8. Riggs

8

Riggs

Snap!

With a flash of golden light, we arrived in Cara's garden.

Breana fell into me, and as I reached to steady her, my own knees buckled. I kept myself upright with an effort. I noticed Riley sway into Havoc, and he propped her up.

"Hold on, everyone," Cara said. She'd warned us that we would react—because at the end of the path was her house—and most of us were inside it, sitting at the kitchen table.

"This time travel stuff fucking sucks," Havoc growled.

As another wave of dizziness hit me, I had to agree. Although there were all kinds of reasons to be dizzy, and as Breana's scent washed over me, I wondered whether it was really the time overlap doing it…

"Distance should help." The Watcher pushed aside overgrown foliage from a shed I hadn't noticed before. She opened it, and I saw crates within. "Riley, take your team back first. You'll need to move as many crates as you can—they have clothes in them. I keep them for emergencies."

By the manner in which everyone swayed, they were as weakened as me. But Marcus, Havoc, and Rafael loaded up. They piled the crates in the center before they linked arms, making sure their legs touched the wooden boxes.

"As far as they are aware, you guys have only been gone a few minutes. I'll take Bree and Riggs through the gate. They'll have been gone only a little longer. Tyrez, you can go through on your own."

Riley and her crew vanished in a cloud of golden light, and I stooped to lift a crate. Bree swayed into me as she hefted hers, and my pulse bounded as her breast brushed against my arm.

When I'd run into her on the path outside the showers, she'd seemed a bit dazed. My lips twitched when I remembered her reaction to the turtle. And then I'd babbled nonsense about mutants…

What was up with that? It had been an uncomfortable few minutes, considering I'd just jacked off to thoughts of her wrapping those sensuous lips around me. For just a moment, there on the path, with my body still tingling from the experience, I'd entertained all sorts of hopeful thoughts. But then she'd acted so strangely. I hadn't taken her for the screaming type. Perhaps the turtle had been scarier than I'd thought?

I considered that.

Nope. It was a pretty small turtle. It had been a cranky beast, though.

Perhaps it was for the best that we'd both walked away from that encounter, because my life was a mess. And while I had no memories of either of my brothers, one of them might be responsible for trying to bump me off.

None of it made me a good bet for dinner and a movie. If she liked movies. They were kind of a human thing.

I think, anyway. My memories weren't exactly what I would call reliable.

And a teenage thing? Why was I still thinking of the turtle?

"Okay," Cara brought me back to the present by hefting her own crate. "You guys have been helping me get this all together. We most certainly have not been rescuing Dragons from a fire."

Tyrez's face remained calm, but his eyes were flaring chaotically.

His family had almost died. My family, too.

The Watcher led the way down the trail to the gateway dedicated to the academy. She shifted the crate against her hip and waved a hand at it. It sprang to life, and she stood so her arm touched mine. Breana pushed up against my other side. I had to force myself not to look down at her.

Cara stared at Tyrez and pointed to the gate with her chin. "After you."

The big shifter vanished in the flaring energy.

"Okay, here we go."

We stepped through the surging energy and emerged in the meadow in front of the academy building.

It was disconcerting, as if we'd just wiped half the night out of existence. Considering what we'd been up to in that time, it made everything surreal. Because nothing had changed. The refugees from the eruption lay everywhere I looked.

As we carried the crates to the pile started by Riley and her crew, Cara turned to Breana. "Can you rejoin your teammates? I'd take you off duty, but it will look odd, so I'm afraid you have to endure."

When Breana hesitated, the Watcher touched her arm. The younger woman immediately straightened, and as some color returned to her face, she nodded to Cara.

"I'm going to get Riggs officially enrolled and assigned quarters." The Watcher gestured to me.

Breana shot me an unreadable look before moving off through the people. I found myself mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she walked. Until Cara drove her elbow into my ribs.

"Stop drooling," she said. "You aren't supposed to know her very well. You look like a smitten schoolboy."

"I am not drooling," I protested. But I was too slow to avoid raising a hand to my lips to be sure. Breana was definitely worthy of my drool…

When Cara's eyes danced and she raised a brow, I obediently diverted my attention to my brother. Tyrez strode straight to the pile of crates and started organizing the dispersal of clothes to those who so desperately needed them.

His demeanor, calm and confident, reassured everyone around him. As he dispersed the clothing, I saw the first bloom of hope on many exhausted faces.

