by Aaron Crash
Steven knew Rahaab heard Aria’s thunder. And if that bastard was smart, he’d be afraid.
TWENTY-SIX
Nothing sadder than sitting in a bar drinking a fucking Coke while everyone around you got lit. Mouse had returned to Big Timber after getting a new hurricane tattoo on her left forearm in Billings. She’d grabbed some of the magic ink from Liam, and now she was hidden—from Steven, from Rahaab, from everyone.
The Timber Bar and Grill was a Montana bar all right, but it was also a family place. The boozers on the right, the families on the left, eating chicken tenders and burgers and doing it with smiles. Even the babies.
It was all fine and normal for a Thursday afternoon during a rainstorm. Inside, it was dry and warm and cozy. Inside the restaurant, sure, but not inside Mouse. That was a fucking zoo of shitty thoughts, bad memories, and longing for better days. The Coke wasn’t helping.
Five women walked into the bar, looking not quite right. Something was off, certainly. They were pretty, but dressed in rough clothes, most likely from the local Dollar Store. Or they’d rummaged through a thrift store to unearth some grandma’s casual wear.
She figured she’d finish her dumb Coke and go back to her dumb room in the River Valley Inn to sleep a little more before she did the dumb thing she knew was a mistake. Oh well. She sat at the Timber Bar unarmed; the Slayer Blade was back in the room, under the bed.
Alone. She felt so alone. Being with Steven and his Escort was like being with the best of families, even better than her birth one. Tessa was so sweet to her, and Aria had warmed up, though that battle bitch was a hard one. Which made the smiles she gave Mouse extra special. Then there was Sabina, who could joke about being blind. Liam was like a wise old uncle.
And Steven.
Mouse felt the tears come, and she’d never been thirstier for Jägermeister. A couple shots would smack her liver into shape, burn away the tears, and take care of her fear and doubt.
Steven was kind, he was caring, he was strong, and he loved her as deeply as she loved him. It was like when they were together, there was nothing they couldn’t do.
The five women got a table. One of them, a tall woman with auburn hair, dressed in a Montana tourist sweatshirt, kept giving her glances. They were a mixture of skin color and hair color and body shapes. A potpourri of bitches. Ugh, Mouse knew what was coming.
She reached into her jeans and took out a wad of cash. She liked the long sleeves of the top she’d gotten. It felt a pirate-y. She also liked the wedges on her feet. Comfortable and stylish. She’d stolen a few of the gold coins and pawned them in Billings. She’d bought some clothes, so she’d at least look good when she carried out her suicide mission.
No one was going to stop her from carrying out her plan. She’d done it before. Get close to a man, earn his trust, get him off a few times so his mind was cloudy with lust, and then do what needed to be done. In this case, Mouse was going to take the Slayer Blade and shove it up Rahaab’s ass until she found the fucker’s heart. Then Steven and his Primacy would be safe.
And if Rahaab’s Escort killed her afterwards? The sacrifice would be worth it. Her life had been a mistake from day one. Might as well end it by saving everyone she loved.
Mouse slapped a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and tried to walk out before any of the women came over to chat about the stupid affairs of the Dragonsoul world.
The auburn-haired woman moved to the door and blocked it. The four other women got up and flanked her. They hadn’t ordered anything. They weren’t at the Timber Bar and Grill for the chicken tenders or the hooch. Was this going to be a fight? That didn’t feel right. They’d have hit her hard right away if that had been the case.
“Melissa,” the woman in the doorway said. “We’d like to talk to you.”
Mouse thought about going True Form and burning her down and taking the bar along with her. No, Hooper, Montana, had survived the week. She’d let Big Timber live a little longer as well.
“Wow, you know my first name,” Mouse spat. “We should be best, best, best friends!”
The women all exchanged uneasy glances.
Mouse pushed past the woman. If she was going to fight, she’d fight. She marched out into the parking lot. It had stopped raining, but the sky was still dark with clouds. It was June, so the days were long. Twilight was a long way off.
The five women chased after her. Of course they did.
“Melissa!”
