He nodded at Lancelot. “Take your jacket and shirt off and show her your scales.”
“Scales?” she said, her voice rising to an undignified squeak. “What do you mean, scales?”
Lancelot stripped to his bare chest. Smooth tanned skin covered a slim, muscled torso. He flexed his arms.
“Lancelot’s going to show you a partial transformation.”
“Why not go for the whole thing? Don’t have your brother waste his time.” She was getting fed up.
“Because I don’t want to see you have a mental breakdown.” Balthazar’s eyes looked haunted. “It’s happened before.”
Before she could digest that bit of news, Lancelot’s face contorted as if in concentration. His dirty-blond eyebrows drew together into a frown over startling green eyes, which became brighter until they glowed like cat’s eyes. “It’s quite obvious you have a lot of faith in this female,” his brother grumbled.
She turned to Thorsson. “Aren’t you a little bit concerned about your boss’s behavior?” she demanded.
“I’ve seen it before,” Thorsson answered without a hint of sarcasm. “Just try not to scream or piss yourself.”
“You’re not helping, Thorsson.” Balthazar’s voice held a hint of menace.
Lancelot’s skin shifted and shimmered in the sunlight. Muscles moved in strange patterns as his body contorted. His arms grew bigger as his chest widened. Painful grunts turned to low-throated roars, and he bent over, wrapping his arms around himself.
“My God, Balthazar, your brother isn’t well!” she shouted. What she witnessed was some kind of medical problem. “You need to get him to a doctor.”
Balthazar stayed at his brother’s side, unmoving.
She looked at Thorsson. “Please, do something.”
“You need to remain still and watch.”
When she turned around, her heart beat so fast it slammed against her chest. She backed away, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.
Lancelot’s arms and torso were covered in patterned, overlapping scales. They were deep orange with golden highlights, and the scales stopped at the base of his neck. His eyes remained bright with an eerie emerald sheen that made her skin crawl.
“No.” Eva shook her head. “No, no, no. This isn’t real.”
“You see the scales.” It wasn’t a question.
“I see something, Balthazar, but scales?” she demanded. “How the fuck is he able to do that? Is it a magician’s trick? You’re wearing something over your skin, right?”
“Touch his skin and find out what it feels like.”
“Balthazar,” his brother warned. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why?” She felt lost, as if she were floating. It was one thing to read and discover artifacts that hinted at legends. It was quite another to actually believe she stood in front of such a legend.
Lancelot mumbled something under his breath.
“Lancelot, I’ll show her. Eva,” he said, holding out his hand.
She remained still, torn between running away, back to the life she knew with Papa, the museum, and her artifacts—or stepping into the unknown with a man who excited and confused her at the same time. Papa said that Balthazar could be trusted, but he wouldn’t have known about this.
But curiosity tugged on Eva’s consciousness, demanding answers. Despite her disbelief, she moved forward until she stood beside Balthazar, and slowly placed her hand in his.
“You have to be extremely careful. The scales are smooth when you move your hand over them in this direction.” Balthazar stroked his fingers in the direction the scales were aligned. “Don’t go the other way, or you’ll lose your fingers.”
Eva touched Lancelot’s arm very lightly. It wasn’t human skin. What she felt was something harder and very smooth. She took her hand away and leaned in for a closer look. The scales gleamed in the sun’s rays, a beautiful array of orange and yellow that shimmered beneath her gaze. Each scale ended with a scalloped edge of darker orange, and the overall effect reminded her of a sunset. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, and touched another scale.
“Careful, the edges are very sharp,” Balthazar warned her.
“Similar to fish scales.” Eva smoothed her hand over Lancelot’s shoulder.
Balthazar laughed. “I don’t like the thought of being compared to a fish, but yes, that’s the general idea.”
“She’s taking this conversation quite well,” Thorsson said drily.
She lifted her hand carefully away. When Lancelot moved, his scales caught the sunlight, almost blinding her. “I know I’m seeing this, and I’ve felt them, but it’s still hard to believe.” She looked at Balthazar. “What about you? What do your scales look like?”