Chapter 52

Dana dug through her purse for some tissues and wiped herself off while Beau did the same with a handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans. Without thinking, they'd both resumed their human shapes, so when they started to dress, their clothing actually fitted. Dana sighed. She hadn't had nearly enough time to examine those wings - or to even consider the possibilities of a lover with a tail.
"Some time, some other place," he murmured as they walked back to her apartment after she'd dispersed the circle, "we shall have to fly together. Rural Quebec is beautiful by moonlight."
"I'd like that," she said. She leaned into him as they walked, each with an arm around the other's waist, like a pair of besotted teenagers.
"So shall I," Beau admitted as they climbed the steps to her flat. "But for now, I suppose, we need to return our attention to antique smugglers, don't we?"
"Sad but true," she agreed. Without thinking, she'd handed Beau the key, letting him open the door. Something about his old-school manners reminded her of a question she'd had. "How old are you? Or is it rude of me to ask?"
"After what we've shared? Ask anything you'd like. I'm fifty-seven," he replied with a shrug. "Our usual lifespan is about two hundred, so I supposed I'm not quite middle aged."
"Ah." She tried to suppress a wave of sadness that she'd probably be around a few centuries longer than he would. Sometimes being a semi-immortal really sucked.
"Though before the artifacts were lost, our people lived even longer," he told her. They moved inside and Dana headed straight for the refrigerator. "Lady Helene claims to have met Joan of Arc, though no one is sure whether to believe her or not."
"So maybe if the artifacts are found, that lifespan will resume," Dana offered hopefully. According to her sources, six to eight hundred years was a normal lifespan for a half-dragon, though her full-blooded relatives could live for millennia.
"We hope so," he agreed. He accepted the glass of water she handed him, then picked up the bag from the hardware store they'd left sitting on the table. She got the feeling he was done talking. It seemed too intimate, she thought. Somehow more so than fucking each other's brains out in the woods. "Meanwhile, the bed is something I can fix."
John hadn't called by the next morning, so Dana gave in to the temptation to play tourist with Beau. They both dressed in jeans and T-shirts then hopped on a train for Salisbury along with dozens of other visitors and locals. Once there, they stood outside the fence that protected the landmark, holding hands.
"You can feel the power, even from here, can't you?" she asked.
Beau nodded, squeezing her hand. "I wish I'd come here before the fence," he said. "I understand the need for it - some things need to be preserved. But I could have come years ago and never did."
"I've been to a smaller circle in Scotland that's still pretty much unspoiled," Dana told him, leaning her head on his shoulder as comfortably as if they'd been together for years. "It was...overwhelming, the magic that filled the place."
"There are stones in France as well," he mused. "Not far from where my race originated. I've always talked about going there - my daughter wanted to see it with me. But her mother never cared for travel, so we didn't."
"Well, any time you want a traveling companion, give me a call. I'm always up for new experiences." Dana barely managed to keep the tears at bay but she let go of his hand to give him a one-armed hug. "I've got a valid passport and I own my own business, so I can take all the vacations I want. Footloose and fancy-free, that's me." It was a lie of course. She was very much afraid she'd never be truly fancy-free again. Somewhere along the way, she'd tumbled head-over-heels in love with the big, gruff gargoyle.
They stopped in a little gift shop and bought postcards, since neither had thought to bring a camera other than their cell phones. They were laughing together over a cheap plastic model of a megalith when Dana's cell phone rang.
"Hello?" She raised a finger to her lips and hustled out of the shop to take the call on the sidewalk. "John. What can I do for you?"
Beau watched Dana talking to Saville and fought down his frustration over being a follower on her investigation rather than leading his own. He'd spent some time on the computer last night and had read over all Dana's notes on Saville's operation as well as checking out the public face of his antiques business. According to the public site, Saville was the owner and operator of the warehouse but Dana had turned up several clues indicating that there was another, more powerful man behind the scenes - one who pulled Saville's strings and was most likely in charge of the theft and smuggling ring. Somehow he had to get Saville to lead him to his boss - preferably without Dana being with him. He knew she was strong and competent - possibly the most self-sufficient woman he'd ever known - but she was still a woman and protecting the females he cared for was deeply ingrained in Beau's personality.
"We're heading over now, John," Dana said into her phone. "We should be there in about an hour, if the trains are running on time."
She hung up and grinned up at Beau. "We're on. Immediate, personal tour of the warehouse. Hope you've got your checkbook with you."
"I can afford to buy enough to keep our cover intact," he told her. They walked toward the train station at a rapid pace. It was refreshing to be with a woman who could keep up with him. "And if something important is beyond my personal means, the clan will pick up the tab."
"Ah, a personal shopper's dream," she teased.