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“I just want to get some coffee before I go to work,” Merlin said. “That’s a totally normal thing! It shouldn’t be this difficult!”
The normal flow of sidewalk traffic abruptly broke up as everyone within hearing distance of Merlin edged away. Oops. He hadn’t meant to speak aloud.
“I love my new... tiny... earpiece phone!” Merlin said for their benefit. “You can’t even see it’s there!”
Traffic resumed. Merlin, reminding himself not to move his lips this time, sternly addressed his inner raptor. We’re getting some coffee, then we’re going to work. No arguments!
His inner raptor bounced up and down like a toddler having a sugar rush on a trampoline. Offices are boring. Let’s run into the middle of the street and play in traffic!
Merlin actually took a step toward the street before he regained control of his body. Determinedly, he veered into the Starbucks and took his place in line.
A few people glanced at him, making him tense until they looked away. For the millionth time since he’d been experimented on and given the power to make people see him as whoever they expected to see, he wished he had control over it. Or at least that he could tell when it was operating. As it was, he had no idea if his power was off and they’d perceived him as a customer in line at Starbucks because that was what he was, or if his power was on and they’d perceived him as a Starbucks customer because that was what they expected to see inside a Starbucks.
At least it only worked on people who didn’t already know him. If he risked being perceived as a client or an enemy or God knows what every time he went into the office, he’d lose his mind.
“Ark ark ark!”
For the briefest of instants, his heart leaped at the thought that when he looked down, he’d find a tiny seal at his feet. He could see it already: an adorable mini-seal that would swim in his sink and bathtub and—
Merlin looked down, and saw a small boy making seal noises and playing with a plastic figurine of a seal balancing a ball on its nose.
Maybe it’s a magical plastic seal that’ll come to life, suggested his raptor.
I don’t think so, Merlin replied silently. And even if it was, it’d be the kid’s pet, not mine.
The boy’s mother shot Merlin an embarrassed glance. “I hope he’s not bothering you.”
“Not at all,” said Merlin.
The boy took out another figurine, this one of a lion. In a growly lion voice, he said, “Grrr! Grrr! I’m going to eat you up!” Then, in a barking seal voice, he replied, “Ark! Ark! Not in front of the audience! They’ll be traumatized!”
Merlin and the boy’s mother exchanged amused glances.
“He’s got a great vocabulary for his age,” said Merlin.
“Oh, yes, he’s very bright,” replied his mother.
The boy glanced up. To Merlin, he said, “I’m going to join the circus some day. I’ll be a seal trainer and a lion trainer and an elephant trainer!”
“You could join Cirque du Soliel as an acrobat,” his mother said encouragingly. “But circuses nowadays don’t have animals.”
“A few of them still do,” said Merlin. “I was raised in a circus—”
“You were in the circus?” said the boy, awestruck. “Were you a seal trainer?”
“No, the seals trained themselves,” said Merlin. As the boy’s mother placed their order, he went on, “I did odd jobs, whatever needed to be done. Sometimes I drove the clown car, sometimes I cleaned the lion cage, sometimes—”
“Were you a lion trainer?” the boy interrupted.
“No, the lions trained themselves.”
“Were you an elephant trainer?”
“We only had one elephant, and she trained herself,” said Merlin apologetically. “But I did hold tiny little hoops for the flying squirrels to fly through when they did their aerial act.”
“Oh.” The boy thought that over, then gave a satisfied nod. “I could do that.”
His mother, now with their drinks in hand, smiled at Merlin. “Thank you so much for entertaining him. Are you a writer? You’re so imaginative!”
“No, I’m a bodyguard. But I really was raised in a circus.”
The boy’s mother gave him a wink, clearly not believing a word he said. “Of course you were. Noah, say goodbye to the nice storytelling man.”
“Bye, flying squirrel hoop bodyguard,” called the boy.
Merlin watched them leave, a little wistfully. It was nice to have someone believe him, for once, even if that someone was four years old. None of his teammates ever believed his circus stories.
He approached the counter, trying to decide whether he wanted a cappuccino or a latte.
Coffee is boring, said his raptor. Buy a bottle of hazelnut syrup and drink it all, all, ALL!
