Burn, Baby, Burn

by R. J. Blain

  I suspected her father had picked up a bottle of hot sauce, slathered it on, and called it barbecue. That happened in New York often enough. “That yellow stuff would be corn.” I tucked the cookbook under my arm and pointed at a monster of a Chinese cookbook, which was over three inches thick and promised the secrets of Chinese cooking. “That one might work for your Chinese experiments.”

  Beauty snagged the book, grunting at its weight. “It’s so big.”

  “Look inside. Does it have good instructions?”

  She sat on the floor, set the book in front of her, and within twenty seconds, it held her undivided attention.

  I kept a close eye on her, snagging a few more cookbooks by chefs Bailey liked watching on television sometimes. Once I had enough to get Beauty started on the basics, I set the pile down, gently took the book away, and put it on the pile. “You can continue reading it in the car, okay?”

  “Okay!”

  Setting her e-reader on the top of the stack, I headed for the counter. “We’ll buy these and go see how your brother is doing.”

  “He’s probably on the floor reading the first book he saw. He does that.”

  After witnessing Beauty’s abandonment of reality the instant she opened the cookbook, I had no doubt she told the truth. “Is there anything your brother would like that he’s too absorbed in reading to pick up for himself?”

  She pointed towards the toy section.

  Of course.

  Foolish me.

  “All right. Pick two toys he’ll like and two toys you want.” Two each would somewhat limit the damage they could do to my wallet.

  With a delighted squeal that proved I was, in actuality, caring for a child, Beauty ran for the toy section.

  Yep. I was doomed.

  Beauty went from dignified to boisterous and indecisive, which earned me the stares of the few parents on late-night outings with their children. I kept a close eye on her, and when one of the bolder children approached her, a toddler who insisted his fingers were edible, I kept a close eye on the pair and the adults watching.

  The toddler grabbed a fluffy white unicorn from the rack of stuffed animals and announced, “Fluffy.”

  Oh boy. Of all the stuffed animals on the rack, which ranged from dragons to even gorgons, the toddler had to pick the unicorn.

  Beauty stared at me, her eyes widening.

  “It’s okay,” I promised. “If you’re not sure you’ll be okay without your glasses, put them on.”

  She did, and she giggled. “She’s very fluffy.”

  The toddler nodded and hugged the unicorn before holding it out to Beauty. “Fluffy.”

  A rattled mother stepped to my side, her face a bright red. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “He’s always doing this. He still doesn’t understand how money works, and I try to tell him he can’t just give toys in a store to other kids.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  Beauty took the unicorn and stared at me for guidance.

  “If you want to buy the unicorn, you can buy the unicorn,” I promised. Bailey would have a territory dispute with the fluffy white unicorn, but I’d cross that bridge when I got there. I glanced at the toddler’s mother, and I almost chuckled at her harried expression. “Would he like a unicorn, too? There’s two.”

  She stared at me as though I’d grown a second head. “You don’t have to do that, really. I mean, he loves stuffed animals, but it’s not necessary, but thank you.”

  I chuckled. “While it’s not necessary, your son’s quite brave and kind. That deserves recognition. Beauty, why don’t you pick up the second unicorn for your new friend? We’ll go to the cashier and buy them now, and then you can pick out another toy and toys for your brother later.”

  “That’s really not necessary, I mean, you—”

  “It’s quite all right. She’s still young, and young gorgons need to learn how to interact with others.”

  “Damien, introduce yourself,” the mother suggested, and her expression relaxed.

  The toddler stuffed his fingers in his mouth and mumbled something. Beauty picked up the second unicorn, and like he had to her, she offered it to him before she announced, “I’m Beauty.”

  Somehow, I managed to herd Beauty and the toddler to the registers, although the woman had to scan Beauty’s twice as the little boy refused to let go of his new fluffy white unicorn.

  If all humans could be like little Damien, the world would be a better place. I only mourned for the reality of having to teach Beauty and her brother that not all people were as kind as the little toddler with more courage than most adults.

  Bailey

  While I couldn’t catch a break, I could catch colds like a champ, and within an hour of my adventure across the snowy mountain, I began sniffling.

  “Seriously, Bailey? Already? That’s not how colds work. It takes a few days for a cold to incubate. You can’t just go outside and develop a cold within an hour.”

  I sneezed, which startled Quinn’s kitten into hissing. She looked me over, likely debating if she could eat me with her sharp kitten teeth, decided I wasn’t satisfying enough prey, and went back to sleep, treating my lap like her throne. “It works like that for unicorns.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since now.”

  “Bailey, that’s not how colds work.”

  “I probably already had the cold, but my immune system likes camping out when I get too cold as a unicorn. Ask Quinn. And I’ve been taking so much neutralizer lately I will probably need another damned trip to the hospital. My immune system sucks.”

  “Neutralizer is a double-edged sword at times. Too much of a good thing can easily become a bad thing. You still have to do the rabies treatment. Maybe it’ll help with the cold.”

  I shook my head. “Stupid unicorn body. All extra neutralizer does is make it worse.”

  “That makes zero sense. Neutralizer can treat colds.”

