by Aaron Crash
To the right was the required pool table shining green like an unspoiled field. In front of them was the bar, lost in a murky yellow light, like all the light bulbs were wrapped in flypaper. A hazy cloud of cigarette smoke hung like the leftovers of a chemical spill from eye-level to the ceiling, which had dollar bills pinned there. The paper money hung like leper skin.
The place smelled like the Marlboro Man had thrown up in the corner after guzzling gallons of grain alcohol and pissing his pants.
As expected, every eye turned on them. A collection of bearded bikers in black leather crowded tables to the left. Two old-timers, in jeans and fisherman plaid, sat at the bar. A threesome of scrawny tweakers—scruffy beards, bad teeth, bad skin, and long hair—were shredding napkins at a table near the pool table. Two guys in suit coats, no ties, stood with pool cues in their hands.
The bartender was a giant with thinning hair and a Fu Manchu moustache. He frowned at them because two gorgeous women in a place like that meant trouble.
Mouse could almost hear Aria’s heartbeat. She was as tense as a rattlesnake. A cold sweat broke across Mouse’s skin. It was unnerving, being the center of attention like that. And she knew a fight was coming.
She pulled Aria up to the bar.
Still, the place was quiet, and all those eyes, all that lust, made Mouse want to get her dragon on and really give them something to look at.
“Shooters and beer, barkeep. Give us your very worst.” Mouse feigned an easy smile.
She turned to the old-timers. They probably owned the camper truck outside. “You two seem like nice men. Are you fishermen?”
One patted his stomach. “Does the gut give it away?” He was clean-shaven, while his partner had a big white beard. Both grinned like fools. Men, at any age, liked a conversation with a pretty girl.
“We do like to keep at our fishin’ weight,” the bearded old-timer laughed. Clean-shaven echoed his laughter. No one else in the place said anything.
The bartender set two mugs and two shot glasses in front of Mouse and Aria.
Aria didn’t reach for the booze, which was a problem. They needed to playact drinking until they could figure out who was a civilian scumbag and who was working for Cassius Pine. Mouse had thought someone might recognize her and come over but that hadn’t happened.
The men kept on staring at them. She was betting that the two BMW boys shooting pool were the mercenaries. But then the bikers might be a collection of baddies working for Cassius. As for the grandfather fishermen and the three tweakers, they were probably just passing through.
Mouse elbowed Aria, who did what was expected. She tossed back the whiskey, choked, winced ... Okay, Mouse thought she’d be done. But she wasn’t. Aria downed the beer in a long, single gulp. Everyone watched her do it. Then Aria did Mouse a big favor. The Indian woman took the second shot like a champ and drained half of her beer.
The place erupted in celebration. No one had expected that. There were cheers, clapping, applause, from everyone except the two BMW boys. That seemed like a good sign—or a bad one, depending on your perspective.
Aria didn’t say anything, but rapped her knuckles on the bar. The barkeep put down another combo of beer and whiskey.
Tweaker One shot to his feet and came over. “Well, hells yeah! You girls know how to party. Y’all should come and sit with us, maybe drink a couple-two-three brewskis. On us ah-course!”
Tweakers Two and Three waved them over, offering them smiles riddled with gaps.
Mouse could smell his rotten teeth, or was that his breath? Or maybe it was his acne. He was a ball of ugly and stink. You could parade him through high schools as an anti-drug campaign.
Clean-shaven fisherman waved him back. “These young ladies are fine, ya moose-knuckle.”
“Shut up, old-timer!” Tweaker One shrieked. He went to slap Clean-shaven, but Mouse triggered SerpentGrace and caught his hand. She used the force of her speed to send him back to the table, where he knocked over his methhead buddies like bowling pins. They all hit the floor.
Of course, two pulled guns and one pulled a knife. “What da fuck, bitch?”
Of course there was going to be barfight. It was just happening a little sooner than Mouse expected. She swept up Aria’s empty beer mug. It was a heavy, thick glass thing. She raced into the middle of the tweakers as they got to their feet. She smacked a snub-nosed revolver out of Tweaker Two’s hand with the mug. Good, the glass held. She smashed it into the face of Tweaker Three.
Mug hit face. Nose sprayed blood.
