Texas Showdown

by Aaron Crash

  Chazzie watched every face carefully, evaluating the threat. No, Morty wouldn’t try to extend himself that much by going for Primacies not close by. And Roy Right was a good buffer to the two Californian territories ruled by Primes who’d been fighting a war, hot and cold, for a century. It was a delicate balance, but then so was Dragonsoul politics across the entire U.S.

  “We blamed the collateral damage the other night on terrorism,” Morty said.

  He was referring to the hit on Steven Drokharis after the Conclave met. Chazzie and Pru were playing a dangerous game, all right, but it had been the right move warning Steven. For now.

  Roy Right piped up. “It’s a useful dodge nowadays. All the supposed ‘gas explosions’ were getting old. But Morty, you think I did something? I didn’t. Hand to heaven. What I got is small, two cities and some junk land. I’m not gonna be messing with this Drokharis fuck anytime soon.”

  Chazzie knew Roy was full of shit. But she didn’t think he was behind the assassination attempt. She wasn’t exactly sure who was, but she wouldn’t have bet on anyone in the room. The rogue Magician they’d paid said she’d seen Steven Drokharis murdered in front of the hotel. Another version of the history had him crucified at the top of the building after trying to fly away. A third? That he’d fall into Lake Michigan and escape. Thank you, door number three.

  “Oui,” Laloux added. “I have no desire to leave the coast. Now, maybe I go after you, Carlo Bart. I enjoy the gulf, and Galveston has a certain charm.”

  Carlo Bart grinned, showing perfect white teeth. His blues were icy. “You wouldn’t want my Primacy, Louis. It’s too dry for a Cajun gator fuck like you.”

  “So who do you think organized the hit?” Morty asked. “I warned everyone that this was going to be a civil affair. It makes me look bad. And that pisses me off.”

  But Morty didn’t seem all that angry. Damn, Chazzie wouldn’t want to find herself in a poker match with him. No wonder he’d survived countless uprisings and would-be conquerors.

  Chazzie had some ideas, had some suspicions, but she wasn’t there to talk. She was there to be eye candy and to gather information. Carlo Bart had made that clear. It had allayed some of Chazzie’s fears. Some, but not all.

  She caught Pru’s eyes. Her sister might look cool and as beautiful as a moonrise, but she had Chazzie’s same fear. Damn. Well, she was the smart one, and only stupid people wouldn’t get scared walking through a pit of rattlesnakes.

  Morty waited but no one said anything. “Well, gentlemen? Speak up. I won’t take your silence well.”

  And that was the game. The person who spoke first just might be the culprit or at least might have information. He’d want to exonerate himself, fast, quick, and in a hurry. Then again, maybe the guilty party would sit in silence and hope it all passed. Hard to tell.

  Chazzie felt a little line of sweat itch her forehead. She couldn’t be sweating now, nope, that would not play out well. She took a deep breath and went to her happy place, with her guns and her sister out on the target range. The rattle of a big gun gunning calmed her like nothing else, other than Prudence when they were out on the town, dressed to kill and with the local judge in their pocket.

  Carlo Bart finally barked, “That sounds like a fucking threat, Morty. You think because we three talked shit to that little fucker while he gave his stupid fucking speech that we tried to kill him? Chastity, Prudence, can you believe this guy?”

  Chazzie smiled and did what was expected of her. This part was easy, thoroughly and exhaustedly scripted. “Oh, CB, you know Primes get nervous. He’s just trying to make things right. He did say that Colorado kid could come here and not get hurt. Right, Mr. Flint?”

  She gave him the look, the smile, and then stuck her boobs out a bit.

  And Morty looked. Ha, three hundred years old, and they still looked.

  Now it was Prudence’s turn. “Sorry, Carlo, but I wasn’t paying attention. Daydreaming, I guess. What was the question?”

  The dragons all laughed. Morty did so because it was expected. Carlo did to ease the tension. Laloux and Roy Right guffawed because they thought Carlo Bart’s twins were simply dumb women.

  And that was why their little interchange was thoroughly scripted. It was easy, and it worked.

  Carlo Bart acted indulgent. “Did I order the hit on Steven Drokharis, Prudence?”

