Burn, Baby, Burn

by RJ Blain

  “Does it? She rules my roost, and I’m okay with that. It’s not my fault most gorgons have no real appreciation of a good woman. And Bailey, in case you were unaware, is the best of women.”

  “She’s a walking disaster, little grandson. She’s everything you need in a bride, but that doesn’t change that she’s a living, breathing, walking disaster waiting to happen. What sort of disaster will she create next? That’s the real question.”

  “I wouldn’t say she creates them,” I protested.

  “Samuel.”

  I sighed. “They just happen around her.”

  “She brought phoenixes to a gorgon fight and won.”

  “It’s really not her fault the feathers became phoenixes.”

  “She planned on it.”

  She would. “She loves babies, so all incidents of rabies don’t count.”

  My angelic grandfather laughed. “I peeked into the past. Yes, her new puppy was rabid, no, she didn’t contract rabies rescuing him, and yes, she’s doing the treatment anyway. Expect some form of illness.”

  My breath caught, and I shivered. “Her immune system is breaking down again?”

  “It’s nothing her friend can’t handle, but she’ll be miserable for a while.”

  Perkins sighed. “Tiffany has done so much damned medical research lately she could probably perform brain surgery and get away with it.”

  “No.”

  Everyone laughed at me, and my angelic grandfather ruffled my hair. “She won’t need anything that drastic. It’ll probably just be a cold.”

  “The last time she had a cold, she hallucinated hungry spiders in her hospital room and kept begging me to feed them.” While her hallucinations had been hilarious, I had suffered from nightmares for weeks after, aware of how close to death Bailey had come. “You’re sure it’ll just be a cold?”

  “Mostly.”

  “You know she’ll get sick, but you don’t know the specifics?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Have I ever told you that angels are assholes?”

  My grandfathers snickered.

  “I’ve heard such a thing before.”

  “Well, it’s worth repeating. Angels are assholes.”

  Perkins sighed, claimed the front passenger seat, and shook his head. “If I mouthed off to an angel like that, I’d be exploring the afterlife right now. You? You mouth off to an angel, and he laughs.”

  “There are perks to being the product of weird familial relations. They are few and far between, but they are there.” I did a second check of the kids and their belts before closing the SUV’s back door. “Is it a safe assumption you can’t help with the rabies situation?”

  “He has meddled enough in human affairs lately. When men try to make themselves into gods, men must deal with the consequences on their own.”

  That didn’t sound good. “Are you being literal? Please tell me someone isn’t trying to become a god. Honestly? Being a police chief is a tough enough job. I don’t want to deal with anyone with divine aspirations.”

  “No one sane does.”

  Perkins rolled down his window. “Not to interrupt, but I’d like to remind you that the bible does imply that things like intentionally spreading plague and so on is technically His domain.”

  “Not quite,” my angelic grandfather replied. “That thought is close enough to serve a purpose in this discussion. The children of the divine are expected to do such things. That is their nature. However, men without divine blood are incapable of handling such power. All it will do is destroy them.”

  “Like ambrosia will.” I wished I could forget Bailey’s distant eyes whenever she was exposed to the divine essence. “Having divine ancestry isn’t a guarantee.”

  My grandfathers laughed, and my angelic grandfather ruffled my hair again. “You think of your Bailey as always. She’s safer than even you, Little Samuel, and you carry the blood of many divines. No, don’t worry about her and ambrosia. When she dives into its golden depths, you’ll understand why men fear the children—or grandchildren, or even the most distant of children—of the divine.”

  “I don’t find that at all comforting.”

  “That’s because you are wise. We must go now, and we will take care of the legalities. They will not find this a comfort now, but their parents loved them very much. Remind them of this often.”

  “I will,” I promised, wondering how I’d tell Beauty and Sylvester the truth. Would they understand what an angel’s word meant?

  I’d find out soon enough.

