by Aaron Crash
Both twins exploded out of their robes to become hulking pink Homo Draconi. Their sweet bubblegum smell filled the room. They reached for the runner, clutching at her, but she avoided their claws easily. She leapt and raced against the wall.
Steven cast a Defensio spell. There was no way he was going to let the speedster steal any of his father’s spell books. He set the force field in front of his desk. He hurled Impetim stars, spinning black stars of energy. They struck the wall, sizzling and sparking off the stone. The twins were so big, filling the room, he had to adjust his aim.
And the intruder knew it. She skidded under their bodies and slid to the back wall like a runner stealing second. She was going for their artifacts.
“Don’t you have a gun, Chaz?” Pru lashed out her tail, and it smashed through an end table and lamp. The intruder was unhurt.
“Ain’t got one, Pru!” Chazzie lunged forward, her talons raised. The speedster leapt onto her scaled back, ran across it, and seized the Angel Knife.
“Why ain’t you got one?”
“Where would I put it? My cooter? That shit’s too cold. And besides, I’m a lady.”
Pru slithered across her sister and flung herself at the intruder. The slim figure brought her staff down on the Wayne twin. In a flash of orange, Pru was knocked unconscious. Chazzie screamed and breathed fire.
Time seemed to slow as the gout of flames left her mouth. The intruder was by the wall, with the Angel Knife in one hand and the staff in the other. The shelves would be toasted, but Samael’s Lash and Carlo Bart’s rings wouldn’t be hurt. As for the Hellstring and the bone arrow? Steven wasn’t sure they’d weather the dragon fire undamaged. But if they could capture the interloper, losing them might be worth it.
The speedster was too fast. She slid under the Exhalant attack, whirled around Steven’s shield, and headed toward the steps and her escape.
Steven reached out with his mind and found her Animus, a swirling vortex of orange energy. It was huge. Whoever the intruder was, she was ancient, and it was definitely a “her.” Steven pulled at the sphere, taking her energy. It would slow her down. She had to be using magic to increase her speed, probably SerpentGrace, but this was off the charts. No, he felt the enchantment in the woman’s very bones. How was that even possible?
It didn’t matter. Taking away her Animus forced the speedster to stop. She appeared before them, crouching, naked, with no breasts to speak off, but with huge, strong thighs. She had dusky skin, long inky black hair, and a beautiful face—sloped nose, full lips, and dark eyes with full lashes. She had the look of an indigenous woman from Central or South America.
A name came to Steven. Umbra. Savedra had mentioned that Roy Right had a super-powered wife that they thought had been a casualty of the Battle of the Thousand Steps Beach. That wasn’t the case, obviously. With Roy Right dead, Umbra should’ve come to him so they could talk, but she’d gone rogue. Was she working alone or with someone else? And why did she want the Angel Knife?
She wasn’t completely naked. On her hands were rings, familiar-looking rings. One flashed and then turned into black smoke. Her Animus core flared, and she rushed down the steps.
Steven triggered SerpentGrace and went after her, chasing her down the steps, going fast. He crashed into the wall, sped down, and entered the great room. The door hung off its hinges. Zoey was there, in her bear form, blocking the intruder’s exit. Mouse had come tearing out of her room, the Slayer Blade flickering with green fire. Aria, in sweatpants and an old Alisha Chinai T-shirt, was hot on her heels.
Umbra raised her staff. She was going to knock Zoey away, and with her speed, that swing just might kill the bear girl.
He reached for her Animus, but couldn’t find it. “Incanto!” Steven shouted. If he couldn’t drain the source, he would try to dispel the magic powering the intruder.
Again, Umbra lost her speed, which was odd. SerpentGrace wasn’t a magical ability, per se, but part of the Pugna branch of the skill tree. A dispel magic charm shouldn’t have stopped her, but it did. Strange. Umbra turned to give him a very unfriendly glare. Another ring on her finger turned into dark vapor.
Zoey shambled forward, her great jaws open to expose her five-inch-long canines. If she got her fangs into the intruder, that would slow her down like nothing else.
It wasn’t meant to be. Umbra powered up again, ran forward, leapt, and bounded off Zoey and out the door. Gone. Into the night.
Zoey shifted. “Who was that?”
Chazzie helped her sister down the steps and into the room.
