Norris flung himself behind a particularly bushypaeonia suffruticosa. Or possiblyhibiscus syriacus. Whatever it was, he hoped it hid him from any onlookers. But he had no time to make sure. Trying not to belly-flop and make a giant splash that would attract attention, he flung himself into the lake.
He was just in time. He’d barely submerged himself before he became a Dunkleosteus. In fact, he was pretty sure his left foot had still been above water at the time, shifting into part of his tail-fin. He dove deeper.
Almost immediately, he hit bottom. The park lake wasn’t that deep. At least, it wasn’t that deep when you were an armored prehistoric fish the size of a van. Norris tried to squish himself into the soft mud at the bottom.
Normally he would have enjoyed being a Dunkleosteus, even if all he could do was sit at the bottom of a lake. It was so fascinating to see through a fish’s eyes and breathe with gills instead of lungs. But this time he couldn’t help worrying. Had anyone seen him dive in and not come up? Did he have to worry about being spotted by rescue divers? Worse yet, what would Annabeth think if she’d seen him rush pell-mell out of the café without even taking his coffee with him?
Simply tell her your curse unexpectedly reactivated, and you had to find a body of water so you could avoid a sudden and peculiar death,suggested his Dunkleosteus.
Norris heaved a sigh, causing a stream of bubbles to float upward.I don’t think it’s that simple. She probably doesn’t even know shifters exist. I’ll have to shift to prove it to her, and I have to get her alone in a space big enough to fit me to do that, and she doesn’t even know me yet. Plus, there’s the curse. It’s a lot to lay on someone when you haven’t even had a first date yet.
Even to himself, it felt like a lot. What if he turned into a giant extinct fish in the middle of their first date? Why had the curse returned? How could he get it removed?
We got it removed once before,his Dunkleosteus pointed out.We must return to the witch.With a mental flap of his fins, the great fish added excitedly,We can rent the aquarium truck and drive to her!
That idea cheered Norris up immediately. When he’d been cursed the first time, he’d gotten an elderly, soap opera-loving witch in Iowa, Kerenza Couch (pronounced Coach), to turn him back into a man. His friends from Defenders, the all-shifter bodyguard agency, had rented an aquarium truck to transport him to her, as she was very old and didn’t travel much. As the truck had been equipped with special controls to allow him to drive it from the tank, he’d even gotten to do that for the final leg of the journey. It had been enormously fun, though to be fair, his friends in the truck cab hadn’t enjoyed it quite as much as he had.
Norris cautiously tipped his head upward, trying to see if any people were standing around the lake. All he could see was the shimmering green shapes of bushes, so he swam upward, heaved himself onto the shore, and tried to shift back.
To his immense relief, he found himself standing on the shore as a man again. Like shifters who could take the form of mythical animals, shifters who became extinct ones were able to take their clothes with them. He was lucky to not have to strip naked or else destroy his clothes every time he shifted. Unfortunately, he’d transformed an instant after he’d jumped into the lake, so his clothes were dripping wet. It was a very cold day, his car was back at the coffee shop, and it was a bit of a long drive back home. Shifters were tougher and more illness-resistant than ordinary humans, but Norris didn’t want to risk coming down with a cold. He wouldn’t dream of exposing his marvelous mate to germs.
Luckily, the Defenders office was just around the corner. They kept extra clothing for undercover work, and several of the guys who worked there were also on the big-and-burly side. Norris was sure they’d have something that would fit him. Also, they’d have Kerenza Couch’s phone number, which he didn’t think he’d ever gotten, and the phone number for the aquarium truck rental, which he was certain he hadn’t. He’d asked the Defenders for the latter, and they’d put him off or refused outright. But he was sure they wouldn’t withhold it from him once he explained that he needed it to save his life rather than joyride.
Cheered, Norris strode toward the office. He got quite a few curious and concerned glances from passersby as he squelched down the snow-sprinkled sidewalk, and gave them all reassuring smiles plus “I’m fine! Just took a header into the lake!” to anyone who actually slowed down.
He squished up to the elevator and rode it up to the lobby. The doors opened to a scene of charming festivity. He’d received an invitation in the mail for the Defenders holiday party, and it looked like they were getting started on the decorations early. The entire team, plus their mates and magical pets, were busy remaking the office into a winter holiday wonderland.
A huge paper banner was spread out on the floor. Merlin and his mate Dali, the office manager, were painting it. Or rather, Dali was painting it. Merlin was walking across it in his shift form, leaving a festive trail of red-and-green footprints.
Natalie, who had been a circus acrobat before she’d joined the Defenders, was balanced up by the ceiling, standing with perfect ease atop a narrow window frame, hanging glass ornaments on an enormous Christmas tree. At the very top of the tree, just below the ceiling, perched an extremely fluffy black kitten with her wings outstretched and flapping to keep her balance.
Tirzah, who was reaching up from her wheelchair to set a large menorah on a table, glanced up at her magical kitten. “Get off there, Batcat. You’ll knock it over.”
Batcat violently launched herself from the Christmas tree. The tree rocked, then tipped dangerously. Natalie, whose hands were full of glass ornaments, shouted, “Ransom!”
Her mate Ransom rushed to catch the teetering Christmas tree. He caught it, but the impact dislodged a few pine needles that fell into his red hair.
Batcat circled the ceiling, hissing, then dive-bombed Wally, the teleporting husky pup. Wally gave a yelp and vanished. Batcat hit the floor and skidded, spreading her wings like a pair of tiny, furry sails. She crashed into a tray of sodas someone had left on the floor, and they all tipped over.
Wally reappeared on the floor in front of Pete, Tirzah’s mate, as he strode to help Ransom steady the tree. The husky pup caught Pete across the shins, gave another yelp, and vanished again. Pete stumbled into the Christmas tree, sending it tipping again.
Norris jumped forward to steady Pete and catch the tree. This time Wally reappeared in front ofhisshins. Norris managed to stop himself from either kicking the puppy across the room or falling into the Christmas tree, but the effort made him lose his balance. He sat down hard on the floor.
Carter strode into the lobby, his long black coat swirling behind him and his golden dragonette perched on his shoulder. He held a briefcase in one hand and an espresso machine in the other, and demanded to the room at large, “What fresh hell is happening now!?”
He was followed by his mate Fen, her scarlet stiletto heels clicking rapidly across the floor. She had a briefcase in one hand and a stained glass Winter Solstice wall hanging in the other. The clicks stopped abruptly as she glared at the floor.
Norris thought she was inexplicably mad at him, then he realized that he was hidden by the tree and she hadn’t seen him at all. Following her gaze, he saw a trail of blue pawprints running across the floor. They were the footprints of an enormous hound. Or, he realized as he traced them to where they ended in a smear of blue paint, the prints of Merlin’s pet bugbear, Blue.
The hairy blue creature had apparently stepped in one of the open paint pots, then gotten his other paw stuck in another one. Blue was sitting on the floor, his absurdly tiny dragonfly wings buzzing, as he shook his paw, trying to remove the paint pot. Paint spattered everywhere.
“MERLIN!” Carter bellowed.
Merlin shifted back into his human form and rushed to remove the paint pot from Blue’s paw, calling over his shoulder, “It’s fine! It’s non-toxic.”
The Defenders boss, Roland, surveyed the scene glumly. “But is it non-staining?”
“Er.” Merlin tried to read the label on the pot still stuck on Blue’s paw. “It’s either washable or non-washable. Let me rub off this bit of paint...”
