Wyvern and Company (5 page)

I didn't like the fact that Kiarra was pregnant and insisting
on fighting, either. We'd waited to have this conversation until after Mack and
Justin were back in Justin's room, playing video games with Joey.

Karzac had to pull Dragon back, too—he'd been ready to voice
his opinion on Kiarra's involvement in the spawn hunt. Already he was
protective of his mate, although she wasn't much more than a collection of
cells inside my wife's womb at the moment.

"She doesn't have a name," I said aloud.

"What?" Kiarra stared at me. I'd just derailed the
train, in her opinion.

"Our daughter. Dragon's mate. She doesn't have a name."

"Adam, Karzac says I'm only a few weeks along. A name is
something for later. Besides, shouldn't she have a choice in this, too?"

"You know how M'Fiyahs work," Griffin appeared
inside our kitchen. I wasn't sure I wanted him there, but didn't say anything.
He'd retired from the Saa Thalarr, giving up his spot so I could take it. I
didn't want to fight with him in my own kitchen—retired Saa Thalarr held onto
their abilities and I wasn't in any mood to test his.

"I don't give a damn about how M'Fiyahs work,"
Kiarra slammed a pot into the dishwasher. "She gets a say. End of
discussion. Now, back to the fucking spawn in fucking Yosemite."

"How is Merrill?" I asked politely, turning to
Griffin. We liked Merrill—that was a certainty. Justin liked Merrill, too, and
called Franklin Grandpa Frank. Franklin grinned every time Justin said those
words.

Franklin was the one who, with Merrill, had arrived to help
after Kiarra was injured at Justin's school. That day is still a bit foggy in
my mind, but Franklin went right to work, cleaning house, cooking meals and
doing laundry.

Merrill and I kept Kiarra entertained and off her feet for two
weeks. That's all she'd give us. They'd gone home after three weeks, but I know
Justin and Franklin keep in touch by e-mail and the occasional phone call.

That doesn't concern me at all. Justin will never have
grandparents, and that is a shame. If he wants to think of Franklin as his
grandfather, then he couldn't have made a better choice.

"How about Anna Kay?" Kiarra straightened after
loading plates in the dishwasher.

"Anna Kay?" I stared for a moment at my wife before
nodding. That's who I thought Kiarra was when I first met her—Anna Kay Madden,
a psychic detective in Port Aransas, Texas.

I didn't know at the time that the real Anna Kay was
dead—killed by the enemy. Kiarra had taken her place to disguise herself while
tracking spawn in the area; it was a good cover to utilize many of her talents.

With the help of Dragon, Lion, Joey, Merrill, Daniel Carey,
several vampires and the Corpus Christi Pack, we'd successfully fended off an
invasion of spawn, Ra'Ak and a nasty monster called a kapirus.

That success had also pulled Earth back from its status as
Not
Worth Saving
in the eyes of our superiors. With the recent spawn attacks,
it looked as if someone were trying to put it on the list again.

I knew Kiarra wouldn't let that happen, as long as there was
breath in her body. It made me wonder at her pregnancy—she'd led the charge
last time, but this—after three months, she wouldn't be able to fight and I
didn't intend to let her; use of her power could kill the child. Thorsten's
edict, too, had placed a crimp in any efforts we might make to defuse the
situation before it had time to take hold and spread.

That concerned me—too much.

"Sweetheart, I'm really beginning to worry about those
teens in the hospital. Will they keep them there, do you suppose, because they
no longer speak?"

"Whether they keep them or let them go home is
moot—either way they'll cause death and destruction." She sat on the
barstool next to mine with a sigh. I rubbed her back gently and was surprised
when she buried her head against my shoulder. "Adam, what are we going to
do?" she moaned.

"I'm not sure," I kissed the top of her head. "We'll
take this one day at a time."

* * *

Justin's Journal

Mack and I thought Thursday would be like any other day at
school, forty-three classmates' deaths and counselors combing the hallways and
setting up appointments with students notwithstanding.

Boy, were we wrong.

Piles of flowers lined the fences surrounding the school, and
the only blooms that weren't dying in the heat were the artificial kind. Those
were slowly being bleached by the early September sun in Fresno. Notes, too,
were stuck in the fence, along with stuffed animals and anything else someone
thought to give to honor the students who'd died.

