Chapter Two – Ian
Ian was afraid that the redhead was going to throw up all over his car. Her face was green, but luckily she managed to keep it all in. Crawfoot – her first name escaped him at the moment – had scrambled into the front seat, presumably to escape the possibility of being vomited on. However, she hadn't spoken since her initial exclamation of 'Demons!' when her face turned to a shade of white previously seen only on corpses as she slumped in the seat. Both women had blank-eyed looks on their faces that he was well familiar with. Shock.
When he pulled into the massive garage attached to his mansion, things changed.
"Demons?" Crawfoot shrieked, bolting upright. "What do you mean… demons?"
Ian sighed. He had begun to hope that this could be avoided and she'd just tell him the truth. Apparently, she would need some gentle prodding. Or not so gentle prodding. "Look, demons don't just come after people for no reason, so can you spare me the innocent act? The only way we can resolve this is if you're honest with me."
"Okay. Okay. I can do that. Now, what are you talking about, demons?"
"I mean the fallen angels, the children of Satan, creatures of evil, hell-fiends. Whatever you want to call them." Ian got out of the car and picked out the redhead, setting her on her feet, before moving for Crawfoot. The petite, chubby woman jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Ian flinched. "Hey! Watch that! You'll scratch the paint."
"What do you mean that demons were after us?" Crawfoot demanded, putting her hands on her hips. "And what did they do to the restaurant? Maria's going to kill us; the kitchen is a total write-off. Did they set off a bomb?"
Right. He had almost forgotten the damage he had done when he half-shifted and burned the demons to a crisp. Ian pulled his cellphone from his pocket and phoned his clean-up guy. He gave him the address of the restaurant and turned back to the women. He was going to get answers – but not from the redhead, as she chose that moment to faint. He caught her instinctively, grunting with annoyance. Really, what was next? Swooning in a tower like a fairy-tale princess? She was feather-light in his arms as he picked her up, but her weight was the least of his worries.
"Put her down!" Crawfoot shouted. "Right now!"
Ian rolled his eyes and headed inside.
"I'm calling the cops!"
"Please do. Then you can explain why there is a crater in your kitchen."
"I'll say we were attacked and then you showed up. You're the one who will have to explain." Crawfoot patted her pockets. Her shoulders slumped. "They took my phone."
He snorted, walking from the garage. Crawfoot followed, a scowl on her face. Ian took the collapsed woman to one of the guest rooms and put her on the bed. Crawfoot immediately pushed between them as though he had evil intentions. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her from the room. She didn't resist as much as he expected. Maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as he feared.
Once outside, Ian straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest, narrowing his eyes. In his experience, it helped intimidate people. This little human, however, straightened up right back at him and glared. Odd. From his experiences with her, she seemed to be the kind with crippling self-doubt that would make her an ideal doormat.
"Look here, Mr. Asshole. You can't just stroll into a burnt-up kitchen, kidnap me and Amber, bring us to your fancy mansion, and then just toss her into bed without giving us any answers. So, you are going to tell me what is going on, who those men were, and what they wanted. Understood?" She poked him in the chest.
Did she really not know? Ian glared down at her for a moment, studying the small details in her face. Lips, eyes, color. He could see nothing that indicated deception. Great… So she had no clue that she had been targeted by demons.
"Mr. Asshole?" he repeated.
"Please. That can't surprise you. Last week, you sent your meal back four times because the sauce wasn't drizzled right." The little human rolled her eyes. "And you've been coming to the restaurant for months, but you still think my name's Crawfoot instead of Crawford!"
That didn't sound right. Ian's frown increased. He hadn't wanted to go to her little restaurant. The food was good, better than a lot of the fancier places he'd been in, but it was still an underwhelming environment. It needed more glitz and glam for his taste.
But he'd been having visions of this night when Crawfoot –Crawford – and the other woman were attacked by demons. It had been somewhat different in his visions: she was alone and the demons slit her throat. So he had interrupted that part before it could happen. It was the only thing he liked about his prophetic visions – being able to actually change things. Especially when it came to demons.