My brother, and my friend. Clearly not just an exiled prince—he was a leader, in every way that counted. And exactly what the Dragon Empire needed.

As I watched him, I felt a pang of unease.

Cara had turned to speak with Bess. When the other Watcher moved on, I leaned close.

"What's stopping them from coming after Tyrez?" I asked.

When she hesitated, my gut twisted. "Nothing," she said. "So long as he remains here at the academy, attacking him would be difficult. But not impossible." She flashed me a look in which I caught a glimpse of her worry. "Yet, if he were to disappear, ripples would be felt across the Empire. Everything he does now will be watched. I have to figure out how to protect him without starting a war."

My family. My brother. I might not have memories of them, but the rage that stirred within me indicated that the ties, although buried deep, possibly still existed.

It gave me hope they might yet surface.

"Come with me," she said. "Let's get you officially enrolled as a Shade, shall we?"

My participation in this school wasn't something I looked forward to. "I can help here," I protested, looking around us.

Cara waved me into motion. "I can't get Bree and Riley's crew out of this without possibly causing suspicion, but the less time you're around Tyrez, the better. You two look too much alike."

I glanced back at my brother. Really? "He looks"—I groped for the word—"like he has a stick up his ass."

"Well, he is more serious than you," she agreed. "But if you stand beside him, it is obvious you two are related. Try to keep your distance."

"Righto, boss lady."

Her arched brow waggled. "Always knew you were a smart boy."

Smart? Had I been? If so, I wasn't convinced that characteristic had survived my brain-fry. With a sigh, I trailed after her as she approached the headmaster.

His hair stood out from his scalp in all directions, which matched the harassed expression he wore. As Cara approached, he turned to her.

"I've had to cancel classes for today. It will take us hours to get this sorted out. We're using the Coliseum to house the refugees until other arrangements can be made. I'm negotiating with their government for accommodations."

"That sounds reasonable," Cara stated. "The students acted with dignity and honor in order to save these people. The academy's role will be commended by all."

His mouth opened, and then he seemed to absorb what she'd said. "There may be criticism from some on the council," he hedged. "I fired off a missive explaining the situation, but most won't receive it until the morning. They've also been clamoring at me to debrief the Centaur girl."

"I will be the one debriefing her, but only once she has rested," Cara said firmly. "Providing organized support is part of what the Shades are all about."

Amadeus stiffened. "The council will want to talk to her directly."

Cara pushed back. "The council can offer questions they wish answered. But a direct meeting would not be constructive, and you know it. And upsetting her is not a good idea."

The thought that Breana might be dangerous seemed to give him pause. Then he shrugged. "They are distracted by the refugees at the moment, anyway."

"The council may be well advised to put together emergency protocols for such events," Cara said. "There won't always be time to discuss in committee."

The headmaster tilted his head. "I will recommend that in the morning."

"Bess mentioned that you didn't have time to process Riggs's enrollment."

His eyes rose to mine. "Riggs. Right." He turned and waved to Constance, who was madly scribbling on a clipboard. When she approached, he said, "Can you get him settled? He'll have all day to acclimatize. He's joining Team Dragon."

Constance appeared even more strung out than her boss, and she had a dark streak of volcanic ash across one cheek. But she brightened at the suggestion and handed the clipboard to the headmaster. "I've got a couple of the older students collecting refugee names as well. I'll have to check for duplicates when they're done."

"Good." The tone in Amadeus's voice was more exasperated than pleased. "Their government is pushing for an accurate tally. As if we aren't up to our eyeballs with healing, feeding, and clothing them."

"They can't expect this to come out of our budget," Constance said. "Are you going to ask for compensation?"

"We'll have to bill someone for it." Amadeus seemed exasperated. "It seems no one else was equipped to handle it, and we were. But our services can't be offered pro bono."

"That can be discussed once their immediate needs are seen to," Cara stated. "For now, we have work to do."

The Watcher gave me an eyebrow waggle and moved away, leaving me in Constance's care.

I followed the headmaster's assistant into the building.

It was filled with milling students. Some clearly had a purpose—they carried trays of food out the doors, or helped refugees to the elevators. On their way, I assumed, to the temporary quarters in the Coliseum.

But others sat on the stairs or leaned on the railing overlooking the foyer, just watching. Their soot-streaked clothes and the blank look in their eyes indicated they were still processing the horrors they'd seen while rescuing people from the volcano.

