by Aaron Crash
Liam caught him looking. “The Bentons are real. The Picassos are fake. I did the copies, and while they aren’t perfect, I am rather proud of them.” An easel with a blank canvas clipped to it stood by the window. Paint tubes were stacked on the table next to it.
“The copies are excellent.” Aria appraised each piece in turn. “You have real skill.”
“A hundred years of practice makes perfect,” Liam replied.
Tessa wandered around, mouth open at how gorgeous and unexpected the place was. Mouse kept her arms across her chest. Dark circles ringed her eyes.
Liam led them upstairs and showed them their rooms. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a big
enough bed for you all. I suppose you could choose one room and throw mattresses on the floor.”
“I prefer my own room,” Mouse interjected promptly, letting everyone know exactly where she stood for the time being.
All the bedchambers were small, and they felt cramped because of the furniture stuffed into them. Four-poster twin beds, mostly, with ornate end tables on both sides. In one room, musical instruments hung from the walls—everything from guitars and lutes to banjos and trumpets. In one of the rooms, a huge golden harp dominated the space.
Steven chose a room with a fireplace. Wood was stacked to the side in a bronze carrier. Wait ... no, not a bronze carrier. A bronze shield, ancient and Roman. Steven had a very Spartacus moment.
He collapsed on the bed and pressed his eyes closed, just for a moment. Or at least that was his intention. But he instantly found himself in a deep sleep.
He woke when Tessa climbed into the little bed. He tried to get up to start a fire, but his body simply refused to cooperate. Nope, not happening, his muscles seemed to shriek when he tried to move. Then he remembered he’d fought for his life the day before. That takes a lot out of a guy. Tessa curled up next to him, fingers tracing lightly over his skin as they both drifted off.
He woke again when Aria slipped into the small bed. There wasn’t room, clearly, but Aria had seemed so fragile lately that he didn’t point out that fact to her. Steven slept on his back with Tessa next to him and Aria pretty much slumbering on his chest. He’d gained muscle and Aria was so slight, it wasn’t that big of a deal. It was far more comfortable than being squished into the back of the Orange Crush. And unlike before, Steven was battle-weary. He could’ve slept with a Clydesdale standing on his sternum.
When the sun broke through the curtains, he didn’t want to move, he was so comfortable with his women around him. But Mouse. Mouse was alone. The thought of her stewing all by her lonesome troubled him deeply ... but he wanted to sleep more than he wanted to worry.
Finally, the smell of bacon got him out of bed. Was there anything bacon couldn’t do?
Steven left Aria and Tessa and followed the smells downstairs to the kitchen. Yeah, no art deco there. It was a vast place of marble, the finest appliances, and even one of those refrigerators that blended into the wall. The Yellow Ronin cooked in style; Steven didn’t watch much TV, but he had caught one of those house hunting shows where they showcased the newest in everything. This place was better.
Seriously. Liam Strider had the ultimate kitchen. The broad-shouldered Ronin whisked eggs in a big silver bowl. “I figured I wouldn’t have to wake you. The bacon would do the job only too well. You seem like a young man who appreciates the simpler joys in life.”
Steven found himself annoyed. And just a wee bit defensive. “What does that mean?”
Liam stopped whisking. “You like bacon. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m low class or whatever.”
Liam grinned. “No, the fact you are arguing with me about your class makes me wonder about your class. If you’d grown up rich and powerful, I don’t think we’d be debating about pork bellies at this point in our relationship. Yet here we are. Stefan hid you among the humans, and none that could be traced to him. I believe the term is humble beginnings.”
Steven had laugh. “Yeah, humble beginnings. That pretty much sums up my life up until only a few weeks ago. Now? Not so humble. I got used to the money fast. Is that normal?”
“Having money is like having underwear. You don’t really feel it unless you don’t have it. Can I get you some coffee, Mr. Drokharis?”
“You can.” Being called that still felt so foreign, and yet it felt so right, especially from Liam, who knew a little bit of the history behind the name. Still, it was clear most of what went down with Mulk’s murder of the Drokharis clan remained shrouded in mystery. Some Dragonsoul—maybe even some ancient entity—had wanted to keep it hushed.
