by Aaron Crash
“Do we take him down into the Americos Chamber?” Chazzie asked in a surprisingly calm voice.
“I can do it.” Steven pulled the Texarkana Prime out of the car and hefted him onto a shoulder, using a bit of DragonStrength fueled by Animus. He carried him down into the cavern and laid him next to the pool. The twins had handcuffed his wrists and his ankles.
“Would one of you be able to do a little Incanto on the cuffs?” Steven asked. “I’d like for him to have to fight to get free, though he won’t be waking up, not for a bit.”
“I can,” Sabina said.
Tessa eyed the unconscious giant. “Too bad we can’t just kill him now with a bullet to the brain.” The barista put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, wow, did I just say that? I’ve been spending too much time around Old Blood and Guts Aria. Let me say something more Tessa.” She cleared her throat and said primly, “Too bad we can’t wake up him up and reason with him.” She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah … Carlo Bart isn’t what you would call a joiner,” Steven said. “And if we killed him, we’d be killing Zoey. And all his vassals are still on their way in. That was our mistake before, with Mulk, Wenck, and Rahaab… their forces were scattered. This time, they’ll see us and what we can do. We want them all here when we take over this Primacy.”
“Easy for you to say. You won’t be defending the portal,” Tessa said. “If I can even open the thing.”
Steven kissed her cheek. “Have faith in yourself. It will all work out.”
He left her and returned to the surface. The twins had emptied the car of their guns and luggage.
Chazzie and Pru wore long fur coats, white and lush, over short, tight dresses. He noticed how pale their faces were. Their eyes slid away from him. A bruise blackened Chazzie’s eye.
“You two okay?” Steven leaned against the Caddie. The car was kind of a Texas cliché, but he liked it. It had flair.
The Wayne twins stood in the dust between the car and the shack. Chazzie answered first and spoke in a rush. “We tried to take off his turquoise rings but couldn’t. They’re magic, and when you fight him, he’ll use ’em.” She swallowed and seemed on the verge of tears.
Pru was a lot more in control of herself. “You’d be a fool to fight him. I say cut his throat now, and yeah, losing your Morphling would be sad, but you can find another bear.” She grinned. “Was that harsh? I do believe that was a little harsher than I wanted it to sound.”
“It was, sister,” Chazzie said.
“We can’t kill him yet,” Steven said. “If it all goes to plan, you’ll have rescued Zoey by then. The minute I can, I’ll rip his heart out. I don’t need to fight him with honor. I want him out of the way, by any means necessary.”
Pru gasped in relief and touched her chest. “I am certainly glad to hear that. You already wore your white hat once during this little drama. Do us a favor and switch to gray. Keep the black one ready.”
Steven looked into her eyes. “And you like the gray hat, don’t you, Pru? How can I ever trust you?”
“Trust me?” Pru touched her chest again, but the look in her eyes was harder. The gold band on her ring finger caught the moonlight. “We’ve laid everything on the line for you. Can we trust you?”
“I’m not the one married to Carlo Bart,” Steven said.
“This?” Pru extended her hand. “This was a very calculated risk. You see, when we got married, we got Cactus Bill to use his juju on us. A little Magica Incanto in the form of an anti-love potion.”
Steven thought he understood what that meant. Carlo Bart might have a limited psychic connection to them, but their love for him wasn’t deepened.
Chazzie confirmed that. “Cactus Bill’s potion worked like a charm. You know what I feel when I touch that ring? You know who I think about? I think about my sister, my family, and where my true loyalties lie. I never once thought that Carlo Bart was anything other than a pawn in our game. He was a tool. Yeah, the sex was good, and yeah, he had the Dragonsoul charm going, but our father taught us to win at the game, and to win, you gotta use your wits and not your bits.”
“I’m better at that than my sister,” Pru said.
“Yeah, she’s the smart one,” Chazzie agreed. “I’m the one who… who wants you, Steven. I’m letting Pru do the thinking for us. And I’m doing the feeling. We’re going to be straight with you.”
“Why?” Steven asked.