“That was Umbra,” Pru said. “She’s like a zillion years old and a pain in my ass.”
“She hit your head, sweetie,” Chazzie corrected. “Your ass is on the other end. And you say you’re the smart one.”
EVEN THOUGH STEVEN healed her, Pru insisted on an ice pack for her head and a cup of hot chocolate. She said she was feeling low and needed some TLC. Those twins, they were simply not used to fighting. They preferred backroom deals and gun ranges where the targets never fired back.
Steven got Pru set up in front of the fire while Zoey fixed her up something to drink.
Aria paced, frowning. Her T-shirt was frayed, old, and from the 90s from Alisha Chinai’s “Made in India” tour.
Mouse had tried to stay awake, but she’d curled up in a chair and had fallen back asleep with her head resting against the pommel of her sword. It was probably the cutest thing Steven had ever seen in his entire life. Mouse was great.
Pru and Chazzie, of course, were in high fucking gear.
Chazzie. “Umbra alive! Who could’ve known?”
Pru. “I certainly didn’t. Word on the street was she was dead and not part of the Sinful Seventy.”
“Is that what we’re calling Roy Right’s wives?”
“Uh huh. Tessa approved it, bless her heart.”
“Sinful is right. What’s the name of their lead gal? It was a stripper name, I know that.”
“Candy Trix. And if that isn’t too on the nose, I certainly don’t know what would be. Maybe Jasmine Cinnamon Candy? Those tricks are not for kids.”
Zoey returned from the kitchen to pass out mugs from a tray.
Steven sniffed his drink. It wasn’t hot chocolate.
Pru took a break from holding the ice pack on her skull to sip from her mug. “It’s not hot chocolate, Chaz. Not hot chocolate. The Morphling had one job, one fucking job—”
Steven fired her a warning look and cut her off mid-complaint.
Zoey looked hurt. “Hot chocolate is so unhealthy. So I made you something better. Ginger, almond milk, and coconut oil. Isn’t it delicious?”
Chazzie patted her sister’s leg. She left and returned with a bottle of Crown Royale. “Zoey, you are just the sweetest thing, worrying about our diabetes, which we can’t get, because we’re ancient magical creatures. Yeah, I think my sister misspoke with her original order anyway. So, be happy, Pru, with a little of the happy juice.” She tipped the bottle into Pru’s mug and then into her own. “Cheers.”
Zoey sat on a little couch, cupped her mug, and lowered her head. She let her hair cover her face.
“Anyone else want any?” Chazzie asked.
Steven caught the twin’s eyes and nodded toward Zoey.
She rolled her eyes, stood, and went to the bear girl. She touched the Morphling’s shoulder. “Z, really, thank you. It was a sweet gesture. Pru doesn’t mean to be mean. She’s just hurt and shook up. We aren’t as tough as you are.”
Zoey glanced up. “Really?”
Chazzie smiled. It was probably fake, but that girl could sell it. “Really. We’re kind of fragile. We’re not really frontline kind of wives.”
At that word, Zoey shifted her eyes to Steven, then to Pru, and then to Chazzie. The bear girl smiled. “Wives. I like the sound of that. And you’re right. I should’ve made you hot chocolate. I forget most people have this aversion to eating healthy.”
Aria let out a frustrated growl. “Our
beverages are not the issue here. We have a crisis. Losing the Angel Knife is one thing, but a more serious situation is before us. Our security has been breached. Our enemies have the location of the Infinity Ranch, and they have intel on our inventory of magic items.”
Chazzie returned to her sister on the couch.
Pru moaned, leaned her head back, and relaxed into her ice pack. She’d sip her doctored-up drink now and then.
Steven kind of liked the spicy drink, though it needed a buttload of sugar. He didn’t want to hurt Zoey’s feelings, so he drank it. Aria was right. They did have a situation. “Yes, no one should know where we are. We changed vendors so that the construction guys are inside the Dragonsoul community. They wouldn’t risk spilling our secret location. Also, we have the hurricane circles, and Liam put up guards against anyone divining our location. I don’t think magic is involved.”
Aria bent and threw a log into the fire. She stood. “It must be Bud. He must’ve talked to the wrong people at the wrong time. Or perhaps one of our allies has turned against us. Javier Jones, Savedra, Imogene Summers, they all know about the Infinity Ranch.”