  “I don’t think so,” Pru said. And oh, she hid her fear so well. “You’d have told us, right, CB? You tell us everything, right?”

  The Texarkana Prime snorted. “You know I do. See, Morty, not me.”

  Oh, but that was what scared Chazzie and Pru. In fact, their Prime did tell them everything, and if he’d started keeping secrets? Well, maybe he was onto their little game. If that were the case, they would find themselves in Oh-Shit City.

  “I don’t see Javier Jones,” Chazzie said, acting confused. “I’d have thought he’d be here. He’s a part of the West, isn’t he? Or does he just do the Mexico thing?” She risked raising a hand to massage some of her sweat away from her brow. She had to be subtle. If she could get the men talking again, well, she could take a break. Every word she said was dangerous to her and Pru. Better to stay quiet and pretty and listen close, real close.

  “Yeah!” Carlo Bart thundered. “Where is that little desert rat? You invite him? Or are you just going after us?”

  Morty leaned up against the bar, his arms flexing in his suit. For an older guy, he had some guns. “I invited him. He couldn’t come. He said he had business in Corpus Christi. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No, and he should’ve checked with me before coming into my territory,” Carlo Bart growled.

  Chazzie sure as hell hadn’t known. Neither had Pru by the mystified look on her face. Damn. Javier Jones had been quiet for a long time now. Chazzie didn’t like it, and she didn’t like that Javier was dicking around in Texas.

  “What about them farm boys?” Roy Right asked. “The fat guy and the pale guy, from the shit places. They smell like shit.”

  “The Farmlands and the Dakotas,” Morty clarified. “Yes, I checked with them. Their alibis were tight, and I think their conquering days are behind them. I’ve made some deals with them because, as you know, they might be next on my list. But not right away.”

  Both of those Primacies were Morty’s next-door neighbors. He would know.

  “Perhaps we should pin our suspicions on Clete’s woman?” Laloux asked. “Zut alors, we haven’t seen Clete in a long while now.”

  “The Deseret Primacy, yes,” Morty said. “As you know, they keep to themselves. And it doesn’t feel right. I think it’s one of you. Or perhaps Javier Jones. Regardless, I won’t forget this. And when I find out who broke the rules of the Conclave, there will be consequences.” The Great Lakes Prime looked straight at Carlo Bart. “And yes, that is a threat.”

  The two dragons eyed each other, then broke into smiles. This was all part of the game of being a Dragonlord Prime.

  A little shiver went through Chazzie. If Morty did put an end to Carlo Bart, she’d wind up with a new Prime. Might not be so bad. He wasn’t completely disgusting for an older man, and he was powerful and smart. Maybe she and Pru could do amazing things with good ol’ Morty Flint.

  But no, Steven Drokharis was the future, for better or for worse, alive or dead, richer or poorer, in sickness or in health.

  It really didn’t matter. In the end, Chazzie and Pru would rule. They wanted it all. And they wanted it now.

  Chazzie caressed the gold band on her ring finger with her thumb. More than that, she knew about loyalty. At least she thought she did.

  ۞۞۞

  Hours later, Carlo Bart was snoring softly in the master bedroom of their suite at the InterContinental. Chazzie was out on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket. She could’ve shifted to stay warm, but the chill felt good. It was too hot in the damn room. Their Prime couldn’t adjust a thermostat to save his life. Mostly he erred on the too-hot side.

>   Both Chazzie and Pru had made it clear that they weren’t going to be sleeping with Carlo Bart in any bed in any room. They’d do sex, together, because Carlo Bart was a man, and men liked twins. The hotter the better. World without end, amen. Chazzie and Pru got everything they wanted because of that one single, simple fact. It was as true as the script they’d followed in that room full of powerful Primes.

  So Carlo Bart had the master bedroom and the twins shared the queen bed in the other bedroom, but they’d pick their normal side and stay out of each other’s way. They’d slept in the same bed most of their lives. It had gotten to the point where Chazzie couldn’t get much rest if Pru wasn’t across the way. Neither snored or talked or stole covers or threw punches. Just slept. Twins, sisters, best friends, accomplices, and bad bitches to the end. And that too was scripture.

