by J. R. Ward
Mary trembled, but not because she was worried about her own life. What the hell could they do to her? Instead, all she could think of was, No, no, not in front of Bitty--
"Keep going!" she called out to Rhage. "Just drive--"
"I'll cut you," came the voice in her ear.
"Fine, do what you want," she muttered. "Not in front of them, though. Let them go and you can cut me up all you want."
"What?" the kid sputtered.
"Get out of here, Rhage--"
Yeah, nope.
Not even by half.
All at once, the light shining in her eyes and all over them got brighter by a factor of a hundred and fifty thousand kilowatts. And Mary cursed.
Shit. She knew what that meant.
*
"It is not much farther."
As Assail spoke, he eased off on the Range Rover's accelerator and made the right-hand turn onto the lane that proceeded down to the peninsula on which he lived. Beside him, riding shotgun, as the humans called it, Markcus was rather quiet, his eyes glued to the windows both in front of him and next to him.
The young male was transfixed by the environs--and also seemingly confused.
"The bridge was different," he said roughly. "The one we just went over. It's different from when I . . ."
"Much has changed indeed, I imagine."
"There are far more tall buildings downtown. More cars. More . . . everything."
"Wait until you encounter the Internet, my friend. Then you shall see a truly dubious improvement."
Soon enough, they came upon the house, and Markcus gasped. "It is so . . . beautiful."
"There is a lot of glass. And much irony in that."
Assail pulled up to the garage doors, triggering the proper one, and then he proceeded inside and under cover. When Markcus went to open his door, Assail stopped him with a hand to the forearm.
"Not until the panels are back down. Precautions must be observed."
"My apologies."
When they were shut in properly, they stepped out on their own sides, and Assail waited for the other male to come around. Markcus was moving slowly, and using the Range Rover for support, but he had made it amply clear that he would accept no help and would not be availing himself of any canes or walkers, either.
Assail stepped over to the house door and opened the reinforced-steel expanse. The scent that boiled out of the mudroom was heavenly, everything that was good about First Meal. Bacon and eggs, coffee, pancakes . . . no, scones?
Markcus faltered as he entered the house. "Oh . . . that is . . ."
"Indeed. Who knew the bastards could cook."
Assail made his way slowly toward the kitchen, attempting to make it seem as if he always sauntered thus.
In the galley proper, it was obvious that Ehric and Evale had done their utmost to make their guest feel welcome: setting the table--albeit cockeyed and with the forks on the wrong side of the plates; cooking many things--at which they fared far better; brewing coffee--no, wait, that was instant, but still seemed very viable, going by its aroma.
"Sit," Ehric said unto Markcus after introductions were made. "We shall serve you--no, no argument, sit."
Markcus shuffled over, groaning with relief as he took his scant weight off his scrawny legs. As he pushed his long hair back, his face was revealed, the anomaly that had led to him having no beard growth meaning that his cheeks and his jaw, his chin and his throat, were availed to the cousins' curious eyes.
Indeed, Assail thought to himself, the male was rather something to behold.
"I shall prepare you your Last Meal then," Markcus said.
"We'll see about that, mate," Ehric returned as he put a heaping load of food before their guest.
Out of habit, Assail reached into his suit jacket, grasping his vial--but before he retrieved it, he stopped and glanced at the clock on the microwave. Then he confirmed said time on the stove and upon his Piaget watch.
"Join us, then, cousin," Ehric said as he and Evale plated themselves and sat down.
Evale picked up his fork and poked it in the direction of Markcus's plate. "Dug in, yeah?"
"That's 'dig' in," Assail corrected absently.
"Are you not eating, cousin?" Ehric inquired.
Assail turned toward the sink. With steps that were as halting as Markcus's had been, he went over, opened the top of the vial, and poured the cocaine out into the drain.
"Downstairs," he said in a rough voice as he ran a rush of water from the tap. "You know where my blocks are kept."
Of Coke, that was.
"Aye," Ehric whispered. "We do."
