Burn, Baby, Burn

by R. J. Blain

  I shook my head. “No. Dad lacks the right genes.”

  “Ah. The demonic genes let you shapeshift?”

  “I guess. It could be one of many genes that let me do it. My great-grandmother’s a master at shifting.”

  “Well, she’s the Sphinx. That makes sense. And can’t Anubis shift if he wants to?”

  “I think so. There are a lot of shapeshifters, especially on my mother’s side of the family.”

  “Your mother’s side of the family is even crazier than your father’s side of the family.”

  “Yeah. I’m a certified freak.”

  Perkins chuckled and claimed the front passenger seat as his. “Yeah, but you’re Bailey’s freak, and she likes you just as you are, so you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

  “Siding with Bailey now, are you?”

  “She needs a few people in her court.”

  “She has people in her court.”

  “Sam, this is Bailey we’re talking about here. You can tell her that until you’re blue in the face and she’s ready to light you on fire, and she won’t believe it. I figure if I tell you I’m in her court, you will believe me.”

  I got behind the wheel, started the SUV, and heaved a sigh. “You’re right. However much it pains me, you’re right. Maybe we do need therapy.”

  “I married a mad scientist. I married a mad scientist who calls me a mad scientist with a puzzle fetish. You’re not the only one in need of therapy. Worse, I encouraged my mad scientist to befriend a fire-breathing unicorn.”

  “How much trouble do you think a mad scientist and a fire-breathing unicorn can cause?”

  “Depends. Do they have access to a lab?”

  I shuddered. “I hope not.”

  My phone rang, and I checked the display, smiling when I recognized Bailey’s number. I answered, “Hello, my beautiful.”

  “Do you like spotted kittens?”

  “I like kittens of all stripes and spots,” I replied, trying to think of what species of cat had spots. I knew leopards had spots, as did cheetahs. Were there other spotted cat species? “Why?”

  “I just spent two hours on the phone with the CDC, but I am now a proud permit holder for endangered feline species native to North America. Also, for once in her life, Perkette was wrong about something. Your new kitten is on the endangered species list, but they’re a very recent addition, so it’s not really her fault her knowledge was slightly dated.”

  In the background, I heard Perkins’s wife heave a sigh.

  “All right. What sort of kitten did you find?”

  “She’s an ocelot, and her name is Avalanche.”

  Ocelot? I’d heard of the breed, but I couldn’t recall ever seeing one. Her name, however, worried me. “Please tell me there wasn’t an avalanche.”

  “There wasn’t. I did have to go on a run—” Bailey sneezed. “Fuckshit.”

  All right. Bailey had a cold. Again. Colds happened whenever she shifted and was exposed to cold temperatures. I could handle Bailey being sick with a cold. Tiffany was with her. I could get through the conversation without panicking.

  Once I got through the conversation, I’d let Perkins drive and fret about Bailey being ill.

  I drew a slow and calming breath. “Caught a cold?”

  If she had pneumonia, I’d need one of the little pills my great-grandfather had acquired for me.

  “Perkette has a theory.”

  Mad scientist. Fire-breathing unicorn. I knew where that combination was headed: straight for trouble.

  I gulped. “What theory?”

  “She thinks I’m a parasite, ruthlessly used my mother as a host, and I might be something really badass. And that ambrosia just shows that I’m actually a parasite out to take over the world.”

  “That is not what I said,” Tiffany protested, loud enough I could hear her despite her not being the one on the phone.

  “It’s close enough,” Bailey replied.

  “You didn’t do a very good job of being a parasite. Both of your wretched parents survived.” I grunted, shaking my head over how Bailey’s parents had treated her. I hadn’t seen them after meeting them at the courthouse, and I hoped to never again. I’d done enough reading about them to confirm my initial feelings about them.

  They were truly awful people.

  “Quinn!” my wife wailed.

