Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series

by Veronica Singer

  Mason quickly explained how to activate and affix the medallions to a vehicle.

  “The activation doesn’t require magic?”

  “No. It was harder to make, but I wanted anyone of our group to be able to use them.”

  He handed me a dozen of the coins, leaving the rest in a drawer on the workbench. I put them in my purse.

  I recounted my visits to my pack members to deliver pies and presents for the children.

  Mike took a last swig of beer, crossed his arms, and asked, “So when is the attack?”

  25

  “I don’t know yet,” I said. “I would expect it on the night of the new moon, next week. That’s when werewolves are weakest.”

  “Attack?” asked Mason. “Why should we expect an attack?”

  Then he blinked and nodded. He was unused to our type of conflict, but still brilliant: It only took him a moment to put it together.

  “Okay, we’re expecting an attack.”

  I turned to Mike. “How did you figure it out?”

  Mike counted off on his fingers. “One, you sent your second-in-command, your beta, away. Two, you sent Logan, your dog robber, away. Three, you sent Thomas, your best fighter, away.

  “What do they have in common? They all have children. You sent the innocent to safety. So you must be expecting an attack.”

  Instead of answering, I raised an eyebrow and said, “Dog robber?”

  “It’s a military term. Every unit needs someone who has… let’s say ‘flexible morals’ and can get what the unit needs. Logan has little regard for laws when they get in the way.”

  I nodded my acceptance of the explanation.

  “You’re expecting an attack?”

  Imitating Mike, I counted off on my fingers. “First, the theft of the mine was an attempt to ruin our finances. Next, that Russian witch showing up was a huge overreaction. Probably to test our defenses. Last, the attempt to kill us with that remote control was designed to take out me and our children.”

  “Is that why you sent Ashton to Hollywood?”

  “Yes. He wasn’t lying when he said he wanted out of there, but he’s still subject to coercion from his former employers. We can’t trust him now.”

  “Let’s hit them first,” said Mason.

  “I would love to do that, but we don’t know where they are.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The government is hiding them, giving demons safe refuge. Hit them hard, destroy a military base, make the government get off their asses and confront the fact that the military is infested.”

  A chill went down my spine. “We can’t do that, Mason. There are too many innocent people involved.”

  “I agree with Luna,” said Mike. “Luna sent away the children to protect them. We need to avoid injuring civilians.”

  Mason nodded reluctantly. “Mom would handle this differently. She never worried about civilians.”

  That struck a thought. “Could we ask your mom and sisters for help? We have that mutual assistance pact. A small army of Fae warriors would be a great help.”

  “Trusting my family is not a good idea. We have a truce, yes. But giving my family the chance to get rid of their werewolf in-law by fumbling a defense would be too great.” He shook his head in frustration. “We don’t have many that would come to our aid.”

  “I have a few ideas,” I said. “But for now, we’ll assume it’s just us. We’ll make it work.”

  I called Christopher, who arrived within minutes. I gave him the protective medallions and ordered him to put them on the pack member’s cars. He didn’t like using magic, but I made it clear we were protecting our pack and families.

  Christopher gave Mason a sideways look but didn’t say anything as he left.

  Mason was swaying on his feet, each eye blink taking longer than the one before.

  “We’ve done everything we can for now,” I said as I ushered Mike out. “We can hash out the rest of the details tomorrow.”

  Ten minutes later, Mason and I were seated on our couch with music videos playing relaxing songs on our TV. I plated two more large portions of my pie and handed one to Mason.

  “I thought you didn’t need sleep,” I said from the kitchen. I repeated the trick with my nail and removed the cork from a bottle of wine.

  He took a deep breath, then said, “The technique only works if I don’t burn up too much magical energy.”

  I handed him a glass of wine, filled nearly to the brim. “I’ve got just the thing to revive you.”

  He took a long sniff of the wine, eyes closed in pleasure, then jerked awake. “This is Chrysoberyl’s wine! It’s much too precious to drink with dessert. We can’t waste this on me.”

  “You’re much too precious to me and the kids to worry about that.”

  He begrudgingly took a sip of the magic-infused wine. I enjoyed watching his reaction. He rolled the wine around in his mouth with a beatific expression on his face, then tilted his head back to let it trickle down his throat.

  Just as it had with Briar, the wine had an immediate effect on him. The lines of fatigue on his face faded slightly and his breathing eased.

  Mason took a second sip and said, “I wish you could enjoy this with me.”

  I rubbed my belly and smiled, happy that he was finally able to relax. “No drinking for me until after these cubs come out.”

  He smiled and said, “At least Dr. Patrizia let it slip that they will be twins.”

  Mason blinked for a long count, then said, “Yeah, a boy and a girl.”

  “You knew?”

  “Dad said something when I was twelve. He thought I wasn’t listening.”

  “You’ve known about me and the cubs since you were twelve?” My voice rose in anger.

  “No, I didn’t know about you.” He took my hands. “Just the hint he dropped about the cubs. Then he dropped the subject. Dad said talking about the future always leads to ruin.”

  Mason kissed my palms, a move that sent a tingle down my spine. “Please don’t be angry. I didn’t put it together until you told me you were pregnant.”