Chazzie went to him. “Because most every Prime we ever met, most every male Dragonsoul, including Daddy, only wanted the world for themselves. It was whatever they could claw, fuck, or capture. Gather an Escort. Acquire a Hoard. Build an Aerie. Blah, blah, blah. That was only for themselves—their greedy, stupid selves. I figured I might as well beat them at that game. I heard rumors about a new kid in town, Steven Drokharis. Pru and I didn’t put much stock in the rumors, did we, sister?”
“No, sister, we did not.”
“Then I met you,” Chazzie said, putting a hand on his arm. “You aren’t busting your ass only for what you can stick your dick into. You’re doing this to make the world a better place.”
He reached up and put his hand on the damaged side of her face. “Magica Cura.” The bruises faded, then disappeared.
Pru approached and slid her body up against him. She dug her fingernails into his back and laid her head against his shoulder. “And you’re doing it by any means necessary. Not sure I want to save this shithole world, but I like power, and I like you, and my sister does as well. I’ll follow her lead. We both want you. And we both want you now.”
Their wedding rings didn’t matter. Carlo Bart might as well be dead. Steven kissed Chazzie and then Pru. They stripped off their dresses but kept their coats on. They all settled into the backseat of the car, the front seats pulled forward so they had some room.
In the middle of them, their womanly smells, a little sweet and mostly musky, filled his nose. He kissed Chazzie, tasted her, smelled her, touched her tongue with his. Then he turned his head and kissed Pru, and it was the same. Everything about them was the same, from their breath, to their skin, to the pink wetness between their creamy, freckled thighs.
They had his pants off, and both their hands were stroking him. Their skin was hot, their fur coats were soft, and it was heaven in the backseat of the Cadillac under a sky flooded with stars.
Chazzie bent and sucked on him while Pru kissed him, and then they switched. Steven worked his hands between their legs and felt their petals for the first time. So wet, so warm, he eased a finger into each of them.
He had to focus on the horizon for a bit, the night, the metal bar behind him, the shack in front, the last stage of the plan. That helped to keep him from popping off. But in the end, they didn’t have much time.
“Lean against the front seats,” he said.
Pru eased herself onto the back of the driver’s seat, legs spread. Chazzie moved to the back of the passenger seat and opened her thighs.
He licked Chazzie until she came. He switched to Pru and gave her an orgasm. Again, he marveled at how they were alike. Animus swirled into them, blushing their skin and making their eyes glow.
He fell back, and Chazzie sat on him, sliding herself up and down his length while Pru watched. Pru’s eyes were locked with his, neither jealous nor patient. She wanted her turn. He smirked at her and grabbed Chazzie’s hips, pulling her into him harder and faster, and felt her clench around him once, then again.
Right before he was about to lose control, Chazzie got off him, and Pru took over, pressing her tits into his face, sliding up and down his sweat-slick chest. Chazzie stayed close, kissing him. It was too much.
“Easy there, cowboy,” Pru purred into his ear. She slid all the way down and ground her ass against his lap, keeping him near the edge. “You don’t want to disappoint me the first time, do you?”
“That wouldn’t be gentlemanly, would it, sister?”
“No, Chaz,” Pru sighed, finding the right angle and inching up and down. “T
hat wouldn’t even be nice.”
Steven took Pru’s right breast in his mouth, and she groaned. Chazzie kissed his neck, her breasts pressed against his shoulder, her fingers working diligently between her freckled thighs. Pru started moving faster and deeper.
The snug channel of Pru’s sex, the smell of the twins, their gorgeous faces and supple breasts, took them all over the edge. Again, the feelings were amazing, but so was the amount of mystical energy he gathered. And Mouse had already filled him. It seemed he might burst, he felt so good.
The three of them wound up looking up at the stairs, a twin resting against either side of him. Steven touched their skin and felt the soft fur of their coats.
He exhaled. His Escort had as much Animus as they could hold, and so did he. It was time for the end game.
“Let me know when Zoey is safe,” Steven said.
Chazzie’s head was back, looking up at the stars. “We will.”
Pru glanced back at the Blowtorch. “All that metal… we can put it to good use. I got myself a little idea if things turn to shit. Did you bring the welding gear, Chaz?”