  “What? It’s true. You’re not a very good parasite, but you’re the perfect wife.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  I smiled at that. “Where did you find an ocelot?”

  “Her mother and the rest of the litter had died because of the storm.”

  No matter how many times I told Bailey her wayfinding magic was a blessing in disguise, she never believed me. She always focused on the tragedies surrounding her magic, not the good her magic did in the wake of disaster.

  She always showed up during the aftermath, but she interpreted that to mean she was the cause of the disasters rather than a saving grace. She struggled with my ex-wife’s death, the loss of so many whelps, and the utter destruction she’d wrought using a pair of phoenix feathers.

  She lost sight of the other consequences of her actions, the good ones that ensured the gorgon dust could never be used again.

  I worried the gorgon dust had been nothing more than a precursor to the rabies outbreak, the next step taken to accomplish some wretched goal to lower humanity’s numbers.

  Or, perhaps, the rabies had been the first step taken. I wouldn’t know until I found out when the Dover hive’s females had perished.

  I sighed. “I’m sorry about the other cats.”

  “They were gone before I got there. There wasn’t anything I could do to help them, even if I had gotten there sooner. It wasn’t my fault.”

  I blinked. Usually, Bailey blamed herself for every failure, even when she couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. “Are you all right?”

  “Beyond this stupid cold, yes. I’m all right. I’m worried.”

  “About the rabies situation?”

  “Especially about that. How are the children?”

  “It seems we’re welcoming a pair of voracious book dragons into our home, and we will need to convert a room into a proper library, have an addition built, or convert the basement into living space.”

  She sucked in a breath. “They like to read?”

  “When you check the bank account statement, please don’t worry. I know I spent a lot at the bookstore.”

  “I’m okay with that. Reading is good for them! I like the idea of adding a proper library to the house.” Bailey giggled. “Our current storage method for books is a little sad.”

  “Anywhere a book can fit is sad, I do agree. We’ll make it a Christmas present to each other, figure out a plan, and have the work done soon. Sound good?”

  “That does sound good. Hey, Quinn?”

  “What is it?”

  “Do you think we should maybe stop playing our game right now? Postpone it, maybe? This situation…”

  While well aware Bailey enjoyed the chase as much as I did, I hated the worry and fear in her tone. “If things become dangerous, we can team up.”

  “I think they’re already dangerous. Perkette talked me into using my magic to find the source.”

  I froze. “She did?”

  “I think it’s a good idea.”

  Part of encouraging Bailey to trust herself more and trust her judgment meant I needed to let her use her judgment—and make decisions for herself even when I wanted to wrap her in a blanket and keep her safe from all harm.

  I couldn’t undermine her efforts.

  “All right. If you think it’s a good idea, I trust you. Please be careful, and if you have any reason to believe you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, call me.”

  “I can do that. But I can chew a lot.”

  Yes, she could. I’d seen her devour an entire tree before. It had fallen into the road near our house and no one could remove it, and
one of the neighbors couldn’t get to her kids, which had not set well with Bailey.

  Bailey’s solution to the problem had been simple; she’d eaten the tree. It’d taken her less than an hour to devour it, leaving a hole in her wake, as the trunk and the upper roots had been, in her words, the best part.

  “You can,” I conceded.

  “I bought the neutralizer like you wanted.”

  “Good. Listen to Tiffany about your cold, okay? She’s qualified to help with it.” I hoped. I might even pray a little.

  I’d do a little more than hope and pray. As soon as I was off the phone with Bailey, I would give the faery doctors who’d treated Bailey when she’d been hospitalized a call.

  “Okay. I will. How is my puppy?”

  “She’s asleep between the kids in the back. She’s had a very long day wrangling young gorgons.”

  “She needs a raise and a lot of cuddles. Blizzard is a good puppy. He’s taking a nap, too.”

  “Take a picture of my kitten and send it to me.”

