He came to a fence and a gate, made of heavy steel poles. It stood open, but there was a security camera mounted to the top of one of the poles. Dan smiled a little. Okay, that was the first thing he'd seen so far that felt like Derek.
The horse raised its head, noticing him. It was a small black-and-white pony with a blue blanket wrapped around its roly-poly body. It gave a loud snort.
"Yeah, thanks, buddy," Dan said. "Same back atcha."
The driveway curved into a large, plowed-out parking area in front of the house. There were several vehicles parked there: a practical all-wheel-drive Subaru SUV, a big black truck, and a low-slung shape with a canvas cover draped over it and snow on top of that; from the shape it looked like some kind of classic muscle car. That was Derek's for sure, but much better for cruising on summer highways than driving in the country in the winter.
Dan took a deep breath and mounted the steps to the porch. There was a cat at the door. As far as he could tell, it was an ordinary cat, not a shifter, a small gray tabby. It looked up at him and let on a small peeping miaow.
"You too, huh?" Dan said, and knocked.
There was no answer. When he listened, he could hear noises inside: voices, and a sudden crash.
His entire body tensed. Were they under attack? Maybe that was why the gate was open.
He dropped the duffel on the porch and tested the doorknob. It turned easily.
Braced for trouble, Dan opened it.
The cat uncoiled from its crouch and shot inside, just as something brightly jewel-colored sped outward past Dan's leg.
"Catch her!" someone yelled from inside.
Dan spun around and grabbed whatever-it-was on pure instinct.
He found himself holding a tiny, bright purple dragon. It was so colorful, so shiny, and above all so small that it looked like a toy. But it was clearly alive. Its little claws dug into his wrist, and it stared up at him with glittering golden eyes.
"Uh, hi," Dan said.
It put out a tiny tongue and licked his wrist.
"Where is she? Skye? Oh, thank God." The door was pushed the rest of the way open, and a man in a blue, open-necked shirt stepped outside. Not Derek: he was shorter and slighter, with a few strands of gray salting his dark hair. He had a slightly wild-eyed look about him. "That's a, uh—pet—just give her to me, please."
"Here." Dan held out his arm and the little dragon leaped eagerly to cling to the other man's denim shirt. Dan frowned at him. There was a sense of familiarity about him. Then it clicked, all of a sudden. "Ben! Hey!"
Ben's wariness abruptly relaxed into friendliness, the recognition of one shifter for another. "Oh, hey! Dan! Wow, it's been ages. Derek said he'd sent you some messages but hadn't heard back."
"Yeah, I've been ... busy," Dan said. He was still staring at the dragon, which was now nuzzling against Ben's face. "Is that a dragon?"
"This is my daughter, Skye," Ben said proudly. "Er, normally she's not quite this—purple. She's going through a phase. It's good to see you! Come on in."
He held the door, and Dan retrieved his duffel and stamped the snow off his boots. The farmhouse was just as warm and cozy inside as it looked from the outside, with kids' toys scattered all over the place and a playpen in the corner. Dan felt terribly out of place. He didn't belong here. He shouldn't have come.
"Derek!" Ben called. The dragon had wound herself around his neck like a scarf, gleaming in the lamplight. "Check out who's here, man!"
The only response was a thump and a high-pitched banshee wail of "Nooooooooo!"
"You guys aren't under attack or anything?" Dan asked cautiously. Ben didn't seem alarmed.
"Sort of," Ben said wryly. "We're outnumbered too. But at least they're not armed." And with that cryptic comment, he led the way into the kitchen.
If the living room had been a bit untidy, the kitchen looked like a hurricane had gone through it. The table was strewn with baby things as well as an open laptop and a folder of papers. Derek Ruger, all six and a half muscular feet of him, was trying to fill a bottle with a very small baby tucked up against his shoulder and a dark-haired little girl clinging to his leg and crying.