  He shook his head in resignation. “Since no one had ever heard of a magician and a werewolf having children, I thought I was evading the prophecy when I married you.”

  I took a long drink of my tea. Did this change anything? Not really. I loved Mason and he was the father of my children. Whether deemed by fate or chance, we were together.

  I hugged him and stroked his blond hair. “It’s okay,” I said softly. Then my voice hardened. “But if you had thrown out that ‘fated to be together’ line the night we met in that bar in Tokyo, I would have shoved your gallon-sized bottle of Nair up your ass.”

  “Ouch. That’s why we don’t discuss prophecy.”

  I changed the subject. “Did your dad offer any names?” I sighed. “I keep waiting for you to make a suggestion, but you haven’t even offered one name.”

  Mason’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “But you’re the mother. You have to choose the names.”

  Another nuance of Fae culture I hadn’t known. Despite my years of language lessons conducted magically, I still didn’t know enough about Mason’s people.

  “So I can pick any names?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

  He grimaced and said, “If that’s what you want.”

  I laughed at his expression. “I’m just joking. We must agree on the names. What are your traditions?”

  He heaved a sigh of relief. “We try to use names from our family’s branch.”

  “Branch?”

  “Like Briar Frostroot and Miss Applemint are from a plant branch.”

  “And your family is from…?”

  “Earth and stone. That’s why all my sisters are named after precious stones.”

  “Pearls and Amber aren’t stones,” I argued.

  “It doesn’t matter. The names are traditional, not literal.”

  “So you’re Mason, the builder. Why wer
en’t you named after a rock? Like Cary Granite or Rock Hudson?”

  Mason ignored my silly pun. “Males aren’t considered important enough to be given full names.”

  “How about Pietro for the boy? That would follow your tradition.”

  “I like that. How about a middle name from your family?”

  “Dad had an Uncle Ira that helped him when his magic failed him. Do you like that?”

  “It’s great.”

  “Now you pick one for the girl.”

  Mason faltered, then offered, “I think she should be named Celeste.”

  “It’s pretty, but it’s not a stone.”

  “Celeste is the sky. The sky that holds the earth in the palm of her hand. A very powerful Fae name.”

  “It’s very pretty,” I said.

  “Now you pick a middle name.”

  “How about Faith? It’s been on my mind.”

  “You’ve been thinking a lot about faith recently?”

  “If you don’t like it, we can come up with some other names,” I said.

  “No, it’s perfect. Celeste Faith and Pietro Ira. Sky and Stone, we can use for their nicknames.”

  “I’m not sure I like those nicknames,” I said.

  Mason took another sip of wine, “We can mull them over, maybe come up with some alternatives. Nothing is set in stone.”

  We talked about many things: our plans for the children, how to patch things up with my mom, the work we had planned with my dad, and housekeeping duties.

  We avoided the subject of the attack we knew was coming, each not wanting to worry the other.

  Mason took a last bite of the apple pie, a final sip of wine, and leaned his head back against the couch. His eyes closed and tension left his face. I reached over and ran my fingers through the shock of blond hair that fell in front of his eyes.

  “Feels good,” he slurred as I stroked his head. Then he started to snore quietly. I had never seen my husband affected by alcohol before. He must be exhausted.

  I stood clumsily, then put my right arm under his shoulders and the left under his legs, lifting him like a baby. With my belly, it was awkward, but werewolf strength made it possible.

  Head against my shoulder, he opened his eyes and said, “What are you doing?”

  “Shhh,” I said, “I’m taking you to bed.”

  “I can go by myself,” he said as I put my foot on the first stair.

  “I’m here to help you.”

  He leaned back and said, “We make a good team.”

  “Yes, dear. You handle the magic and I handle the mayhem.”

  He was snoring as I put him in bed. I took a minute in the bathroom, then joined him.

  My sitting on the mattress must have disturbed him. He opened his eyes halfway and said, “That’ll be our couple-name.”

  “What?”

  “Magic and Mayhem.”

  26

  The next morning, we awoke bright and chipper, although Mason was still looking skinny. He assured me that he would recover completely in the next few days.

  We gathered snacks and sat in our backyard, awaiting the sunrise.

  There’s something magical in the transition between dark and day. One type of magical energy fades as another ascends, resulting in twice as much energy becoming available. It’s a period when even weak magicians can absorb magic.

  Mason and my dad both said that magicians can hear celestial music with the dawn. I had some magical talent, but dawn to this werewolf was dominated by smells and the music of creatures stirring in their lairs.

  Still, as we meditated, I heard something. It was distant and subdued, but it did seem like music, although of a type I had never heard before.

  After the dawn service, I made breakfast. Mason usually only had yogurt and toast but today, I fried a full package of bacon, another of sausages, and made two loaded omelets. In an homage to healthy food, I sliced up several of the leftover apples from my pie-baking work.

  When Mason saw the huge platters of food, he laughed. “Are you going to eat all of that?”

  “No, you are.”

  “Really? Are you trying to get me fat?”

  “We need to get you back to full strength as soon as possible. That means a big meal and a trip to Hoover Dam to rejuvenate.”