I sensed their eyes on me as Constance took me back to the office. If Cara had hoped I would blend in, she might have been wrong. Between my height and the sword on my back, I seemed destined to stand out like a sore thumb. A very sore thumb.

That didn't mean anyone would figure out who or what I really was.

Heck, I didn't even know that.

Constance pulled out a pack from a cabinet along one wall. It unnerved me when she turned to eye me intently, before muttering under her breath, and opening a drawer. It appeared to be filled with clothes, all in the academy black.

"I prefer long sleeves," I said.

"Well, that helps," she replied. "Because we're low on short-sleeved tee shirts in your size." She shook her curl-topped head. "The students just seem to keep getting bigger."

When she shot me a look, all I could do was shrug. "Sorry."

Constance smiled. "It's my problem, not yours." She pulled out a few shirts and shoved them into the pack, then opened another drawer and added sweatpants. When she reached for underwear, I held up a hand. "Don't bother."

One brow rose. "Bare-assed is a shifter thing."

Uh oh. I plastered a silly grin on my face. "Just don't like underwear—so overrated."

She opened her mouth as if to debate the merits of wrapping one's manly bits in an extra layer of cloth, but then closed it again, before dropping one pair in. "But they're good for swimming, too," she pointed out. "There's far too much skin showing in this place. Gives an older woman palpitations."

"Good thing, then, that there aren't any older women around," I stated easily.

Constance laughed. "Flattery will get you everywhere. And no, I'm not that old, really. It's just that I'm surrounded by a bunch of fresh-faced babies." She handed me the pack. "Now, I just have to get your envelope…" She returned to the desk and dug out a large one from the filing cabinet alongside it. "Your class outline and general info are in there." Opening a drawer, she sifted through it. "Ah. Here we go." This, as she handed me a key on an elastic loop. "Half the students don't lock up, but if you are storing that," she pointed to the sword, "I would. If you want it more secure, we do have a safe here."

I took the key and envelope, and then followed her back out of the office, down the hall, and into the foyer.

The elevators were busy with the evacuees, so we took the stairs. The dizziness abated with every forward step. As we rose through the levels, Constance gave me the lowdown of what was on each. My stride hitched when we passed the fourth, and I smelled food. Students passed us, carrying trays destined for the refugees.

Constance noticed my interest and smiled at me. "You can visit there once I show you your room."

So I continued to follow her up to the fifth floor, where she pointed out the washrooms and took me down a side hall to a room with a Dragon pictogram on it. As someone who might never again fly as a Dragon, it seemed strange to be on a team with that name.

Before I could dwell too much on that, Constance stopped outside the door and rapped on it. When there was no answer, she turned the knob, and it opened.

It contained two oversized beds separated by twin dressers that sat beneath a large window. One dresser had a stack of books on it, and the neatly made bed on that side had a few spare cushions. So I tossed my pack on the other bed.

Constance surveyed the other side of the room. "Sid has a few more personal items than most," she said. "Some of those books are from our library—it has a large fiction section as well as references." She straightened. "I have to get back out there. Because leaving the headmaster to organize will have me sorting out the mess for a week."

"Thanks a bunch, Constance." I smiled at her, which seemed to freeze her to the spot for a moment.

Then she smiled back. "If you have any issues, just come see me." And she left, closing the door behind her.

I walked to the window and looked out across the busy meadow. All those poor people had left their entire lives behind. Was it better, or worse, to remember what you'd lost?

I didn't know the answer.

Constance had only been gone a few minutes when the door opened again, and Sid came in.

I looked up. And up. I'd worked with him at the eruption, but crap, put into the context of a room—my mouth might have fallen open, but I was too astonished to verify it. I was pretty sure I'd never seen anyone that big. He certainly qualified for the description of giant.

A truly huge man. I managed to close my mouth. Had I ever met an Anisau before the eruption? I had no idea.

He took one long stride in before coming to a halt. His sandy hair was wet and his skin damp—he'd clearly just come from the showers. He had a towel slung around his neck.

"Hullo, Riggs," he said with a grin. "See you found your way to your bed."

"Seems so."

He shoved his chin toward the window. "Are they getting things under control out there? Those poor people. I didn't know what I could do to help, and Bess sent me away. Said I was scaring them." He shrugged and plunked himself down on the bed, which groaned ominously. Then he began to vigorously rub his thick hair with the towel. Droplets of water flew everywhere. "If they're afraid of my human, they ought to meet my beast."

"They've been through a lot." I unslung the sword from my back and laid it on the bed. "I think Constance and Tyrez are getting them settled, though."

