Page 13 of Feathers and Scales

The man’s jaw dropped. “Bloody hell.”

“These two helped me,” she continued. “And before you lecture me about secrecy, they aren’t what they appear to be either.”

The situation sent heat along Daxton’s nerves, and even as this unknown human male had no right to know about his kind, his concern lay with Miss Tagalong. “You still need to heal.”

Her eyes blazed when they met his. “I’m healed enough because we have plenty to discuss.”

Daxton’s presence filled Izzy’s apartment and her mind. His bronze eyes seemed to have darkened, matching the shade ofThe Thinkerwhen Auguste Rodin first cast it in France, and Izzy was lost in the similarities—the heroic form and muscular realism. She fidgeted in her seat from the vulnerability of having him in her personal space, especially when exhaustion weighed on her from her need to heal.

Closer to her body, the gray haze over her sight lessened, allowing colors through. The kitchen table left a sturdier impression under her spirit flesh than the cave had earlier, and a giddiness threatened to take over her. She tried to take calming breaths, but as if Daxton amplified them, each thought or emotion she tried to wrangle just sprang free to run a mockery in her brain. She needed to keep a clear, logical mind when dealing with this situation, so she didn’t demand Simon take her to her far too emotional body.

It had taken her until the plane trip to figure out how to build a spirit energy wall to block her side of the link. It wasn’t easy since the theoretical link remained intangible, but she used the same will and focus as when she created a light shield physically. The barrierworked, but the dragon fumed with rage against it. Different from how it had tugged on it restlessly before. Without understanding what had happened with their entangled spirit energy, she couldn’t fix it. Daxton’s cluelessness made correcting it even harder.

A whistle blew into the air, startling Simon. A tea kettle shrieked from the stove in the kitchenette attached to the dining room.

“Perfect timing.” Simon tugged at his hair. “All right. How about everyone take a seat, and I’ll prepare some tea.” Simon paced around, as if forgetting what he was doing.

Izzy preferred for them to leave so she could gather her wits before confronting the two, but from the stern set of Daxton’s jaw and the curiosity she’d felt from being in Sarah’s Spirit Cavity, convincing them to leave would be improbable.

“Thank you,” Sarah said, taking the seat across from Izzy, placing a journal bound with aged leather between them. “Who are you?”

“What is in that journal?” Izzy asked. Deduction told Izzy that for them to have brought it meant they wanted to share it in some capacity.

Sarah placed her hand over it, protecting it. “A historical piece written by one of our leaders.”

Izzy crossed her hands beneath the table to keep herself from grabbing it.

Daxton sat beside Sarah, and his imposing frame filled the chair. Izzy pushed her thudding spirit heart aside. She needed answers and to receive them, she’d have to be forthcoming as well.

“I’m Izzy.” She waved toward the kitchen. “That’s my butler, Simon.”

Simon set down a tray with teacups filled with bags and the steaming pot in the center.

“Simon, this is Daxton and Sarah.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “But Izzy…don’t you think you should—”

Return to my body?Yes,but— “It can wait.”

“What are you?” Sarah gazed between Simon and Izzy.

“I could inquire the same of you,” Izzy said.

“Very well. You are Marked so…truth for truth?” Sarah asked.

“What do you mean Marked?” Izzy asked as Simon began pouring three teas beside her. For a moment, Izzy didn’t understand Simon’s count until the muted texture of the table brushed her spirit flesh. He knew as well as she that she couldn’t drink in her spirit form.

“It’s a spirit tag our kind can sense that lets us know you are trusted with the knowledge of our kind,” Sarah said.

Izzy pinned Daxton with her eyes. “Is that what you did to me?”

“Not exactly.”

She didn’t like that answer but wasn’t in the mood to pry. The link tightened between them, and even through her barrier his confusion swirled across their link. “All right. Truth for truth, then.”

Daxton cleared his throat, nodding to Simon. “You may be Marked, but he is not.”

Izzy sighed but understood their desire for secrecy. “Simon, please busy yourself in your room with the music up. Also, let Thea know I’m all right.”