"You will get them out of the house." As his cousins went to jump up, he motioned them to return to their seats. "After your meal is fine. I need you to stay and make him eat. Then take him down to the spare suite downstairs with you all."
"I do not require luxury," Markcus said. "Merely a place to lay my head during the day."
"You have more than earned the respite, my dear male."
There was a knocking on the door, and Assail glanced over at the threesome. "You will find that I shall be, how shall I put it, indisposed elsewhere for a number of evenings. I know not how long. Take care of him, will you. I shall be most displeased if Markcus is not fatter and steadier upon my return."
As he lifted his hands, he noted the trembling in them.
This was going to--if he might use a vernacular term--suck ass.
Going to the back door, he opened it wide and felt an absurd urge to bow. Which he promptly followed through on.
In response, Dr. Manello indicated the black Mercedes with the blacked-out windows that was running in the car park. "You ready?"
"Yes."
"How bad is it? You're shaking."
"I fear it shall only get much worse."
The last thing he did before he left his glass house was glance back at Markcus. The male was eating slowly, his bony, skeletal hands holding the sterling silverware he was using awkwardly, as if he had not put utensils to use in a very long time.
It was going to be a long journey back for him.
But if, after all he had been through, he had the courage to grab for the ring of life . . . then Assail could as well.
Assail?
In his mind, he heard Marisol's voice on his cell as he stood within the ring of fire he had created. Detoxing was going to be rather like that blaze, he feared.
"Assail?"
"Indeed," he said to the good doctor. "Let us go."
SEVENTY
As soon as the brilliant light blinded her attacker, causing him to loosen his grip, Mary broke out of the boy's hold and elbowed him in the gut.
And while he bent over and dropped his knife, she ran full-tilt for the GTO.
"Get her out of here!" Rhage said. "Fast!"
Those were the last words he spoke.
The beast was already coming out of him as she raced to get behind the wheel, his huge body falling to his knees, his head bowing as he braced his strength against the pavement as if he were trying to give her time to hit the gas before the dragon emerged.
Skidding to a halt by the driver's door, Mary ripped the thing open just as Bitty scrambled over to the passenger seat.
"Rhage!" the girl screamed. "Rhage . . . ! What's happening, what's wrong!"
Rhage somehow had the presence of mind to reach up and shut his door, and Mary didn't waste a second. "Seat belt! Put your seat belt on!"
"We can't leave him!"
"Seat belt! He's going to be fine, but we have to go!"
Mary hit the clutch and the gas at the same time, slamming the gearshift into first before releasing her left foot. Tires squealed as all those horses dug for purchase on the asphalt, and she got ready for the momentum to explode them forward.
Meanwhile, back in the asshole zip code, the group of idiots had decided to rush toward the car.
Yeah, like that was going to last.
Cue the slo-mo.
At the very moment the GTO started to scream forward, as Bitty was yelling and Mary was fighting to stay cool, a great roar lit through the night, so close to them that it actually disturbed the traction of the muscle car.
And even though it was just in her peripheral vision, Mary got a totally clear picture of the second Bitty saw the beast emerge from Rhage's body.
The girl froze, a slack-jawed expression overtaking her previous fear. "What . . . is that?"
"It won't hurt us, okay?" Mary said.
And WHEEEEEE, they were off like they were shot out of a cannon, careening forward, getting out of Dodge.
Unfortunately, the humans--a.k.a. the bowling pins with the attitudes--were directly in front of the GTO. Which was how Mary's dream of not getting into car accident number three was sorely thwarted. Wrenching the wheel to the right, she avoided killing one or more of them--a courtesy none of them deserved--but the bad news was that she hit a Dumpster, crashing into the thing, all that forward momentum turning into totally-going-nowhere in a split second.
As the steering wheel punched her in the chest and a Bad News Bears hissing sound came out of the crumpled hood, she wrenched around in a panic to Bitty.
The girl had managed to put her seat belt on before the impact.