  If Chastity Wayne were human, the cold would’ve driven her inside. But she wasn’t. A pure-blood Dragonsoul, she’d been born to a Ronin with a good head on his shoulders. If he’d come tripping on up to Chicago and had flown up to the balcony, he’d have told his daughter to quit worrying and to quit thinking. Sometimes too much thinking could lead to a hangover as bad as too much drinking.

  True enough, yet Chazzie found herself mystified by her thoughts. It was only a matter of time before her sister came to check on her, so Chazzie started the countdown. “Three. Two. One.”

  Pru came out, wearing her mink coat and her fuzzy slippers. Not a good pairing but they weren’t having to impress or seduce anyone at the moment. “Sister,” Pru said, “I should be worrying. You should be painting your nails or starving yourself or doing whatever pretty girls do.”

  Chazzie shook her head. “There you are. Right on time. Maybe I wanted some peace and quiet for once. Did you ever think of that?”

  “Ha. That’s a laugh. If that were the case, you wouldn’t be out here worrying so loud I could hear it from the other room.” She sat down on a patio chair and patted Chazzie’s knee. “Tell your old Auntie Prudence all about it.”

  “We have to know who put the hit on Steven. Not for Carlo Bart, and certainly not for Morty. But for ourselves and our plan. If Steven gets whacked…” Chazzie couldn’t finish her thought.

  “So what if Steven gets killed, Chaz?” Pru blew out air. “Another dumbass Dragonlord we don’t have to deal with. You know what? I’m more worried about those three East Coast Primes. Or Javier Jones. That guy is quiet, smart, and observant. Our little ditzy twin act wouldn’t fly with him. And what’s he doing in Corpus Christi?”

  Chazzie didn’t need to say a word. Pru was right, straight down the line, about everything. And yet it didn’t sit right with her. Then she put into words what she’d been thinking all along. “Maybe Steven really can change things.”

  Pru shot up. “Oh, hell, here we go. I’ll go put on coffee. Ladies and gentlemen, Chastity Wayne is getting philosophical. This just might take all flippin’ night.” She slid open the patio doors and disappeared inside.

  Chazzie had to laugh to keep from crying.

  EIGHT

  Steven soared under the ceiling of storm clouds, a long black dragon hidden from the humans down in Rocky Mountain National Park. Skyline Drive was closed; otherwise, he’d see cars driving along the scenic road. He tailed Skylar Blacke. She was easy to follow because of her auburn scales edged with black and her cedar scent. Aria was a splash of crimson to his right, and Mouse was to his left. Like him, she had a sheath hanging from her wrist. For her it was the Slayer Blade. For him, it was Samael’s Lash, and he was still getting used to flying with its weight.

  It was harder to keep track of it when he shifted, to slide the strap over a shoulder or to loop it around his waist. He was improving. Watching Mouse helped.

  Steven and the three dragons had flown to save time. They took it slow to conserve Animus, so it took about an hour. Driving would’ve taken three. Tessa hated being left behind. However, staying meant she could help Sabina with her rituals. Liam had returned to his stronghold in Nebraska, and Bud was back doing Bud things in Denver. The remaining four widows stayed to protect the Infinity Ranch Aerie. There was someone hunting Steven, after all.

  Skylar began her descent when Grand Lake came into view. It was a long oval of blue surrounded by the green of pine trees and fields of snow. Shadow Mountain rose on the southwest side of the lake. The touristy little town lay across the waters that were slowly being claimed by ice. As winter progressed, the wide lake would freeze completely, and the ice fishing would start. They were in the mountains, at altitude, and it could get deadly cold, deadly quick.

  Skylar landed in a clearing cut out of the thick pine forest. The pattern of a clenched fist had been fashioned out of yellow, red, and black bricks. The arm of the fist led up to a house with a big deck on stilts that had a view of the lake below. Snowcapped peaks tumbled over each other, filling the horizon with breathtaking views. No wonder they’d turned this section of Colorado into a national park.

  Skylar shifted into her Homo Draconis form as Steven landed. He also turned into his partial state to give Aria and Mouse room. They landed and followed suit. Soon four Homo Draconi stood on the bricks.

  During his transformation, Steven had dropped Samael’s Lash, but Mouse deftly caught her blade and slung the strap over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Steven, you’ll get the hang of it. It’s like riding a bike. I guess. Never learned. I was too busy learning combat skills and being cool.”