Mouse spun. “It’s Mouse. Only my parents and my fucking ex-husband called me Melissa. So, let’s start right there. Who in the fuck are you bitches?” She laughed at herself. Wow, she was a real charmer.
“I’m Skylar Blacke,” Auburn said. “We’re the widows of Cassius Pine.”
“Well, you have me to thank for the widow part. I cut his head off. And I’d do it again. He murdered my parents…my family.” That word, family, made her tremble. Steven, Tessa, Aria, Sabina, and Liam. Hell, even that douche Bud felt like he belonged with them.
“We loved Cassius in our way,” Skylar said. “Though I don’t think what he felt for us was love. He was cruel.”
“Total dick,” a redhead with bright blue eyes said.
“He wasn’t that bad,” a girl-next-door blondie insisted.
A dark-skinned woman with platinum highlights in her hair stood with her arms crossed, not saying a word. Mouse thought she might be South American or from the Caribbean. Couldn’t tell.
A heavily freckled caramel-colored woman with red hair also remained silent. She definitely had a mixed heritage going on.
Skylar pointed and introduced them all. The ginger with the blue eyes and big tits was Teegan Thornrose, while the down-home blonde was Pretty McGillicuddy. The woman with the dark skin and good haircut was Michaela Montes, which left Abby Free, the exotic woman, with eyes so light brown they were almost yellow. All of them were in clothes purchased locally and for well under five dollars.
Mouse stuck a hand on her hip. “This is all very interesting, but for the love of biscuits, I’m not a grief counselor and I would suck as any kind of social worker. So cut to the chase, Skylar.”
“We belong to Steven Drokharis now.” The woman’s jaws tightened after she said it. Her eyes were wide, and they begged Mouse for some kind of answer. “He’s now the Dragonlord of the Rocky Mountain Primacy. What will that mean for us?”
“We’ve heard stories,” Pretty McGillicuddy said. “Bad stories. He’s killed everyone around him. Will he kill us?”
“If you stay in those clothes he will.” Mouse couldn’t help but make the joke. “He’ll execute you for crimes against fashion.”
Skylar came forward, getting close to Mouse. “Please. We’re scared of Steven, but more than that, we’re frightened that Rahaab will kill him. And then…Rahaab…how he is, we don’t know what he’ll do to us. We escaped him, most of us. But not all. We lost…we lost one of us.”
“Her name was Nikki Angel,” Abby Free whispered.
Tears gleamed in the eyes of all the women, but none fell. They were doing their best to hold it together under the dark clouds above. Standing there in the parking lot, Mouse felt their fear and their pain. She’d had to go from one Prime to another, and you never quite knew what you were going to get. She noticed that they all had a line of pale skin around their ring fingers. The minute Cassius Pine fell, the gold wedding bands would’ve melted away.
Skylar continued. “We think he’ll either punish us—”
“That means he’ll kill us,” Teegan Thornrose cut in.
“Yes, either kill us or give us to a new Dragonsoul Prime. Rahaab doesn’t take Primacies of his own. In a sense, he controls them all. We need to know what kind of person Steven is, and if we should back him. Or if we should wait and see how he fares against Rahaab. What can you tell us?” Skylar’s eyes begged Mouse for mercy, for answers, for some clue to their future.
Mouse could relate. She remembered when she’d first married Rhaegen Mulk. He’d been a basta
rd, but that goddamn dragon attraction thing had made her love him. It was the worst parts of Stockholm Syndrome, and while Mulk had never actually abused her, he’d made her feel like shit for loving him. Because he’d been asshole. If she could’ve, she’d have left him. In a way, she did, getting drunk every day and trying to forget her life. For Skylar and the rest of the widows, it had probably been something similar with Cassius Pine. Now they belonged to someone else. Mouse thought of Tessa’s hatred of the Dragonsoul arrangement of shuffling women among Primes. It was a terrible form of slavery. It had to change.
For Mouse, though, it might not matter. Not after she ran her suicide mission. What to tell the merry band of widows in front of her?
Two guys, young and attractive in a Big Timber, Montana, way, got out of a muddy Dodge Charger. They walked over with grins on their faces.
“Hey, ladies,” one of them said. He had a little scruff on his chin and a Montana State Bobcats baseball cap on his head. “Did all you angels fall from heaven at the same time?”
