Page 32 of The Goblin in the Sink Drain
“Break out the poop bags.” Her grin was a tad sharp. “It’s time to get this pawty started.”
Rían and I groaned at the same time, but I noticed both of us were grinning.
The pawty was an event, all right.
First, Burdock made me toss back what he explained was a dragon energy drink, more or less.
Next, Rían climbed out the window, scooping me up before my feet touched the grass beside him. The door to Sloane’s room was beside the exit, Rían explained, so we couldn’t go that way without drawing Liam’s attention.
Then, while I was tasting clouds and hearing the color purple, which Burdock assured me was normal and not the beginning of death throes, Fayne drove up in an SUV wearing sunglasses and a ballcap that did nothing to hide her identity.
The speed with which she reached GSG had me ready to toss my cookies. Or maybe that was the energy drink. There was something very wrong with my stomach, and I wasn’t sure I could blame it on Fayne’s belief that traffic lights were twinkling Christmas decorations towns left up year round instead of a safety measure.
Slapping a hand over my mouth, I fumbled for the door latch. “I’m going to be sick.”
“It’s the tonic. Everyone has a bad reaction the first time. You’ll be fine.” Fayne waved off my certainty I was dying. “Though Burdock did give you extra oomph. You’ll need it for what I’m about to do to you.”
This might be the first time I had ever been hesitant to enter my own business, but I had a bad feeling about what was going to happen to me as soon as I walked through those doors. Still, I wanted to pitch in and prove to the Walshes I was capable. I wanted them to look at me and see strength. I wanted a clean slate. I wanted to be everything I had been told I could never be.
And that meant I had to swallow the bitter taste threatening to climb up the back of my throat and get it together before they had second thoughts about including me.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Rían said quietly. “Don’t let Fayne hype you up for something if you’re not ready for it yet.”
“I’m nervous about how the magic works,” I admitted, noticing as Fayne let herself in that she had a set of my keys. “This is like what she did with Liam, right? Glamouring him, or whatever, into Bowie?”
“Exactly like that.” His lips quirked, tugging up on one side. “Anything he can do, you can do.”
“I’m not sure that’s true, but thanks for the vote of confidence.” I started after Fayne. “What type of dragon is your grandmother?”
“She’s amystisch, a mystic.” His tone held notes of pride. “Her breed is the only one who can use actual magic. Most of it is transformative in nature, as you would expect from shifters, but she’s got plenty of tricks up her sleeves.”
“There are a lot more types of dragons than I realized, a lot more diversity in your clan than I would have expected for such low numbers.”
“That’s why we’re so diverse. The Walshes are the largest remaining dragon clan. We are the survivors. Most of us, like Fayne and me, are one of a kind. You will be too.”
“How is that possible?” I didn’t have to duck under his arm when he held the door for me, which was nice. “Dragons are, well,dragons.”
“Greed is a bottomless pit whose depths some people will never plumb. That’s what my dad used to say. Liam’s dad and mine were brothers. Dragons in our family line tend to be warriors. Titans. Stone skins. That sort of thing. Titans are too large to survive in a world as small as this one has become thanks to modern technology. Many were killed in recent decades by their own kind to preserve the secret of our existence or, if a mystic could be located, bound into smaller forms.”
“Fayne is your grandmother, and a mystic.” And the mother of two deceased sons she never breathed a word about, even though she lived for her grandchildren. “Are one set of genes dominant?”
“Mystics are as precious as your lineage,” he said, reminding me of the time when Bowie told me I was more precious than I knew. I figured he meant my relationship to Carmichael, but this must have been the truth. “There’s no rhyme or reason to when they pop up in a bloodline.”
A warrior upbringing must have played a part in her claiming the title of spymaster, but her talents were perfectly suited for the role.
“Hurry up.” Fayne waved me into the reception area. “Liam has an uncanny nose for sniffing out trouble. He might be distracted now, but he’ll figure out what we’re up to if we don’t hurry things along.”
“What do I do?” I stood on the spot where she indicated. “And do I have to be naked for this?”
A low groan was choked off fast behind me, where Rían now stood with his back facing me.
Based on the fact I didn’t shift, he must have assumed—correctly—that I was okay with others’ nudity but skittish aboutstripping myself. There was no reason for me to run around naked, so, yeah. I didn’t have much experience in that area.
“We’ll start you off easy.” She approached me, giving me a moment to decide if I was sure I would go through with it. “You can keep the clothes. For now.” She cupped my cheeks. “Close your eyes and let me work.”
As prickling warmth bled into me, I did as I was told. I stood there, still as a statue, and ignored the jitter of nerves as pressure pushed on me from all sides. The sensation was similar to how I had heard shifting described, minus the pain, so I didn’t panic. Much.
“Let’s see how you look as a redhead,” she murmured to herself, draping another, tighter band of magic around my middle. Then she sort of yanked. And I sort of crumpled like a used napkin. “Aww. Look, Rían. Isn’t she adorable?”
