by Aaron Crash
Aria raced and caught Tessa when she fell. She then jumped with the Magician into the pool, her long tail swinging until it caught water and then the two were gone. Sabina turned into a dark green Homo Draconis, a pleasant foresty color, and she smelled like sage and something flowery, maybe lavender. Smelled good.
Mouse sheathed her sword. “Okay, Mary-Kate, Ashley, see you on the other side.” She jumped into the pool and disappeared.
Sabina laughed. “That Olsen twins joke gets me every time.” The Latina Magician dove in and swam down using her tail pretty well for someone who was new to being a Dragonskin.
“Every time?” Pru wondered. “First time I’ve heard it. Anyway, I’ll go next. You okay?”
Chazzie gave her sister a brave face. “Me? Yeah, I’m okay. I’ve had harder days at the nail salon. You go on, girl.”
Sister Prudence wasn’t exactly convinced, but she leapt into the basin and was gone in a flash of pink, swimming into darkness.
The poison gas had thickened. Chazzie reeled. An explosion. Shrapnel hit her. Ouch. But she hardly felt it. Did she have the strength to swim through the portal?
She had to is all. Simply had to.
The pool’s light was fading. The waterline dropping. Chastity Wayne dove in headfirst and winced, thinking she’d bonk her head on the bottom. No bottom to be had.
She got her tail working, streamlined her body, and swam into a darkness sparkling with stars. Behind her, though, the portal was closing. No water there. She swam faster.
But she got tired. No, that wasn’t exhaustion, that was blood loss.
It was going to be a race. Could she make it to the other side before the portal closed on top of her?
Okay, fine, this wasn’t any kind of day at the salon. This was a whole lot harder.
THIRTY
Steven heard Carlo Bart snap his revolver closed. He fired, but of course he did. Steven ducked in the same way he’d dodged the bullet in his vision. He flung himself into the air. Wings spread, he grew to his full size and flew as fast as he could, working his muscles and building momentum.
The Texarkana Prime was taking potshots at him, but Steven was going too fast. It was all happening like he’d seen. No wonder Sabina was so deadly in a fight. She merely had to follow the script.
Steven shifted and hurled through the air as a Homo Draconis. He was smaller, harder to hit. Zooming through the air, he reached down and plucked Samael’s Lash off the ground where he’d dropped it.
He adjusted his wings, came about, and got his feet under him. He landed on the dirt, upright. Bullets buzzed over his head as he turned human. He then called out the trigger word. “Excrucior!”
Samael’s Lash came apart into a chain-whip. He lashed out and laid the point into the word “truth,” written in dragon script on the upper part of Carlo Bart’s breastplate. The minute the sword struck it, there was thunder and a flash of light. All the dragon script glowed dark blue before winking out.
It was the first time Steven had ever whipped anything, and he didn’t want to press his luck. For this next move, he only needed Samael’s Lash as a sword.
“Pax aeternam!” he yelled. Chunk, chunk, chunk, the pieces of the blade came slamming together until it was a bastard sword once more.
Breaking the major enchantment of the armor had given him a bit of Animus. He used it to give himself SerpentGrace. He went speeding across the ground, sword ready.
Carlo Bart snarled, raised the revolver, and went to pull the hammer back to fire.
Zoey, however hurt and bleeding, ran and leapt into the air. She left the ground as a naked human but flew through the air as a golden-brown bear, bigger than any Kodiak who’d ever lived.
Carlo Bart shifted his aim. If he got his cannon six-shooter around, he’d kill Zoey.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
Steven had seen this part as well, and though he didn’t understand it, he followed through with his vision. Because it would mean the end of Carlo Bart Baxter.
Mathaal’s voice filled his head in a whisper. A weapon of last resort…
Better Steven nearly kill himself than watch Zoey die. The runes no longer powered the armor. Steven sprouted wings and flapped them hard, a human with leathery wings speeding through the air like a rocket. He partially shifted his right arm, and it was suddenly bulging with corded muscles covered by black scales. And in his hand was a sword made from multicolored dragon scales, razor sharp and imbued with ancient magic. He could feel the sword tip as an extension of his own body, just like one of his talons. Steven triggered HeartStrike.
