Magic Rises

evening sun catching their eyes. Yep, everyone was a shapeshifter except for me.
    “We will escort you to your quarters when you are ready,” Hibla said.
    Curran waved at the ship. Our small pack began its descent down to the pier. A few moments and they stood behind us.
    Lorelei bowed to Mahon. “Greetings to the Kodiak of Atlanta.”
    Mahon grinned into his beard. “What happened? Last time I saw you, you were this big.” He held out his arm at his waist level.
    Lorelei smiled. “I wasn’t that short.”
    Mahon chuckled.
    Aunt B was next, smiling so bright, I needed shades. Her voice was sweet enough to spread on toast. “So you are Mike Wilson’s daughter. He must be so proud. What a beautiful girl you are.”
    “Thank you.” Lorelei almost glowed.
    Oh, you naive thing. When a bouda smiles at you, that’s not a good sign. Especially that particular bouda.
    “On behalf of Gagra, I’m here to extend the hospitality of my beautiful city to you,” Hibla said. “Gagra welcomes you with all of its warmth, its lakes and waterfalls, its beaches and orchards. But be forewarned, if you come here with violent intentions, we will leave your corpses for the crows. We have no problem murdering every single one of you.”
    “Awesome speech,” Keira told her. Jim’s sister was smiling, and it didn’t look friendly.
    “Thank you. I worked hard on it. Please, follow me.”
    We trailed her down the pier and onto the road paved with stone. Hibla kept a brisk pace, reciting in a throaty, lightly accented voice. “Welcome to Abkhazia. The city of Gagra is the warmest place on the Black Sea. We have a wonderful microclimate with warm winters and pleasant summers. You will find the most exquisite landmarks here.”
    It was like she was reading an invisible travel guide.
    Curran was looking at Lorelei as we walked.
    “We grow a variety of fruit: peaches, persimmons, apricots, pomegranates, tangerines, lemons, and grapes. Our region is famous for its wines.”
    That’s nice. Maybe I could find a wine bottle hard enough to hit Curran over the head and knock some sense into him.
    “What pack do you serve?” Barabas asked.
    “The Djigits of Gagra are not affiliated with any of our guests. Our allegiance is to the local pack and to the lord of the castle.”
    It was as if I had stepped into a different world. Across the ocean there were crumbling skyscrapers. Here there were castles and lords. Well, technically the Keep was kind of a castle and people did call Curran lord , but at home shapeshifters said it with simple efficiency, the way one would say sir . Here it was said with a solemn reverence.
    “Is the lord of the castle a shapeshifter?” Curran asked.
    “No, he’s a human,” Lorelei said.
    “Lord Megobari is a friend,” Hibla said. “Our economy was always driven by tourism. After the Shift, the region collapsed. We had been battered by natural disasters and war. Our city and our lives were in ruins. The Megobari family helped us. They built hospitals, they restored our roads, and they brought business to us. They don’t ask anything in return except for our protection, which is freely and gladly given.”
    Okay. The Megobari family were clearly saints, and the local jackal pack would die to keep them breathing. Considering how the men glared at us, we had to make sure not to offend the host, because these djigit shapeshifters took their duties deadly seriously.
    We all followed Hibla through the town. The feylanterns in Gagra glowed pale lavender, turning the solid stone of the buildings into a faint mirage. Magic flowed down the narrow, curving roads. Neat little streets, some cobbled, some still bearing crumbling pavement, ran along the side of the mountain, all sloping up, bordered by houses of all shapes and sizes. Persian, Greek, and modern architecture collided, like wakes from three different ships.
    We passed a stately mansion that could’ve been built for a Moorish prince. It rose, flanked by palms, three stories of narrow arched windows, textured parapets, and stone wall carvings that looked as light and delicate as lace. At one point it must’ve been glowing white, but now it had shed its paint, and green walls showed through. A Greek building of Doric columns the color of sand followed, and immediately after, the ruins of a modern apartment building lay scattered over the mountain slope. The rest of the world seemed a thousand miles away. If we ever got tired of the Pack or living in