She rammed a fist into Tweaker Two’s crotch. When he bent over, she swept an uppercut into his face. She was slight, not that strong in her human form, but the speed did wonders for her attacks. Tweaker Two squealed and fell over, clutching at his boys.
Tweaker One stuck a semiauto pistol into her face. Mouse snatched it and twisted. His finger, caught in the trigger guard, broke like a twig snapping. She ended the whimper when she drove the pistol back into his face. She kneed him in the gut and down he went like a sack of rotten potatoes.
Her dress had ridden up, showing her underwear, but Mouse didn’t care. She figured she’d be naked in a minute, covered in amber scales. The Animus from the fight buzzed through her. It felt good. Not as good as a kill but still pretty sweet.
Aria watched from the bar. Her third shot was gone, and she was working down her third beer.
“I thought you weren’t much of a drinker,” Mouse said to her.
“Just because I don’t like to drink doesn’t mean I’m not good at it.” She smiled, dizzily. Uh oh, Aria was racing through buzzed and going straight for sloppy. A drunk Aria? It was hard to imagine. Terrifying too, considering how violent she could be in the right circumstances.
The barkeep was big enough to hunch over the bar. His cold eyes took in Mouse and the three men on the ground. Mouse picked up their knives and guns and walked over to put them down on the bar. Her legs were showing from her heels to the curve of her ass cheeks. Let ’em look.
The fishermen were silent. Eyes wide. Quite a show.
Mouse turned. “Anyone else want to fuck with me?”
A biker shambled forward. He was hair, beard, leather, and boots. Chains jingled with every step. He stank of beer and Old Spice. “I’d fuck you, little girl.”
His buddies hooted and hollered. “Go get her, Dan!”
The tweakers had backed away, but didn’t exit. They stayed, bleeding and bruised, to watch the next round of fighting. Mouse didn’t think such scum would work for Cassius Pine. Maybe the bartender? He wasn’t stopping the fight.
Mouse put up her little fist. Biker Dan was nearly seven feet tall. His balled hands were the size of her head.
“How is this fair?” she asked. “Are you really going to try and hit me?” Maybe this big bruiser worked for Cassius.
Biker Dan grinned. “I saw how you took apart them skinny dudes. You can handle yourself. But I’ll go easy on you. Maybe if you let me hurt you a little, you’ll let me fuck you a lot.”
“Ugh.” Mouse grimaced. “What a prince charming you are.”
Aria laughed abruptly.
Biker Dan swung and Mouse ducked it. She was still full of SerpentGrace. The biker went to grab her, and she drove a knee into his thigh. She accessed DragonStrength, cocked back, and drove a fist into his face. He was sent hurling backward. He hit the floor, on his back, and slid into his buddies. Out cold.
The bikers all let out a cheer. “Fuck you, Dan!”
Mouse whirled. It was time to end the charade. “I’m looking for someone who knows Cassius Pine. Are there any dragons in this shithole?”
“Dragons?” The bartender blinked. “Like Smaug?”
“Dragons,” Mouse repeated. “Or mercenaries who work for dragons. You all are going to have your minds wiped, so you won’t remember a thing. Might as well ask.”
“But I was gonna jerk off and think about you later,” one of the bikers shouted, obviously not believing her.
“And there’s another charmer from the motorcycle club contingent.” Mouse sighed. Men. “Hey, BMW boys, you are my prime suspects. You work for Cassius Pine or what?”
Both exchanged surprised glances. As did the two old, fat fishermen.
Then the unexpected happen. The bearded fisherman ripped through his clothes and shifted into a huge Dragonskin, a dark blue color. A fishy smell exuded from his skin. Clean-shaven followed suit, but he was a dark red color and smelled like sour milk. They lost their guts in the transformation and became two towering lizard men. Well, fuck. And those guys had seemed so nice.
Aria stumbled backward. “Well, shit me,” she slurred. “Can you say that in English?” She giggled so hard, she fell on her butt.
Well, that was just great.
Mouse shifted into her partial form—dress ripping at the seams, though still in place for the time being—and breathed out a flash of lightning. It struck the dark-red Dragonskin at the bar and arced over to the dark-blue beast next to him. Both shivered and shook.
