and move on?” Rafe cut in, biting the inside of his cheek not to laugh out loud when his older brother growled, “Damn you.”

Pulling up his email while his brother went back to giving orders, Rafe’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he got a look at the female detective he would be meeting later that day. Sure, the picture was out of focus and farther away than he’d like, but her long dark hair laying softly on the back of her leather coat and the hard set of her shoulders told him she was tough, intelligent, and able to stand her ground.

“Are you listening to me, Rafe? I swear to the Heavens…”

“Yes, I am listening. You’ve only repeated yourself five times. Can you let it go? I promise, I’ll do as I’m told and call for backup if there’s any sign that these murders have a supernatural element, okay?”

“Alright.”

Gil sounded less than thrilled, but since he was in the mountains helping find a Wendigo who’d gone off the deep end, there wasn’t much he could do. Almost thirty years ago when they’d started the DPA – Dragon Protection Agency – with three of their other brethren - none of them could’ve imagined how many cases they would end up being called in to work.

Only very few, very high-ranking officials in the government, specifically the CIA and the DOD, knew of their existence and more importantly, knew what they really were. Rafe had always thought their name was funny and the acronym even funnier. But it was essential to their cover that they be able to say DPA, flash official credentials, and that all important gold badge to the local LEO’s – law enforcement officers – when they were sent in.

Most of the time, the cases they were called in on did actually have a paranormal element that only the Director was aware of, just like the one he was part of in Iraq. Gil knew, just like Abe, Ben, and Oz – the other members of DPA – that Rafe had no choice. If he hadn’t blown that bunker an entire pack of newly turned werehyenas would’ve emerged that very evening and torn every human for a hundred miles from limb to limb.

When Gil said nothing else, just sat on the line breathing, Rafe asked, “Anything else?”

“I just don’t like any of us goin’ on a job like this without backup.”

“Then I suggest you find a sixth member.”

“Yeah, I keep thinkin’ I will, but…”

“But, you’re crazy neurotic with control issues and the need to be the boss twenty-four seven and you haven’t found anyone you know or like well enough, and,” Rafe took an exaggerated deep breath. “You promised yourself when we broke off from the Clans all those centuries ago that you would never go back, but now, you’re wondering if you should.”

“Okay, I give. I’ve been singin’ the same song for a while now. I’ll be seeing Max on this trip. Maybe it’s time we bring in some Big Cats, or even a couple of Wolves. What do you think?”

“You know my thoughts. Paranormal bad guys have been around waaay longer than anyone but us realizes and they are only getting worse. The more, the merrier. Director Whatever-His-Name-Is said hiring was at your discretion, so discretion away big brother.”

“First of all, you know is name all too well. He’s tattooed it on your ass with the tip of his expensive shoes. And, I’m gonna to sit down with Max and Marrok, the Alpha from Florida. It’s long past time and I need to get over my own BS. I have the freakiest feeling shit’s about to hit the fan.”

“Abe’s been telling you that for almost five years now. He keeps having weird visions and even crazier dreams. I’m glad to hear you finally listenin’.”

“I know, I’m an asshole.”

“And a pain in the ass, a rigid SOB, and a damn fine leader.” Rafe threw in the compliment to ease his brother’s mounting tensions. There was no one in God’s green earth that was harder on himself than Gil, and yes, it’d saved their asses more times than Rafe could count, but it was time for the old boy to loosen the reins.

“Thanks, Sparky,” Gill snickered, using the nickname Rafe’d had since he was a teenager.

“Burn down one barn and ya’ never get to live it down.”

Laughing out loud, Gil teased, “That’s how it goes. Now, get to work, dammit.”

“Aye, aye, Captain Asshole.”

Chuckling as he laid the phone on the desk and went back to ogling the picture on his laptop, Rafe couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman on the screen was so much more than she seemed. No doubt, she was the looker. Out of focus, covered in an oversized jacket, pulling keys from her pocket as she looked down, Detective…what’s her name had some killer curves.

Shuffling through the papers in his file, he ran his finger down the page, answering aloud, “Donatella Hale.”

Eyes back to the screen, his eyes narrowed trying to see more than was there. “Well, hello, Donatella. See ya’ soon.”

“Would you like coffee, tea, or soda?” The flight attendant smiled. “Or maybe something stronger?”

