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The man’s eyebrows skyrocket. “Nikolai has taken a mate?”
“Oh! No!” The man startles with my outburst. I take a breath and lower my voice. “I’m sorry. No. I meant his work partner. Sort of. I help him with his cases. Sometimes.”
“I see.” The man’s face falls with so much disappointment that it makes me blush.
“Sorry.”
The man chuckles. “It is all right.” He glances toward Nick with warm affection. He sighs. “I know it was wishful thinking on my part. Anya and I have been waiting for him to settle down for centuries. We’re starting to lose faith.”
I smile at that. “It may not happen anytime soon, but I’m sure someone will come along one day and tame the wild dragon. I only hope that I’m there to see it.”
The stranger chuckles again. “So do I, my dear. So do I.”
He looks at me and extends his hand. He is handsome in a distinguished way. “I am Surikov Petrovich, and that is my mate, Anya.” He nods toward the woman still sobbing into Nick’s chest.
“Nora Jacobs. It’s nice to meet you.”
When I take his hand, he leans forward and kisses both my cheeks. I only get a brief flash of his thoughts, but it’s enough to bring tears to my eyes. He’s trying to be strong in front of me, but he’s torn up inside with grief over the murder of his son. In his mind I see a beautiful blue dragon, much smaller than Nick’s beast, lying on the shore of the lake, the snow around him bathed in red. I’m confused as to how the dragon could be the fey’s son, but I don’t ask about it.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I murmur.
The man swallows and his eyes gloss over. He nods as if he can’t find his voice to respond.
My heart bleeds for this man and his mate. Her devastation makes so much sense now. I know what it’s like to lose a family member in such a violent way as murder. I can only imagine it’s even worse to lose a child than it was to lose my mother. “What was you son’s name?” I ask gently.
“Christov,” a shaky voice says. “His name was Christov.”
Nick and Anya have come over. Nick still has his arms around her, and his eyes look red as if he’s holding back tears. Anya gives me a pain-filled watery smile. “Nikolai tells me you’re a very special woman who can help him catch whoever did this.”
My eyes flick to Nick, and I gulp. “I hope so,” I tell Anya. “I promise you that Nick and I will do everything we can to figure out who did this and why. It won’t bring your son back, but hopefully it will bring you closure and a little peace.”
Her eyes brim over again, and she startles me by pulling me into a fierce hug. “Thank you, dear.”
I’m not one to hug strangers, but I manage not to flinch away. I even wrap my arms around her and pat her back a couple of times. She lets me go with a sniffle and then seeks comfort in her mate’s arms.
I don’t want to be the one to bring up the tragedy, but one look at Nick tells me I’m going to have to take charge tonight. I clear my throat and try not to wince as I say, “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but is your son still on the shore? I’ll need to see him and the crime scene for my gifts to be of any use.”
Anya starts sobbing again, and a couple of tears leak from the corners of Surikov’s eyes. He nods. “Follow me.”
None of us speak as Surikov leads us behind his home through the woods to the shore of the lake. Nick has to help me again. Apparently I’m the only one who can’t see in the dark.
The sky brightens just a little as we clear the woods and reach the lakeshore. What little moonlight there is reflects off the snow and ice that lines the shore. I can’t see the end of the ice. We’ve had a cold winter so far, and nearly half the lake is already frozen over.
Biting wind cuts at my face, and I bury myself as deep in my scarf and coat as I can. We walk maybe fifty feet down the shore where the snow has been trampled and the ice has been broken to pieces. Even in the near dark, I can see the stains that paint the ice and snow. I can smell the hint of copper on the wind. There must have been a lot of blood spilled here.
Among the ice, a dark lump lies half on the shore, half in the water. Christov is a much smaller dragon than Nick. His body could fit on the back of a flatbed truck. Instead of wings and clawed feet, he has finned arms and legs as if he was meant to swim, not fly. He looks more like a sea serpent than a dragon. Actually, it’s possible his kind are where those legends come from. Perhaps the Loch Ness monster is really a water dragon. Even Lake Erie is said to have its own sea monster. All those sightings must have just been Christov.
When I get closer, I see that his skin is made of scales, but they seem different than Nick’s. Less body armor and more fish scales. The poor creature doesn’t seem nearly as indestructible as Nick, but there’s still something about him. Even in death, he is awe inspiring. It makes me heartsick to think of this beautiful, majestic creature being vulnerable to a vicious attack. I would have loved to see him glide through the water healthy, strong, and full of life. How could someone kill such a magnificent creature?
Nick helps me make my way to Christov’s side, and I hear the smallest intake of breath when we see that the water dragon’s neck has been sliced open. “I can do this if you’d like to take a break,” I gently say to Nick.
He shakes his head, his eyes locked on the dragon. “I need to help. He was my family.”
I look at Nick in surprise. “Mythics cannot bear children because we are not born from parents,” he explains. “We are brought into existence through magic itself. No one really knows why or how, but we all feel it when one of our kind is created. It’s rare. Maybe only one or two are born every century. I was the only dragon on the continent before Christov. When he came into existence, I found him and brought him to Surikov and Anya. I wasn’t fit to raise a child, but I’ve known the fey for centuries and trusted them to keep him safe. I’ve stayed in his life, mentoring him as best I could. He’s the reason I came to the Great Lakes area in the first place and why I’ve stayed so long. I wanted to be here to help Surikov and Anya. I wanted to help protect Christov.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’ve failed.”
“Nick,” I croak, placing my hand on his arm. “You can’t think like that. This wasn’t your fault.”
He says nothing. I look closely and recognize the look of guilt in his eyes. I know it well. I’ve always in part blamed myself for my mother’s death. I should have done more when my premonition hit. I should have insisted we leave. I didn’t make her listen. I let her calm me down, and now she’s dead. Like Nick, I feel responsible even if maybe I shouldn’t. I know that nothing I say will make him stop blaming himself, so I don’t try. Instead, I give him purpose. “Maybe it’s too late to protect him, but you can still protect his family. We don’t know why he was targeted. We need to find this man before he goes after Surikov, or Anya, or even you.”