Shadows covered Steven’s arm. The darkness swirling around Samael’s Lash pulsated with the raw power of the Alpheros. Dark energy exploded around them. Before, it had been like standing on top of a case of dynamite and feeling it explode around him. Now, Steven knew to channel that energy.
He drove his sword through the armor, through Carlo Bart’s ribs, through his heart, and out through his back plate. Steven’s arm had gone through Carlo Bart all the way up to his shoulder. The Texarkana Prime stared at him with wide eyes, mouth working without sound. Steven dropped the sword on the other side of Bart’s chest and ripped his taloned hand back out, pulling ruined bits of heart, lung, and organ meat with it. The offal spilled down the front of the Prime’s rune-etched armor and dripped from Steven’s arm.
Steven tore himself from the dead dragon. He hit the ground and staggered back.
Carlo Bart dropped to his knees, then fell over backward. The machine gun melted on his arm, as did the cannon-sized six-shooter, and all the armor streamed back down his body, down his arms, and into the silver-and-turquoise rings as he turned human.
Animus poured into Steven. It wasn’t enough to bring him back to full, but it kept him on his feet. If Carlo Bart hadn’t been so loaded with energy, using HeartStrike probably would have killed Steven as well.
His head spun, and he dropped to one knee, turning human without meaning to. Zoey crawled to him, her flesh white and blood-streaked.
Time seemed to break again. He fell over in slow motion, like a tree. His head hit the packed, hard ground. Every part of him hurt. He was beyond exhausted. Last time he’d used HeartStrike, it had taken him a month to recover. He hoped that wouldn’t be the case again, but he didn’t know.
Fuck. Where had he put that sword cane?
He was on his back. His head was in Zoey’s lap. She stared down from a bloody, bruised face, but that didn’t make her ugly. He stared into her mesmerizing blue-green eyes and found comfort in the familiarity of her wild, frizzy hair. She touched his cheek and drew a hand over his brow.
“My Prime,” she whispered.
“My Zoey.” Tears filled his eyes. Why did he love this bear girl so much? He didn’t know. He just did.
Footsteps shuffled in the dust, and Steven smelled wet clothes, wet hair, and smoke. Gunpowder? Yeah. Melted plastic. Yep. And a charred scent from something being fried in ShadowFlame. He didn’t even need to look up. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the various smells of his Escort from the Wayne twins and their sweet bubble gum scent to Mouse’s roasted almonds to Tessa’s perfume. And of course the cinnamon candy of Aria.
And a new smell. What was that? Sage and lavender. That would fit Sabina.
The women tumbled down around him. All were breathing hard, bashed up, gashed up, and soaked from their swim through the portal. Which, of course, would be closed.
“Guys,” Tessa said. “Don’t ask me to cast another spell. Like again. Ever. I’m giving up magic and going back to making coffee. There’s a lot less bloodshed. Not none. During one breakfast rush at the Coffee Clutch, I had to kill a few people. But they needed some killing.”
“Did both twins make it?” Mouse asked. “Or am I seeing double? What are their names again? Clemency and Patience?”
“No, chica,” Sabina breathed. “I think it was something like Charity and Clarity. Or maybe it was Mary-Kate and Ashley.” The Latina Magician
snorted.
“Nice,” Chazzie said. “Hey Patience, did I make it?”
“Yes, Clemency, you did. And fuck these jealous bitches.”
“Fuck us indeed,” Aria muttered. “We need the Animus.”
“I’m gonna need a minute before we do that.” Steven closed his eyes. They’d all made it. Carlo Bart was dead. And he had a huge new territory to add to his holdings. He couldn’t very well call it the Colorado Primacy. No, he’d need to rename it to something that could grow as he acquired more. The Drokharis Primacy.
“Did he do another HeartStrike?” Aria asked.
Zoey said something. Steven couldn’t quite understand what she was saying. He didn’t need to. He just needed to rest.
And once he was rested, he had to call Liam Strider and tell him what his father said in his vision of the Denver wasteland.
“For the love of biscuits, we need clothes. Like, a lot of clothes. Where are we again? India? Do they have a problem with naked chicks?” Mouse asked.