Right then, though, Steven had other concerns. “Do you live out here alone?”
“I do.” Liam filled a big cup with coffee for Steven, but he sipped a tiny cup of espresso.
“Tessa is going to be able to make you a better cup of coffee,” Steven said. “Wait until she sees your setup.” Liam had one of those espresso machines that was built into the water pipes of the house. It was several thousand dollars’ worth of coffee magic.
Liam gestured to a table outside. “Feel free to enjoy my porch. What would you like in your omelet?”
“Uh, surprise me,” Steven said. He took his coffee mug outside and sat in the shade of the eaves. There was a porch swing, various seats, and a long picnic table built into the deck. He looked out over the sea of yellow grasses, which were slowly being taken over by new greenery. The storms from the day before had coaxed spring out of the earth with every raindrop.
Sipping his coffee, Steven watched a herd of deer meander down the dirt track. They might be heading for Lake McConaughy to get a drink of water or to find shade in the cottonwood trees on the shoreline.
Liam came out with a Greek omelet, complete with feta cheese, spicy olives, tomatoes, and some sautéed spinach. He served it with three strips of crispy bacon and a pile of buttered toast. Not just regular butter, but a luxurious herbs and garlic creamy concoction.
Steven motored through the breakfast and had to stop himself from licking his plate. It was delicious. The orange juice was freshly squeezed. To top it all off, Liam came out with homemade cinnamon rolls and more coffee.
Steven felt like he was going to burst wide open, he was so full.
“What time did you wake up to do all that cooking?” Steven asked.
Liam shrugged. “I didn’t battle Judith yesterday. I didn’t need the sleep. You did. And being alone for so many years, I’ve learned that cooking for oneself has a simple joy to it, but cooking for other people is far more satisfying. Watching you eat was more fun than it should’ve been for a Dragonsoul my age.”
“Without an Escort, how do you get Animus?” Steven asked.
Liam gave him a long, slow, steady look. “Well, now, that is a pointed question. I suppose we might as well get started on your lessons. Where do you think Animus comes from?”
Steven shrugged. “Aria said we get it from sex and fighting. Any fighting will do, but the kill gives us the most power. Which is why we know we didn’t kill Judith. No one felt the burst of Animus we’d get from wiping her out.”
Liam sipped his espresso. He kind of looked ridiculous with the little cup in his big hands. “There is a vibrancy to life, all life, but especially in the organic soup we have on our little planet. Look at the solar system—the planets are made up of rocks, minerals, gases, and elements, but the only place that we have the vast amount of life is here on Earth.” He motioned to the fields. “If you ventured off our globe, you would have to travel trillions of miles to find even a single blade of grass. The energy at the very heart of life is what fuels us. The throb of life is the very heartbeat of our existence.”
“So, if I never fought again or had sex, I’d still get Animus?” Steven asked.
Liam nodded. “You’d need to attune yourself and improve your focus, but yes. It’s slower, yes, and it takes time. Hence, when I fought you and your Escort before, you had more power than I
did. Yet, I had enough power to create the magic ink that is now hiding you from Mulk’s scrying eyes.”
Liam looked off into the distance, forehead creased. “We have life, and we have consciousness, and what a powerful tool that has been in the evolution of humans and Dragonsouls. We can think. We can enjoy. There is such magic in that. We find pleasure in sex, yes, but also in coffee, as your barista friend can attest to. And there is the power of friendship, in a good meal, in the sweat of work. Sex and killing are easy ways to refuel our souls, but you need to remember, all life is filled with Animus. There is such joy in the magic of the moment—this moment, where you and I use words to discuss ideas and power. We don’t know each other. Only we do. We all are so connected.”
Steven couldn’t help but feel he was having a very Dagobah moment. Only his teacher wasn’t Yoda, but a seven-foot-tall Viking dragon. He thought of the meditation pose, and he thought that was the secret to focusing his mind enough to pull in Animus from even the most mundane things. It would require a ton of practice, though. Maybe that’s why most Dragonsouls chose to have an Escort and engage in battle. In the end, it was simply easier.