  “After we get her to a hotel and cleaned up. She’s had a rough day and needs some care. I’m not looking forward to giving her a bath, but it’s a necessary evil. You’ll get upset if I show you a picture right now. She’ll be fine. The CDC told me everything I need to do to take care of her, and they’re going to send me a list of vets who are qualified to examine her. But they also said I can be trained to administer her vaccinations, too. They’re going to put me in touch with someone about it.”

  I clenched my teeth at the CDC’s offer—which they’d use, as always, for their benefit. “If you want to do the training, I’m all right with that.”

  Sometimes, I was such a liar, and I was grateful I didn’t have a complete aversion to falsehoods like true angels.

  “I’ll only take enough courses to know how to help take care of her. I’m volunteering you for the same courses. She’s your kitten. I already put in the request for you to get the permit to keep her. The courses are mandatory for the permit.”

  I relaxed. “Ah. So it’s not a standard certification?”

  “It’s mandatory for the permit, and there are two levels we can choose from. The more extensive certification would let us rescue any big cat. The other one would require us to get additional certifications for other exotic cats. The extensive certification also requires a few hours of volunteer time a year with a rescue or zoo.”

  “Okay. Pick whichever one you like best. I’m happy to go volunteer with you if you’d like.”

  “Really?” she whispered.

  Yep, my beautiful Bailey had a serious obsession with helping animals in need, and I was powerless against her enthusiasm. “Yes, really. Consider it an early Christmas present.”

  As I knew my wife well enough to predict her reaction, I removed my phone from my ear, held it away, and waited for her squeals to quiet.

  Perkins snickered and shook his head.

  “There’s even a wolf rehab program we can work with, if we want to work with other predatory exotics. The CDC rep mentioned it. There was an asshole who had entire packs of wolves in cages, and they all need a lot of work because they were so mistreated and ill.”

  “Ill?”

  “He didn’t tell me what they were ill with, but it was treatable, and they only had to put a few of the wolves down. They had so many they might be able to restore the wild wolf populations in the United States if they can get enough people helping with their rehabilitation!”

  I was about to get goosed by my own wife, and I’d end up with an entire pack of wolves in addition to large cats. Poor Blizzard would be the only normal animal in our household, and I hoped the poor husky was adaptable.

  Then again, a husky was like a hyperactive wolf with a preference for cold temperatures. With the right training and patience, they could make excellent work dogs.

  I’d have my hands full.

  “I’ll look into that.”

  “Really?” Bailey inhaled, and I jerked my phone away from my ear in time to dodge her squeal. In the background, my new puppy warbled a complaint. “Sorry, Blizzard!”

  I laughed. “All right, Bailey. You keep on running. I’m going to find a place for the night and get the children settled. They’ve had a long day. Make sure you get plenty of sleep. I need you well rested for when I get my hands on you.”

  “Promises, promises,” she muttered before hanging up.

  Still laughing, I shook my head and put my phone away. “You up for driving, Perkins? I need to make some phone calls.”

  “Are you going to need your medication?”

  “That depends on what the doctor says when I give him a call about Bailey.”

  “I heard something about her and a cold. What happened?”

  “She used her wayfinding magic and found an ocelot kitten. The rest of the litter and its mother were dead. She retrieved the kitten as a unicorn.”

  “In that blizzard?”

  “Yep.”

  “Right. Going to call the twins?”

  “Sure am.”

  “I’ll get the medications, check the instructions, and find a hotel if you’re okay with that. Otherwise, we’ll drive through the night, and I’ll take a breather after your chill pill wears off.”

  “We’ll get a hotel. Let’s give the kids some stability. We’ll save mad dashes across the country for if it’s really needed.”

  Tonight, I’d hope and pray it wouldn’t be needed while preparing for the worst.

  Hopes and prayers did jack shit in the long run, an illusion with potential power if the divine felt benevolent and happened to be listening in.

  I had enough trouble without any divines listening in, so I’d just stick to the hope part of my night and skip the prayers. Maybe that might mitigate the mayhem.

