The Unlikely Heroes (Unstoppable Liv Beaufont Book 10)

by Sarah Noffke

  Liv blinked at Clark in astonishment. “This cooking and baking thing really is mellowing you, isn’t it?”

  He gave her a smile. “I needed an outlet. Rory suggested it.”

  Liv shared his smile. “Yes, he has lots of outlets.”

  “As you requested, I’ve been looking into the laws on interfamily Royal relationships,” Clark said, spooning beef stroganoff onto a plate.

  “And?” Liv asked, enjoying the savory smell rising from the large pot.

  “Well, the laws are complex,” Clark stated. “There are absolutely no loopholes.”

  “Like I can’t say Stefan is my third cousin twice removed, and therefore we aren’t two different families dating?” Liv joked.

  He grimaced. “Oh, gross. No, I was thinking of a less backwoods loophole, but there isn’t one.”

  “So what are our options?” Liv asked, taking the plate he handed her.

  “We have to change the law.”

  Liv drew in a breath, having feared this answer. “And how hard will that be?”

  “Liv, those laws were created by the founders,” he stated. “They are the same laws that state there needs to be mortal representation on the council. If we try to change that law, what’s to stop someone from trying to change the other ones?”

  “But just because something is written doesn’t make it right,” Liv argued. “Telling Royals they can’t date is wrong. Stating that Royals can’t breed with other races is…well, it’s racist.”

  “I agree, but this is slippery territory,” Clark advised. “If you change one law, you open yourself for all of them to change.”

  Liv wasn’t as discouraged as she suspected Clark thought she’d be. “So we recover the Mortal Seven. Once they are in place, we’ll have the votes we need to change things permanently.”

  “You’re assuming the Mortal Seven will all be like John and vote the way you want,” Clark argued.

  “No, I’m betting on the fact that they are all morally astute people, as you stated,” Liv countered. “That means they will value diversity. They will want to change outdated laws. Unlike the crusty old founders who forced the mortals out, they won’t be intimidated by having other races in the House.”

  Clark froze, looking at her suddenly. “What are you saying?”

  “Why was it just magicians in the House?” Liv asked. “I mean, we invited the mortals to balance things out. But why weren’t other races represented? Maybe that’s what the elf negotiations are missing? To properly govern magic, shouldn’t everyone have a vote?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Clark wasn’t against Liv’s idea about the House having representation from all different races, he just thought it was too soon. A lot had changed, and there was a lot to do. Progress depended on doing things the right way.

  First, the Mortal Seven had to be recovered. Then things with the elves had to be mended. Maybe one day, other races would be invited into the House. Then the laws about dating and breeding wouldn’t matter.

  Liv’s head was buzzing with all these ideas, so she didn’t even realize she had reached Rory’s house until Junebug greeted her on the sidewalk.

  “Hey, buddy,” she called to the cat, half-expecting him to reply like Plato did. Instead, he merely slid along her calf, looking up at her expectantly. She scratched his head and meandered down the path to Rory’s front door, which was atypically closed.

  Liv held up her hand, expecting the door to swing open like it normally did when she called. Instead, it only opened a crack.

  “Don’t let June in here,” Rory called from inside.

  Liv glanced at the fluffy cat and shrugged. “Sorry, not my rules, buddy.”

  The cat seemed to understand her as he slunk off for the tree in the middle of the front yard. Liv slipped into the house and paused.

  “Ummm, what are you doing?” she asked.

  The giant was sitting on his living room floor and braiding yellow fibers of hair-like thread together. “I’m making a jute rug.”

  “Right,” Liv said, drawing out the word. “You know you can just buzz down to the Pottery Barn and pick up one of those hand-made rugs.”

  Rory cut his eyes at her, giving her his normal scowl.

  “Or you can magic one.” She held up her hand. “Want me to get you one? I’m getting better at ordering from the magic catalog storehouse.”

  “Giants don’t use that place,” he said. He was sitting cross-legged and tying the fibers together like he was braiding Rapunzel’s hair. “We prefer to make our things rather than magic them.”

