Wyvern and Company (29 page)

Even injured, he, Daniel, Teddy and Agent Renfro, with help
from Crane, continued to kill spawn who thought to get around Kifirin.
Altogether, it was a successful night, although we would have lost everything
without the High Demon's help.

"I'm just glad Kifirin decided to help us," Mack
mumbled. "I think I could sleep a week after this."

"Sleep as long as you want, tomorrow's Saturday,"
Mom smiled and rubbed his back. "Your dad and your sister are coming for
dinner tomorrow night."

"Can I invite Gina?" I blurted.

"Of course. Her mother, too, if you'd like."

"I help cook," Darzi offered.

"Thank you." Mom moved to his chair and gave him a
hug. He was very happy about that.

"We go grocery store. Buy things," Darzi grinned and
hugged Mom back.

"Tomorrow," She laughed. "What are we buying?"

"Surprise," Darzi shrugged. "Make special for
you, too."

"Sounds great," she said. "I'll even buy Dr.
Pepper for Mack and Justin, since they're too young to celebrate with
champagne."

"I'd rather have Dr. Pepper," I said.

"Me, too," Mack nodded enthusiastically.

"Then I suppose that's settled," Mom said. "I'm
going to bed unless anybody needs anything. Good job, everybody. I'd tell
Kifirin, too, but he isn't here."

"I let him know," Darzi shrugged.

"Awesome." I lifted my sixth slice of pizza and bit
into it.

* * *

"Here." Joey handed keys to me just before I went to
bed.

"What's this?" I asked, feeling confused.

"Keys to my house," he grinned. "Just in case
you need some privacy."

"Seriously?"

"Just in case," he nodded.

He'd been reading my mind, too, because I'd been racking my
brain trying to come up with a decent place where Gina and I could be alone. "Uh,
thanks," I said, feeling only moderately embarrassed.

I couldn't help feeling philosophical about it, too—that in
the midst of overwhelming problems and dangerous conditions, people still
wanted sex. Or, perhaps it was
because
things were so dire that sex was
a way to escape the fear and worry for a while.

Maybe it was the raging hormones of an eighteen-year-old man.
After the events of the past few weeks, added to the fact I'd killed spawn and
kapiri to defend my friends and myself, I no longer considered myself a
teenager.

That night, I think I went to bed tired and older.

* * *

Adam's Journal

"Sweetheart?" I drew covers over us and pulled
Kiarra's head against my shoulder. Her sigh tickled my skin as she exhaled.

"Adam?"

"Feel up to some love?" We hadn't had sex since she'd
been attacked in the parking lot of a grocery store. I didn't want to think of
the many mistakes I'd made since then.

"Will it take my mind off trying to figure out what the
enemy is planning?" She turned her head so she could see my eyes. I leaned
in to kiss the tip of her nose.

"I sure hope so," I said when I moved away. "Is
that what you were doing while I was gone?"

"Yes. Lion, Marli and I sat on the back porch and discussed
every possible scenario we could come up with. So far, I don't think we're even
close to the truth."

"Then let's table that discussion until tomorrow. I heard
from Martin after we got back—they killed six more spawn not far from the
construction site last night.

"That's not good." Kiarra sat up in bed, taking her
warmth away from me. "I don't like it that they seem to be honed in on all
of us," she added. "I mean, Lion and I both discussed those nuclear
warheads that were moved a month ago—you know the ones that were set out on the
tarmac of a military base and forgotten for a couple of days?"

"I remember," I agreed. "That could have been
disastrous."

"I think the enemy missed their chance there—those
warheads could have destroyed the entire West Coast if somebody had gotten
their hands on them—if not directly by the bombs, then by the resulting
radiation."

"I can't believe anybody would consider keeping those
things to begin with," I said. "They're just too dangerous."

"Case in point—all the chemical weapons created and stockpiled
on Tiralia," Kiarra pointed out. "They knew they had enough to kill
the entire planet many times over, yet all three sides refused to stand down
and destroy what they had. End of story, everybody died because they couldn't
get along."

"How big was the planet?" I asked.

