Journalists at the scene were already comparing this attack with the one at Shaver Lake—the similarities were eerie. At least Mack hadn't been anywhere near Yosemite, so they couldn't blame this on him.
"Another attack; this time at a campsite in Yosemite," Dad sighed. "They found sixteen bodies, but three others are missing."
"Not good," I muttered.
"For damn sure," Mack breathed beside me.
"Want breakfast?" Mom stood and stretched before walking around Dad's feet and heading in our direction.
"Yeah." I'd been plunged right back into depression at the sight of the murders.
"Honey, don't think about that, all right?" Mom linked her arms through Mack's and mine to pull us toward the door.
* * *
Adam's Journal
"This is unacceptable," Kiarra huffed. I agreed with her. Yes, we'd gone to kill spawn in Yosemite the night before, but sixteen humans were already dead and the last three were spawn bitten and dusted when they died.
We'd killed the spawn responsible and gotten rid of spawn dust afterward, but the whole situation was as unacceptable as my wife claimed. Thorsten's command held us back from actively hunting spawn, and that's exactly what we should be doing instead of dealing with them only after they'd attacked a campsite filled with college botany students in a national park.
I didn't like the fact that Kiarra was pregnant and insisting on fighting, either. We'd waited to have this conversation until after Mack and Justin were back in Justin's room, playing video games with Joey.
Karzac had to pull Dragon back, too—he'd been ready to voice his opinion on Kiarra's involvement in the spawn hunt. Already he was protective of his mate, although she wasn't much more than a collection of cells inside my wife's womb at the moment.
"She doesn't have a name," I said aloud.
"What?" Kiarra stared at me. I'd just derailed the train, in her opinion.
"Our daughter. Dragon's mate. She doesn't have a name."
"Adam, Karzac says I'm only a few weeks along. A name is something for later. Besides, shouldn't she have a choice in this, too?"
"You know how M'Fiyahs work," Griffin appeared inside our kitchen. I wasn't sure I wanted him there, but didn't say anything. He'd retired from the Saa Thalarr, giving up his spot so I could take it. I didn't want to fight with him in my own kitchen—retired Saa Thalarr held onto their abilities and I wasn't in any mood to test his.
"I don't give a damn about how M'Fiyahs work," Kiarra slammed a pot into the dishwasher. "She gets a say. End of discussion. Now, back to the fucking spawn in fucking Yosemite."
"How is Merrill?" I asked politely, turning to Griffin. We liked Merrill—that was a certainty. Justin liked Merrill, too, and called Franklin Grandpa Frank. Franklin grinned every time Justin said those words.
Franklin was the one who, with Merrill, had arrived to help after Kiarra was injured at Justin's school. That day is still a bit foggy in my mind, but Franklin went right to work, cleaning house, cooking meals and doing laundry.
Merrill and I kept Kiarra entertained and off her feet for two weeks. That's all she'd give us. They'd gone home after three weeks, but I know Justin and Franklin keep in touch by e-mail and the occasional phone call.
That doesn't concern me at all. Justin will never have grandparents, and that is a shame. If he wants to think of Franklin as his grandfather, then he couldn't have made a better choice.
"How about Anna Kay?" Kiarra straightened after loading plates in the dishwasher.
"Anna Kay?" I stared for a moment at my wife before nodding. That's who I thought Kiarra was when I first met her—Anna Kay Madden, a psychic detective in Port Aransas, Texas.
I didn't know at the time that the real Anna Kay was dead—killed by the enemy. Kiarra had taken her place to disguise herself while tracking spawn in the area; it was a good cover to utilize many of her talents.
With the help of Dragon, Lion, Joey, Merrill, Daniel Carey, several vampires and the Corpus Christi Pack, we'd successfully fended off an invasion of spawn, Ra'Ak and a nasty monster called a kapirus.
That success had also pulled Earth back from its status as Not Worth Saving in the eyes of our superiors. With the recent spawn attacks, it looked as if someone were trying to put it on the list again.
I knew Kiarra wouldn't let that happen, as long as there was breath in her body. It made me wonder at her pregnancy—she'd led the charge last time, but this—after three months, she wouldn't be able to fight and I didn't intend to let her; use of her power could kill the child. Thorsten's edict, too, had placed a crimp in any efforts we might make to defuse the situation before it had time to take hold and spread.
That concerned me—too much.
"Sweetheart, I'm really beginning to worry about those teens in the hospital. Will they keep them there, do you suppose, because they no longer speak?"
"Whether they keep them or let them go home is moot—either way they'll cause death and destruction." She sat on the barstool next to mine with a sigh. I rubbed her back gently and was surprised when she buried her head against my shoulder. "Adam, what are we going to do?" she moaned.
"I'm not sure," I kissed the top of her head. "We'll take this one day at a time."