“But not about the knife,” Steven said. “We don’t talk about it much.”
“And the knife is what?” Chazzie asked. “You told me once, but I wasn’t paying attention. It sounded really magical and boring and just...like...who cares?”
Pru lowered her ice pack. “Chastity Pride, our stock-in-trade is information. Every little scrap is another bullet in our arsenal. Even the most uninteresting factoid might mean the difference between life and death.”
“Then tell me, Prudence Pride! Enough with lectures. It’s late, and Steven is gonna need a little banging before he can sleep. I know I will. So, snap to it.”
All eyes went to Pru. “Well, it was from the Rahaab fight. Either the big R made it, or he found it. Anyway, Nikki Angel had been one of Cassius Pine’s wives, but she got herself killed, or so it would seem. The dagger was used to bring her back to life. From what I understand, she was the funny widow, or that’s what Skylar Blacke said to me during one of our conversations when I actually listened.”
“Zombie dragon?” Chazzie asked.
Pru nodded. “Zombie dragon. It cast a rainbow-colored light and was linked somehow to the big R. Once he bit the dust, the magic faded and Nikki Angel, at least her corpse, was no more. The end. They brought the dagger back here and stuck it up on the wall. Now, it seems to me, whoever took it wants to bring someone back to life.”
Aria cut in before the twins could start their back and forth. “Yes, that is what I’m thinking. So we need to do three things—find out who Umbra might be working with, who she wants to bring back to life, and how she found the location of the Infinity Ranch. I want Bud here, tomorrow afternoon at the latest. If he gives me any trouble, I will not be a happy person.”
Mouse woke up to sleepily murmur, “And if Aria isn’t happy, no one is happy. You bitches are loud and crazy.” She fell back asleep.
Steven felt Tessa’s voice hit him hard. Oh my gosh, Steven, I can’t believe someone found us. I saw the fight, or at least Sabina showed me it a little. We’re on our way home. We’re both full of Animus, and oh boy, do we have news for you!
He squinted against the noise. Tessa wasn’t as delicate and subtle as Sabina. He was even worse.
Zoey was kneeling before him in an instant, her back furry, her shoulders big, her hands becoming claws. Her panic had forced her into a partial change. “Steven, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“No, it’s okay. Tessa contacted me. Hold on.” He cast the Divination spell. Picturing Tessa, he sent her a message back, trying to whisper. We’re all okay. Pru is a little shaken up but we’re fine.
What? You’re so faint. Can you speak up? Tessa sent.
Steven repeated the message, only a little louder. Must’ve been too loud.
Ouch. Okay. I’m putting on my winter clothes for some Dragon flight. Be home soon. Don’t send back. I think my brain is bleeding.
“Did Clete hurt Tessa and Sabina?” Aria asked, worry in her voice.
Steven shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Give me a second. I want to use this Divination spell to see if I can find any trace of Umbra or who she’s working for.” With his vision blurring from the black mist in front of his eyes, he turned his mind inward, to look through the dirty window showing him the past, the present, and the future.
He saw Umbra putting on the rings, rings that were very similar to the ones Carlo Bart Baxter used. And though Baxter had been gifted with magic, it had been the mysterious Spider Finger who had given him the power. Enchantrix.
Umbra shifted to fly through the night, but no, those weren’t the Rocky Mountains, those were the Andes, and it was a thousand years ago, in Cuzco, at the beginning of the Incan Empire. Fires bloomed on the dark sides of mountains. He could sense her thoughts. Umbra wasn’t young, but old, very old. She was heading north because she didn’t want to remain stuck in some backwater Primacy. And there were Dragonlords in what would become the United States of America, and they were doing amazing things.
He caught a glimpse of Umbra, in a cement room, and she was talking with someone seated at a table. His left hand was out on the table. And instead of only two joints on his pinkie finger, the man had three.
Then, nothing, and it was like someone had snuffed out a flickering candle. Whoever had engineered the daring burglary didn’t want anyone knowing who Umbra was working for, or what she intended to do with the Angel Knife.
Steven’s eyes adjusted and he blinked. He was back in the great room, the fire crackling, with Zoey at his feet, the Wayne twins to his left, and Mouse sleeping in her chair to his right. Aria stood by the fire. “Anything?”
“Spider Finger,” Steven whispered.