Thank you, God--
Another roar cut through the night, and yup, out the back window she saw that the beast was fully present, not just voicing its opinion. And yup, the humans had changed their minds about their little attack, stumbling over themselves to get headed in the opposite direction.
As if they were very clear that, however improbable it was for a dragon to materialize in the back parking lot of a strip mall, they were not about to argue with what seemed to be happening--
Before she could stop Bitty, the girl was out of the car.
"Damn it! Bitty!"
Mary jumped out, too--and cursed a whole lot more: The beast had curled forward on its powerful legs and was going all Jurassic Park, things-are-closer-than-they-appear, crouching into attack position as it blew the cobwebs out of its lungs.
No, no, not lunch. Nope, not going to happen--
"Get back in the car!" Mary barked as she ran into the beast's path, putting herself between the retreating fidiots and her darkling husband.
"What is that!" Bitty yelled out. "What happened to him!"
"Hey! Hi!" Waving her hands, Mary caught the beast's attention. "There you are. Hello, way up there."
The beast chuffed, its jowls lifting off its enormous teeth in a smile. Then it let out a keening sound, part inquiry, part protest.
"No. You may not. You cannot eat the humans."
Yeah, okay, she still couldn't believe it anytime those words came out of her mouth. Oh, the places you will go, indeed.
But the beast dropped its head. Like it was pouting.
"I know. I know, but you have a sweet tooth. You like slayers more--"
Abruptly, the beast's gigantic head snapped to the left. And Mary closed her eyes, thinking, Shit, she knew why.
"Bitty," she muttered without looking away from the dragon. "I told you to get back in the damn car."
The beast's nostrils flared wide. And then it blew out the inhale as it scented the girl.
"Bitty! I mean it! Get back--"
Chuffing sounds abounded as the beast stretched out on the ground, laying its head down on the asphalt toward Bitty.
Mary lowered her hands. Glanced over at the girl.
Bitty stood there, utterly motionless, as if her brain simply couldn't compute it all. And then she came forward, moving slowly, her arms down and her eyebrows way up. Her expression was wary and nervous, but she seemed determined to see for herself what was going on with the dragon.
More chuffing, as if the beast were trying to communicate that it was okay. He wasn't going to be a bad boy. He just wanted to say hi.
Biggest lapdog on the frickin' planet, Mary thought. And let's just hope it stayed that way.
"Be careful," Mary said. "No sudden movements--"
"I think he likes me? I'm not sure . . . but I think he likes me."
A minute later, Bitty stopped right next to the dragon's head, right beside those gnashing jaws, right by those reptilian eyes that blinked vertically, not horizontally.
"Can I pet you?" she asked.
The beast made an inquiring sound, as if it were mimicking her tone.
"Is that a yes?"
When it did the half-purr, half-exhale thing again, Bitty extended a shaking hand and placed it right on the beast's cheek.
"Oh, you're so smooth. You're much smoother than I thought--"
There was a sudden rush of movement, and Mary lunged forward and grabbed the girl, dragging her out of range. But she shouldn't have worried.
The beast had rolled over onto its back, its comparably small arms curling up on its chest, its house-size rear legs stretching out. In order to scratch its belly, Bitty would have needed a six-foot ladder--and Mary two Xanax and a bottle of wine, thank you very much--but the girl made the best of it, going over and reaching up on her tiptoes as the beast angled its head to watch her with soft eyes.
"He's so cute," Bitty said. "Aren't you? Who's a cutie?"
"I really need a drink," Mary muttered to herself. "I need a frickin' drink."
But at least we have this part of it all solved, she thought.
*
When Rhage came back into his body, it was full-on panic time. "Mary! Bitty! Mary!"
But then he realized that two sets of hands were holding his palms, and there were two beautiful voices that started to reassure him--well, one did the reassuring. The other one was just reassuring to hear.
"It's okay, we're okay--"
"Rhage! You have a dragon! A pet dragon! I got to rub his tummy!"
Say what, he thought in the blindness.
"When can he come back! I want to see him again! Can I play with him!"