“Haz—uh—” Merlin was too distracted by stopping himself from ordering a bottle of syrup to register the way the barista was staring at him. By the time he caught her expression of righteous fury, it was too late.
She hurled the contents of the venti coffee cup in her hand, drenching him in some sticky pink concoction, then slapped him across the face. “YOU! I knew you’d come here some day, you... you toad!”
It was apparently going to be one of those days. At least now he knew that his power was on. The boy and the woman in line had expected to see a Starbucks customer, and that was what they’d seen. Unfortunately for Merlin, it seemed like the barista had expected to see someone she didn’t like. From her reaction, she’d been dreading seeing someone for quite some time.
“Right,” Merlin said, backing out of slapping range. “But I’ll never come back again.” He was about to leave when curiosity got the better of him. Who did she think he was? Experimentally, he said, “I’m a terrible person.”
“You are!” yelled the barista. “And a cheater!”
Ah-ha, Merlin thought. She expected to see her evil ex.
“Are you ever going to give me back my sofa, you horrible cheating THIEF?” screamed the barista.
Yes, yes he will, said his raptor. Because we’ll make him!
Much as Merlin appreciated his raptor’s sense of justice, enacting it for the barista seemed unlikely. I don’t even know who her ex is.
No problem! His inner raptor’s tail whipped rapidly back and forth with excitement. We can find out! It’ll be fun!
The manager rushed out from the back. “What’s going on here?”
Merlin began, “I’m her—”
Evil ex, evil sofa stealing ex, his raptor put in.
“Ex,” said Merlin firmly. “I came in to harass her and taunt her and tell her I’d never give back her sofa that I stole. But now I’m leaving, bye!”
Before anyone could respond, he fled the Starbucks, leaving behind a trail of pink drips. With any luck his confession would excuse the barista’s reaction and protect her job, but it wasn’t as if he could stick around to make sure.
His raptor was bouncing around the inside of his head again. Let’s follow her home and search her house and find her evil ex’s address and steal her sofa and put it back in her house in the middle of the night so she’ll find it as a surprise when she wakes up!
Merlin had to admit that the “steal and replace sofa” part of the scheme had a definite appeal. But he had other things to do that day. Such as his job. Plus, the office had a bathroom and spare clothes. He could always order coffee delivered and hide in the bathroom once he heard the knock so someone else would open the door, thus reducing the risk that the coffee delivery person would see him as their evil ex or worst enemy or a mugger or someone else who needed the coffee thrown in their face rather than handed over.
Tell your friends about your power, and then you don’t need to hide in the bathroom, said his raptor.
For the millionth time, Merlin patiently explained the situation to his raptor. That power of mine has to stay a secret.
But your friends know you can turn into a raptor. Gleefully, his raptor added, And that I can change my size!
My other power is different, Merlin said. Summoning all his patience and trying to use simple terms that his raptor would understand and not be bored with, he said, My teammates already think I’m a liar. My other power is a sort of... lying power. It makes people see things that aren’t true. And I can’t control it. Sure, it doesn’t affect my teammates because they already know me. But if they knew about it, they’d think—
—you have a cool power! interjected his raptor.
—I’m a liar at heart, Merlin said. They already don’t respect me. If they knew about this, they wouldn’t trust me either. And that would be the end of me being on the team.
It was a bitter fact to face, but it was the truth. And, ironically enough, truth was something he respected.
As an afterthought, Merlin added, And they’re not my friends. They’re just my teammates. Friends are people who like each other.
You like your teammates, his raptor said.
Yes, but—
And they like you!
In a way, I guess, but... Merlin wasn’t sure how to explain. Protection, Inc: Defenders was a team of damaged misfits forced together by shared trauma. He trusted them to have his back, but it wasn’t like they went out for beer and pizza.
Tell your friends about your power, and then tell them about the sofa, and then we can steal it and give it back together, suggested his raptor. And then you can all get beer and pizza. And ice cream! With hot fudge. And whipped cream. ALL the whipped cream!
Merlin gave up. We’ll talk about the sofa retrieval later.
Ignoring the reply of No no no, now now now, Merlin headed off to work.
The familiar sound of a bang and a yell met his ears as he approached the lobby. Past experience told him that it was his teammates tripping over things or arguing. But hope, which sprang eternal in his breast, whispered that maybe he’d finally caught a magical pet of his very own.
