“That, my old friend, is because you have never cared about politics. You have earned stellar degrees at four prestigious universities, and been awarded how many honorary degrees?”
Mikhail shrugged. “I study when I’m not under orders. It passes the time. And, well, I have been alive a long time, so these things tend to accumulate.”
“Yes, yes, I know—if you’d been born two thousand years ago, no doubt you would have been a monk somewhere, turning out legendary scholastic tomes in Latin, or Chinese, or Persian. The thing is, someone has to keep an eye on politics, and right here I’m that someone. I’m gunning for the deanship. It’s the only way to keep that jackass Waterson from getting it, and destroying the school.”
“Who is this Waterson?”
“A failed novelist masquerading as a Professor of American Literature, God help his students. His expertise is in backstabbing. Oh, and brownnosing anyone in power in the hope of climbing over them on his way to the top.”
“That sounds like two expertises.” Mikhail held up two fingers. “Though I would not consider either a quality to be admired.”
“Exactly my point. This reception will make the hosting departments look good. It will make the school look good, especially if you accept the Visiting Chair Professorship the provost plans to offer you. And it will make me look good, because Waterson keeps offending all the people he’s been trying to lure. Are you sorry you asked, my monkish friend?”
Mikhail was, a little. He had much more important things on his mind than some unpleasant acquaintance of Joey’s. “I said I’d be there, but I do have my mission to investigate. Back to the interesting timing. Did you feel the quake a couple hours ago?”
“Yes. A mild tremor, by California’s standards. You know they make a game of guessing the intensity. No more than a 3.5.”
“It might have felt like a natural earthquake, but I caught a flash of intent on the mythic plane. Something—someone—with earth powers caused it.”
Joey’s human form snapped into focus, his gaze narrowed. “Who? Why?”
“I don’t know. I was with Bird, my mate, so I could not shift and hunt. Her safety must come first.”
“Of course it must,” Joey said with conviction. “I was right to tell the queen it must be you to investigate when she consulted me. And now you’ve found your mate!” He laughed. “I am delighted.”
Mikhail regarded his old friend curiously. “Was your recommendation for a purpose besides undercutting Guardian Cang?”
Joey’s face looked unrepentant, but nine fox tails swished rapidly in and out of the mythic plane. “I make no secret of the fact that I don’t care for that red dragon, guardian over this area or not. But I know you like him, so we won’t argue about it. Instead, let me assure you that I would never make a recommendation out of spite. I just . . . sensed . . . that you were the one who ought to be here.”
Mikhail knew that part of Joey’s nature was to be sensitive to the mate bond, or perhaps the possibilities of it, though he was certain that Joey—a born flirt—had no mate. But Mikhail had never had any interest in pursuing the matter, having assumed that he would spend his life alone. “Did you know who she was?”
“Not at all. It’s always hypothetical, if that’s the word I want. The empress said she had seen something in her crystal ball or however she sees things, and I immediately thought of you. And now I know why! You must introduce us!”
“It will be my pleasure,” Mikhail said, as his dragon hummed inside him. “But now I need to get back to that cave now that she is safe.”
“Let’s get you squared away, then.”
Mikhail had to drive the borrowed car to his motel. But once that was done he shifted. Since he’d already been given Bird’s address, he felt justified in locating where she lived. In his invisible dragon form, he arrowed toward her, then circled above her home.
She was not far from the shore. Her home was the smallest of four cottages within a garden that rivaled even the finest manor garden back in China. Paths wandered through it, converged, and eventually led to an enormous house built on a palisade, with a magnificent view of the sea.
He circled around this house, observing the care with which it had been built, though it was shabby now from years of wind and weather. Resisting the urge to get closer to Bird—that must wait until she expected him—he arrowed north, to return to the cave.
SEVEN
BIRD
Bird stared at her checkbook, as if willing there to be extra money would make it appear. But it wouldn’t. She had intended to get the minimum needed at the grocery store to coast her through to her next social security check, but she was determined to offer Mikhail a good dinner. It wouldn’t be expensive, but everything must be fresh.
As for a dress, what she couldn’t buy, she might be able to borrow. She considered her friends. Jen was too tall, Godiva too small. Doris was more or less Bird’s size. And as it was Sunday, she had no school or temple activities, so she might even be at home.
Bird called her. “Doris, I’ve been invited to a dressy affair tonight. Would you mind if I borrowed something from you? I promise I’ll get it dry-cleaned—”
“Never mind that! Get your booty on over here!”
Oh, yes. She’d definitely been obvious at the book group, Bird thought. “I have Mr. Kleiner, then I have to do some shopping, but after that, I’ll come straight there. Thank you!”
Bird left her place and walked across the beautiful garden toward the big house. She always loved the garden, which bloomed through every season, but as she walked she began to wonder how it would look through Mikhail’s eyes. She could imagine him in such a setting, with beauty in every direction you looked.