Chapter Four
MORTY FLINT LOOKED out over the rooftops of Chicago—all that life, all those humans, all their combined Animus. He was a big man, with a big belly, who liked to eat. Getting fat wasn’t so bad. He continued to train, and when he shifted into his True Form, the extra weight helped him fight. Centripetal force could be very effective. And after three thousand years, he had enough experience to use everything to his advantage.
His Chicago Aerie topped the InterContinental Hotel on the Magnificent Mile. The secret penthouse commanded views of both the city and the darkness of Lake Michigan. A long bar ran the length of the room. Morty had cut his teeth working deals in Holy Roman Empire taverns during the Middle Ages. He enjoyed the liquor, the wood, the glass, and having a comfortable place to lean. He rarely sat on the collection of black leather couches, sofas, settees, and armchairs. The place didn’t have walls, only windows. Rooms were below, and those had walls, thick ones.
“Mr. Flint. The Dragonlords are here. If you would like, I will send them in.” The voice was a crone’s husky grumble.
Zuzanna Wójcik stood at the door. He’d met her after her children were grown, a woman of sixty. That was nearly two hundred years ago. A remarkable woman, she’d immigrated from Poland by herself, ending up in Minnesota, near a small town named Foley. She’d been human, a Magician, but she’d wanted to become a Dragonskin. The rituals had worked, and she stayed near him now, though she’d become so elderly.
She was his most trusted advisor. She knew his true name, Mordred. And she knew all about his grand mistake.
The grand mistake that had cost him and everyone around him so dearly. Most of all, it had cost him his son, the assassin known as Bruno Illick. But before he’d become a eunuch, he’d had another name, Sir Brunor the Brave. No more. No more.
Zuzanna gave him her service. He gave her Dragonskin powers and graced her with extra centuries of life. Not a bad exchange. More than she deserved really.
“Send them in, Zuzanna,” Morty muttered. “And make sure each one has a bracelet.” His younger and more powerful vassals stood out in the hallway to make sure each of the Primes complied with the request. Two of his wives, Needl
es and Clutch, and his fierce Warling, Cort Calot, could take care of the Dragonlords if they proved unwilling.
The powerful Primes shuffled in. Louis Laloux of the French Swamplands Primacy came first. Alonzo Mac Sterling of the Miami-Dixie Primacy, which comprised Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, and Florida, came next.
Victor Nutgrass of the Carolina Primacy was followed by Ugly Ellis Dodge, who owned the Appalachia Primacy. Finally, bringing up the rear, Chosen Ben Tozier ambled in, walking stiffly.
Morty lifted his arm to show his own steel bracelet. “Don’t worry, gentlemen, I too can’t shift. Let’s keep this civil. We have a lot to talk about. A lot has happened since the Chicago conclave in the fall.”
“Did Javier Jones give you that?” Ugly Ellis Dodge asked. He had long hair, a thin beard, and a scar running across his face. His hands were mostly knuckles. Then again, he seemed like only an odd collection of elbows, knees, and one single, great Adam’s apple, protruding from his throat like a cancer. Ugly Ellis, the name fit. He squinted. “Word has it that Javier perfected the magic, or that’s how I heard it anyway.”
“No, Roy Right did, before his untimely demise.” Morty walked slowly and carefully to stand behind the bar. He didn’t want to spook anyone.
Victor Nutgrass had bright white hair and golden skin. He was a handsome man, looked to be about fifty, although no one was sure of his real age. He’d combined North Carolina, South Carolina, and Virginia, including the District of Columbia, to form a great territory. He had close contact with the humans. He was a strong, quiet man. He waited for others to talk.
But Victor was downright chatty compared to Chosen Ben, who kept to himself. He’d lived too long with the humans in his Primacy and had acquired their New Englander taciturn nature. Chosen Ben wouldn’t be joining Morty, but the others might.
Louis Laloux had a pencil-thin moustache and greasy black hair. He was the smallest of the Primes, but the most powerful. Morty knew that from experience. He spoke with a Creole accent. His native French had been corrupted by the humans as well. Louis wasn’t going to wait for anyone to talk. “Zut alors, Monsieur Flint, it is fucked, I tell you, fucked, that you joined that little piece of shit Drokharis. Maybe you know about the Americos Chambers. Roy Right exiled the upstart child for a time. We could too.”
