‘I’ll pause your scanner.’ She beckons to me, her lips pursed.
Good enough. I head over, wondering what I’m wanted for. Harley did say I’d be assigned a counterpart to compete with for a monthly bonus, and in the two weeks I’ve been working here I haven’t met mine yet, so maybe it’s about that.
Of course, rumour is that they stack the odds against those of us with criminal records, giving us a higher workload. Frankly, I wouldn’t expect any less. In the week I’ve been here, the bias has been clear. We get last pick of everything, whether it’s scanners at the beginning of the day or food in the canteen on our lunch break.
It’s bad enough that the supervisors treat us a lot like the prison guards used to—like we’re worthless, stupid, and need to be tracked at all times—but the way many of the others still duck their heads and jump to do what they’re told really irritates me. Lance has fostered an environment designed to keep us down rather than build us up, which just adds to the feeling that we’ve not entirely left prison life behind.
Aire pauses my scanner by typing in her supervisor’s access code, which she’s careful not to let me see. Then she walks away, expecting me to follow. Since I do want to earn extra money if possible, I follow like a good little sheep.
She heads into the small meeting room where my health and safety training took place. When I enter behind her, I inhale the familiar enticing apple and cinnamon scent of the tiger shifter who lives next door.
My gaze falls on a stunning man with messy dark hair andsoulful eyes. There’s a litheness to him that’s typical of cat shifters, although there’s no disguising the strength in his frame. My dragon perks up for the first time in days, curious and nudging me to get closer.
As if I need the encouragement. If I’d known my neighbour was this gorgeous, I’d have come up with an excuse to introduce myself long before now.
There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, presumably from my scent, and his smile is friendly.
Aire places my scanner on a table and stands in front of the screen on the end wall, facing the room. I take the opportunity to move closer and stand next to the tiger, wishing Aire would find a reason to leave us alone so that I can get to know him.
‘You will each be given daily targets.’ Aire has switched to SimCom so she can talk to both of us at once, and her signs are stiffer now. ‘You will be allocated points based on who meets their targets the fastest, and you will be deducted points for any work not completed by the end of the day. The person with the most points at the end of each month receives a bonus.’
She makes it all seem fair and straightforward. Time will tell whether that’s true.
She notices the way I keep glancing at my neighbour, and her eyes narrow as she switches back to BSL. ‘Ex-offenders are not permitted to speak to civilians anywhere inside the warehouse.’ Then she smirks. ‘Not that you can, can you?’
I ignore the tightness in my chest. Just because I choose not to speak, doesn’t mean I can’t. I remind myself I have nothing to prove to this fae on a power trip. My choices are valid, and I won’t be provoked into a reaction.
Unfortunately the rule means flirting will have to wait. She doesn’t even have the decency to introduce us before I’m sent back to work.
I flap my wings harder, trying desperately to keep up with my brother. After Milo was late home from work, he decided we’d practice flight sprints on our way to meet Zara. He said it’s good for my training, but realistically it’s the only way we’ll be on time.
As much as I resent needing to train at all, having my brother as a benchmark does show me exactly how much work I still have to do to get back to the dragon I used to be. That doesn’t make the breathlessness and aching wings any less annoying, though.
A tiny stick figure on the Welsh mountain we’re heading towards shifts into a ruby-red dragon. I grin toothily and find renewed motivation to ignore my exhaustion in favour of racing towards my sister, who launches from the mountain and heads straight for us. She’s coming to our flat for dinner, but because she’s not allowed to fly alone until she passes her Independence Exam, we’ve flown over to meet her.
Her flying is relatively smooth, although not as fast as I expected, and she gets knocked aside by a sudden gust of wind. She manages to right herself and carry on, regaining the height she lost.
Milo and I exchange a concerned glance. She’ll need to do a lot better than that if she wants to pass.
When we reach one another, Zara and I narrowly manage to avoid colliding. Both of us flap awkwardly, hovering in mid-air, before we all turn and head for Birchester. I didn’t think about the difficulty of scenting each other while flying, so as soon as we shift to biped form ten feet up and land on the roof of our building, I tug her into my arms.
She grips me back tightly, her tears quickly soaking my T-shirt. My only regret is the time I lost out on with her, because the teenager I left is blossoming into a young woman. She’s significantly taller than she used to be, she’s more curvy, and there’s a strength to her frame that wasn’t there before.
Milo wraps his arms around both of us and leans his head on top of hers. I close my eyes and soak up the love from my siblings,aware of the constant melancholy that’s been coming from my dragon lessening slightly.
When we finally all let go she turns away, discreetly wiping under her eyes to clean up any smudges of mascara. Once she’s calmer, I sling my arm around her shoulders and lead her inside.
As soon as we get into our flat, I head for the kitchen to take the giant lasagne I made earlier out of the oven. It’s not the neatest one I’ve ever cooked, and I had to look up the recipe to make sure I didn’t forget anything, but it smells edible, at least. It’s certainly better than the Mexican rice I burnt last week.
I place it in the centre of our small table while Milo gets the salad he prepared earlier out of the fridge. I sit opposite my sister so that I can subtly absorb every little change to her features while we eat. There’s a smile on her face, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
‘Hey, it’s okay. I’m back now,’ I sign gently.
Her hand movements are jerky. ‘I’m so sorry. I know you told me not to apologise, but I haven’t seen you in years, and Mum keeps crying, and Dad refuses to say your name, and the entire flight are pretending you don’t exist. It’s all my fault. I?—’
I grip her hands lightly to stop her. I thought Milo had gotten through to her about this, or my emails had, but it’s clear this is still weighing on her.
Milo’s expression is gentle.‘You know Bryn doesn’t blame you.’