It was possibly the worst time, ever, for anyone with a penis to even begin to flirt with them.
Six pairs of fuck-you eyes glared at them
The two guys went pale, walked out of their way to avoid them, and slipped into the Timber Bar and Grill, shaking their heads.
Mouse continued as if the dudes hadn’t said a word. “Steven is amazing. He grew up with humans. I mean, he didn’t know he was even a Dragonsoul until a few months ago. It means he’s not caught up in the power games. All he wants is to keep us safe and get revenge on his father. After Rahaab is dead? I can’t say for sure, but he’s not going to go looking for the next pissing contest. He’s sweet, Skylar. Unlike anyone…” She tilted her head, trying to keep the tears in. “Let’s just say I—we—love Steven for him and not because of any fucked-up dragon-love magic.”
All the widows were quiet.
Mouse had a question. “How did you find me?”
“We used a divination spell,” Skylar answered. “We last saw you in Billings. When you disappeared, we weren’t sure what to do. Then we saw you in town. We were just passing through when we got lucky.”
Luck, that was what it was. Not fate. Mouse didn’t believe in fate or any of that. Being married to an abusive dickweed would do that to a girl. If destiny did exist, it had ass-fucked her. At least for a little while.
Mouse didn’t know what to say. They wanted an answer. She didn’t have one, and she wasn’t about to let them in on her secret mission. “Steven is great. That’s my answer. He’ll take care of you. By tomorrow night, things with Rahaab will be settled. I’d sit tight and wait. Unless you hear that Steven is going up against him, and then you should do what you can to help. You won’t regret it. I promise.”
“Thank you.” Skylar went to hug her.
Mouse put up a hand to stop her. “No, don’t. Just. Don’t.” She didn’t exactly stiff-arm the widow, but she was ready to.
Skylar and the women stepped back.
Mouse strode away from them. It was a short walk back to the River Valley Inn.
She decided against spending the night there. She was going to get this one last job over with. She’d leave right away, with the Slayer Blade. If she was lucky, she would kill Rahaab before he could hurt anyone else.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Steven sat down at the campfire below the tall pines and peaks inside Yellowstone National Park. The midnight sky was a wash of stars.
They’d raced west down I-90 in a collection of vehicles, only stopping to tattoo Mathaal, Uchiko, and the Onari Guard with hastily drawn hurricane circles to keep them hidden from Rahaab’s scrying eyes.
Once they got close to Yellowstone, they parked their vehicles off in a field. Those with wings then flew to the strike camp and ferried those who didn’t.
They’d brought camping gear for Tessa, Sabina, and the Onari Guard, who were dressed in black ninja gear. The Dragonsouls would sleep as dragons in the middle of the tents. However, Steven didn’t think any of them were going to get much rest. Everyone was amped for the coming fight. Except for Mathaal.
Old Matchstick stayed in his human form for some reason, dressed in a keikogi, sitting on a log in front of the fire with the third volume of the Drokharis Grimoire in his lap. The ancient Alpheros had lucid moments, but then his mind would slip away again, and he’d grow confused.
Aria had taken Uchiko and a few of the Onari Guard to run recon around Cassius Pine’s Yellowstone Aerie, which was now housing Rahaab and his Trinity. They were due back any minute. The clock crawled toward midnight. The plan was to attack before first light. Tessa and Sabina had drifted away to a tent and were supposedly sleeping. Steven thought that was unlikely. He’d join them. But first, he had business to discuss with Mathaal and Liam Strider.
The Yellow Ronin squatted down on his haunches next to the fire.
“It was my brother,” Mathaal said. “Rahaab stole my memory. Perhaps that was for the best. Without memory, focused on the simple things, I forgot my power and my glory. Everyone was safe. And yet, I can’t forgive him, for both locking me away and for taking my freedom of thought…and it was already so compromised. But his greatest sin was the murder of your father, Steven.”
“Even more than the murder of Icharaam?” Steven asked. “It was his own brother.”