"Nearly twice as big as Earth, with three major
continents and strings of islands around each. The crystal was only found in
great quantities on one continent. Everything was fine until everybody got too
greedy."

"Now it all belongs to my wife," I pulled her close
and kissed her amorously, nipping gently on her lower lip—the signal to her
that my John Thomas was awake and standing tall.

"At least they dismantled all those B53 bombs years ago,"
she mumbled against my mouth.

Stop talking about nuclear bombs
, I sent, kissing her
again.
It upsets John Thomas
.

John Thomas is upset?
Her hand brushed that part of my
anatomy, making it jerk with desire.

Now you have to make him feel better
, I said, kissing
her neck. I wanted to bite. I held that urge back.

What does John Thomas want?

Soft. Warm. Jane Thomas
, I replied.

What if she's not ready?

I'll fix that
, I offered a devilish smile and dived
beneath the covers.

* * *

Justin's Journal

Waking with an urgent erection was becoming too common. That
made me want Gina more than ever. Merrill had talked to me about that, too—that
women tended not to feel amorous on most mornings because they felt
unattractive and had morning breath. He'd smiled and said it didn't matter at
all to most men.

"Hey, baby." I'd pulled my cell phone into my hand
and called Gina before thinking about it. At least she was already awake. My
bedside clock said eleven, so she'd probably been up for a while.

"Want to come to dinner tonight, or do you have to work?"
I asked.

"I'm working the early shift, but don't get off until
eight."

"I think we can save something for you to eat, and you
can bring your mom if you want," I said.

"Let me ask." Gina set the phone down and I could
hear her calling her mother. My hearing was definitely sharper after the wyvern
made its appearance—I could hear her mother's answer from another room.

"We'll be there as soon as we can," Gina's voice
held a smile.

"Awesome. What are the chances we can sneak away alone
afterward?"

"I think we might be able to do something. Want to plan a
late movie that we manage somehow to miss?"

"I think we can see a movie if you want—from a big,
comfortable bed."

"Really?" Gina sounded breathless. "Yes. That
sounds great."

"Great," I repeated her word. "Bye, baby. See
ya when you get here."

"Bye, Justin." She sounded shy, suddenly.

Merrill talked about that, too. I ignored his lesson for the
moment and focused on the body part demanding attention.

* * *

"You okay, man? You usually beat me to the kitchen,"
Mack grinned as I sat beside him with a plate of eggs and bacon.

"Talked with Gina on the phone, dude," I said before
stuffing an entire strip of bacon in my mouth. I was hungry.

"Is that all that held you up?"

"All I'll admit to."

"Probably for the best," Mack agreed and crunched
into another slice of bacon.

I felt older; Mack sounded older. I guess going to war against
spawn and who knew what else would do that for you. Mack had been injured twice
and kept fighting both times. He was brave
and
tough.

"Thanks for not frying my fur last night," he added
with a sigh.

"I will never fry your fur, dude. I had to aim for that
bastard's feet, though. I'm just glad giving him a hotfoot was enough to get
him to let you go."

"Understood," Mack grinned.

"And you're welcome. Thanks for guarding my back in
Florida."

"No big." Mack speared scrambled eggs and shoved
them in his mouth before they could escape his fork.

"You had a broken wrist, dude," I pointed out.

"I still had three good legs," Mack grinned.

"Oh," I tossed up a hand. "Why didn't I think
of that?" I added sarcastically.

He laughed. It was a good sound.

"Trading war stories?" Crane asked as he wandered
into the kitchen and set about making two cups of tea. I figured he'd be taking
the second one to Dragon, so I didn't ask.

"Maybe," Mack said. "We admit nothing."

"Always the prudent thing to do in any war. You tend to
stay out of trouble that way," Crane nodded sagely while filling the
kettle with hot water.

"Who's the better swordsman, you or Mr. Dragon?"
Mack asked. Yeah, he definitely admired both men.

"My brother is the second-best swordsman I've ever seen,"
Crane said. "I'm slightly behind him. The best I've ever seen trained us."

"Who was that?" Mack asked, sounding almost
breathless. I was interested too—somebody was better than Dragon?