“Just water, thank you,” he answered, wondering if there would ever be an airplane seat that fit his six-foot-ten frame. Even in first class, he felt squished, squashed, and stuffed into the tiny compartment.

Would’ve been better to fly myself, but Gil would’ve busted a vessel.

Taking the cold bottle of water and tiny cup the attendant handed him, Rafe thought about how much money they wasted trying to ‘act human’. He understood it in the beginning. The ‘powers that be’ had to be slowly introduced to the idea of Shifters in general, and the Dragons’ enhanced abilities specifically.

Shifting his butt one more time and stretching out his legs as far as he could, Rafe reclined his seat and closed his eyes, remembering the first time the five of them had met with the Director. Fresh home from Desert Storm, each part of Delta Force – at least for that specific conflict - were called into the Director of Defense’s office very late in the evening.

Sitting in a large conference room staring at one while using the mindspeak of their kind, every Dragon had an idea why they were there. Abe, the oldest and roughest of them all was sure they would have to fight their way out. Ben, the techie of the group, and by far the calmest of them all, was sure it was another form of recognition for their exemplary service then came Oz – their munitions expert.

Known as Oscar Tomas to his momma, and only his momma, had been blowing things up since he could walk and talk. More times than Rafe could count, the man he’d known as OZ for two hundred years had made bombs out of everything – to and including a pair of lady’s knickers and cow patties.

“You sure you don’t know what’s goin’ on, Chief?” Abe grumbled to Gil. “Ever since we broke out on our own you’ve been a step and a half ahead of everything.”

And he was right. Over three hundred years ago, a strange evil swept through the world. Shifters of all kinds disappeared in the blink of an eye. There was no rhyme nor reason. One moment they would be there, the next simply gone.

Males, females, children, old, young – it didn’t matter, and the Dragons seemed to be the hardest hit. All the Berserkers – a special sect of Guardsmen who’d been blessed by The Morrigan with a Warrior form unlike anything they’d ever seen – disappeared without a trace. They were the only breed of Shifter to completely vanish.

How does something…anything, take out those fightin’ mo fos?

Gil and Rafe had disagreed with the Elders decision to wait for the dust to settle before searching for the Berserkers. It was their belief that the sooner they got to the bottom of the disappearances, the better off Dragon kin would be. However, the Council of Elders would not be swayed, and within a week the five Brethren had separated from their Clan and for the most part, Dragon Kin all together.

“Thanks for that Abe.” Gil nodded. “But this time I’m as in the dark as you are. The MPs showed up to get me the same as they did the rest of you.”

“Could they know what we are?” Oz asked, chewing his gum with such vehemence that the cut of his jawline was sharp and defined.

“No way,” Ben chimed in. “If they did, we’d be downstairs in lockup with silver shackles and twenty-five-thousand volt bars all around. We’re the shit of their nightmares, remember?”

“I’ll be there worse fuckin’ nightmare if they piss me off any more than they already have,” Abe growled.

“Let’s hear what they have to say before we pull scales and start the place on fire,” Gil instructed. “We’ve been in the military in one form or another all over the world for four hundred and some years. If they’d wanted to get rid of us, they would’ve.”

The sound of footsteps just outside the door had them all sitting up straight in their seats just before the tall, commanding figure of Director Isaacs walked into the room. Walking the length of the room, not even glancing at the guys sitting around the table.

Taking his seat at the head of the table, the retired five-star General unbuttoned his jacket and finally looked up. Taking a moment to make eye contact with each of the Dragons, he sat back in his high-backed chair, set his elbows on the arms and steepled his fingers in front of his chin.

The huge LCD behind him blinked to life. Each of their names flashed on the screen right before pictures began to carousel from left to right. Photos of each man in the throes of battle. The longer it played, the older the photos got until the screen returned to black.

The silence was deafening. Rafe could hear the thoughts of his Brethren, knew they were all playing the ‘he-who-speaks- first-loses’ game. Tired of the bullshit, needing to know if he was fighting or flying, Rafe opened his mouth at the exact moment that Director Isaac’s eyes turned a glowing yellow and the pupils merely a vertical black line.

Grinning like the Big Cat that messed with the Dragons instead of the birdie, the Director chuckled, “Now that that’s out of the way, how about we talk about you boys coming to work for me?”