“Why don’t you have an Escort?” he asked.
Liam set his cup down. “Another blunt question. Well, I suppose I can give you answer, though I don’t necessarily need to because in the end, it’s my business and not yours. In short, I had an Escort a half-century ago, and we were strong, and our love was deep. Before Cassius Pine and before Cornelius Craygore, the previous Rocky Mountain Dragonsoul Prime murdered them, and to tell you the truth, I haven’t had the heart to do much of anything since. I slew the Prime. I could’ve been the Prime. But I found all of it insipid. I’ve come to enjoy my solitude despite the Animus that friendship can give us. Being alone is a dangerous business. Once one gets a taste for solitude, nothing else will do.”
“I’m sorry,” Steven said. “That sucks. I think all of this fighting is pretty stupid as well, but my father, Stefan, he made it clear he wanted me to play the game. To become a Prime. To bring revolution. Though I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not really sure what that means.”
“Revolution,” Liam mused. “It’s a big, bloody word that is as much about sorrow as it is about change. I’ve seen revolutions come and go. Mostly, it involves murderers and idealists trying to bring order to chaos. Perhaps the vibrancy at the heart of life doesn’t care about order. Or maybe there is a pattern to the chaos we can’t see.”
Mouse came out with a mug as big as her head. She sat down heavily on the table next to them. She gazed out through heavy eyelids, barely open.
“Good morning,” Steven offered.
She held up a wait a minute finger. “Not yet,” she growled. “You just keep on talking and ignore me, and I’ll ignore you. Once the coffee hits me just right, I might be able to do the word thing.”
Steven patted her leg. She grabbed his hand and put it on his own lap. So, no touching either. Okay.
He turned to Liam. “So, Liam, I need help with my Exhalant ability. We need to know why our shields failed against the Terror Trio—at least in our first fight against them. I’m also not one hundred percent sure how the level things work, either. Oh, and then we need help finding the two lost Drokharis spell books. Finally, I also want to know more about this ancient Dragonsoul you spoke of. If he had anything to do with my father’s murder, I need to know.”
Liam frowned, and his eyes went distant. “Old Matchstick. Yes, we’ll get to him.” The Yellow Ronin looked scared, which put a chill in Steven.
But Steven went on. “Last, but not least, we need a plan to kill Rhaegen Mulk. We might be hidden for now, but our families aren’t. He’ll use them against us, and we can’t have that.”
“No, you can’t,” Liam said, nodding sagely. “You have quite the list.”
Mouse sighed. “And their combat abilities suck ass, Liam. They need a full-on boot camp, and they need it like yesterday.”
“We fought well enough to kick your ass,” Steven said. His annoyance and defensiveness were back in full force.
Mouse, instead of taking offense, grinned at him. “Oh, Steven Drokharis, I like it when you get all fiery.”
“Fire,” Liam said. “Let’s start there.”
Chapter Eighteen
ARIA AND TESSA STUMBLED out the door to the porch, literally. Both looked mussed, their hair wild. A red blush painted both of their cheeks. Steven knew exactly what they’d been doing, and part of him regretted leaving their bed. Bacon was good, but that good? He thought about it. And regretted nothing. Though he would have to satisfy his other hungers later.
When Tessa saw the coffee cups, her eyes brightened. “Mr. Strider, you wouldn’t mind if I used that amazing espresso machine, would you?”
“It’s Liam,” the Yellow Ronin said, waving a hand through the air as though to fend off the offensive formality. “Feel free. I have various beans in the freezer and various milks in the refrigerator. The machine grinds automatically.”
“I prefer to grind my own,” Tessa said. “Do you mind?”
Liam stood. “I do not mind at all. I will show you where all the supplies are.”
The two left. Aria snuggled in close to Steven. She definitely smelled like sex and that put a rise in him. He checked his skill tree.
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HE STILL HAD ANIMUS from his kill the day before, but also, the sleep, the breakfast, and even his conversation with Liam had added to his supply, though it was far less than a battle or a round in the sack would offer. Still, he marveled at what that might mean.