Mack was traumatized enough that he'd seen what he'd seen and
felt guilty for surviving, but I can't begin to describe the nasty looks and
nastier comments aimed at him for exactly the same thing—that he managed to survive
while the others were either dead, in the hospital or missing.

I discovered that Randall Pierce, whose dad was still
suspended from the police force, was fanning the flames with his Mongol horde
of henchcreeps.

A school assembly was held at the end of the day to announce a
memorial service at the first football game, which was slightly more than a
week away. Mack and I took seats high up in the gym, and nobody sat near us.
That didn't stop the talk and whispers, though, which Mack and I heard easily
enough.

Valley High had shunned us without the usual, accompanying
silence.

The Principal stepped to the podium on the gym floor and
cleared his throat before announcing the memorial service and telling us that
the football coaches had chosen replacement players for those who'd died or
were in the hospital. I almost gagged when Randall Pierce and two of his
friends joined the other players on the floor.

"I'm quitting the football team," I mumbled. Not
only were they taking Randall Pierce, I was included in the backlash aimed at
Mack, merely because we were friends. The friend part didn't bother me. What
bothered me was that there was a backlash to begin with, and Randall was
leading the charge.

"Dude, you can't quit," Mack whispered. "They
don't have any decent players left as it is."

"Then they'll have to cancel the season," I said. "I'm
not playing. If they can't get their heads on straight about any of this, I'll
be damned if I fraternize with the enemy."

Mack followed me when I went to find Coach after assembly. "Justin,
practice is in ten," he said.

"I'm not going," I told him. "I'm sorry, Coach,
but I'm quitting the team." Coach's eyes slid to Mack, who stood right
beside me, before clearing his throat. "I, uh, well," he shook his
head. "The decision is yours, obviously."

"Yeah." I turned and stalked off, with Mack right
behind me.

Coach knew Mack was being bullied and he chose to ignore it,
like everybody else. "Well, screw all of 'em," I whispered as I headed
toward the doors and the parking lot beyond.

Mack and I had ridden together in my car, so both of us fumed
silently on the way home.

* * *

"Son, you don't have to explain it to me—I understand why
you did it," Dad said when I told him about quitting the team. "Some
things are more important than a game, and a lot of people fail to see that."

"My Friday nights just got freed up," I shrugged. "I
may quit basketball, too, if things don't improve."

"I spoke with Mack's father," Dad said. "Mr.
Walters is coming to work for the company as my construction manager when his
job in Visalia is done. He knows everything about the business, and he says
cabinetwork is spotty this year anyway."

"I didn't realize you were so busy," I said.

"It's not busier than usual, but I wanted to be closer to
home. Son, your mother and I decided to go ahead and tell you now—you'll be
getting a baby sister in seven or eight months."

"What?" Of all the possible things Dad might have
said, that wasn't even on the list.

"It was a surprise for us, too," he said. "We
didn't think it was possible."

"Uh, Dad," I said. He knew before I said it. How
many people are creeped out when they learn their parents aren't too old for
sex? I tried to squash that thought. They still looked young. Really young,
actually. I thought it was because they were healthy and made healthy choices.

Dad knew exactly what I was thinking. "We've had the
talk, son, and I assume you recall your lessons at school?"

"Yeah, but," I mumbled, ducking my head.

"It's natural. Do you remember me saying that?"

"Yeah. But everybody else treats it like a big secret. A
big, dirty secret." I remembered Sex Ed in school, and how most of my
classmates were laughing in an embarrassed sort of way after the classes.

"With the proper person, it shouldn't be that way.
Between consenting adults, sex can be many things, including a way to relax and
enjoy your partner and yourself. You show your feelings that way—it's a forum
to drop all those taboos and leave them behind."

My voice hadn't broke in at least two years. It was breaking,
now.

"Dad," I croaked. "Enough, okay?"

"All right, but think twice before believing anyone is
too old to have sex," he said. "Talk to me in forty years, and we'll
discuss this again."

"I sure hope not," I muttered and headed for the
door.