Yes, yes, said his raptor. A shape-changing pterodactyl that can pick us up and fly us around, no matter how big or small we are!
Merlin had been thinking more of an adorable winged kitten that would perch on his shoulder, but his raptor’s idea did sound fun. Especially if the shape-changing pterodactyl was big enough for Merlin to ride rather than having to be dangled from its claws.
Eagerly, he threw open the door. The sight that met his eyes made him grateful that he’d gotten the idea of making traps. The live trap he’d set up in the window the night before had caught a magical pet! And what a wonderful one, too. A beautiful gray kitten with translucent dragonfly wings sat inside the trap. One paw was planted in the Kool-Aid cup and one on the honeycomb as it gobbled down the slice of bacon.
Merlin felt a delighted grin nearly split his cheeks. He’d had a good feeling about the bacon. He headed for the trap, hand outstretched, crooning, “Hello, kitty. I can’t wait to take you home.”
A woman stepped in front of him, blocking his path. He skidded to a stop.
Merlin had seen lots and lots of pretty women in his time, many of them in skin-tight spangled leotards, but none had ever captivated him with a single glance.
Until her.
Her brown eyes shone bright with intelligence, and her elegant upswept eyebrows gave her a slightly sardonic expression that suggested an excellent sense of humor. Merlin had always been good at reading people, a skill he’d honed in his years with the circus, and he thought she looked sensible and reliable, both traits which he admired and which people had often criticized him for lacking.
Also, she had hair like midnight silk, deliciously plump cheeks, and the most kissable lips he’d ever seen. Her body was an intoxicating combination of sensuality and strength, from the firm muscles of her shoulders to the luscious curves of her breasts and thighs, and she moved with the confidence and grace of a trapeze artist.
Her left hand was a prosthetic, and her clinging crimson dress did nothing to hide the scars on her left arm and leg. Merlin recognized the mix of shiny burns and ragged tears and neat surgical incisions: she’d been caught in an explosion. She must have been in combat; her hair was tightly braided and pinned up, which was typical for long-haired women in the military. He felt no pity for her—no veteran would want that, and he was sure from her bearing that she was one—but rather a sense of camaraderie and shared hardship. Like him, she was a survivor.
And this incredible vision was looking at him with an expression very much like the one the barista had worn right before she’d thrown a drink on him and slapped him in the face.
“That’s my kitten,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Merlin asked. “It’s in my magical pet trap.”
“Yes, I’m sure!” She shot him a glare fit to wither him in his tracks. “I brought her here.”
She strode to the window and opened the trap. The kitten leaped out, half the bacon still in its mouth, and flew to her shoulder. Its Kool-Aid and honey-soaked paws and the dangling bacon strip left sticky stains and oily smears on her fancy dress as it settled in and continued its meal.
The gorgeous veteran gave a regretful glance at her dress, but didn’t dislodge the kitten. Instead, she petted it and said fondly, “Poor baby. You must’ve been hungry. I should’ve fed you first thing.”
“Um.” Merlin was rarely at a loss for words, but he wasn’t sure whether he should introduce himself or apologize or ask how she’d gotten the kitten or why she was in the office—
Everything, tell her everything, suggested his raptor. Quick, before she gets away!
What actually came out of his mouth was, “I love your kitten. What’s her name?”
“Cloud.” The beautiful woman eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t seem surprised that I have a kitten with wings.”
Now he felt on firmer footing. “I’m not. I’ve seen them before.”
“At a lab?”
He nodded. “But not an ordinary lab.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” she said dryly. “Considering that it genetically engineers flying kittens.”
“They’re not genetically engineered,” Merlin said. “They’re born that way—I mean, born naturally. They’re magical animals. Like pegasi.”
“Like what?”
“It’s the plural of pegasus. Technically pegasuses is also correct, like octopuses, but it’s hard to say and it sounds wrong, so people say octopi. And pegasi. Anyway, your kitten is like a pegasus. Only a cat instead of a horse.”
“Uh-huh.” Her lovely eyes narrowed with doubt. “If they’re magical, why were they in a lab?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Merlin admitted. “I mean, they must’ve been captured and taken to it, but as for why the wizard-scientists wanted them—”
“The who?”
