Texas Showdown

by Aaron Crash

  Juice and his Sounders were off in the desert somewhere, waiting for first light.

  Every second seemed like an hour, and every hour felt like a week.

  It took three Dragonsouls to carry Zoey, who’d shifted into her bear form and refused to become human. It was hard to tell what a fucking bear was feeling, but Chazzie would bet it was fear. And sadness. At least the big girl wasn’t with Juice Juice. Speaking of apocalypse cults, the twins had heard stories about what the pig had done to his people.

  Yet Zoey as a bear was going to make their lives about a million times more complicated. The twins were used to their schemes becoming more complex as they played out. It was part of the deal. Plan, execute, re-evaluate, re-execute, and correct course. Steven’s gambit was desperate, but they’d done desperate before, many times.

  Carlo Bart hadn’t given them a second glance once they’d all flown in.

  Chazzie hoped the lingerie would change that.

  Yet the minutes continued to tick away. The night was getting away from them.

  “You know,” Pru said, “if he don’t come to us, we’ll have to go to him. And that’s going to make it harder.”

  Chazzie touched the vial of Elftears she’d tucked into the lacy goodness of her teddy. Poor Sabina, she was going to have to go that night without the potion. “He’ll come, Pru. He has to. Yeah, he kept us in the dark, but now he knows we know. And he’ll want to hear what intel we have about Steven and this sunrise showdown.”

  “Gary Cooper in High Noon ain’t got nothing on our Stevie,” Pru said. She was pale. While the black lace of the teddy made her sexy, it also made her sad.

  Well, Chazzie knew she was in the same state. Sexy, sad, scared, and the night was going to last a million years.

  It was around 3 a.m. when the door was thrown open. Carlo Bart marched in, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his suit coat missing. He stomped through the big, opulent bedroom.

  Chazzie and Pru sat on the bed.

  He squared his shoulders and faced them. “Well, you two conniving cunts better tell me a story that ain’t complete bullshit. Or I’m going to feed you to Juice and his pigs.”

  The twins had come dressed for sex, but this was going to be a battle of wits for their very lives. The two were prepared.

  “When did you stop trusting us?” Pru asked in a hurt voice.

  Chazzie let a tear drop from her eye. Only one, and she made sure her face was fighting the emotion. They’d try going soft. Men were suckers for tears.

  “If Juice was working for you, why did you have him attack us?” Chazzie let her voice crack in just the right way.

  Carlo Bart eyed her. “Maybe I didn’t. Maybe Juice is a fucking animal, likely to bite as not. Then again, he fucked up the Drokharis hit. There are consequences for fucking up.”

  A long silence followed. Chazzie grabbed Pru’s hand, like she was afraid and needed some comfort.

  “I’m not falling for this fucking act anymore.” Carlo Bart charged forward, grabbed Pru by her hair, and flung her across the room. She rolled across the floor.

  Okay, the hurt act wasn’t going to fly. Fine. Chazzie launched herself up to her feet. “What were you before us, Carlo? You barely had a grasp on Texas. You certainly didn’t have much more. And you had a wife actively cheating on you. We took care of that. We brought you the Okies, and we brought you Arkansas and a good chunk of Louisiana as well.”

  He tried to grab her but missed. The first time.

  Carlo Bart was strong and sneaky. He feinted to his left, Chazzie fell for it, and then he punched her in the eye. He was wearing his turquoise rings, and if she hadn’t known how to take a punch, he could’ve done some serious damage. She angled her head back, so it was a glancing blow. Still, hurt blossomed through her brain. She fell backward onto the floor.

  “Oh, fuck this!” Pru snapped. She shredded the lingerie and scaled over, her mouth losing her lips but gaining rows of fangs. She splayed her fingers, showing her deadly claws. She went at Carlo Bart, but he seized her and flung her across the room onto the bed. Her momentum carried her into a wall, ruining the drywall there.

  Carlo Bart exploded in rage. “No, we are not doing this! You tell me, right now, what you have on Steven Drokharis and why he wants this fucking showdown!”

  Chazzie stood up. She wasn’t worried about a black eye. A Magica Cura spell would fix the bruising. But being hit like that, by her Prime, stung her pride more. Or whatever little bit of love she had for him. Wasn’t much to begin with.