His eyes followed the sword's progress to the coverlet. "That's one helluva sword."

I didn't know what to say, but my mouth opened and I blurted out, "It was a gift."

His deep brown eyes flared yellow for just a moment, before he dropped the towel to the ground. "We all arrive with bits of our past attached. Yours is just more interesting than most."

It was such an insightful comment that my brain struggled to equate it with the bits and pieces of memory I dredged up. Something about his kind being ruled by emotion? Of being closer to the animal than many shifters? The intelligence that gleamed at me from his eyes belied all of it.

I sat myself down on my bed, watched as he fluffed the pillows into a pile, and leaned back on them. Then he opened the top dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of glasses with half-lenses. He perched them on his broad nose and opened a book to a marked page. "I brought lots of books with me, but I shouldn't have bothered because the library has plenty."

Somehow watching a giant Anisau sitting on fluffed cushions, with reading glasses perched on his nose, led me to the decision that forming new memories was more important than continuing to try dredging up old, broken ones.

Into the sudden, peaceful silence, my stomach growled.

Sid arched a bushy brow, sighed, and set aside both his book and his glasses.

"All right, then. Let me introduce you to the cafeteria. They're busy feeding the refugees, but I'm sure we can score us some meatrolls."

I felt a stab of guilt. "I should really go out there and help."

The big shifter snorted. "They have too much help. What they need is organization, which the headmaster is working on." He eyed me. "And you need food."

"You don't have to show me. I can go myself," I protested as he rose with me. His head hovered somewhere around eight feet.

"Where's the fun in that?" Sid stated. "I can read anytime. Showing someone around for the first time only happens once."

I put the sword back on—something he noted with a barely raised eyebrow—and he led us out into the hall. Where I discovered another thing about him—he loved to talk. At least, he loved to talk to me. Maybe it was because I didn't say much in return.

By the time we'd descended to the cafeteria, he'd informed me of the number of students at the academy, including a breakdown of what species they were and the powers they possessed.

"We have an interesting mix of powers and talent at this place. Our own team features a Faerie who can transform to full-human size. A Selkie who is also part Siren. A Sea Krayt with unhealthy stalker tendencies. And I'm not sure exactly what Bree's story is"—he paused—"but she'll tell us in her own time, I expect. We all have secrets." His eyes drifted over the hilt of the sword. "But she shapeshifted to a horse, which is interesting. Not a Unicorn—an actual horse. And the thing she did to freeze the water…" he eyed me and continued, "Never seen anyone do that. So whatever her story is, it will be interesting, for sure."

He hesitated, and I gritted my teeth. I hated lying to him, but knew I had to. So I launched into my cover story, keeping it to a minimum. Horny Akolachian bastard who screwed the wrong woman. Now exiled.

Sid's eyebrows rose. "Wow. I've heard of your people. They have a reputation for being secretive and protective. They are good enough fighters to repel anyone who comes close, so not much is actually known about them."

I shrugged. "I'm not Akolachian any longer. Now I'm a Shade. Or I will be, if I make it through the program."

His gaze moved to the sword again. "I take it you know how to use that?"

"Sort of." I didn't know if I did, really. "I have another talent that they want to develop. Something between a Shaker and a Mover. I'm kind of unique."

He grunted. "That pretty much describes most in this place."

"Do you have a talent?" I asked, and then backpedaled. "You can tell me to take a hike if you like."

Sid didn't answer as he led us down the hall to where the wonderful scents of food wafted free. Students passed us carting loaded trays, heading down the stairs. They all left a bubble of space around Sid, as though they knew something I didn't.

Wasn't sure if he noticed, but when he reached the doorway to the cafeteria and turned to me, his eyes had shadows in them that indicated he did. "My talent seems to begin and end with my beast," he said.

A fragment of memory surged—of a hairy creature ripping trees out of the ground. "I've heard that your beasts are powerful."

His eyes flared yellow, and a lip lifted over a large, but still human, canine.

"I live in fear of what it can do," he said quietly. "It is why I am here."

He turned and led the way to the food.

The Anisau and I sat at the Team Dragon table and consumed an untold number of meatrolls.

All the while, I watched the kitchen staff struggle to keep the trays filled.

"I think I know how we can help out," I said. "They look overwhelmed."

Sid's bushy eyebrows rose as he followed my gaze. "Do you cook?" he asked.

I had no idea, so I went for the safe bet. "No. You?"