He had access to the Inferno Exhalant and so he should be able to breathe fire. Why couldn’t he? Maybe he wasn’t as powerful as he thought. Mentally, he went through the other Exhalants. They were pretty straightforward. He’d experienced Toxicity firsthand, and he still remembered how the ArcticWind had nearly killed Aria. The initial icy blast was bad, but the cold effects lingered afterward, almost like a poison.
But what was ChromaticFury? He had no clue.
Aria kissed his arm.
He pulled her closer and dismissed the tree from his thoughts. “It was nice when you came into bed with us last night,” he said. “I was a little surprised.”
“I missed you both,” Aria murmured. “It’s happened, Steven. I’ve fallen in love with you and Tessa. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to us. I grew frightened.”
“You don’t need to be,” Steven replied, lightly rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. “We’re safe for the moment.”
Mouse was still waiting for the coffee to kick in. But she stared at him and Aria with something like jealousy in her eyes. Or was it longing? Or was it fear?
It could be that Mouse wasn’t exactly looking to jump into that kind of all-consuming love. It came with definite risks.
Clearly, losing his Escort had shattered Liam. Fifty years later, he was still hurting.
From inside came the whoosh and sputter of Tessa steaming the milk. The smell of frying bacon wafted from the kitchen, hitting him in the nose. The delectable odor put a fresh round of hungry grumbles in his belly. That would be Liam, cooking up another round of food. Steven settled in for second breakfast—a very Hobbit-like habit, which was ironic considering he was a dragon. Once they’d all finished eating, Liam drove them down to the lake.
On the muddy shore, under cottonwoods, he turned to them. “Okay, now, let me see your abilities.”
Mouse crossed her arms over her chest. For once, she was wearing a dress that fit her, though the pink stripes and frilly bows weren’t exactly appropriate for her age and general demeanor. Liam swore he had more clothes in the attic, but it would take him some time to find them. Mouse looked like the angriest third-grader in all of creation.
“I’m not a trained monkey.” Mouse raised her chin in defiance. “I’m not going to jump just because you tell me to.”
“Magica Defensio!” Tessa created a shimmering p
ink shield and sent it flying at Mouse. The blonde shrieked in surprise and instinctively transformed into her True Form. The shredded girly dress floated down in rags. She rounded on Tessa, clearly disgruntled, and let loose a river of fire. The flames shot through the barista’s force field like it wasn’t even there. Despite her bad temper, though, Mouse was careful to make sure that her Inferno Exhalant didn’t actually harm anyone or anything. The gush of fire washed across the lake and soon disappeared.
“Not funny, Tessa!” Mouse roared, casting a hide spell in the same moment. She beat her wings—gusts of air kicking up dirt and debris—and left them to soar across the lake waters. Her amber-colored body was visible to them but not to any humans that might be around. In the spring, during the middle of a weekday, there wouldn’t be any. The lingering scent of almonds remained with them but was soon eclipsed by the marshy stink of the muddy bank.
Tessa frowned. “I hope I didn’t hurt Mouse’s feelings. I wasn’t going to hit her with the shield.”
“She was being difficult,” Aria said. “Maybe she’s not meant to join Steven’s Escort. If she can’t get along with us, she’ll only bring trouble. We might have to ask her to leave.”
“No,” Steven said. “Remember, when we severed her ties to Mulk, we became responsible for her. We promised to protect her. As long as she chooses to stay with us, we aren’t going to kick her out. Ever.”
Tessa walked to the water’s edge. She was in jeans, so she didn’t venture out. Her T-shirt, which was just a tad too tight, clung to her body. On each hip was a Colt Peacekeeper. “I can’t see Mouse. Her hide spell is working. But I feel terrible. I was just playing around.”
“She’ll be back,” Aria said, “at least until Mulk is dead. Then we’ll decide how to proceed. I’ll go after her.” Aria took three running steps; her body flowed and expanded, assuming her serpentine, scarlet shape, which smelled of cinnamon. She went sweeping through the trees and out across the lake, powerful wings easily holding her aloft.