Texas Showdown

by Aaron Crash

  With the fire going, Steven went and sat on the bed. Zoey immediately latched onto him. Mouse put a gentle hand on Zoey. She relaxed into both their touches.

  When Steven gave Mouse a questioning look, she explained herself. “I know what it’s like being the new girl in town. Aria sure isn’t going to be welcoming to Nell here, and Skylar is a little freaked out being back in the same place where some bad shit went down.”

  “Nell?” Steven asked.

  “Tessa isn’t here. Someone has to make the pop culture references and be the sweet girl. And it kind of slipped out. Sorry, Zoey, last joke, I promise.”

  Zoey gave her a shy smile, then closed her eyes and held on to Steven like he was her life preserver.

  “Uh, what happened down in the mine, Steven? And who is she?” Mouse asked.

  “Nothing happened,” he replied. “And I think she was with the Morphlings who attacked us, but not with them, if you get me. She talked at first, but now I think she just needs some time to adjust. Did you, Aria, or Skylar keep any of the Morphlings alive for questioning?”

  Mouse winced. “Yeah, Aria went in hot. Skylar and I followed. We froze what we didn’t toast with fire or lightning. Not sure if any got away.”

  Steven wondered if the news hurt Zoey, but she didn’t seem to hear. Or she heard and didn’t care. Getting her story was going to take some time.

  And they had another issue. How were they going to get Zoey home?

  Only one solution. One of the humans would have to drive down from Cheyenne. Zoey might be able to survive the flight as a werebear, but she was one heavy girl in her ursine state. No, they’d just have to truck her back to the Infinity Ranch in a car.

  Mouse realized that. “I attached my cell phone to the Slayer Blade’s scabbard. I’ll buzz Tessa and see if she can drive in.”

  “Tell her to hurry. And bring Sabina. We have a lot going on, and I want to find out which republic sent assassins after me. Republic of what? And what state or country or even city has a star attached to it?”

  “The Lone Star State,” Mouse said simply.

  Steven smiled. “Republic of Texas. Mouse, you are a genius.”

  But his happiness was short-lived. Zoey began to tremble, and she didn’t stop, not for a long, long time. Just that word, “Texas,” put a scare in her that wouldn’t go away.

  TEN

  Midnight. Steven fell back into his oversized bed in the master bedroom of the Infinity Ranch. If felt good to be home. However, thoughts of what he’d seen in the Grand Lake chamber spun in his mind.

  Everything in his bedroom was big—the bed, the fireplace, and the desk. He’d set up a secondary office near the glass sliding doors that faced east, and he’d transferred some of the texts and the topaz pen from the library tower to his room so he could work there.

  For once, he was alone. Tessa was with Pretty, out in one of the widow houses. Like Sabina had foreseen, the two were inseparable, the extroverted barista the yin to Pretty’s quiet yang. As for their new Morphling, Zoey, she was with Mouse in her room. The werebear still hadn’t said a word, but at least she’d stopped shaking.

  The Morphlings that had attacked him had definite ties to Texas. The tattoo was the Texan seal from when it had been its own country. Mexico had outlawed slavery, but Texans wanted slaves, and so they broke from Mexico to become an independent country. The Republic of Texas had lasted from 1836 until 1845, when it joined the United States.

  Steven had forgotten that from his American history classes.

  The tattoos he found on the Dragonskins were one clue, but the other was what he found later in the mysterious chamber. For once, his Magica Divinatio magic worked. He’d had help; Liam hadn’t made it down to the Mountain Aerie, but Tessa and Sabina had driven down. All three together had cast the divination magic in the ancient cavern, and the result had been immediate. And puzzling.

  When the three of them cast their spells, standing next to the three Homo Draconi, the dust in the air swirled up to form a map of the North American continent. It had reminded him of the magical ink his real father had left him, which had created shapes in the Colorado Springs Aerie when Steven was still figuring out his past. The dust map was tinged pink from Tessa and green from Sabina, with shadows of black streaming through it. That was Steven’s spell color. The edges glowed with a silver light.