  Then again, I had a prescription for chill pills courtesy of my divine great-grandfather. No matter what I did, I was probably screwed, so maybe I’d indulge in a little prayer after all.

  It couldn’t really hurt, could it?

  Bailey

  To give us a better idea of where we needed to go to move forward with our plan to put an end to the rabies threat, I attempted to use my magic again. Instead of a trail of glittery light to follow, I took an unscheduled nap.

  In the snow.

  Tiffany would’ve been justified to leave my ass out in the cold to freeze to death, but she took pity on me, shoved me into the rental, and slapped me back to consciousness.

  I made a note to never underestimate the strength of a mad scientist again.

  “We’re going to a hotel, I’m going to take care of your demon kitten and puppy, and you’re going to sleep,” she announced. “And we will never speak of this to anyone. If Sam finds out I let you push yourself to the point you fell over in the snow, he’ll begin his career as a biologist and dissect me.”

  He would. “Sorry.”

  “It’s my fault. I forgot you have a tendency to push yourself beyond your limits because you have no sense of self-preservation.”

  I couldn’t argue with her, so I didn’t. “I’ll take care of Avalanche and Blizzard.”

  “No, you won’t. You will go into the room, take a warm shower, and go to bed. I will take care of the animals. I’m also going to feed you warm soup and get you medication so you don’t expire from the plague. I’m just glad Sam didn’t clue in something was wrong. I swear, that man has a sixth sense when it comes to you.”

  Since even I recognized arguing with her wouldn’t accomplish anything, I nodded. To remind her he had less of a sixth sense and the help of a magical ball and chain, I lifted my arm and showed her my bracelet. “It’s probably this thing and not a sixth sense.”

  “Oh. Right. Still. I’m surprised he didn’t call.”

  “Well, he does know I have a cold.”

  “True. Blast the heat as high as you need it and stay warm until we get to the hotel. Tomorrow, if you’re not perking up, I’ll whip you up a small batch of napalm, drive you som
ewhere remote, and let you go to town.”

  “That sounds like a very bad idea.”

  “It sounds like a great idea. You can cook the virus out of you.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s a really bad idea, Perkette. Anyway, I’m banned from having napalm.”

  “It won’t be napalm, specifically. It’ll be a thick variant of gasoline with a few special ingredients.”

  “Which is also known as napalm.”

  “If you get really sick, I’m shoving transformatives down your throat, and I will hold your furry ass down and make you eat the napalm.”

  Damn. When Perkette started issuing threats, she meant business, and I had no doubt she’d live up to her ultimatum. Calling Quinn and begging for help might save me—maybe. Then again, Perkette might find some way to torture my husband, too. “Fine, but only if I get really, really sick—like in the hospital addressing people as models sick.”

  “You only addressed Sam as a model of any sort, which is probably a good thing. He’s the jealous type.”

  “He really is.”

  “So are you.”

  I stared at her. “Have you met the man?”

  “Surprisingly, yes.”

  “Maybe you can explain why me. I can’t figure it out.”

  Perkette sighed. “You’re you. That’s why. Just roll with it.”

  I blinked. “Have you met me?”

  “Surprisingly, yes.”

  “I’m a walking disaster.”

  “He appreciates a good challenge.”

  That he did. “Anything else we shouldn’t tell Quinn?”

  “If you get seriously sick, he’ll freak. And by freak, I mean he’ll have a meltdown. A really bad one. In fact, I’m going to make certain you don’t have to go to the hospital at all, because if you do, he’ll lose his mind.”

  “Are you running for an understatement of the year award?”

  “No, but I really should,” Perkette replied. “Get some rest. I’ll take care of the hotel and the pets. And no, don’t argue with me. If you get really sick, our fun trip—and our chance to put an end to this idiot rabies outbreak—goes up in smoke.”

  Chapter Ten