“We’ll buy you Punjabi suits. You’ll be fine,” Aria said.
Steven let go of his consciousness. His Escort was safe. They’d won again. All was right with the world.
THIRTY-ONE
Steven woke up in a palace, a legit palace, with a canopied bed, ornate windows carved out of red stone, marble floors, and a view of a walled city in the distance. Had he gone back in time? It felt like it.
He heard Aria’s voice. “No, that’s Jaisalmer, my favorite city in Rajasthan. It’s an ancient place on the camel-train routes between India and Central Asia. Due to the wealth brought by this trade, its inhabitants built beautiful homes called havelis inside the fort. And instead of it being deserted, or a museum, the fort is alive with hotels, shops, and restaurants. Jaisalmer is also very close to Pakistan, so there's an Indian military base which kept the city alive after the camel-trains died and before tourism started.”
As if to punctuate her words, a jet roared overhead.
Zoey spoke next to him. “Aria, he’s waking up.”
“How long was I out?” he asked.
Aria and Tessa came over. Aria was in an orange saree, while Tessa wore a long shirt that covered loose pants. She’d wrapped a scarf around her neck. The outfit was made from a colorful aquamarine fabric with a pattern that sparkled with bits of bright crystals connected to the fabric.
“Let me guess,” Steven murmured. “That’s a Punjabi.”
Tessa stepped back and twirled. “Yes, and there are three parts to it, the kameez, which is the top, the bottoms are called the salwar, and the scarf is a dupatta. Right, Aria?”
“Very good, Tessa. And I’m wearing a saree,” Aria said. “You are in the presidential suite of the Jawar Niwas Palace. Yes, it was a palace, but the aristocratic family converted it into a hotel.”
“Yeah,” Tessa piped up. “Guess who stayed here? The queen of Netherlands and, dude, the first prime minister of India!”
Steven managed to sit up. The expanse of marble was full of purple couches and soft beds with a dizzying array of pillows and blankets of all colors.
Chazzie and Pru turned to look at him. The twins were dressed in white sarees accented in pink. Chazzie’s smile was dizzying. Pru nodded at him, much cooler, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye. Mouse had gone the Punjabi route. Hers was a dark burgundy with less bling than Tessa’s.
Steven had to lie back down. “Okay, now, I feel like a sultan. This room. You all dressed like that. Seven of you.”
“Seven of us?” Mouse laughed. “Try thirty-two. You have us seven, the Five Widows, the three wives from the Queensland Primacy, and you inherited Carlo Bart’s seventeen bloodthirsty bitches.”
“Probably should make that twenty-five,” Chazzie said. “Maria Diablo is not gonna jump ship. She and Wyatt Gunn are gonna fight you. And I bet you might lose another six wives to them. Do I have my math right, Pru?”
“You do, Chaz,” her twin said.
“Twenty-five wives.” Tessa sighed. “Some of those women are going to fall for me. So many wives, so little time.”
“Fall for us,” Aria corrected.
Steven heard the two kiss.
“Ew. Gross,” Mouse said. “I’m glad Clemency and Patience are straight. I was feeling like I was in the minority.”
“¡No manches!” Sabina swore. “You don’t know what you are missing, Mouse!”
Mouse disagreed. “I know exactly what I’m missing. I have all those same parts on me. That doesn’t mean I understand that whole penis thing though. It’s so weird. That’s a lot of junk between your legs. I simply don’t get how men can walk around with all that dangling.”
While his wives bantered, he pulled up the skill tree.
He’d leveled up again and was halfway to level eighteen. And yeah, using HeartStrike was still a bad idea, but already he was feeling better than he had even a week after he’d used it to kill Rahaab. So, yes, he was getting more powerful, without a doubt.
Steven fell back asleep, listening to the jokes and laughter of the women. As far as he was concerned, the penis thing was awesome. He’d need it. Twenty-five wives. He smiled.
He’d gathered an Escort all right. Check that off the list.
The hotel staff gave them an evening banquet out in the garden the next day at sunset. The place was like something out of a fairy tale, with ornate rock walls, green grass, ferns and palm trees, and burbling fountains. It had been two days since Steven used HeartStrike to kill Carlo Bart. He still limped around, and he slept for most of the time, but he was regaining his strength exponentially faster than before.