"Yes," he said rather surprisingly. "This is an excellent idea."

Minutes later, we'd bulldozed our way into the kitchen, where a very harassed supervisor handed over an entire counter—well, a corner, anyway—to the two of us. We found ourselves stuffing bits of dough and rolling them, before passing them on to those tending to the ovens.

Over the next hour, Sid managed to appropriate a selection of spices that he added to the different mixtures of meat and vegetables.

At one point, when he confessed he often just had a feeling something would work, I blurted out, "You're a regular Baxter Stockman."

His brows rose as I wondered just where the heck that had come from. Or who the heck Baxter Stockman even was.

Damned fragmented memories. I struggled to remain cool and calm as the Anisau glanced at me. How was I going to explain this?

"Wasn't he the mad scientist in the Teenage Ninja Turtle movies?" Sid asked.

Okay, what in the heck did I say now? I had no idea what he was talking about. I had no idea what I was talking about, either, but all I could say was, "Yeppers."

"I streamed all those movies and shows back when I lived in that realm. They were fun," he said.

"Streamed?" I blurted out again before I could stop myself.

"Yeah." He raised a brow. "I didn't think Akolachians spent a lot of time in the human realm."

I scrambled for a response. "Unlike most of my people, I am an adventurous type."

That seemed to satisfy him. At least, he went back to grabbing fingerfuls of spices, leaving me contemplating that staying hidden was going to be more difficult than I'd thought. Particularly if memories kept surfacing at inconvenient moments without any context. Teenage turtle movies and shows? When had I watched those?

"Here." He handed me a jar of spice. "Put some in."

"How much?"

His mouth twisted. "About three large pinches."

I added five for good measure. It was obvious he knew something about cooking. It confirmed my impression that the big shifter was going to be full of surprises.

We labored until the parade of food trays subsided. The students hauling them were still covered in soot from the eruption, and the kitchen supervisor started sending them off for showers and some much-needed rest.

He approached us and offered a tired smile. I noticed he stopped a good distance from Sid, as though he expected him to convert to a monster in an instant.

"Thanks for your help," he said. "You guys have had a long night, go and get some sleep."

"I enjoyed it," Sid stated. "Been a while since I did any cooking."

The super eyed him. "Those spices were your idea?" When the Anisau nodded, he said, "I tried a couple, they were really good. Can you tell me what you did?"

Sid did so, although I wondered how much use "a pinch" would be when you compared the size of his fingers to everyone else's, but I guessed the guy would adjust.

The supervisor hesitated when he was done, but then, he offered, "If you want to spend some time in the kitchen, volunteers are always appreciated."

Sid's eyes lit yellow, and the other man took a small step back. But all the Anisau said was, "Thank you, I'd really enjoy that."

The building was definitely quieter when we left the cafeteria. The window at the end of the hall showed the sky lightening with the dawn.

"So, if I'm Baxter," Sid said as we climbed to the fifth floor. "Who are you?"

My reply was immediate. "Michelangelo." My stride hitched. Both my mother and my brother had called me that. How many alter egos could one guy have?

The Anisau arched a brow. "You refuse to be serious and are good at wisecracks. Do you love pizza, too?" he asked as we reached the landing.

Again, I had no idea. But I sketched up a grin, and said, "Life is too serious, so yeah."

Sid huffed a laugh. "Okay, then. Michelangelo it is."

I kept the stupid, cheerful expression despite the fact my head ached and exhaustion pushed at me. When we entered the room, I moved to look out the window.

The meadow was a trampled mess, but the refugees were gone. A few students walked the grounds, picking up debris. My eyes fastened on a familiar form collapsed on the bench.

Breana.

My heart did a strange flip in my chest, and I fought the urge to stampede down there. I imagined myself sitting with her. Holding her. Easing the exhaustion I could see in the droop of her shoulders…

I wanted to be with her so badly, I ached with the power of it.

But I had no right to pull her into the mess my life had become. So instead, I forced myself away from the window, pulled the sword off, tossed it on the bed, and then followed it down.

Sid leaned back on his cushions and placed his reading glasses back on his nose. "Do you always sleep fully clothed with a sword beside you?"

"Yep," I muttered, letting my eyes slide closed. Might as well set the precedent now, if I didn't want Sid seeing the Dragon tatts.

"If you snore, I will pummel you with pillows," he warned.

Seemed fair.

I opened my mouth to say so, or thought I did.

Or maybe it was just to snore.