  “I know,” Liv said, taking a seat on the floor next to him. “You’re all good, and magicians are all bad. We’re the worst, and you’re the best. We make horrible jokes, and you make no jokes. You are the yin to my yang.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Wow, you’re in a sour mood today,” Liv said, sliding back a couple of inches as if he’d burned her with his words.

  Rory sighed and ran his hands through his dark, chaotic curls. “I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s just that Mum has been a real pill lately.” He clapped his hands to his mouth, his eyes bulging. “You didn’t hear me say that about her. Forget it immediately.”

  Liv laughed. “You’re worried about saying she’s a pill? I say worse things about that woman in my sleep.”

  Rory lowered his chin, looking at her from hooded eyes.

  “Oh, come on. Just in good fun. You know I love Bermuda, or Mrs. Laurens, or whatever she’s demanding that I call her lately.”

  “I think she’d prefer that you not call her at all,” Rory stated.

  “Exactly,” Liv said triumphantly. “So you get why I might call her a Meanie Face while I sleep. Or Mrs. Intolerable. Oh, and one time I called her—”

  Rory cut her off. “I get the point.”

  “Right. Sorry,” Liv said, meaning it. “I know you’re not supposed to talk about anyone’s mom. And I love her, I do. But she doesn’t seem to care for me much. Or anyone, really. Anyway, what has she been nagging you about lately?”

  “What isn’t she?” Rory continued braiding the jute, weaving a really beautiful pattern. He’d already done several long strands that lay beside him on the floor. “It’s either work, and how I don’t work as hard as my pops, or about dating, and how I’m not even trying, or my diet, and how I’m not eating enough avocados.”

  “Eating any avocados is too many,” Liv stated. “How do you get those mushy, tasteless things down? Someone ruined my nachos the other day by putting a glob of that stuff on top of them.”

  “It’s called guacamole, and it’s high in potassium and healthy…” Rory shook his head. “I’m starting to sound like her now.”

  Liv nodded with sympathy. “It’s hard not to sound like our parents. They are huge influences on our life.”

  “I know,” Rory said, braiding the rug with more fervor than before. “I just wish she’d lay off me for a while and let me live my own life.”

  “This job that she says you’re not doing as well as your father…it’s the secret job, right?”

  “Yes,” he answered at once.

  “And when you’re running the architecture firm—”

  “That’s not what it is,” he interrupted.

  Liv laughed. “I know that. Why would you, a talented nutritionist—”

  “Nope,” he said, and to her relief, a smile broke out on his serious face.

  “Well, I know you’ve been helping Rudolf with his new business ventures, so you must be a shrink. You’re trying to help the fae king find his mind, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not a therapist,” he stated, shaking his head.

  “Good, because I would have to break it to you that Rudolf didn’t lose his mind. He never actually had one.”

  “Do you really want to know what I do for a living? The family business?” Rory asked quite seriously.

  “Do you want to tell me?”

  He shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. I�
��m an—”

  “Get out of here you pesky cat!” Bermuda called from the front yard.

  Rory’s eyes widened as he scrambled to a standing position. “Oh, no. What is she doing here? Mum said she was leaving for the day.” He was frantically rolling up the bits of the rug.

  “Is she against you making jute rugs too?” Liv asked, trying to help.

  He nodded. “She doesn’t like my hobbies. Thinks they detract from the business and dating and who knows what else. Here, will you help me get rid of these?”

  Liv was already on it, sending the jute fibers through space and time so that they magically appeared on Clark’s bed. Rory was busy combing his hair back out of his face with his fingers and straightening his crumpled shirt.

  “Where are you sending those?” he asked when she only had two more sections to make disappear.

  “Clark’s room. He’s going to freak when he opens his room to find a giant mess,” Liv said with evil delight. “Get what I did there? Giant mess. And it all belongs to you.”

  “Hurry,” Rory said in a rush as he tucked in his shirt.

  The door swung open just as Liv made the last of the jute rug disappear.