  “Not my colds. My colds are awful, terrible, wretched little beasts.”

  “Are you sure they’re colds?”

  “What would else would they be?”

  “Divine punishment for being such a badass.”

  I shot a glare at Perkette. “No. They’re demented colds.”

  “Maybe a strain neutralizer can’t touch?”

  “Or they’re unicorn colds and neutralizer wasn’t made for unicorns.”

  “That’s actually a sound theory,” she admitted. “Although I didn’t know unicorns could get colds.”

  “I can, and I’m a unicorn.”

  “Only part of the time.”

  “At least you didn’t say I’m not a real unicorn. That’s what the CDC goons usually tell me.”

  “Anyone who can force a transformation back to human shape following a full dose of transformative is a real unicorn. I bet you could shapeshift to a unicorn without the need for a transformative. You just have to figure out how, just like you figured out how to shift back. And don’t tell me that’s impossible. Your husband wanders around looking like a human when he’s a what, again?”

  “He’s my doohickey.”

  “Your doohickey has highly venomous snakes that bite. You can keep your doohickey. I value my life.”

  “They’re not bad. It just stings a little.”

  “Bailey, if one of Sam’s cobras bit me, without the right antivenin, I would be dead within thirty minutes. Faster depending on the toxicity of his cobras—and gorgon venom tends to be potent. For his bites to only sting a little? That immunity alone ranks you high enough to deserve your new job.”

  I didn’t want to think about my unexpected promotion to police chief. “Fine. My immunities are a little ridiculous. The CDC stopped making me do toxicity evaluations after their last ambrosia test. Quinn flipped.”

  “Bailey, you were on an entirely different planet for a week after that test. It took a dumpster, another case of rabies, and a round of neutralizer to snap you out of it. Of course he flipped. Everyone who know
s you was flipping. You were awake but nobody was home.”

  I barely remembered anything about the testing, and unable to argue with her, I shrugged. “If I can become a unicorn without transformatives, I have no idea how to do it.”

  “We could experiment.”

  “No.”

  “That was a rather immediate and harsh no. I’m hurt.”

  I snorted at that. “You have feelings?”

  “I feel like you have been learning from Arthur. This is entirely unfair.”

  “Perkette, you’re a mad scientist. When it comes to things of scientific interest, you’re evil. Pure evil. Frankly, I’m astonished Quinn doesn’t mind when I run away with you.”

  “No one screws with a mad scientist. I might build a lair, attach lasers to sharks, and take over the world while seeking revenge.”

  My eyes widened. She would. With the right resources, she’d try. “That’s terrifying.”

  “It really is. All right. Do we have reception yet? You need to report your kitten to the CDC and make arrangements for a permit. While she’s not a lion, tiger, or other really big cat, she’s an uncommon large cat species. She’s not an endangered species, but they’re not exactly common, either.”

  “That’s something. I’m not sure I could handle getting the permit needed for an actual endangered species.”

  “I’d like to remind you that you’re an endangered species.”

  Technically, cindercorns were endangered—critically so. There weren’t many places left in the world they could thrive, and humans encroached on where they could live, transforming active volcanoes and deserts into tourists attractions. The conflict between the large predators and mankind ensured the black and red unicorns dwindled each year.

  Hawaii and Iceland both had cindercorn populations, but both groups dwindled a little more each year.

  If the current projections were accurate, I’d be the last one within ten years, and I wasn’t a true cindercorn. I sighed. “Critically endangered, at that.”

  “It makes me wonder if unicorns have been right under our noses the whole time, but like you, they’re only found when exposed to the right drug. Could it be cindercorns aren’t as endangered as we believe, but that, like you, they are only discovered in the right circumstances?”

  “According to the general DNA tests, I am, unfortunately, my parents’ child.”

  Perkette snorted. “And when you’re under the influence of ambrosia, nobody knows who the hell your parents are, except you have a grandparent who is a divine. I remember you ranting over how you think the test results are stupid and wrong.”

  “It’s biologically impossible for someone to be two people at one time. Ambrosia completely rewrites my DNA.”

  “Well, ambrosia is the essence of a divine, Bailey. Perhaps it’s showing us who you actually are.”

  “My mother was most certainly pregnant with me, and my father? Don’t get me started on my father’s opinion of me. These are people who dumped me with gorgons hoping I’d become a garden statue and forever disappear.”

  “Arthur told me all about your encounter with them when you married Sam. They’re assholes. No one is disputing that.”

  “So, they’re unfortunately my parents.”

  “View them as annoying hosts.”

  “Are you calling me a parasite?”

  Perkette thought about that for long enough I was tempted to throttle her. I kept my hands to myself so she wouldn’t crash the SUV. “Beneficial for you, not beneficial for them, so I guess I am. I’d be sorry about that, but I like you and I don’t like them. Sure. You’re a most excellent parasite.”

  Scientists were assholes. So were angels. Gorgons could definitely be assholes, and while incubi could also be assholes, I loved my angelic-gorgon-incubus asshole. Somehow, I’d surrounded myself with assholes. “I’m telling Quinn you think I’m a most excellent parasite.”