  Spread across the map were clusters of three circles, intertwined, glowing blue, about an inch in diameter. Tessa had called the clusters Borromean rings: the three circles were connected in such a way if you removed any one ring the whole structure would fall apart.

  One of the Borromean rings marked where he was standing, in Grand Lake. Two more were in the Denver area, one near Sloan’s Lake, and one in the foothills. He knew in his heart that was Lookout Mountain. The other intertwined circles were farther apart, from the California coast, across the deserts of the west to the Appalachian Mountains and coastlines to the east.

  All the symbols glowed a blue color except for one. It was down in Texas, and those circles gleamed blood red.

  Tessa had brought the topaz pen. She took it from the leather satchel and held it up. “Magica Incanto!” she’d called out. Her eyes still gleamed pink, which meant she was doubling up on spells. Not one Magician in a thousand could do that. But then, they’d always known Tessa was special.

  Steven’s divination spell failed first. Then Tessa’s. Then Sabina’s. But when Tessa raised the pen again, the sapphire feathers glowed, and the continent marked by the rings reappeared above them. She’d taken a snapshot of the map with the topaz pen.

  Steven put it together. The Borromean rings marked where other caverns were, and he assumed there would be pools there. But would they be full?

  And how many of the “eyes” would be closed?

  Steven smiled. Like before, they would be following a magical map appearing from the topaz pen. Just like old times, he thought, except this time he and his team were the hunters, not the prey.

  They returned home to sleep in their own beds and ponder their next move. While the Queensland Primacy needed attention, so did this Texas drama. Make that Texarkana drama. This was an affair concerning dragons, not humans. Wherever they went, though, they’d have the map with them thanks to Tessa’s quick thinking and the power of the topaz pen.

  Steven thought he’d fall right to sleep. The dragon-flight in had taken a lot out of him, and though Aria had refueled him a bit, he still felt weak. Zoey had wept bitterly when she realized that she couldn’t stay with Steven. It was only because Mouse was there that the werebear hadn’t melted down completely. Holding Mouse’s hand, Zoey had submitted to riding back to Cheyenne with Tessa and Sabina in the Orange Crush.

  Zoey was so tired she’d collapsed in Mouse’s room and was sleeping there in the petite blonde’s bed. Mouse had grabbed an air mattress to crash in the same room with the werebear.

  It had been an eventful day, but Steven still couldn’t fall asleep.

  He heard a ruckus in the kitchen, and he left his room to see who was preparing a late-night snack.

  It was Zoey. She was wearing sweats and a T-shirt, both tight on her. None of the women in his Escort had clothes big enough for her. She cracked two eggs into a bowl, whisked them like she’d done it a thousand times, and then poured the eggs into a small pan.

  On the counter was goat cheese, chives, and sun-dried tomatoes. She chopped up the chives expertly and when the eggs were right, added the ingredients and flipped the omelet perfectly. It was all in the flip.

  Steven wasn’t sure he should bother her. Maybe she needed a bit of time alone to adjust to her new surroundings. She moved with a calm serenity. He retreated and returned to his room.

  Zoey was a mystery, but she could cook. Maybe she’d even give Liam a run for his money in the kitchen.

  He closed his door and padded over to the desk. Cold moonlight silvered the room, giving him a surprising amount of light but not enough to read by. He turned on
the lamp and thumped open the third volume of his father’s grimoire.

  He again thought of the words that had appeared the last time he’d tried to decrypt it: Not yet time. Wait for the next torch. Then you will open one eye. Who were those words from? And what did they mean?

  He pulled up the Mirror-Souled Path.

  He’d leveled again, so he could store and wield more Animus. Was that why his divination magic had worked in the Grand Lake chamber? Or was it because the forces at work had finally given him a break from his pornographic visions of sex with the widows? He wasn’t sure. And he damned sure wouldn’t be using the ability in combat.

  He looked down the skills on the right head and right tail of the dragon. He’d started to think of them as the Alpherian abilities. He picked up the topaz pen, found a blank piece of paper, and wrote down his thoughts. Slowly, as he scratched magical ink on the parchment, his mind began to put things together.