  Chapter Twelve

  Liv and Rory stood at attention, their arms slapping down to their sides.

  Bermuda eyed them both speculatively. “What were you two doing?”

  “Making out,” Liv blurted and then added, “Hard.”

  Rory hung his head, covering his forehead with his hand as a long groan spilled out of his mouth.

  “No, you weren’t. Rory knows your heart belongs to that demon-slayer with the bad hair,” Bermuda asserted.

  “Only because I’m into the forbidden love thing, and boys with jet-black hair and battle scars,” Liv stated.

  Bermuda’s gaze fell to the floor, homing in on a single strand of jute fiber. “What’s that?”

  Liv pointed at it, making the strand disappear. “My hair. Sorry. I must be shedding.”

  “I’d expect nothing less since you don’t brush your hair,” Bermuda stated.

  “Or file my nails,” Liv said, showing the giant her badly manicured hands.

  Bermuda grimaced as if the sight of the jagged nails and mismanaged cuticles was a murder scene. “Really, child, it is ever a wonder that you’ve made it this far in life.”

  “And yet, I’ve recovered one of the Mortal Seven, put the SandMan to bed, and made it so mortals can see magic again,” Liv stated.

  “No one likes a braggart.” Bermuda turned to her son and snapped, “Stand up straight, Rory. You’re slouching again. No woman is going to have you if you don’t exude confidence.”

  “And hanging out with me won’t help you either,” Liv said, slapping Rory on the arm. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a very large closet.

  “Actually, you’re wrong about that, Warrior Beaufont,” Bermuda said, to her surprise. “You’re getting quite the reputation with the other magical races. They may not think highly of the House, but they respect the sacrifices you’re making for mortals, and working for Papa Creola doesn’t hurt, either. However, he’s recruiting others to work with him, last I heard, so you won’t be the only star for long.”

  “Oh, no, say it isn’t so,” Liv said with zero excitement in her voice. “Pops will have other employees to boss around and force to do his bidding. Whatever will I do?”

  Bermuda shook her head at Liv as she took off her traveling cloak. “Why Father Time made you his first recruit, I’ve yet to understand.”

  “She pulled him out of hiding and ended the vampires’ reign,” Rory said in a monotone voice.

  “I know that, son,” Bermuda said in a hushed voice, striding past Rory to the kitchen. “But it’s better if we downplay Liv’s accomplishments, so she doesn’t get a big head.”

  When she’d disappeared into the kitchen, Rory let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks for covering for me.”

  “You’re welcome,” Liv said, peering around the giant. “She really took that tough-love pop psychology stuff to heart, didn’t she?”

  He nodded. “Mum used to tell me that compliments were for the weak.”

  “Well, there’s your problem with dating,” Liv suggested. “Girls like to be told they’re pretty.”

  Rory cocked his head to the side in surprise. “Wait, you like to be told you’re pretty?”

  She shook her head, giving him a look of offense. “Hell, no. I’d break someone’s nose if they said that to me. I meant other girls, the ones who brush their hair and like wearing dresses.”

  Rory nodded like this made perfect sense. “You probably like to be told you throw a mean punch, or that a single look from you would scare a demon into submission.”

  Liv sighed. “Now those are words that get my heart beating fast.”

  Rory laughed. “You’re an incredibly strange girl.”

  “Thank you,” Liv said, spying the nervousness hiding under the surface of her friend’s face. “Back to your dating life.”

  “There is no dating life,” he said at once.

  “Right, but what about that girl from the barbeque restaurant in Texas? Liam’s daughter. Wasn’t her name Madeline?”

  He nodded. “Maddy. And no, that won’t work. Mum says she’s too Westernized. She wants me to go back to the Isle of Man and court someone from the original tribe.”

  “What do you want?” Liv asked, listening for Bermuda in the kitchen. She was still lumbering around. Thankfully, it wasn’t easy for the giant to sneak up on anyone.

  He slumped. “I don’t know. Someone nice. Not a traditional-type giant. And pretty wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Maddy was all those things,” Liv supplied.

  He nodded, obviously having already come to that conclusion.