“You know I did,” Chazzie replied.
“Well, looks like we need to build a fortress.” Pru glanced at her watch. “And we have a little over an hour to do it. Plenty of time. We’ll need the rest of the gals in your Escort, Steven. And if you could lend a hand, that certainly would be appreciated.”
He could see the wheels going in Pru’s head. She might be a morally ambiguous schemer, but she was also eerily smart.
These two were just what he needed to take over the world, before he changed it forever.
TWENTY-FIVE
Carlo Bart Baxter woke to the feeling of metal digging into his ankles and wrists. If they’d been normal cuffs, he would’ve been able to snap them without another thought. But these had been enchanted. He lay on his back, gazing up at a red sky. A warm wind blew over him, rustling some weeds and blowing dust in his face. He blinked.
Dawn had come.
Why were his clothes wet?
Fury at the betrayal choked him. Those fucking Wayne twins, he should’ve had them both killed. What was his problem? He’d murdered wives before, like that one Morphling bitch who’d been cheating on him. Goddamn werewolves. Sex for them didn’t mean a thing, nor did rings and marriage rituals. Maybe the twins were actual weasel Morphlings. Oh, they’d pay.
But what was their game? Why soak him and dump him in the desert? They must’ve known their little bullshit handcuffs would barely slow him down.
“Magica Incanto,” the Texarkana Prime hissed. The magic in the handcuffs faded. He raised his hands and widened his arms until the metal snapped. The chains connecting his legs followed. He stood, spitting the dust from his lips. It was an infinity of desert from horizon to horizon. No sign of his house in La Sombra, no sign of the Blowtorch Bar and Grill, no oil pumps and no derricks.
He didn’t care where he was. It was time to watch that fucking Steven Drokharis beg for his skin before Carlo ripped it off him.
The Dragonlord Prime squinted. Something lay in the distance. Was it a man? Or a well? He couldn’t tell. It was distorted by the rising sun. But the air was warm, as was the wind. Texas nights in the winter could fall to freezing, so it should have been cold. It wasn’t. In his damp clothes, he should’ve been chilly. He wasn’t.
He glanced around. The plants weren’t quite right. Sure the weeds were yellow and stickery, but there weren’t the tumbleweeds he would expect. A long-limbed cactus, goddamn thing looked alien, climbed out of the gray dirt. Now, that wasn’t right.
He marched toward whatever lay in the distance, stomping toward the sun; it threw a wavering light through the still air. He kicked up dust in the process, and his eyes went from plant to plant to plant.
No, this wasn’t right.
He fished his cell phone out of his pocket. It was on roaming—where was he? Where in the fuck was he? Panic seized him for a heartbeat.
Carlo Bart stopped walking. His breath was coming in gasps. Okay, he’d paid to have global service because he was rich as fuck. He also had a map program. He checked. And his mind whirled at what he saw. India. He was in fucking India, near Pakistan, on the other side of the globe.
The closest city was someplace called Jaisalmer. That wasn’t the sunrise in the eastern sky but the sunset on the other side of the globe.
How could this happen? One of the only static portals on the planet was in Denver, sure, in the Americos Chamber near a lake. It led to India. But the Odessa chamber wouldn’t. Was the Drokharis kid dicking around with portal magic? Guess he’d lied to them at the gathering in Chicago. That was unwise of him. If Carlo Bart didn’t kill him today, it might be enough to turn the other Primes against the little bastard for good.
Everyone knew that dicking with portal magic might bring a whole mess of demons out of the woodwork.
Carlo Bart had gotten a glimpse of the demons during his studies of the Alpherian magic. The Zothoric, that’s what Spider Finger called them, were real. They’d visited Earth before, during the time of Hammurabi, and Spider Finger had been there, supposedly. He’d protected the planet, or that was the story he’d told Carlo.
Spider Finger wasn’t the dragon’s real name, no, but Carlo Bart wasn’t going to go with Mr. X, or Doctor Satan, or anything like that. In all his dealings with the ancient beast, Carlo had only seen his hand once. His pinkie finger on his left hand had two extra joints, so it looked almost like spider’s leg. And there you go. It was as good a name as any.