* * *

Friday at school was worse than Thursday, due to the
confrontation with Randal Pierce and his Mongol horde in the parking lot Friday
afternoon.

Randall and three friends were blocking the way to my car. I
guess if you have enough people, you think you're invincible. I didn't want a
fight, and I sure didn't think Mack was in the mood after what happened a week
earlier.

I have no idea how the cavalry knew to show up but they did,
in the form of Uncle Lion and Uncle Dragon. Both of them—tall, muscled and
frowning, looked as formidable as two Mount Everests as they walked up beside
Mack and me. Together, we stared down Randall and his friends across a hot
patch of bare concrete in the parking lot.

I could feel the rising heat washing over us in waves and
couldn't help thinking of a few westerns I'd seen on TV.

"Who are they?" Randall demanded, nodding toward my uncles.
The fact that his voice rose a pitch or two told me he was about to crap his
pants. I would, too, if I were on the other side of the stare Uncle Dragon
leveled on Randall and his friends.

"My uncles," I said as evenly as I could. Randall's
buddies started backing away, which pissed Randall off.

"Time to go, man," one of them—Todd Mann—grabbed Randall's
arm to pull him away.

Randall tried to shake him off, but that didn't work. Todd is
taller and heavier than Randall, so he just got a better grip and held on.
Randall, who didn't want to show weakness although his knees were probably
knocking together, let Todd pull him away.

The minute they loaded into Randall's almost-new Chevy and
drove away, I heard Mack release a sigh. "Thanks," he nodded to Uncle
Dragon and Uncle Lion. "I'm not sure we could have come out of that alive."

"Someday, you may surprise yourself," Dragon patted
Mack's shoulder. "This just wasn't the time or the place for that. If any
of those used the brains they had, they'd never have accosted you here to begin
with. Security cameras are focused on this parking lot."

"I'm glad you came," I said, shaking my head at the
circumstances. "Somebody would have gotten hurt for sure."

"Want to ride home in the Jeep?" Lion asked. "We
can get your car home later. The Jeep's running and cool inside."

"I'll vote for that," I nodded. "Mack?"

"Yeah." Anytime he could ride with my uncles, that
was all right with him. He hero-worshipped both of them, especially Dragon.

We walked to the street in front of the school, where Mom's
Jeep was parked and running. It was cool inside, and that came as a welcome
relief—both from the situation we'd found ourselves in and the high temperature
that sent heat waves lifting off the concrete.

Lion drove, Dragon rode shotgun and Mack and I sat in the back
on the way home.

* * *

Mom and Dad were in the kitchen when we got there, and Mom had
made brownies. The kitchen smelled good.

"We'll be moving next week," Dad announced. "We
bought a bigger place, Dragon's moving in and Lion and Marlianna will live in
the guesthouse."

"We'll have a guesthouse?" I squeaked. "Wow."
The fact that we were moving hadn't even settled into my brain, let alone
having a guesthouse big enough for Uncle Lion and Aunt Marlianna.

"The guesthouse is bigger than this house," Dad
said, and almost smiled.

"Should I pack?" I asked, still feeling stunned. "What
about Mack?"

"Mack will have his own room, and he can stay whenever he
wants," Mom said, moving forward to give Mack a hug. He ate that right up,
I could tell.

"Your father is going to be my new construction manager,"
Dad told Mack when Mom moved away. "He says you can stay with us as much
as you like, just check in with him every day. He'll be back from Visalia on
Monday—he thinks if he stays there over the weekend, he can get the job done by
then."

"Cool," Mack said. "What's for dinner?" he
turned toward Mom.

"I thought we'd go out tonight, unless you have other
plans?" Mom offered him a big smile. "Feel like Italian?"

"Steak and spaghetti?" Mack asked.

"If that's what you want."

"Yeah." Mack gave the idea an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

"Mack, do you think your sister would like to come?"
Dad asked. "We'll get your car on the way home from the restaurant," he
turned to me, then.

"I'll call," Mack said and pulled out his cell
phone.

Beth said she had a date, so she couldn't go. Mack just
shrugged at the news after he hung up. "She's seeing somebody from
Sacramento," he said. "It just feels weird, I guess, that she might
marry him. I haven't met him, yet, but Dad has."