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moved. Fear—and disbelief—had me glued to the spot.
    “Out, Destiny, unless you want to be caught by the cops.”
    He grabbed my hand, half pulling, half assisting me out of the car.
    “You’re a maniac,” I said, as he kept hold of my hand and forced me into a run.
    “But I’m a free maniac, and I have every intention of remaining that way. Come on, faster.”
    I obeyed. One good thing about having long legs and big feet was speed and surety of step.
    We came out of the trees and into sunshine. Up ahead there was no land. Only ocean. Deep blue ocean, far, far down.
    “What kind of escape plan is this?” I cried, trying to stop, trying to slow him down. To no avail. He ran on toward those cliffs regardless, pulling me with him. “You’ve managed to trap us, you idiot!”
    He tossed me a grin that was all wildness and dangerous excitement. “You’re never trapped when you have wings, sweetheart.”
    And suddenly a golden haze was sweeping across his body, and he was shifting, changing,
growing
. Becoming something more than just a man.
    Becoming a beast with scales of molten gold and wings that swept me off my feet and out over the ocean.
    Then I was
in
the ocean, and the sudden shock of cold water had my body shifting, changing, just as Trae’s had. Except he was the sun to my darkness—he was born to fire, and a brother to the wind. I was of the sea and the tides and the great ocean depths.
    And suddenly the past was crowding close, filled with pain. Filled with bloodshed. Mine, Egan’s, and others’. It hurt, remembering. Hurt because there was so much I’d done, so much I’d yet to do. In so many different ways, I now realized,
not
remembering had been a blessing. A brief respite in the twisted bloody mess that my life had become.
    But at least I knew who I was.
    Knew what I was.
    And most important of all, I knew what I had to do, and how many lives I had yet to save.

Chapter Three

    I swam to the wild surface of the sea, blowing water out of my snout as I looked around for Trae. He swooped low, powerful and beautiful against the brilliant blue of the skies, then flew on, heading down the coast.
    I followed. I could have easily escaped had I wished to, because the sea was my home and my sanctuary, but even with my memories retrieved, there were answers I still needed.
    Like why Egan might have called Trae to help us. He
must
have had a reason—a good reason. He wouldn’t have risked either of our lives otherwise.
    But at least I knew now
how
he’d contacted Trae. Air dragons, like sea dragons, share a form of telepathy between loved ones. It is often restrained by distance—at least it is with sea dragons—but dire circumstances can sometimes shatter that restriction. And Egan getting shot could certainly be classed as a dire circumstance. I closed my eyes against the images that rose. I didn’t want to think about Egan just yet. Didn’t want to deal with the pain and the guilt.
    Instead, I concentrated on the shoreline, wondering where we were going, wondering if Trae even knew.
    Eventually the trees and wildness of the shore began to give way to houses. Trae dipped one wing low, turning lazily and heading toward the sand line. Then the golden haze swept across his form again, so that what strode onto the beach was human rather than beast. Only there was blood all over his back.
    I shifted shape and followed. The magic that allowed us to change took care of the clothes we were wearing—although anything we were carrying as humans we would be carrying as dragons—but it didn’t actually keep them dry, so I was rather bedraggled by the time I joined him on the beach.
    “Why are you bleeding?” I asked.
    His eyebrows rose, as if surprised by the question. “I’m a draman.”
    Like
that
was supposed to explain it all. “Which is?”
    “Half human, half dragon.”
    “And this is important because?”
    “Because the magic that allows dragons to change is muted in we draman, and when the