  IonClaws and Mathaal’s spirit had given him the ability to use HeartStrike. That was more of a Pugna ability, anyway, a killing blow for combat only. Steven had always been exceptional when it came to the combat skills. AnimusChain seemed to be more on the Veneficium branch. Tessa was smart to attempt Magica Porta spells. That would be the path to AnimusChain all right. But would Tessa be able to access anything since she wasn’t a Dragonsoul?

  But she wasn’t completely human either. He remembered his vision of her on the beach, her white dress, the tears she wept when she finally figured out who she was.

  He considered FleshForge next. That skill was likely an extension of the Transformatio branch, which he’d mastered. However, it seemed FleshForge might be a mix of Transformatio and Veneficium. That seemed likely.

  Occasionally, the sapphire feathers on the pen would flash. Yes, part of this was intuition, but the pen was also helping him put ideas together. Memories flooded through of him of his first days as a dragon.

  Back to writing about the Alpherian abilities…

  Since Tessa couldn’t shapeshift, FleshForge was probably beyond her. But if Sabina became a Dragonskin, she might be able to access it.

  As for Enchantrix? That sounded like a magical ability—Enchantrix as in enchanted. And if the Alpherian abilities were like other parts of the skill tree, they required you to master them in order. Tessa had made the mistake of jumping from Magica Cura to Magica Incanto, so she’d never be able to use the Magica Impetim spells. That was less critical for her since she had her Peacekeepers.

  Maybe Enchantrix needed the entire Veneficium as well AnimusChain to work. That made sense to Steven.

  He’d filled the paper with words, lines, and diagrams, and he blinked. Hours had passed. He had to smile. Not too long ago, he’d pulled all-nighters to study for an exam or to finish a paper. Now he was studying alien magic lost to earthbound dragons, or so he thought. Liam had mentioned something about a legend or a myth that Rahaab might’ve taught others. And the Dragonsouls and Skins he was fighting certainly had more magical abilities than other dragons he’d fought. Was there a rogue sorcerer at work?

  Holding the topaz pen, glancing over his notes, he figured he might want to try his scrying magic one more time. He murmured the words, and his eyes leaked shadows. Right away, he knew he wasn’t going to get anything useful.

  Back in the upper tower room, this time with Michaela Montes, the day before, the afternoon sun pierced the curtains. He was sweating, looking down at Michaela’s beautiful face—dark skin, gorgeous eyes. She was looking up at him, the expression on her face pure lust.

  “I love fucking you,” Steven had hissed.

  “Yes!” the woman uttered. “You’re so deep in me. Filling me up. Stretching me out.”

  Michaela’s secret kink was dirty talk, a lot of it, especially when Steven pounded her. Her brown, big-nippled breasts wobbled on her chest as both said the filthiest things imaginable.

  Sabina’s vision, once again, had come in useful. Otherwise, Steven wouldn’t have known what to say.

  Outside of the bedroom, he’d seen Michaela cross herself. She was Roman Catholic, the most religious Dragonsoul he’d ever met. She went to Mass in Cheyenne every Sunday, without fail, and sometimes on weekdays as well. He wasn’t sure how theology, magic, and Dragonsoul culture mixed, but Michaela made it work.

  She spent a lot of time praying, but when it came to sex, she was vocal in a completely different way.

  Back at his desk, the vision left Steven, and he sighed. Well, he was nearly through the five widows. Next time, he would probably get the memory of his time with Abby Free, which had been a wild night, one of the best of his life.

  Steven clicked off the light and returned to his bed. It was nearly 3 a.m. Remembering all the obscene things that Michaela had said to him had raised his libido. He thought about who he should wake for a late night/early morning booty call. He had nine women to choose from.

  Nine. Was that right?

  Aria, Tessa, Mouse, Sabina, Skylar, Teegan, Pretty, Michaela, and Abby. Ten, including Zoey, but he wasn’t going to go there with her, not for a long, long time.

  He started subtracting others from the list. The five widows were still new, and he didn’t want to risk them thinking he was some asshole who would demand sex at all hours, day or night. Out of the five, Pretty would probably be the most amenable if he started slow, kissing her gently awake, telling her how beautiful and how loved she was. That might work.