  Bailey

  Before I even attempted to do the magical equivalent of looking for a needle in a haystack, I needed to have a few words with one Police Chief Samuel Leviticus Quinn. I asked Perkette to pull over so I could step out of the vehicle and have the illusion of privacy while I spoke to him. I dialed his number and waited for him to answer.

  He didn’t, which meant he was likely driving. Tapping my foot, shivering in the cold, I waited.

  Five freezing minutes later, my phone rang.

  “Hey, Bailey. I was driving. How are you?”

  I took a moment to enjoy Quinn’s voice before I grinned and replied, “Perkette’s trying to turn me into a bad girl, Mr. Police Chief Samuel Quinn.”

  “You have my attention, Mrs. Police Chief Bailey Quinn.”

  Before my talk with Perkette, I would’ve believed he was just playing over my use of his title. Knowing better, his clue amused me, a subtle warning of the sharp left turn my life was about to take. I had to give him credit. He was a sneaky, sneaky man when he wanted to be.

  “Perkette has talked me into using my magic to attempt to locate you a kitten in a dumpster.”

  My husband’s long-suffering sigh made me unreasonably happy. “Seriously, Bailey? You could just go to a shelter.”

  “I’m not going to find the breed I want in a shelter.”

  “Yet you believe you’re going to find one in a dumpster?”

  “Well, that’s why I’m going to try and use my magic. If there is one in a dumpster, I’ll find it!”

  “Along with another case of rabies,” he muttered.

  In the background, I heard Perky laugh.

  “I’ll try to avoid another case of rabies, but no promises. I can’t seem to resist rescuing rabid animals from dumpsters.”

  Quinn sighed. “There’s a possibility someone is attempting to cause a major rabies outbreak. For my peace of mind, please get the largest bag of the best grade neutralizer you can get your hands on.”

  Damn it. Worse, I agreed with him. A spike in rabies cases in New York City among the feral cat and dog populations could happen, but I’d rescued my puppy from Atlantic City, too far away for it to be part of the same group of stray animals. “I’ll do that. Will my new job let me put in the order, Mr. Police Chief Samuel Quinn?”

  “Much to my relief, yes. You’re not losing any of your CDC certifications with your new employment. Plus you get that salary you’ve always wanted. Please get the bag as soon as you can, and if you could resist the lure of the next dumpster to catch your attention, I’d appreciate it.”

  “No. I keep finding puppies and kittens in dumpsters. They need me to save them.”

  “Bailey, you’re really going to contract rabies at this rate. You’re a handful without being rabid. Have mercy.”

  “No!” I huffed. “Perkette said I could only adopt a kitten for you if I got it out of a dumpster and it met certain requirements.”

  “All right. Hold on a moment. I need to step out of the car.” I heard a door shut, and snow crunched. “There’s an issue I need to talk to you about.”

  My eyes widened, and I stiffened. “What’s wrong?”

  “Remember Cadet John Winfield?”

  I did. “From the 120 Wall Street incident? I thought about lighting him on fire and eating him.”

  “He tried to sell you to a gorgon hive. Well, several hives. My cousin notified me. I went to speak to the hive today.”


  Quinn dealt with threats from gorgons or other non-humans with violence, and if he had a legal option to indulge in violence in other circumstances, he would. He couldn’t tolerate unknown gorgon males coming anywhere near me.

  It always ended in a fight Quinn won, and Quinn usually let the other male escape. Usually.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Speak?”

  He sighed. “Speak. The hive females were wiped out due to disease, and my guess is that it was rabies. They have two kids. When we arrived, the male wasn’t there. I asked Grandfather about it.”

  “Sylvester?”

  “Yes. Well, he opted to have a look for me.”

  “And?”

  “Dead or soon to be dead, and he says I won’t be finding the body. The kids hadn’t eaten for several days. They’re asleep in the car. I’ve registered you as the primary contender for adoption, and I’ll be your backup in the match. The girl’s name is Beauty. The boy’s name is Sylvester.”