  “What if I invite her out here?” Liv asked. “Remember, she was really curious about Hollywood and the West Coast.”

  His face turned beet-red. “No, you can’t do that. Mum will find out, and it would be very awkward.”

  Liv thought for a moment. “Well, I’m sure there’s a legit way we can get you two together. Let’s just think about it for a bit.”

  “Think about what?” Bermuda asked, carrying a tray of tea into the living area.

  “Think about where we can put Stanley,” Liv stated at once, not missing a beat.

  “Stanley?” Bermuda questioned, setting the tray down.

  Rory sighed, used to this. “Liv likes to cycle through names for Sophia’s dragon. It’s a different one every time. She thinks it’s cute.”

  Bermuda poured a single cup of tea and handed it to her son. “Of course, she does.” Glaring at Liv, she said, “You know, a dragon’s name is a sacred thing. The rider must name him, and only them.”

  “I don’t think Sophia is taking any of my suggestions to heart,” Liv stated.

  “I would hope not.” She motioned to Rory. “Go on now, drink up, son.”

  He eyed the tea reluctantly. “I really don’t want any.”

  “I don’t care what you want,” Bermuda spat.

  Liv had to pin her lips together to keep from saying something Rory would regret. She wouldn’t regret telling his overbearing mother that she didn’t get to tell her son how to live his life, but he would, and she really didn’t want to make things worse for him. It wasn’t her job to make Bermuda treat her son fairly. That was his job. However, she’d encourage him along the road if he allowed it.

  “But, Mum, I—”

  “Just drink it,” Bermuda interrupted.

  “I’m parched,” Liv said. “Can I have some tea?”

  She shook her head. “Not unless you want to attract a fertile female giant.”

  Liv pretended to think about this for a few seconds and then shook her head. “Nope, I think I’m good. And aren’t attraction spells illegal?”

  “It’s not a spell or a potion,” Bermuda explained. “It’s simply a mix of herbs that will ensure Rory’s sperm count is high when he meets the right gir
l next week.”

  Liv pretended to gag. “That settles it. My friends have the strangest…” Her voice trailed away, too discouraged to continue given the angry expression forming on Bermuda’s face. “Strangest taste in artwork,” Liv said in an attempt to cover her blunder. She pointed at the new painting over the fireplace, which was of a psychedelic sunset and looked to have been painted by a drunk monkey.

  “I painted that,” Bermuda said, thrusting her hands onto her hips.

  Rory groaned yet again.

  Liv rolled her eyes. “Of course, you did. And it’s quite…colorful.”

  “Ladies love sunsets and colors,” Bermuda stated definitively.

  “Do we?” Liv challenged.

  The other woman swept her eyes up and down Liv’s all-black outfit. “Well, not you, clearly. Now, what was that about Sophia’s dragon? You said you were thinking about where to put him. Has he hatched?”

  “Yes, and we’re throwing him a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.”

  “That’s another one of those attempts at jokes, isn’t it?” Bermuda asked.

  Liv elbowed Rory, who was still holding the undrunk cup of tea. “Can’t slip anything past her.”

  “What’s going on with the dragon’s egg?” Rory asked, slipping the teacup onto the tray and promptly receiving a punishing glare from his mother.

  “Alfred doesn’t like it at my place,” Liv explained.

  “Because of the décor?” Bermuda asked.

  Liv rolled her eyes. “Strangely enough, the dragon, who can’t see anything because he’s incubating in a shell, doesn’t mind my lack of color around the place. Apparently, he wants it to be scorching hot, which I can’t do, for obvious reasons.”

  Bermuda nodded. “I suspected this was going to become an issue soon.”

  “Since beggars can apparently be choosers, Kyle also wants a water feature, some moist dirt, and, I don’t know, probably a walk-in closet, too.”

  Bermuda scratched her head. “I don’t think he’ll need a closet, since… Oh, you were childing again, weren’t you?”

  “It’s called ‘kidding,’ Mum,” Rory said in a low voice, his eyes studying the floor.