* * *
Justin's Journal
Mack and I thought Thursday would be like any other day at school, forty-three classmates' deaths and counselors combing the hallways and setting up appointments with students notwithstanding.
Boy, were we wrong.
Piles of flowers lined the fences surrounding the school, and the only blooms that weren't dying in the heat were the artificial kind. Those were slowly being bleached by the early September sun in Fresno. Notes, too, were stuck in the fence, along with stuffed animals and anything else someone thought to give to honor the students who'd died.
Mack was traumatized enough that he'd seen what he'd seen and felt guilty for surviving, but I can't begin to describe the nasty looks and nastier comments aimed at him for exactly the same thing—that he managed to survive while the others were either dead, in the hospital or missing.
I discovered that Randall Pierce, whose dad was still suspended from the police force, was fanning the flames with his Mongol horde of henchcreeps.
A school assembly was held at the end of the day to announce a memorial service at the first football game, which was slightly more than a week away. Mack and I took seats high up in the gym, and nobody sat near us. That didn't stop the talk and whispers, though, which Mack and I heard easily enough.
Valley High had shunned us without the usual, accompanying silence.
The Principal stepped to the podium on the gym floor and cleared his throat before announcing the memorial service and telling us that the football coaches had chosen replacement players for those who'd died or were in the hospital. I almost gagged when Randall Pierce and two of his friends joined the other players on the floor.
"I'm quitting the football team," I mumbled. Not only were they taking Randall Pierce, I was included in the backlash aimed at Mack, merely because we were friends. The friend part didn't bother me. What bothered me was that there was a backlash to begin with, and Randall was leading the charge.
"Dude, you can't quit," Mack whispered. "They don't have any decent players left as it is."
"Then they'll have to cancel the season," I said. "I'm not playing. If they can't get their heads on straight about any of this, I'll be damned if I fraternize with the enemy."
Mack followed me when I went to find Coach after assembly. "Justin, practice is in ten," he said.
"I'm not going," I told him. "I'm sorry, Coach, but I'm quitting the team." Coach's eyes slid to Mack, who stood right beside me, before clearing his throat. "I, uh, well," he shook his head. "The decision is yours, obviously."
"Yeah." I turned and stalked off, with Mack right behind me.
Coach knew Mack was being bullied and he chose to ignore it, like everybody else. "Well, screw all of 'em
," I whispered as I headed toward the doors and the parking lot beyond.
Mack and I had ridden together in my car, so both of us fumed silently on the way home.
* * *
"Son, you don't have to explain it to me—I understand why you did it," Dad said when I told him about quitting the team. "Some things are more important than a game, and a lot of people fail to see that."
"My Friday nights just got freed up," I shrugged. "I may quit basketball, too, if things don't improve."
"I spoke with Mack's father," Dad said. "Mr. Walters is coming to work for the company as my construction manager when his job in Visalia is done. He knows everything about the business, and he says cabinetwork is spotty this year anyway."
"I didn't realize you were so busy," I said.
"It's not busier than usual, but I wanted to be closer to home. Son, your mother and I decided to go ahead and tell you now—you'll be getting a baby sister in seven or eight months."
"What?" Of all the possible things Dad might have said, that wasn't even on the list.
"It was a surprise for us, too," he said. "We didn't think it was possible."
"Uh, Dad," I said. He knew before I said it. How many people are creeped out when they learn their parents aren't too old for sex? I tried to squash that thought. They still looked young. Really young, actually. I thought it was because they were healthy and made healthy choices.
Dad knew exactly what I was thinking. "We've had the talk, son, and I assume you recall your lessons at school?"
"Yeah, but," I mumbled, ducking my head.
"It's natural. Do you remember me saying that?"
"Yeah. But everybody else treats it like a big secret. A big, dirty secret." I remembered Sex Ed in school, and how most of my classmates were laughing in an embarrassed sort of way after the classes.
"With the proper person, it shouldn't be that way. Between consenting adults, sex can be many things, including a way to relax and enjoy your partner and yourself. You show your feelings that way—it's a forum to drop all those taboos and leave them behind."
My voice hadn't broke in at least two years. It was breaking, now.
"Dad," I croaked. "Enough, okay?"
"All right, but think twice before believing anyone is too old to have sex," he said. "Talk to me in forty years, and we'll discuss this again."
"I sure hope not," I muttered and headed for the door.
* * *
Friday at school was worse than Thursday, due to the confrontation with Randal Pierce and his Mongol horde in the parking lot Friday afternoon.
Randall and three friends were blocking the way to my car. I guess if you have enough people, you think you're invincible. I didn't want a fight, and I sure didn't think Mack was in the mood after what happened a week earlier.
I have no idea how the cavalry knew to show up but they did, in the form of Uncle Lion and Uncle Dragon. Both of them—tall, muscled and frowning, looked as formidable as two Mount Everests as they walked up beside Mack and me. Together, we stared down Randall and his friends across a hot patch of bare concrete in the parking lot.