  “He’ll just say you have a symbiotic relationship with him and claim you’re not a parasite.”

  “You should listen to him.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Perkette giggled. “Do you have reception yet?”

  I checked my phone, and I sighed at the presence of several bars, ensuring I’d be able to conduct a conversation with someone. “I wish I didn’t.”

  “It’s not that bad, Bailey. Just tell them you found an ocelot in West Virginia, tell them the mother and other kittens were dead, and that you rescued it.”

  “We’re in West Virginia?”

  “Yes, we’re in West Virginia.”

  “Huh. I didn’t know West Virginia had mountains.”

  “Have you never looked at a map of the United States, Bailey?”

  “Why bother with geography when you know you’re never going anywhere because of no money and a shitty family?”

  Perkette drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Yeah. Okay. I got nothing. I can’t say I would blame you for that if I were in your shoes. I get it. Why dream about places you know you can’t go?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But what if you could? It’s okay to think about it now, Bailey. If you say you want to go walk the entire length of the Great Wall of China, Sam will make it happen. He’d give you the entire world if he could.”

  Calling the CDC seemed like a better option than dealing with Perkette and her flights of fantasy, so I called the primary switchboard, asked to speak to someone in wildlife conservation, and began the tedious process of pleading my case to become the permanent caretaker of an ocelot kitten destined to become my Quinn’s beloved guard cat.

  Quinn

  It took until the store closed to convince Beauty and Sylvester we really needed to leave. They would ‘five more minutes, please?’ me to death, and Bailey would laugh, as she pulled the same stunt in bookstores and got away with it. Perkins kept snickering at me, helping to haul the ridiculous number of books I’d gotten for the pair despite having loaded their new e-readers up with every book they wanted.

  “You’re a sucker,” my friend informed me while he settled Sunny in the back between the whelps, who fidgeted while we got their hoard packed in.

  I was. “If Bailey finds out about this, she’s never going to let me live it down.”

  “She won’t, but she’ll accept it as inevitable, as she’s determined to make sure no child suffers through the type of childhood she endured. Offer her a back rub. She’ll forget about why she was annoyed within five minutes.”

  “I hate how right you are.” Once I finished loading the books into the back of the SUV, I picked out a cookbook for Beauty to read in the car, the book lights I’d gotten so they could read in the dark, and the first volume of the encyclopedia on paleontology Sylvester insisted he needed to read immediately if not sooner. “Bailey is never going to forgive me when she realizes I’m accidentally raising a pair of mad scientists.”

  “I’m not sure Beauty’s collection of cookbooks is a starter kit for becoming a mad scientist. I’m not going to argue about Sylvester, though. He’s definitely a mad scientist in the making. Also, I hate you. It took me an hour to get every damned Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys book onto that e-reader. He looked like he wanted to cry when I told him he needed to put the book he was reading away so he could pick something else.”

  “It could be worse. Book dragons are easy to manage. If you provide them with books, they will read.”

  “You will regret this when Sylvester becomes a mad scientist. I know this. I married a mad scientist.”

  “And she’s a phenomenal woman despite being slightly deranged.”

  “Slightly?”

  I laughed. “Okay, maybe more than slightly. Still. Tiffany is a wonderful woman despite her mad scientist tendencies.”

  “Beauty is going to take over your kitchen and experiment if you’re not careful.”

  “If that’s what she wants to do, I don’t have a problem with it. I will make certain it’s what she wants to do, however—not what she’s been taught
she should do because she’s a young gorgon.”

  “Well, considering there’s no such thing as a gorgon scientist until this point, I think it’s safe to say they weren’t brought up traditionally. Gorgons can be very intelligent, but they tend to focus on being, well, dragons. You know, making a horde, caring for nests of eggs? They’re like very small dragons with a snake problem.” Perkins shrugged. “If you drive, I’ll do some research and give the CDC a call about it. But I’m pretty sure they’re unusual.”

  “Everything about them is unusual,” I replied, careful to keep quiet. I handed the whelps their books of choice and their lights so they could read. I reached over Beauty to stroke Sunny, who didn’t even stir from her hard-earned nap. I chuckled and gave the whelps my full attention.

  The instant they got their books opened, they no longer noticed my presence—or remembered I was there. I suspected there could be an explosion beside them and they wouldn’t notice a thing. I let them be, closing the door so they could read undisturbed. “I’m impressed with their base education. Most gorgons their age can’t read yet.”

  “How old are they?”

  “I’d guess somewhere between six and eight. My grandfather will get their birth certificates eventually. It doesn’t matter.”

  “When do gorgons typically learn to read?”

  “My grandfather waits until his whelps are twelve or thirteen. My father learned earlier because he’s more like me, generally human. Their early education primarily focuses on controlling their powers as much as possible and teaching good habits for when they interact with humans. I’m a little worried they’re behind the curve on interspecies interactions, but if they have the Right to Rule, it’ll be easier on them. I’ll have to do some tests with them once we’ve retrieved our brides and the current situation settles down.”

  “I never asked. Can your father shapeshift?”