For the rest of the time, the mysterious figure sat in a dark room, cloaked, with a hood covering his features. He didn’t let anyone to know who he truly was.
It was Spider Finger who had warned him about the Wayne twins, and it was the same mysterious dragon that had shown Carlo Bart the Mirror-Souled Path. And it was Spider Finger who helped him master Enchantrix, though it meant that HeartStrike, AnimusChain, and FleshForge would be forever beyond him. That was okay because Carlo had made some seriously wicked shit.
For most people, they would need AnimusChain for Enchantrix to work. But Carlo Bart had been altered by Spider Finger. The spells the dragon had cast on him had hurt like a bitch, almost like a Dragonskin ritual, but the pain had been worth it.
The Texarkana Prime dialed Wyatt Gunn’s number.
His vassal answered right away. “Where are you, boss? We couldn’t find you anywhere, though I knew you were alive ’cause of the ruby ring. Those twin bitches took off with the werebear. Maria Diablo and a bunch of your wives are going after them, hard. I was about to go, just collecting up the last of your Magicians flying in. Warlings are in our Humvees. Morphlings are already in Odessa, under Juice’s command. Dawn is still a couple hours away.”
Carlo Bart didn’t answer. He watched as a figure strode across the wasteland toward him. In his hands, he held an old sword, a powerful one, a myth really. It was Samael’s Lash, supposedly used by Rahaab, the last of the Alpheros.
And now it belonged to Steven Drokharis, who was about a hundred yards away. Behind him sat a well. Carlo Bart could see the stones ringing the opening now.
“I’m in India,” Carlo Bart said. “But I won’t be for long. Kill the twins. Kill all the Drokharis wives. We’re done being nice. This is total fucking war. I’ll fly home once I’m done wiping my ass with this fucking child.”
He tossed his cell phone into the dirt.
Steven walked forward. The kid was dripping wet. His black hair clung to his head and droplets of water fell to the dirt.
In one hand, Steven had his sword. In the other he gripped his cell phone. He held it up. “You know, I could’ve cut your throat while you were out. But your life isn’t worth shit compared to Zoey’s. Once I get the call that she’s okay, I’m going to kill you. Unless you want to give me your Primacy. We could avoid a lot of bloodshed. You go in peace. I get all your vassals. We can talk about the wives you want to keep.”
This kid had c
ojones, all right, but he was as deluded as everyone thought. Carlo Bart grinned. “You’re not gonna offer me a job? Maybe a second-class lieutenant in your grand army?”
“No. You hired assassins to murder me. You won’t forget what I did to you or that the Wayne twins betrayed you. If I strip you of your power and your army, you might come at me, or you might come to understand what I’m doing. I don’t want power or personal glory. Maybe, over time, you could give up being a greedy fuck.” Steven paused. “But to tell you the truth? I’d rather just kill you now. One less thing for me to worry about.”
“Feeling is mutual, chief.” Carlo Bart used a thumb ring. This was a one and done kind of enchantment like his other thumb ring, which could give him his Ma Deuce. But his other eight rings? They had permanent magic to them.
The thumb ring’s metal flowed across his palm becoming a revolver, a .357 Magnum to be precise. He fired and blew Steven’s cell phone to shit and hopefully took some fingers as well.
Now, the kid wouldn’t know if his precious bear bitch was alive or dead. And that would make him pull punches.
Carlo Bart chuckled. This fucking kid had no idea who he was dealing with.
۞۞۞
Pain flashed through Steven. The gun had appeared magically in the big man’s hand. A second later, his main source of communication was gone as was his left pinkie finger. But his entire hand was a flaming ball of agony.
Steven could try a divination spell to figure out if Zoey was safe, but that was a huge chance to take with her life hanging in the balance.
He cast a shield spell, and the next five of Carlo Bart’s bullets melted in shadowy bursts in front of him. The gunfire echoed across the landscape.
The Texarkana Prime destroyed his clothes to become a Homo Draconis. The handcuffs and anklecuffs went flying off his limbs. Carlo let out a mouthful of lightning. Steven’s current shield would only protect against physical attacks, not against Exhalants.