Now, the question was: why did they come after this ordinary human?
Ian cursed. It would take time to get answers and, in the meantime, it wasn't safe for the women to be out there. "The other one is Amber?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You think they were after her?"
"No. They were definitely after you. What's your name? First name, I mean."
"Lydia." She drew the name out suspiciously. "Why the sudden interest in our names?"
"You're going to be living here and we might as well be on a first-name basis."
Lydia's jaw dropped. Her face paled, and she looked almost as frightened as she had when he first opened the freezer door. Speaking of which, he needed to put on some new clothing. The burst of flame and half-transformation had wrecked the suit. Shame. It was his best casual wear. Maybe it was time to invest in a pair of jeans.
Being around humans wasn't something he particularly enjoyed on the best of days. Now having two of them living with him, able to discover his secret, and putting his life at risk…
If I didn't have a sacred obligation to defend the world, I'd let the demons have them, he thought. In his opinion, humans weren't much better than the hell-fiends.
He started to walk away, but Lydia rounded him and shoved her hand against his chest, stopping him. "Wait. We'll be living here? Please, do explain why we would have to do that."
Ian brushed her hand off him. "You don't want the demons to be successful the next time they come after you, do you?"
The blood drained from her face.
"I thought not. They're too afraid to attack me head-on, so as long as you're under my roof, you'll be safe. It will give me time to figure out what's so special about you, at least. You can pick any room you want to stay in. Just stay off the third floor. It's my private space."
Lydia glanced around, looking lost, then squared her shoulders again. "And why are the demons scared of you? Are you some sort of… I don't know. Druid? Master priest? And if the demons were wanting to kill me – if they were even demons – why didn't they just keep me out in the blast radius of their bomb instead of locking me in the freezer?"
That was the question, wasn't it? Why not just kill her? They had been discussing something when he came in, and he wasn't the type to make tea and chat with his enemies. "Bomb?"
"The kitchen was burnt to a crisp, and I heard the explosion." Lydia took a deep breath, her hands beginning to tremble. "I thought they were going to kill us. It would have been my fault for keeping us back so late. If I hadn't — but why are they afraid of you?"
Ian cocked his head to one side. Maybe if she knew, she'd be afraid of him, too. At least afraid enough for her to do as he said and stay out of his way. On the flipside, human fear was why he was alone… He shrugged. If she decided to bring an army against him, the destruction of the planet would be on her head.
"I am the last of the Dragons of Orkney, guardian of the gates to hell," he said, watching her closely. "They fear me because I can breathe fire hotter than the seventh circle, and in my veins boils blood that can turn them to ash with a single scorching gaze. It is my duty to ensure they stay where they belong and to hunt down any demons that escape."
He moved closer to her, letting his breath wash over her face. He grinned when she shivered and moved back. She didn't stay down for long, though.
"A dragon?" she repeated. "Like… okay, what do you—"
She gasped, stumbling back from him when he allowed a curl of smoke to escape his mouth. Her eyes widened and both hands slapped over her mouth. Her already pale face took on a green tinge. Green-blue scales sprouted along his arms, his fingernails turning to claws.
"I am a dragon," he repeated. "I can shift all the way if you want me to."
"Um… no. That's fine." She quailed back when he stepped forward.
Ian nodded, satisfied, and shifted back to his original form. He thought about spitting out some vague threats, but she didn't have a phone. If she tried to leave, he'd know. He was in no danger of her calling in the army on him tonight. He strode past her, well aware that her eyes did not leave his body as he walked down the hallway.
He glanced back as he stepped into his elevator. She hadn't moved, but her expression wasn't terrified like he had expected. She opened her mouth, but the doors closed and blocked out whatever she had to say. Ian rested his head against the silver doors. Had he just made a fatal mistake by telling her his secret?