  I loved that the boy’s name was the same as Quinn’s angelic asshole of a grandfather. Then his words sank in, and I sucked in a breath. “You registered us for a match?”

  Every time I’d shown interest, everyone had provided a long—and accurate—reason why it wasn’t a good idea, and it involved me shaming entire hives of gorgons and making more enemies.

  “Technically, I’m registering you for a match. I’m going to watch unless you actually need me. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun. I’m going to give those gorgons a fair chance. You said I should be nice to other gorgons sometimes. This is me being nice.”

  “It’ll be more fun if you help.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll fight in a match or two so you can catch your breath. If you’re on your own, you’ll better show your determination. If we fight together, we’ll crush them so thoroughly we won’t be able to prove to the children how much we want them. It’ll be an unfair fight unless my grandfather goes up against us.”

  I bounced on my toes. “Ask him to. I want to fight him. Please?”

  “Bailey!”

  “What? You won’t let me fight him when we visit him.”

  “There’s a reason for that. He’s dangerous.”

  I snorted. “I’m dangerous, too. I eat napalm and breathe fire. And I can run really fast.”

  “You’re also banned from eating napalm for a reason.”

  I smirked. “Perkette said—”

  “No.”

  “But she—”

  “Absolutely not.”

  My smirk widened to a grin. “Homemade—“

  “No.”

  “Delicious—“

  “Nope. Nope, nope, nope.”

  “Napalm,” I crowed.

  “Don’t eat anything she gives you. She’s a mad scientist. Why did I trust a mad scientist with you? What have I done?”

  Giggling, I stomped my feet to help keep myself warm. “If you don’t want me eating her latest fuel-based concoction made purely for my enjoyment, you better come apprehend me, Mr. Police Chief.”

  “You just want me to catch you.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I have two kids, a puppy, and Perkins in the SUV.”

  I laughed until I hiccupped. “I’d say call me if you need any help with that, but I wouldn’t know what to tell you.”

  “I’ll be fine. I have more grandparents than I know what to do with willing to help.”

  In so many ways, I envied Quinn and his family. They were my family, too, when I could get beyond my wariness. “If my grandparents show up, petrify them.”

  “Have you even met your grandparents?”

  “Only the ones on my father’s side. They’re assholes. Petrify them.”

  “If they threaten you or the kids, I will. I do have to keep it legal. So do you, so no napalm unless it’s a dire emergency.”

  I still got a good laugh over how Quinn had managed to get them to overturn my ban on napalm to available in case of dire emergencies. The release of two phoenixes had something to do with the CDC’s willingness to give me napalm if truly needed.

  A drunk unicorn on a napalm bender did a hell of a lot less damage than two phoenixes on the loose enjoying their first taste of freedom in their new lives.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Please be careful with Tiffany’s experiments.”

  “I’d say I’m always careful, but I’m really not.”

  “Limit your disasters to ones I can rescue you from, okay?”

  Typical Quinn. “You’d have to catch me for that to be an option.”

  “Already working on that. Are you having a good time?”

  “Very, but I think Blizzard might actually be your puppy. He seems like the puppy of a big, manly police chief.”

  Quinn chuckled. “I’m going to enjoy myself a great deal when I get my hands on you, Mrs. Bailey Quinn. Run all you want, but you can’t escape me.”

  I’d gotten rather fond of the predator in Quinn, especially when he felt he had something to prove. The real winner of the chase would be me. The faster I ran, the more enthusiastic he would become.

  “I don’t know, Quinn. I’m pretty good at slipping from your clutches. Can you really catch me?”

  “Yes, I can. I’m merely being generous before I capture you.”

  ‘Capture’ in Quinn’s language might even include one of his ties, which he never wore to thwart my plans to see him in a suit. “Sure, sure. You say that now, but I don’t see you here stalking me.”

  “When I catch you, I’ll enjoy listening to you admit how wrong you are. I like it when you beg.”