  “I don’t need to gain weight. Anyway, I have a lot of work to do.”

  I slid my hand between the buttons of his shirt and waved. The shirt billowed like a sail on his emaciated frame. “I saw you put an extra hole in your belt this morning.”

  He grinned and said, “I think you’re taking this motherhood thing too seriously.”

  His smile faded as I frowned. “You take burning yourself out too lightly.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, breakfast of champions it is.”

  He sat at his spot and gestured to my chair. “Please join me. You need to keep your strength up, too.”

  We started eating. Mason seemed to have a good appetite, once he tasted my cooking.

  “Instead of going to Hoover Dam to replenish my magic from the generators, I thought I would spend the day working with you and your father. We need to improve our system to combine our talents in the operating room.”

  “I’m going to the hospital. I’ll discuss the plan with Dad. Plus, I have a lot of administrative work to do. You don’t need to come.”

  “That’s not the only reason, is it?”

  He was weakened but was still perceptive. “If my mom sees you like this, she might try to start an argument.”

  “I can still take care of myself,” he laughed.

  “But you shouldn’t have to.” I put my hand on his. “I’ll lay down the law to Mom. She won’t try any shenanigans again. But I need to meet her alone to have that conversation.”

  “I was going to drive you to the hospital in your new Tesla.”

  “I’ll get Mike to drive me. I don’t think our enemies will be stupid enough to try the same attack twice.”

  “Speaking of Mike, you seem to spend a lot of time with him.”

  “There’s no need to be jealous of Mike,” I said quickly. Had Mike made some inappropriate joke yesterday? Maybe I shouldn’t have left them together for so long.

  “I’m not jealous of Mike. Why would you think that?”

  Because I’m so jealous of Zanna. I squelched the thought. “No reason. Mike’s a good guy. I just don’t want you to think anything’s going on because he drives me around.”

  “I know he’s one of the few people who you can use magic around. Your pack is so backwards. If only you had something to cover up the use of magic—”

  Mason froze in place, with a forkful of omelet halfway to his mouth. I sipped my chamomile tea while he worked through his idea.

  Nearly ten minutes later, Mason blinked and finished bringing his bite of omelet to his mouth. He frowned as he chewed, took a sip of cold coffee, then gestured at his plate and cup.

  The coffee started steaming gently and the breakfast suddenly smelled wonderful. Mason nodded and continued eating as if nothing had happened.

  He finished the last bit of sausage, then asked, “What do you think of Mike getting a tattoo?”

  “You mean to mark him like a pet? No! I would never do that.”

  “Mark him? Of course not. Sometimes I can’t follow your logic at all.”

  I opened my mouth to clarify, but he beat me to it.

  “That’s right, you weren’t there yesterday when we talked about it. Mike mentioned he wanted a copy of your oxygen-mask spell. I told him I would work on it.”

  “I was going to make an amulet with allotropic iron, gold, and sapphire, then use the elements of air, fire, and spirit to form the air bubble.”

  “That could work,” he said doubtfully. “The problem with amulets is that they can get lost or broken. It’s risky to depend on them.”

  “But you gave amulets to Logan’s girls.”

  “A tattoo would be better, but they’re mino
rs. Plus, Logan’s wolf already has issues with the girls. Putting the stench of magic on them permanently would drive his wolf crazy.”

  “But that’s not a problem for Mike?”

  “Mike can take care of himself. And if he’s stinking of magic, any slip-up you make can be attributed to him.”

  “Mike might not want to be my scapegoat.”

  “Let’s let him decide.”

  We spent the next hour going over designs for the spell and tattoo. I was happy that Mason was able to incorporate some of my ideas into his work.

  At seven on the dot, Mike knocked on our door.

  “Good morning, Mike. Please walk around to the garage. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

  “That would be great.”

  While I poured more coffee, Mason moved our car out to leave his circle free.

  Mason wheeled a cart to the center of the circle and gestured for us to enter. At his gesture, a globe sprang up around us. Suddenly, all outside noises were cut off, and the only sounds were of our breathing and heartbeats.

  Looking out was like looking through a pair of sunglasses. Everything was clear, just slightly dimmer.

  Mike stepped to the edge of the globe. “Can I touch it?”

  “Sure.”

  Mike ran his hands over the inner surface. “Wow, that’s the slickest thing I’ve ever felt. And nobody outside can see or hear inside?”

  “Almost nobody,” said Mason. “Certainly nobody around here.”

  “So it’s like a SCIF.”

  “Squif?”

  “S-C-I-F, like in the building we invaded. That room with all the electromagnetic shielding. It’s where they plot in secret.”

  Then he rubbed his hands together and smiled in anticipation. “What are we plotting?”

  “You wanted an oxygen-mask spell like mine. Mason and I have figured out a way to do that.”

  “You’re going to teach me magic?”

  Mason smirked and opened his mouth to make a joke. I glared at him to shut him up and said, “Learning magic would take too long. We can make the spell work through a talisman.”

  Mike pointed to my timestone. “Like that? I’m not big on jewelry. It can get lost or taken away, or break.”