Whatever had damaged his left eye had healed, but he was still down to nine fingers. Most of the time, he didn’t even notice since he was right-handed. However, every so often, he would grab something with his left and drop it. Losing the digit was going to take some getting used to.
The food at the banquet was all classic Indian dishes, a variety of spicy lentils, a chickpea dish that he couldn’t get enough of, cubes of cheese in a thick spinach cream, red-coated chicken baked in a clay oven, and naan, so much naan. They’d bring it to him in piles, and he devoured it as fast as they could bring it. Plain. Garlic. Whatever. The smoky flavor made his eyelids flutter.
The seven women laughed, cried, ate, hugged, and held hands.
But then Chazzie drifted away to walk through the fronds of the desert oasis. He left the table, limped to the fountains, and found her sitting in a white saree, watching the crystalline water splash in basins.
He sat down next to her and took her hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Chazzie sighed. “It’s Mouse and her stupid nicknames. I don’t want to be called Clemency.”
“Really?” Steven asked.
“No, not really!” Chazzie punched his arm. “I don’t give a shit about that. You have some funny girls in your Escort.” She looked down at her left ring finger. It was empty.
She caught him looking. “Yeah, the minute you killed Carlo Bart, it vanished. Turned to dust. Pru and I are free.”
“Good.”
“When are you going to marry your women?” Chazzie asked. “Zoey is dying for the ring. Sabina is too. Aria expects it, and if you’re not careful, she’ll beat your ass all the way down the aisle if you don’t ask her soon.”
Steven felt a tremor in his stomach, a subtle fear, or maybe it was just spicy lentils settling. “We’ve been a little busy trying not to die, but I think you’re right. Tessa, though, isn’t so hot on the idea. It kind of muddies the waters with us.”
“Yeah, it does. Pru and I are going to need some time before we do the marriage thing again.” Chazzie sighed like her heart was broken.
“What else is wrong?” he asked.
She stared him in the eyes. “Why do men like twins?”
Steven was taken aback by the question. But he thought he might have an answer. “This might sound dumb, but it’s like ice cream. What’s better than a single scoop?”
“Double scoop,” Chazzie said. “Double the flavor. Double the fun. Yeah, we used to hate that fucking commercial.”
Steven went on. “Men love women. I look at you and you’re beautiful, smart, and funny. If I can have two of you? Yes, please, and thank you.”
Chazzie sighed long and hard. “Sure. Yeah. I know that. But I’m not fucking ice cream. Neither is Prudence.” She turned away. “It was expected. Daddy knew that the two of us, working together, could do shit we couldn’t do alone. And that men would expect us to have sex with them together. Pru and I were already so close. At first, we did it to manipulate the assholes we needed to beat. And then we got used to it. Hell, Carlo Bart never made love to us alone. Not one time. He’d always want us together. Which is fine. It’s fine.”
“It doesn’t sound like it’s fine with you,” Steven said. “And my Escort has rules, Chazzie. The number one rule is consent. If you want us to have sex alone, we can. Though I don’t think Pru is really that into me.”
“Not yet,” Chazzie agreed. “It’s gonna take a bit. But she’ll warm up to you. No, we’ll do you together. I love watching you watching her. It’s hot. We both have a little of the voyeur thing. Years of threesomes will do that to a girl.”
Steven stroked her soft red hair. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”
Chazzie didn’t answer for a long time. When she did, her voice cracked. “I’m in love with you. And I’ve never been in love like this before. It’s scary. I want you to like me. And I want to be special. More than that, I want to keep us safe.”
“Then we want the same thing,” Steven said. He turned Chazzie’s face to him. “And we both feel the same thing.”
Chazzie nodded, laughed shyly, and then put her index fingers under her eyes. “Damn, I will not ruin my eye makeup over this.” She paused. “Only one way to keep us all safe, Steven. Do you know what it is?”
“I do,” he said. “We take it all. As soon as possible. If we’re aligned with every Prime or we own their Primacy, no one will come after us. If we can, we’ll unite them all against a common enemy, the Zothoric. If we can’t, we’ll destroy them.”