  Steven grinned at that. “Wicked cool.”

  Aria wasn’t amused. “Stay alert. No jokes. There might be an army of Morphlings about.”

  “You heard old Blood and Guts, Steven,” Mouse said. “Leave the joking to the professionals.”

  “Blood and Guts?” Aria stopped a minute, her brain working behind her serpentine eyes. “I don’t understand. But I like it. It could be a new name for me.”

  “OBG for short.” Mouse shot her a finger gun with an amber-colored claw.

  Steven loved that Mouse was relaxing some, and that she and Aria had become friends. There had been a time when that hadn’t been the case.

  Skylar sniffed the air. “Orange blossoms and smoke. You smell good, Steven. But Aria is right. We should stay quiet and keep our guard up.”

  It wasn’t snowing but the sky overhead was locked up tight with clouds. The only things Steven could smell were the pines and the scents of his Escort—cinnamon, roasting almonds, and cedar. Winter birds flitted from branch to branch, but nothing else moved. Every acre around the house seemed deserted.

  “We’ll follow you up to the house,” Steven said. “The sheriff said the Morphlings were mostly seen around Cassius Pine’s old Aerie.”

  “Can I just say, once again, that I’m glad he’s dead?” Mouse asked. “Wait. I just did. And I’ll be quiet. Don’t want to piss off OBG.”

  Steven grinned. “I can’t imagine you and Aria going into a bar together. It’s like something out of a buddy cop movie.”

  “It was. I’m the bad girl, breaking all the rules. Aria plays everything by the book and dishes out her own brand of justice.”

  Aria sighed.

  Mouse made a funny face, feigning fear, like she’d just gotten busted for stealing cookies from the cookie jar.

  Skylar walked up the path with her tail straight out behind her. Aria followed, then Mouse, and Steven took up the rear guard. He had the sheath over a shoulder and he held the big scaled bastard sword in both hands.

  They entered the house and spread out into the living room, not bunching together. There was no sign of entry. The place was clean, silent, with a hunting lodge feel to it; deer heads were on the wall. Everything was made from a rustic pine, from the sofas to the chairs to the dining room table. It was a large room with a kitchen on one side and a redwood deck on another.

  They stopped to listen. Nothing. The place was empty or seemed to be.

  “The master bedroom and the study are above us,” Skylar said. “Our bedrooms were below.”r />
  Steven walked over to the windows. The claws on his feet clicked on the wood. “You guys search them. I’ll help in a minute. But first, I want to check out the forest from the deck.”

  Skylar clicked a switch on the wall. The windows were panels that could be moved to the side so that the great room could join seamlessly with the deck. Steven walked out to the railing.

  Below him were trees, but then he saw the gray wood of an old mine entrance. Something about it struck him. Was he being paranoid? Or was it his intuition at work?

  Might as well see with his more magical eyes. “Magica Divinatio!”

  Again, all he saw was sex. This time, it was with Teegan Thornrose, who was the tough one, an alpha woman, until she was behind closed doors. Teegan was a busty, blue-eyed redhead, and you’d think she’d like it on top, but that wasn’t the case. She was very private when it came to sex, not bisexual at all, and there was a reason for that.

  Steven had met her at the door of the top room of the tower for their date. He’d grabbed her, thrown her on the bed, and then grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. Those blue eyes had melted with desire. She’d been panting. She had a safe word, but she never used it.

  Steven understood that Fifty Shades of Grey aside, power exchange in the bedroom was all about trust and vulnerability. Teegan was being incredibly brave in trusting Steven, and he was honored by it. He took his role seriously. It was a game, it was sex, it was role-play, but mostly it was love and admiration with a clear understanding of the limits. Sabina’s vision and his long talk with Teegan beforehand had set the parameters.

  Steven let out a growl. This was not the time for visions of sex with the new women in his Escort. However, that was what his divination magic kept giving him. It was infuriating.

  And then his world tilted to the side. Below, explosions took out the struts, and the entire deck cracked and creaked as it slanted down, becoming a ramp. The destroyed deck pushed over trees and shattered wood. The smell of the pulped pines clogged his nostrils.