It was nothing too impressive, but it was just enough. As a griffin, he knew full well that braking mid-air when you were going at maximum speed was a bit of a tough ask – and apparently it was the same for these guys. They slammed into the windmill blades with a series of thumps that made him wince, and which shook the whole windmill. Maisie shrieked, and Rhys held her tighter, pulling her in closer, feeling the thrum of her heartbeat under her skin.
“It’s okay,” he murmured in her ear, and he felt her relax slightly against him.
He dared to peer out again – the kookaburra was out cold on the green, the magpie was limping away, its feathers ruffled, and the other three were nowhere to be seen, presumably off licking their wounds.
Maisie lifted her head. “Are – are they –?”
“They’re shifters,” Rhys confirmed. “You don’t have to feel bad for them or call the RSPCA. They’re not innocent little animals – the opposite, in fact.”
Maisie nodded, standing up straight. As if to illustrate his point, the unconscious kookaburra shimmered, and then began to grow into a pretty large, heavy-set man, lying face down on the plastic grass of the mini-golf course.
“Okay,” Maisie said, blinking. “I feel a hell of a lot better now.” She placed her hand on his arm, and he could feel theslight tremor in it. “Let’s get out of here,” she exclaimed, picking up her putter, and Rhys couldn’t agree with the sentiment more.
They continued down to the back of the golf course, picking their way through the obstacles. He could hear distant voices – the island had well and truly woken up, and there would be people within sight any minute now –
Maisie gasped, and Rhys himself nearly jumped out of his skin a half-second later, scrabbling to push a near-frozen Maisie behind him. Because –
A crocodile shifter. Oh shit. Oh fuck.
He tightened his grip on the putter, for what good it would do him. Griffin mode was starting to seem like the only viable option – and the area was too enclosed to be able to easily fly out.
“Maisie,” he said quietly. “I want you to very slowly and very calmly walk back away from here.”
“Rhys –”
“I’ll heal. You won’t. And if I need to fight that thing, I need you to be out of range.”
There was a pause, but then he felt her nodding. “I love you, Rhys.”
His heart soared. Had he heard right? Was this simultaneously the best and worst moment of his life?
“I love you, too,” he said. They were words he’d never been sure he’d be able to say before he met Maisie, but they came off his tongue easily – as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
If you are quite done with all this drama,his griffin sneered,you may wish to pay attention to the fact that that is not a real crocodile. It is a human-made facsimile. You buffoon.
Rhys blinked.
“Uh…”
“What is it?” Maisie whispered urgently. “Rhys? Where are you going? Rhys!!”
Rhys walked up to the crocodile and poked at it with the golf club, willing his heartbeat to slow down to something sane.
Yep. Fake.
Fuck my life.
Still, it was probably agoodthing that it wasn’t an actual crocodile, and instead just a horrifyingly realistic prop. Although the fact that there was an obvious golf ball-sized hole in its mouth – and another one in its rear – was probably a bit of a giveaway, really.
“Oh my God.” Maisie approached the croc, looking decidedly wobbly. “You have got to be shitting me.” She giggled… and kept giggling, until she started hiccupping.
But then, her eyes widened, and Rhys laughed for a moment – until they kept widening, and it was clear that it was in horror.
“Oh shit,” she said. “Oh,shit.”
“What is it?” he asked – before he looked down. “Oh,shit.”
“Shit,” Maisie agreed.