  But that didn’t feel right.

  If Sabina was in the mood, and awake, she could probably sense he was feeling randy. He waited a heartbeat for the door to open. Nope. Sabina was probably sleeping soundly in her bungalow. Besides, she needed the rest. The Dragonskin rituals were weighing on her.

  Mouse was a definite no. She loved to sleep. Waking her up would not lead to loving. More than likely, she would grab the Slayer Blade and try to brain him with it. That night, especially, would be bad; Zoey was in the same room with her.

  Which left Tessa and Aria. Either one would be up for it. Tessa, however, was the right call. And she was with Pretty. Maybe the two would already be making love. That was a definite possibility.

  His door creaked open. Had Sabina felt his need?

  No, the feminine form that crept across the floor was tall, with broad hips that tapered up into solid, muscled shoulders. The silver starlight showed the silhouette of wild hair. Zoey.

  She slid into bed with him and curled herself around him. He could feel her hard nipples through the fabric of her tight T-shirt.

  “Zoey, what’s going on?”

  He’d forgotten she had stopped talking. Or had she?

  “I feel terrible,” the bear girl whispered. “You saw me at my very worst. I fell to pieces in that cave and afterwards. I’m usually not like that, and I feel bad. I want to be strong for you, Steven. You, above all others, need your Escort to be strong.”

  The way she said his name, there was awe in her voice.

  “I do,” Steven said. “But Zoey, this is all kind of sudden.”

  “It is, but I don’t care.” A growl edged her voice. “You’re famous. You’re powerful. And the minute I saw you, I knew you were the one.”

  Steven had zero interest in taking advantage of this girl. She’d been traumatized, obviously. The Morphling assassins had stashed her in the chamber, might even have abandoned her there. Aria did have some concern that she might be a spy, but Sabina had cast a spell and said Zoey might be emotionally wounded, but she wasn’t dangerous. In fact, she had a strength and cunning that would help them in the end.

  Now, Steven found himself in bed with her. The werebear smelled good, a sweet smell, some kind of perfume that had a subtle musk to it. She’d showered, so part of that was soap, but it was mostly her. Mouse had complained to him that she’d tried to get her fuzzy hair under control, but it did what it wanted. Steven thought she was beautiful regardless. Her blue-green eyes made up for everything else.

  “What do you mean famous?” Steven aske
d.

  “Everyone is talking about you,” Zoey answered. “You have magic no one has ever seen. No one can kill you. For me, it’s not just about your power. You are the one Dragonsoul I want to give my life to. My mother served a Prime, but I can’t talk about that. And I won’t talk about the Sounder, not yet.”

  “What’s a sounder?” All this wasn’t sitting well with Steven.

  “No, the Sounder. The me is the we.” The way she said it, it was clear she’d memorized it, and it was something she said often. “The me is the we.”

  Could it be some kind of cult thing? But Steven wasn’t going to push it. “Look, Zoey, I know you’re drawn to me. It’s part of being a male Dragonsoul. I do want to help you. We all do.”

  “I don’t need help now,” Zoey said. “I want to join your Escort. I want to wear your ring. Please, make love to me. I thought if I made something to eat, it might help me sleep, but it didn’t. I felt bad taking Mouse’s bed. But really, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and what we can do together.”

  And there it was, an invitation for sex wrapped in a moral dilemma. He’d felt a connection to her, right away, when he’d had his vision of her and her blue-green eyes. She’d been hurt. He’d wanted to protect her.

  Steven’s father wanted him to gather an Escort. But Stefan Drokharis had never said if that meant three wives or fifty.

  He’d taken six months to slip into bed with the Five Widows. But this? He hadn’t known Zoey for six hours.

  “Look, Zoey, you’re feeling vulnerable. Being left alone in that cave must’ve been terrible. Your family—”

  “Not my family,” Zoey cut in harshly. “My real family is dead, but they died serving the Prime. But I can’t talk about that. I was left alone because when I realized that you were our prey, I couldn’t go along. Not you. Not the great Steven Drokharis. You are going to change things so no one else has to be an orphan ever again. No more dead parents. No more broken families. No more sadness.”