Charged with supernatural strength and speed, Mouse rushed both Dragonskins headlong. She wished she’d brought in the Slayer Blade, but she had her claws. She latched onto the dark blue’s right arm, then put a taloned foot on the bar. Pulling, she ripped his arm out of his shoulder joint. Blood flowed, and the screams of both man and dragon filled the bar.
The door burst open. Liam stood there in his yellow shirt, jeans, and boots, as pale as a flu patient. He held the Slayer Blade, green fire crackling around the sword.
“Magica Defensio!” Mouse slammed a shield spell behind the dark-red Dragonskin. Barstools went flying. She stepped to the side and moved the force field from the bar to the door. The dark-red Dragonskin was hurled toward Liam, who drove the sword into the lizard man’s chest.
Mouse grabbed the bleeding dark-blue Dragonskin by his one remaining arm. She pivoted and sent him stumbling toward Liam, who cut off the Dragonskin’s head. Bright light filled the Yellow Ronin as he absorbed the Animus.
Both of the fishermen turned back into fat, old-man corpses.
Mouse hurried to help Aria off the floor. She was literally drunk on her ass.
The bikers, the tweakers, the BMW boys, and the bartender all had shrunk back, fear painting their faces. Not one of them moved. Mouths were open, eyes blinked, and most of them were the color of scratch paper.
Mouse was still in her Homo Draconis form. “So, yeah, we’re dragon chicks. But you won’t remember that. I don’t know what kind of story you’re going to come up with to explain the old guys, but it doesn’t much matter. See you around, gentlemen.”
“Thanks for the drinks!” Aria said happily. She sagged against Mouse. “You’re so pretty, Mel. I mean so pretty and cool and strong. I think we should call you Mel. You’re not a Mouse. You’re a lion. Rawr.”
Ugh, drunk women.
Liam exited the bar and took the broadsword with him.
“Magica Defensio!” Mouse wiped the minds of the men inside Torchy’s.
Back in the truck, Liam was quiet and strong again. He’d be able to cast another portal spell. It would leave him exhausted, sure, but that was okay. They’d just taken out two of Cassius Pine’s Dragonskins. The Prime would strike back. And without the hurricane circle, he’d be able to find Mouse easily. Good. Mouse would eat his heart and his Animus.
Aria held Mouse’s hand. She kissed it. “So, can I call you Mel? And can I kiss you for real?”
“Aria, you’re sweet. But I’m fine being Mouse and being straight.” She widened her eyes in annoyance, though she couldn’t be too upset.
Now they had to find a quiet place off the road where they could park the trailer and build a bonfire. Then Liam could cast his portal spell and they’d get Steven back. Finally!
Chapter Seventeen
STEVEN, SABINA, AND Tessa approached the spinning circle of light on the sands in front of Saint-Malo. It was 6:30 a.m. The beach was deserted. Tessa had the satchel with the three volumes of the Drokharis Grimoire inside. Steven lugged the coffer still full of gold pieces. Each gold coin was worth about a thousand dollars, so even with their splurging in France, they’d hardly made a dent.
Tessa helped Sabina through, and Steven followed them. They stepped from the chill of the ocean into the cold of a Rocky Mountain night. Around them were pine trees, greenery, and the scent of a river. The others had built a bonfire on its sandy banks. Stars filled the sky. The truck and trailer were parked in an open field. The Jayco’s porch light lit up the grasses around it.
Liam swiveled his arms in a circle, and the portal closed behind them.
Mouse tackled Steven, and he wound up on his back on pine needles. She was kissing him, his neck, his cheeks, his lips. “We are never going to be separated again! That was awful.”
Aria stumbled against Tessa. She said a bunch of stuff in Hindi and then burst out laughing. What was wrong with her? Steven had no idea. He’d never seen Aria act so silly.
Sabina stood alone, arms around herself.
“Mouse, it’s okay!” Steven managed to catch her head and end her kissing attack. “We’re back!”
Liam sank to the ground. He was breathing hard, barely conscious. Where had he gotten the mojo for another portal spell?
Not from anyone around. They were alone except for trees and mountains.
“Magica Divinatio!” Sabina glanced around. “We’re in Montana. That’s Pine Creek. There’s a small town nearby with police around a bar.” She waved to the southwest. “And we’ll be separated again. Some of us will be wounded. Mouse will end up alone.”
