I often lie on the hay beside him and let him crawl over me, grabbing and tickling him, laughing in tandem with his giggles. Always at some moment during our play, he grabs the gold clover-leaf necklace I recovered from Jorge Santos and now wear around my neck any time I'm in my human shape. He loves to toy with it, the glistening emerald in its center fascinating to him.

"It was your mother's," I tell him. I'm about to say, one day it will be his, when a better thought occurs. It shames me that I haven't thought of it sooner.

The next morning, I compose the letter I've long dreaded writing. I tell Charles and Samantha Blood that their daughter died in childbirth. The truth, I decide, will serve no one. I assure them she gave birth to a wonderful baby boy.

I write a second letter too, this one to Chloe. In it I tell her much the same thing but add, "Your sister loved you very much. She wanted me to make sure you had something of hers. I'm sending it along with this letter. Perhaps, one day, I'll have the pleasure of seeing it around your neck."

Gomez arranges for the letters and the necklace to be delivered to the Bloods' agent in Kingston, Claypool and Sons, the same one who took receipt of my gift of gold to Charles Blood. I give Arturo other instructions too. He raises his eyebrows when he hears them, but knows better than to argue.

In the evening, after the sun has set and the moon has risen, I carry my son out to the veranda. He sniffs the sea air and babbles and laughs when the evening breeze gusts at us. I hold him over my head and he spreads his immature wings, too small and chubby yet to take him into the air.

"One night," I mindspeak. "I'll take you into the sky with me and we'll hunt side by side."

He babbles something in return and I grin at him, pull him close. But he squirms and struggles until I release him and expose him to the warm night wind again.

Somewhere, out over the water, a large fish jumps and crashes back into the sea. Waves show up white against the dark of the ocean as they rush at the shore. The sounds of their endless crash and retreat seem as much a part of me as the beat of my own heart. I stare up at the stars, the dark clouds scudding by overhead, and smile. One day Henri will love this island as much as I do, I think. One day, I hope, Chloe will too.

I'll have to wait a few years, until my son's old enough to control his shapes and actions. But I have more than enough time. Arturo's already located an estate inland from Montego Bay, near Cockpit Country. Henri and I will be able to move there long before Chloe reaches her first oestrus.

Charles and Samantha Blood will be furious, but they will just have to cope with it. With me living close by, I'll be able to catch the first scent of her first heat. I will have her before any other suitor can be aware of her existence. After that, we will be bound for life. Short of killing me, her parents will be unable to prevent our union.

I dislike that I'll have to win her in such a devious way, but I see no other choice. Even if I could find another woman of the blood, there would be no guarantee she would be compatible with me. Chloe likes so many of the things I value.

When I think of her, the same image of her human shape always forms in my mind-a young, dark girl in shorts, riding her horse bareback, galloping alongside our car as we depart the valley. Chloe grinning, her naked legs pressed against her mount's sides, her hair streaming behind her, her body moving in perfect rhythm with her horse's strides.

The child squirms in my arms, making no secret he wants to be put down on the deck. "Not so fast," I tell him. I'm not ready yet to give up his touch.

In a little while, after he falls asleep, I'll leave him and take to the air. I look forward to the sensation of flight, the adrenaline rush of the hunt. Most of all I look forward to Henri's excited reception when I return, the closeness of feeding beside my son.

I think of how horrified any human would be, if they saw us, and I smile.

Another salt-tinged breeze washes over us and Henri squeals. I embrace him, rub my cheek against his and say to him the words my father said to me so many times as I grew up-words I hope my dragon-child listens to more carefully than I ever did.

"We are what we are."

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