  She rubbed a thumb over her wedding band. And remembered her loyalties. “Hold on, Pru.”

  The pink dragon woman, covered in drywall dust, stood uncertainly. The bubble gum smell of her dragon scent filled the room.

  “We called you, Carlo,” Chazzie said. “We led Steven to the Blowtorch Bar and Grill, thinking that was kind of your base of operations. Juice was definitely working for you. Not that we knew that before we went and talked to him.”

  Carlo Bart’s football-coach blue eyes sizzled into her soul. “And why in the fuck were you talking to Juice in the first place? And why were you in the elevator in Chicago, talking with the Drokharis cocksucker? To warn him?”

  “Of what?” Chazzie shrieked. Oh yeah, playing the hysterical woman card was always such a crowd-pleaser. If worse came to worst, she could blame her mood on her monthlies. Men loved to think that the uterus controlled most if not all of a woman’s mental capacities.

  Chazzie really poured it on. “We didn’t know anything! You stopped trusting us! And we’ve worked so well together in the past! Why, Carlo, why did you stop trusting us?” Now, she could give him more tears. And show a whole mess of hurt on her face she didn’t feel. Not a bit.

  Carlo Bart searched her eyes. He was taken aback by her outburst. Ha, of course he was.

  “You were never in this for me,” Carlo Bart said in a quiet voice. “You were only in this for yourselves. For a long time, that was good enough for me. I thought the rings would help. But no, the daughters of Bob Wayne were already too damaged for that to do much.”

  Pru walked to stand next to Chazzie, becoming more human with each step. By the time she was even with Chazzie, she was naked, beautiful, maybe perfect.

  Carlo Bart’s eyes went down her body and then back to Chazzie’s face. “Then a Dragonsoul contacted me, about six months ago. Rahaab was dead. Things were going to change. And I was going to help make that happen.”

  “Who was it?” Pru asked.

  Carlo Bart rumbled laughter. “Oh, no. You see, he warned me about you, not that I needed much warning. Things are now going to change between us. I’ll still fuck you, because, damn”—he sucked in a breath—“there is something about twins. But you aren’t going to be my advisors anymore. You’ll be kept at arm’s length. You’ll go where I tell you to go and do what I tell you to do.”

  “We can live with that,” Pru said. That was a lie for the ages.

  Chazzie pretended to take in a great big shuddering breath. “We’ll show you we still have value. We’ll make sure you know the rings on our fingers mean everything to us.”

  Chazzie pulled the cups of her teddy down to let her breasts fall. She took hold of her pink nipples and twisted. “This fighting, this fear, has me horny, Carlo. We can fill your Animus up before the showdown in a few hours.”

  “Ain’t gonna be no showdown. I’m going to bring every gun, magic-user, and pig I got, and we’re going to kill Steven Drokharis dead.” The Prime licked his lips. His eyes darted between the two of them, drinking them in. She saw the bulge in his suit pants get bigger. “I told Wyatt and Maria that I was going to sleep some. But we can have sex before that. Still not sure I can trust you, but I’ve screwed bitches I’ve hated before.”

  He came forward and pushed them onto the bed. Pru spread her legs and showed him her sex. Chazzie wiggled out of her lacy panties so she could do the same.

  He bent and sucked on Pru, then on Chazzie. The minute his mouth clo
sed over her petals, Chazzie took the syringe from a secret pocket she’d sewn in the teddy. She moaned, groaned, and made a big production of her impending “orgasm” before she slipped the needle into his neck. She pumped ten cubic centimeters, about two teaspoons, of Elftears directly into his carotid artery.

  Carlo Bart dropped to the floor.

  Pru sighed. “And the best actress award for a performance in a bullshit sex scene goes to Chastity Wayne.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Chastity said. She got up and shifted into her Homo Draconis form, ripping through her lingerie. If she never wore anything lacy like that for the rest of her fucking life, it would be too soon.

  Pru, also in her partial state, helped her drag the meat of Carlo Bart’s form to the balcony. “First him, and then the bear girl,” Chazzie said.

  That was the plan. They were back on track.