Mathaal thought for a moment. Then he spoke. “Killing Icharaam was murdering the past, our memories of our home world, and giving in to our fears of the Zothoric. But wiping out the Drokharis clan? That was murdering the future and the hope for change. Millennia ago, we three Alpheros couldn’t have fought back the Zothoric. Now? The Dragonsouls, while not Alpheros, are mighty.”
“But we need the old sorcery to truly come into our own,” Liam Strider said.
“Yes, we do,” Steven agreed. “And we’ll need it against Rahaab.”
Mathaal lifted the book. “You mean this? Steven, your father was truly remarkable. His study of the Path of the Mirror-Souled Dragon is a testament to his intellect. But I believe he paled in comparison to your power, Steven.”
“I don’t know about that,” Steven said.
“And Tessa,” Mathaal said. “Her magic is special. I’ve not seen her like in a long, long time. She is not completely human.”
Tessa was a mystery, one that had remained unsolved.
Steven closed his eyes and accessed the new version of the dragon skill tree.
Once the magic affecting Mathaal, Uchiko, and the Onari Guard had been dispelled, one of the encrypted pages of the third volume had given them the first few powers on the mirrored dragon.
Path of the Mirror-Souled Dragon (Second Tail of the Dragon)
HeartStrike
AnimusChain
FleshForge
The other two sections of encrypted pages remained a mystery. At least they had the one, and it had given Steven additional clues as to how to further harness his power.
“It is HeartStrike,” Mathaal whispered. “That is what Rahaab and I used to kill Icharaam, though it wasn’t necessarily his heart we struck. But that is what works best. To remove the heart of your enemy.”
Steven pondered that for a moment. “So, what would happen if I tried to do HeartStrike? I mean, do I have enough Animus?”
“It might incinerate you outright,” Liam said. “We’ve seen normal Dragonsouls die when they tried to use too much Animus too fast. Best to be careful. You haven’t tried IonClaws yet, have you?”
Steven took in a deep breath. He didn’t feel like stripping, so he used Partial Transformation to only shift his arms. His sleeves ripped. He’d leveled again after the highway fight, and he was at full Animus. He stood. “No better time than the present.”
His Magica Incanto spell had worked wonders. He didn’t exactly need any divination magic, and his ElectroArc was also improving. He wasn’t about to risk learning Toxicity just yet. So, he’d try IonClaws.
“What? Wait!” Liam protested, hurling himself to hi
s feet.
Mathaal nodded. “Let him try. If he dies, he dies.”
Steven focused on his claws, and yes, they glowed with an unearthly light. It was like he had lightsaber blades for fingers.
“I don’t believe it.” The Yellow Ronin’s eyes were wide. He bent and unearthed a large rock. He hefted it and tossed it at Steven, who cut it into pieces with his new IonClaws. Animus drained out of him in seconds, but yes, he’d done it. He had a new weapon in his arsenal.
Old Matchstick chuckled. “Ah, yes, this Drokharis should be feared by all. For his power and his harem.”
Steven shut off the Animus powering his claws and turned his arms back into human flesh. He felt weak after the attempt, but he was surprised he could do it at all. Then again, Steven had been the best at the Pugna side aspects of the skill tree. IonClaws used bucketloads of Animus, and it had drained him. But then he heard Tessa’s moan from the tent. He could regain the mystical energy easily enough.
“Careful the amount of Animus you use for your claws, Steven,” Mathaal warned. “You can make them so sharp you can rip through realities. And that would surely alert the Zothoric of our presence. Perhaps in time you will face them, but not now, not tonight. We have other enemies to fight.”
Steven sat back down. “Mathaal, are you sure you’re okay to … to kill another of your brothers?”
“My last brother,” the ancient creature murmured. “Rahaab wasn’t always driven by fear. But seeing his entire world destroyed also destroyed his heart. Rahaab lost hope. He fears death. And yet I think a part of him will welcome it. We’ve lived our time. The Alpheros shall die. And the Dragonsouls will inherit this blue-green gem.”
The fire popped. Steven and Liam both stared at the old man, who closed his eyes. “I like the fire,” he said. “But I don’t know who I am. And I don’t know who you are. All I know is that I long for peach cobbler. Is Uchiko about?”