"Caylon Black," Crane said. "Died on the
northern border when he and his scouts were attacked by a much larger force. He
was the last one standing, and the bodies of the enemy were piled around him
before he was overwhelmed. Dragon and I had been in the army under our father's
command for less than ten years when he fell."

"Wow. That's too bad. I'd like to have seen him fight,"
Mack breathed.

"We feel privileged to have trained with him," Crane
shrugged. "He made warriors out of spoiled Warlord's sons."

"How old were you when you went to war?" I asked.

"Seventeen. That year, Dragon won the Solstice Trials. He
fought me for the win."

"What are the Solstice Trials?" I asked, immediately
intrigued.

"Consider it the Falchani version of the Olympic
Games," Crane smiled. "They are held every year at the summer
solstice. You fight with blades only, until the last two are left. The one who
wins the final bout receives a prize from the Warlord. Generally, it is gold
and a tattoo. Dragon's back tattoo came from that win."

"Who's older?" Mack asked, his eyes shining. I could
see he was already imagining himself as a combatant in the Solstice Trials. It
would also make a killer video game. I wondered if Joey had considered it, yet.

"I am—by six of your minutes," Crane answered Mack's
question as he dropped tea leaves into cups and poured hot water over them. "Sometime
soon, Dragon and I will see you trained with blades." He nodded to us
before carrying both mugs of steeping tea from the kitchen.

* * *

Adam's Journal

"Adam," Kiarra gripped my arm. We'd dropped by a
fish market with Darzi—he said he wanted to cook fish for dinner, so I drove
both of them to a shop in Clovis. The clerk packed it in ice, so we felt
comfortable stopping at a donut shop on the way home—Kiarra was getting her
first cravings.

She'd noticed the small television hanging on the wall behind the
counter, and was now calling my attention to it. I read the crawler across the
bottom of the screen and almost stopped breathing.

Joyce Christian, Texas Congresswoman, killed in accident in
Texas
, the crawler proclaimed.

Kiarra shouted at the television screen at home whenever Joyce
was shown on this news program or that, spouting her warped version of history,
politics and religion. Truth never concerned Joyce Christian; she avoided it as
often as possible. The problem was that she refused to back down when the truth
was pointed out; too many people believed her and she kept getting reelected.

Now she was dead.
I don't know whether to sing or shout
with joy first
, Kiarra sent, bringing my attention back to her.

I'd like to hear you sing
, I offered, hoping it wouldn't
make her angry.

I'll think about it
. She gave me a beautiful smile and
asked the clerk behind the counter for half a dozen maple bars.

* * *

Second's Records; Trajan Gibson's reports

"Three people have asked you to move to west Texas and
run for Joyce Christian's vacancy," I handed messages to Winkler, who
strode casually into the office at his beach house in Port Aransas. We'd been
working on getting Star Cove on the map as a new municipality on the Texas Gulf
Coast. After a few snags, things finally looked good in that respect.

"One of these is from the Governor," Winkler held
the message up, as if I hadn't seen it already. Hell, I'd taken the call in the
first place.

"Please tell me you're not thinking about it," I
said.

"I'm not, but we'll have to make a valid excuse to the
governor—I don't care about the rest of these people." He dropped the
messages onto my desk, letting me know to say
no, thank you
in a nicely
benign fashion, so nobody would be pissed off.

"The Grand Master would have a cow," Winkler added.
It was something Lissa would have said—he and I knew that.

"He'd have a longhorn," I pointed out. The Grand
Master didn't want to explain the unexplainable to humans, if a werewolf died
under unusual circumstances. That happened more often than not with
Packmasters—and their Seconds.

"There's no way in hell I'd want to involve myself in
politics. No more than I already am," Winkler shook his head. "I have
kids, and it's bad enough that I'm under a microscope. They don't need that
pressure. Not to mention what Kellee would do as my ex."

"Enough said," I held up a hand. Kellee was a sore
spot with all of Winkler's wolves. The only reason Winkler still tolerated her
tantrums was because she was Wayne and Wynter's mother. When they reached their
majority, Winkler would likely tell Kellee where to stick it.