“Wait, what?” I frowned. “Zebra's aren't hybrids.”
“Of course they are,” Karmen frowned back. “Like mules; they're made when you mate a donkey with a horse.”
“Karmen,” I asked carefully, “what do you think they crossbreed to get zebras?”
“A black horse and a white horse,” he said simply.
“Um, no,” I gave a little giggle.
“No?” Karmen asked.
“No,” Tiernan assured him. “They are their own breed.”
“Oh,” Karmen looked back to Cat. “So; not like a zebra.”
“A zebra has nothing to do with it,” Raza declared as he stepped up to us. “Let go of the zebra.”
“Done; I've let it go,” Karmen looked Raza up and down. “Which leaves my hands free to grab other things. So why don't you tell me what breed you are? Besides smokin' hot, that is,” he gave Raza a dramatic wink.
“Well you got the smokin' part right,” I chuckled.
“And the hot part,” Raza cast an indignant look my way.
“He's a dragon-djinn,” Tiernan said to Karmen with a smirk.
“No,” Karmen breathed in wonder. “Stop, I'm going to faint,” he started to fan himself.
“And I'm a perfectly formed dragon-djinn,” Raza nodded as he reached for his pants. “Would you care to see?”
“Absolutely!” Karmen's eyes went wide, like a kid on Christmas morning.
“No!” Tiernan and I shouted together as we lunged for Raza's pants.
“I'm teasing you,” Raza chuckled and pushed our hands away. “I think I'm getting quite good at drollery.”
“What's drollery?” I whispered to Karmen.
“Who cares? He's gorgeous; just smile and nod,” Karmen advised as he did that very thing.
Chapter Fifty
Later that night, our team boarded a plane for Brisbane, Australia. It was a seventeen hour flight so I was once again grateful that we had my dad's private jet. Boy was he going to have a hell of a fuel bill when this was all done.
I was able to get some sleep on the plane and we were even served another meal by our thoughtful stewards. So by the time we touched down in Brisbane, I was feeling much better. The fairy watcher for the Australian rath met us at the airport and gave us a ride out to Samford Valley, just a little ways outside of Brisbane.
His name was Bambam. I'm not kidding, it was Bambam, which is evidently an Aboriginal name. Who knew the Flintstones were Aboriginals? Anyway, Bambam was a bunyip. I bet you didn't know that there were Australian fairies. Well there are. Most of them are shapeshifters, like Bambam, and with all the strange creatures roaming Australia, no one pays them any mind.
Bunyips are water-dwellers, similar to kelpies. They have horse tails but aren't really horses. In fact, they look more like skinny walruses when they're in their animal forms. They have thick tusks, wide flippers, and huge dark eyes like a seal. In his man form, Bambam retained only the eyes and a trace of the flippers in his webbed hands.
Otherwise, he looked like an aboriginal; skin the color of an acorn, matching hair that hung in lustrous waves to his shoulders, a wide nose, and an equally generous mouth. He looked sweet, kind even, but I knew that bunyips had a taste for tender human flesh; usually small children or women. Of course, they weren't supposed to indulge anymore but the way Bambam kept looking at my thighs had me worried.
He drove us into a lush valley, something I didn't expect to find in Australia. This was my first trip to the previous penal colony and I'd thought to find more of an African type of landscape. What Bambam drove us through was closer to something you'd find in California. The valley was surrounded by curving mountains, spotted with wide-armed trees, and covered in foliage in every shade of green. Lavish lakes adorned the valley floor, one edged up against the property that Bambam drove us to.
“Here we are,” Bambam got out of the van and took a deep breath of the eucalyptus scented air. “Home sweet home.”
“Beautiful,” I admired as Cat went bounding off into the open field bordering the sprawling ranch style home.
“The rath is within those trees there,” Bambam pointed to a copse of trees behind the house. “Did you want to come in for some tea before you leave?”