  Except for Zoey. That was going to be the tricky part. Flying with her would be difficult. But then they also had to arm up. They weren’t called the machine-gun twins for nothing. The Cadillac was the obvious solution.

  Chazzie found herself buzzing inside. Most of what she’d said to Carlo Bart had been total bullshit, but the drama and tension of the last few days had gotten to her. She was horny.

  And now they were free to do what they wanted to Steven.

  They’d gone all in, pushed all their chips into the middle, and now it was only a matter of time before the universe started turning over cards in their Armageddon game of Texas Hold’em. The flop, fourth street, then the river.

  While the cards danced across the table, they might as well enjoy themselves with Steven.

  “You still want it all?” Pru asked her.

  “Yeah, but now it all isn’t just for me no more. I will tell you one thing, Prudence Lynn Wayne. I do want it now,” Chazzie said right back.

  The night might’ve been long, but life was short.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  It was the calm before the storm. The night before the battle. Steven thought of a Shakespeare play, Henry V, he’d studied in college. He was the general, but he wasn’t sure he needed to give a St. Crispin’s Day speech. They were a happy few indeed.

  Their plan was working, so far. If only the twins would check in. Had they been able to dose Carlo Bart? Steven hoped so.

  He and his Escort had taken shelter in the Blowtorch Bar and Grill. The police had closed it down during the investigation, but now their crime scene was all fucked up. Sabina had looked into the future of the place, and the cops would return at around 9 a.m. By that time, Steven’s entire operation would be over. For better or for worse.

  Bottom line, the bar was safe for the night.

  In town, they found a BBQ place, right before it closed. Tessa literally bought every single thing they had. And while Steven could appreciate food from all over the world, Texas BBQ just might’ve been his favorite. Pork ribs rubbed down in spices and smoked over mesquite, then covered in a tangy, spicy, tomato-based sauce. Spicy beans with chunks of bacon. Coleslaw, potato salad, and thick pieces of toast buttered enough to induce an immediate heart attack and then grilled.

  Aria had eaten at least a loaf of the Texas toast, even though it was cold by the time they brought it back to the empty bar. The place was still a mess from the various battles that had plagued its parking lot. Note to self: never build your restaurant over a mysterious dragon cave.

  Steven had needed the food. He’d eaten every last rib, every bit of blackened brisket, every link of sausage. At one point, his Escort sat and watched him in stunned silence. He’d merely grinned at them.

  Tessa and Sabina were in the Americos Chamber, getting ready for the Magica Porta spells. Sabina had dipped her toe in the portal magic but hadn’t gotten serious, since her quest to become a Dragonskin had been all-encompassing. Tessa was brand new to that type of magic as well. She’d done a little bit of portal magic in France, but that had been with the help of a scroll.

  When they’d found that magic in the third volume of the Drokharis Grimoire, they’d also retrieved a piece of parchment that had given them invisibility magic. They’d used it to get the drop on Carlo Bart. Steven remembered how the Texarkana Prime had humiliated the twins, forcing them to change back into humans so he could leer at their breasts. Carlo Bart needed to die.

  Steven paced back and forth through the tables and chairs strewn across the debris-scattered floor. After the Sounders attacked the twins, the owners and the patrons, everyone, had fled. The place was one gigantic mess. And now the walls were scorched from Aria’s and Mouse’s ElectroArc attack. Most of the bottles on the glass shelves above the bar had shattered.

  Mouse sat on a stool, drinking a cup of coffee and staring at the booze that hadn’t been blown apart.

  Steven walked over to her. “Rethinking your sobriety?”

  “No,” Mouse erupted. “Get this, I was talking with Skylar and Liam in Australia. I always thought Foster’s Lager was a total Australian thing. No. It was an ad campaign. Foster’s Lager is fucking brewed in Fort Worth, Texas. The irony makes me want to fucking puke.”

  “You’re pissed off about a beer?” Steven asked.

  “No, not really.” Mouse calmed down and let out a breath. “I miss Zoey. I’m scared for her. Yeah, she’s like a furry Simple Jack sometimes, but she’s sweet and innocent in a way I never was.”

  “Is that why you took her under your wing?” Steven asked.