His delirium was thankfully not accompanied by stomach pains, so he took that to mean that he hadn't snacked on any of those fucking douches who had aggressed on his Mary. And oh, good, there was a blanket over the lower half of his body, so he wasn't naked.
But he had to start shaking his head even though he wasn't sure where the girl was looking. "That is not a toy, Bits. He's dangerous--"
"He likes me! That was amazing!"
"--and I can't just call him out of me, okay? But when you come to live with us, I'll see what I can do."
Complete. Silence.
And then Bitty said in a small voice, "Come live with you?"
"Oh . . . shit," he muttered. Even though his King had brought up the whole no-cussing thing. "I mean, carp. I mean, crap."
"Live with you?" the girl repeated.
As Mary cleared her throat, Rhage tried to sit up, even though he lacked the strength to get very far in the vertical department.
"Bitty," his shellan said. "I've tried to find your uncle. Actually, a lot of people have attempted to locate him--and nothing's come of it. I don't know what happened to him or where he is--I can't even begin to guess. But assuming he isn't . . . available . . . Rhage and I have been talking, and you know, we don't want to take the place of your mahmen. Not at all. It's just . . . we'd really like it if you'd consider coming to stay with us. It can start out on a trial basis, and if you don't like it, you can always--"
There was a muffled impact and Mary stopped talking.
At which point he smelled tears.
"What's happening?!" He flailed around. "What's wrong? What's she doing--"
All of a sudden, little arms wrapped around his neck, and Bitty's voice was in his ear. "Does this mean you'll be my father?"
Rhage's breath caught in his throat. Then he carefully hugged the girl back, mindful not to crush her. "If you'll have me . . ." Okay, he couldn't talk here. "Yes, yes, I will."
He felt Mary rub his back in circles, and could sense his mate's happiness soaring right beside him--but that wasn't enough. He pulled h
er in tight so that both females were up against his chest.
So this . . . was his family, he thought with a sudden shot of pride. These . . . were his two girls.
The smile that hit his face stretched his cheeks so much he knew they were never going to be the same.
Especially as he thought back to when he had been holding L.W. down in the kitchen, staring out across a room he did not see, his heart aching for all he would never have.
And yet here he was now, everything he had wanted not just within his grasp, but in his arms.
"Can I move in tonight?" Bitty asked. "And when do I get to meet everybody?"
SEVENTY-ONE
The resilience of children was amazing, Mary thought later as she and Bitty and Rhage drove up to the front of the Brotherhood mansion.
In spite of everything she had been through, the girl was open-eyed and open-hearted at the prospect of a totally different kind of life, ready for anything, excited, happy. Then again, she was with people who loved her, even if it felt too early to speak of it.
Which wasn't to say there hadn't been some sadness. Especially as she and Bitty had been up in that attic room at Safe Place, retrieving the two suitcases. When the girl had asked if she could bring her mother's things too, Mary had teared up. And then there had been the urn.
But overall, this was joyous. And Mary was focusing on that.
As she stopped the GTO right at the foot of the stone steps, it was probably overkill, given that the little girl didn't have more than those two pieces of luggage and the urn.
But somehow, she just wanted to get Bitty in the house--and any distance seemed too far away. After Rhage had called Wrath, and Mary had called Marissa, it was decided that under a foster care situation, there was no reason Bitty couldn't move in. Besides, it would mean that Doc Jane and Manny could check her out medically more easily, and there was really nothing to hold her at Safe Place.
The fact that there was no paperwork yet made Mary a little uneasy, but Ryhm was taking care of that. What was really worrisome? The six-month waiting period was starting tonight, and until that mutually agreed-upon clock ran out, this wasn't a done deal.
And yes, Mary would continue to look for the hypothetical uncle, even though it gave her a frickin' heart attack anytime she thought of that male coming out of the woodwork.
Still, she had a duty to do right by Bitty.
"Are we here?" Rhage asked. "I think we're here. Bitty, what do you see?"
"Do the Munsters live in this house?" the girl asked. "It looks like the Munsters' house, only . . . how big is it?"