“The wizard-scientists. They’re a secret organization of wizards who are also scientists. They claim to date back to the days of King Arthur—” Merlin broke off when he saw her eyebrows rise high enough to nearly hit the ceiling. “Look, you’re the one with a winged kitten on your shoulder.”
“Fair enough,” she said, a little grudgingly.
Since that was the friendliest she’d been so far, he seized the opportunity to introduce himself. “Also, hi. I’m Merlin Merrick.”
He offered his hand. She didn’t take it, instead staring down at it with her eyebrows still raised. She had the most marvelously expressive eyebrows. Right now, they were very clearly conveying I cannot believe you actually thought I’d be willing to shake your hand.
For an instant, Merlin was hurt. Then he followed her gaze and saw that his hand, no doubt like the rest of him, was covered in sticky pink ooze that smelled strongly of artificial watermelon.
He yanked back his hand. “Okay, we’ll skip the handshake. Hi. I’m Merlin Merrick.”
As if against her will, a chuckle escaped her lips. Her dubious expression briefly changed to an even more enchanting one of amusement. “I’m Dalisay Batiste. You can call me Dali.”
She pronounced it “dally,” not “dolly.” As in “to dally among the primroses,” or “to dally at the fair.” She had been so serious before, it made him want to coax her to dally more. Or, to use the other meaning of the word, to dally with him.
“I love your name,” he said. “It has such a great meaning.”
And there went her eyebrows again. She was going to grow eyebrow muscles if she kept this up, she was giving them such a workout. “Uh-huh. Right. What’s Dalisay mean, then?”
“Pure.”
Surprised, she said, “How do you know that? Were you stationed in the Philippines?”
“No, I just had some Filipino friends growing up. I meant your nickname, though. In English.”
“To dilly-dally? What’s so great about wasting time?”
“To dally, no dillying involved,” he said. “To linger. To take your time, not waste it. To relax and enjoy yourself. To play.”
“To...” she began, then stopped. But he knew what she’d been about to say: there was only one meaning left.
To have a love affair.
Their eyes met. Her gaze was intent, not awkward or embarrassed. Her eyebrows were challenging: show me what you’ve got. The air between them felt hot and charged, like a tropical night before a lightning storm.
Oh, he thought. It’s not just me.
She looked him up and down, cool as a glass of lemonade on a summer day. He stood up straight and let her look. So he was dripping with watermelon slime; so what? The chemistry he’d felt with her apparently went both ways.
No. It definitely went both ways. Merlin could feel it, crackling between them like purple lightning in a fortuneteller’s plasma ball.
Kiss her, urged his raptor. Now, now, now!
For a dizzying moment, Merlin thought it might happen. They had drawn close together, and her head was tilted up with those sensual lips of hers slightly parted. All he had to do was ask. All she had to do was say yes.
And then he remembered his power. Not his ability to turn into a raptor, which was awesome, or his raptor’s ability to change size, which was great once he managed to get the size he wanted. His other power. The one he might be using now without even realizing it.
What had Dali expected when she walked into the office? If she was a prospective client, she’d come looking for help; had she expected a bodyguard straight out of central casting, a perfectly strong, perfectly brave, perfectly handsome hero? If she had, and if his power was affecting her, then she wasn’t seeing him at all.
He couldn’t let anything happen between them until he could be sure that she saw him as he was and wanted him anyway.
Merlin stepped back. It felt like a physically painful wrench, as if he’d been glued to the spot and torn himself loose. And what stung more than that was the brief flicker of hurt in Dali’s eyes before she put on a don’t-care expression.
No no no no no, yelped his raptor. What are you doing?! You’re rejecting her! You’re hurting her feelings! Apologize and give her a sofa!
A... what? Sometimes Merlin had no idea what his raptor was going on about.
A sofa. Exasperation at Merlin’s slowness tinged his raptor’s voice as he explained, Remember how mad the barista was that her ex stole hers? Women love sofas!
Merlin had no time to explain that logical error to his raptor. Instead, though it made him feel like a sofa had fallen fifty feet and landed right on his heart, he put on his best professional, utterly non-flirtatious smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners. Welcome to Defenders, the east coast branch of Protection, Inc. How can I help you?”