  Whee. “Less talk, more chase. Drive safe, slowpoke!”

  I hung up, did a little jig, and dove into the SUV. “Today is the best day.”

  “I feel this is a good time to remind you that we went on this road trip because you married an incubus.”

  “The faster I run, the better my reward. And damn straight I married my gorgon-incubus doohickey.”

  “Did you just call your husband a doohickey?”

  “I called him the world’s sexiest mutt once. It didn’t go over well,” I admitted.

  “Poor Sam.”

  “He looked like he wanted to cry when I called him the sex toy model.”

  “You need to think before you speak just a little more.”

  I bit my lip. “Was it bad when I said I might be the only woman in Queens who has no need for a battery operated boyfriend?”

  “No, surprisingly, that one is okay. You stroked his ego—and I don’t want to know what else you were stroking.”

  “One of his cobras, actually. Francisco.”

  “You named his cobras?”

  “Quinn hadn’t, so I did it for him. Francisco gets nippy without attention.”

  “Has Francisco bitten you?”

  “Several times. All those little bastards will nip if neglected.”

  “You’re immune to them?”

  I shrugged. “It stings a little.”

  “You know what? Nevermind. You talked to Sam for quite a while. What’s up?”

  “He registered us for an adoption match.”

  Perkette’s brows shot up. “That’s one hell of a Christmas present. Sam’s notorious about avoiding them to spare the prides of the hopeful hives. He only let you two work the circuit for those unhatched whelps.”

  “He registered me as the primary contender.”

  She whistled. “I’ll just say congratulations in advance, Mom.”

  “The females of the hive likely died of rabies. We’re challenging for a boy and a girl. Quinn said their dad is gone, too.”

  “Rabies?”

  “I’m worried, Tiffany.”

  “I am, too. It’s one thing for it to be hitting the stray cats and dogs, but gorgons?”

  “Quinn wants me to stock us with neutralizer. The best grade I can buy.”

  “Put in the call and get as much as you can. We’ll do a supply run, look for a big cat kitten for Sam, and then do s
ome investigating.”

  “What investigating?”

  “Of the source of the rabies, of course.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “Yes, I am. Two kids are orphaned now because of this. Enough is enough. Let’s put your magic to the test for the good of everyone. If this keeps going, it’s going to get out of hand. Let’s stop it before it gets to that point.”

  “Okay. We’ll get the neutralizer first. With my luck, Quinn’s kitten will be rabid, too.”

  “Good thought.”

  Chapter Eight

  Quinn

  I stood in the snow, staring at my phone for a long time. Bailey hadn’t seriously attempted to use her wayfinder magic since the incident with Audrey, claiming she’d make a mess of her perfect life. I’d felt her fear, so I hadn’t pushed her on the matter.

  Most of her bravado masked her fears and uncertainties. I loved her a little more each and every time she overcame one of her inner demons, especially the ones that told her she didn’t deserve me. The first time she’d hunted for my company in bed without me making the first move, I’d worried my heart might burst from love and pride.

  She’d come so far, and most of the time, she didn’t even realize it.

  I worried what she would find with her magic—and what she’d do about it. Tapping my foot, I considered my options, which were few. Stocking up on neutralizer and notifying my grandfather the hives needed to treat and vaccinate would be the first step. Unlike humans, gorgons could be vaccinated.

  Few opted for the treatment; it made them feel like animals. I’d hate myself for doing it, but spreading word of the Dover hive’s fate might convince them.

  I hoped.

  I returned to the rental, got settled behind the wheel, and called my gorgon grandfather.

  “What do you need, Samuel?”

  “Get the hives started on treatments for rabies and vaccinations. Strongly suggest it, and tell them what happened to the Dover hive. I’m worried.”

  “Already on it. I figured you would suggest it. I’ll also make certain they understand that Bailey is your bride and hive queen. I’ll also make a note they should strongly discourage the former cadet creating problems for you and your bride.”