  Mouse nodded and couldn’t talk for a minute. She sipped her coffee, tears threatening to fall, but she forced them back. “Yeah. I know what it’s like joining a Prime’s Escort when they’re already a tight group. I know what it’s like being abandoned. And let’s mark trauma off the list as well. Me and Zoey are incredibly different and exactly the same.”

  Steven sat down next to her. “Were you surprised that she and I slept together that first night?”

  Mouse smirked and shook her head. “It’s that Dragonsoul Prime thing you got going, and she’s a Morphling. Sex and Morphlings go hand in hand. You take a human’s sex drive and you mix it with an animal’s id. No, fuck Sigmund Freud. Instead, let’s call it a bear’s joie de vivre.”

  “French, Mouse?”

  She sipped her coffee. “American French. It’s a thing. Anyway, I wasn’t surprised much. But it was pretty ballsy of you. You’re embracing your Escort. It was bound to happen.” She sighed. “Gather an Escort… Yep. You are. You did. And it’s only going to get bigger.” Another sigh.

  Steven took her hand. “I won’t forget about you, Mouse. I won’t drop you. You believed in me when no one else did.”

  “Ha! I doubted you.” Mouse took his hand and kissed it. She then got closer and kissed him. That kiss grew more serious until he found himself naked, on the bar, the wood cool against his back and butt. Mouse, straddling him with her fists bunched on his chest, pounded herself on him until they both came, first her, then him. Animus filled them both.

  She collapsed with her little breasts pressed against his chest, her face in the crook of his neck. She was sweaty, smelly, wonderful. He held her close as her breathing returned to normal. She then laughed. “We aren’t the first people to have sex on this bar, I can guarantee it. Not sure how I feel about that. Oh well. It is what it is.”

  They got dressed, and Steven went down into the Americos Chamber to check on Tessa and Sabina. Sabina sat in a corner with her arms around her knees. She had her eyes closed. They’d had to do the burning, and without the Elftears. The pain made her pass out several times.

  Tessa sat on the edge of the empty pool, legs dangling. They’d found kerosene lamps in the storage room behind the bar and brought them down for light. No shadows of teeth and talons under the trees, at least, but the words on the ceiling remained:

  This Eye Is Closed.

  “Are you ready to try the portal magic?” he asked the barista turned magician.

  Tessa exhaled loudly. “No. I’m scared shitless. If we can’t do this, our
whole plan is for nothing. Sabina should do it.”

  “She can’t. She’s at a critical juncture in the rituals. You can do this, Tessa. Both Sabina and I saw into the future. We know this works.” Steven sat down. First Mouse, now Tessa—he was becoming quite the counselor. “And if you can’t manage the magic? Well, we kill Carlo Bart anyway.”

  “Or his entire Escort, every vassal, every mercenary kills you,” she said. “We’ve given him time to call in all of his soldiers. Sabina said this Wyatt Gunn would love to take over the Texarkana Primacy and yours, if he could.”

  “With Maria Diablo at his side,” Steven agreed. “Both of them are power hungry. That’s pretty clear from what the twins have said as well.”

  Tessa squeezed her eyes shut. “Your plan is good, Steven. As long as I can work the spells.”

  He kissed her. “You can. You’re special. How are your Animus levels?”

  “Fine,” Tessa replied. “Sabina and I had a little alone time together. She said a little lovin’ would take her mind off the pain. We’re set. Just waiting on the twins.”

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, and there was a text from Chazzie and Pru. They were on their way with Carlo Bart.

  Tessa saw it. “Let me meditate more and go through the spells again.” She exhaled. “This is going to take everything out of me.”

  He squeezed her one more time and then hurried up the steps.

  A car pulled up, a long, pink Cadillac convertible, with the skull of a longhorn decorating the grill. The thing was riding low, wickedly weighted down. The top collapsed into the back, revealing Prudence at the wheel and Chazzie riding shotgun.

  Steven walked over. In the backseat was a very unconscious Carlo Bart. Surrounding him was a small arsenal of automatic weapon, boxes of ammunition, a grenade launcher, and shells. Was that a bazooka sticking out? Yes, yes it was. The twins got out and popped the trunk, where there were even more guns. Mixed in with all the armaments were a couple of sparkly pink suitcases. Guns and pink glitter, that was the Wayne sisters.