The blind woman went and helped Liam to his feet.
Mouse let out a growl. “I see Mrs. Nostradamus is back with good news. And she has enough Animus to cast spells again. What have you guys been doing?”
“Tons of sex,” Tessa said. She managed to unwind Aria’s arms from around her to come and give Mouse a big hug.
Aria went over to Steven and kissed him long and hard. “Still have some penis for me, Steven?”
“Always.” Steven both tasted and smelled alcohol from Aria. Wow, Aria drunk. Okay. And it had made her horny. Okay again. He could help with that, though what Sabina said had him frowning. “Sabina, can you give us more details?”
The blind woman helped Liam into the trailer. The Yellow Ronin turned in the doorway and waved at them weakly. “I’m glad you are back. But I have to sleep again. On the couch. I’m not bleeding out of my eyes this time. I’m getting better. So there’s that...”
Sabina didn’t answer Steven. She went inside and closed the door behind them. The generator sprang to life. Lights flickered on inside the trailer. The slides were already out.
Aria grabbed his crotch. “Take me in the field. Under the stars. I want you, Steven. Now.”
He caught her hand and moved it away. “Easy there, girl, let me just get caught up. I’ll tell you my story, and we’ll tell you ours.” With Aria on him, they stood by the bonfire, which was burning into coals. Steven told them all how Tessa and Sabina had used the scroll to cast a portal spell that took them to Saint-Malo’s beaches thirty miles south. Then he went into details about the third volume: the strange encrypted pages, Sabina’s vision of Mathaal, and the final locking mechanism that stopped them from seeing more.
Mouse told them about the fight in the Hooper bar.
When they were finished, they stood quietly for a second, wondering what their next steps might be. That wasn’t going to do for Aria. She shifted into her dragon shape, caught Steven up in her claws, and carried him up over the trailer, the fire, and the dark trees.
Steven had to laugh. He shifted into his True Form—there went another outfit—and spun away from her. He found an open meadow in the middle of trees. He landed and returned to being human. Aria alighted gracefully to stand before him naked. She then got down on her knees to take him in her mouth. When he was hard, she turned and got on her hands and knees, offering herself up to him. The moo
nlight shined off the muscles on her back; her hair was darkness itself.
Steven liked this drunken, horny version of the normally controlled Aria. He got behind her, grabbed her hips, and before long, both were satisfied. When Aria fell onto her back, Steven fell with her. He lay on top of her, between her legs. His back was chilly, but his front was warm, sweaty even. Around them, crickets chirped, owls hooted, and the pines sighed in the winds.
Aria kissed him. “I’m so glad to have you back, my Prime. I was worried. Mouse, however, was beside herself. I’ve never seen her so upset. She loves you ... maybe more than any of us.”
Steven touched his forehead to Aria’s. In the moonlight, he could see the twinkle in her eyes. “I remember you, in that crappy motel, when Tessa accessed her Magica Incanto powers for the first time and passed out. You were crazy with worry. Do you remember?”
“I do.” Aria clung to him. “Since then, every battle has become even more important, both for our destiny and our love. To lose any one of us now would hurt. No, it would kill us. I’m not sure we could recover.”
“Even Sabina?” Steven asked.
“Sabina ... she is problematic. If she can’t see, she can’t fight. And she can’t keep casting the Divinatio spell over and over.”
Steven had to smile at that. “She can if I keep her full of Animus. And it’s more than that, Aria. She wants to become a Dragonskin. What are the rules about that? Can Magicians go through the rituals?”
“They can.” Aria frowned. Her eyes were open and boring into him. “However, most Magicians wouldn’t want to go through the pain and hardship of the process. They have the ability to cast spells. That’s okay for most. We’ll have to ask Liam or Mouse. They will know more. Mouse helped Edgar Vale near the end of his rituals.”
Steven and Aria flew back to the trailer. By that time, Tessa had already gone inside. Only Mouse stood by the fire, arms across her chest. When Steven landed, Mouse took him in her arms and kissed him. “I’m definitely going to need a turn. Seeing you again, smelling you, I need you. We were separated for so long!”