I could feel the rising heat washing over us in waves and couldn't help thinking of a few westerns I'd seen on TV.
"Who are they?" Randall demanded, nodding toward my uncles. The fact that his voice rose a pitch or two told me he was about to crap his pants. I would, too, if I were on the other side of the stare Uncle Dragon leveled on Randall and his friends.
"My uncles," I said as evenly as I could. Randall's buddies started backing away, which pissed Randall off.
"Time to go, man," one of them—Todd Mann—grabbed Randall's arm to pull him away.
Randall tried to shake him off, but that didn't work. Todd is taller and heavier than Randall, so he just got a better grip and held on. Randall, who didn't want to show weakness although his knees were probably knocking together, let Todd pull him away.
The minute they loaded into Randall's almost-new Chevy and drove away, I heard Mack release a sigh. "Thanks," he nodded to Uncle Dragon and Uncle Lion. "I'm not sure we could have come out of that alive."
"Someday, you may surprise yourself," Dragon patted Mack's shoulder. "This just wasn't the time or the place for that. If any of those used the brains they had, they'd never have accosted you here to begin with. Security cameras are focused on this parking lot."
"I'm glad you came," I said, shaking my head at the circumstances. "Somebody would have gotten hurt for sure."
"Want to ride home in the Jeep?" Lion asked. "We can get your car home later. The Jeep's running and cool inside."
"I'll vote for that," I nodded. "Mack?"
"Yeah." Anytime he could ride with my uncles, that was all right with him. He hero-worshipped both of them, especially Dragon.
We walked to the street in front of the school, where Mom's Jeep was parked and running. It was cool inside, and that came as a welcome relief—both from the situation we'd found ourselves in and the high temperature that sent heat waves lifting off the concrete.
Lion drove, Dragon rode shotgun and Mack and I sat in the back on the way home.
* * *
Mom and Dad were in the kitchen when we got there, and Mom had made brownies. The kitchen smelled good.
"We'll be moving next week," Dad announced. "We bought a bigger place, Dragon's moving in and Lion and Marlianna will live in the guesthouse."
"We'll have a guesthouse?" I squeaked. "Wow." The fact that we were moving hadn't even settled into my brain, let alone having a guesthouse big enough for Uncle Lion and Aunt Marlianna.
"The guesthouse is bigger than this house," Dad said, and almost smiled.
"Should I pack?" I asked, still feeling stunned. "What about Mack?"
"Mack will have his own room, and he can stay whenever he wants," Mom said, moving forward to give Mack a hug. He ate that right up, I could tell.
"Your father is going to be my new construction manager," Dad told Mack when Mom moved away. "He says you can stay with us as much as you like, just check in with him every day. He'll be back from Visalia on Monday—he thinks if he stays there over the weekend, he can get the job done by then."
"Cool," Mack said. "What's for dinner?" he turned toward Mom.
"I thought we'd go out tonight, unless you have other plans?" Mom offered him a big smile. "Feel like Italian?"
"Steak and spaghetti?" Mack asked.
"If that's what you want."
"Yeah." Mack gave the idea an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
"Mack, do you think your sister would like to come?" Dad asked. "We'll get your car on the way home from the restaurant," he turned to me, then.
"I'll call," Mack said and pulled out his cell phone.
Beth said she had a date, so she couldn't go. Mack just shrugged at the news after he hung up. "She's seeing somebody from Sacramento," he said. "It just feels weird, I guess, that she might marry him. I haven't met him, yet, but Dad has."
"Steak and lobster?" Dad quirked an eyebrow at Mack. "With spaghetti?"
"Oh, yeah," Mack nodded. Maybe it was my imagination, but his appetite appeared to be increasing, lately. Maybe it was stress eating, but what did I know?
"We'll leave in an hour—since it's Friday night, the wait will be less if we go early," Mom said.
"Suits me," Mack grinned.
Chapter 4
Justin's Journal
There was a wait at the restaurant anyway—Giorgio's was always super busy on Friday and Saturday nights. What surprised me was who waited on us after we were seated—one of our high school classmates, Gina Allen.
"Gina?" I blinked at her when she showed up at our table in the standard Giorgio's uniform of red, monogrammed polo and black slacks.
"Hey, Justin, how are you?" she smiled at me.
Yeah, my heart rate went up several notches. Not only was Gina pretty, she was smart, too. She was in my English and calculus classes, but we seldom talked—I wasn't sure why, because she was so interesting. T
ruthfully, I was surprised she knew my name.
"I'm good," I said.
"Hi, Mack," Gina nodded to him, too. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Mack dropped his eyes.
"Look, those kids at school are morons," Gina said. "Don't pay any attention to them."
"Easier said than done," Mack said, but at least he was looking at her, now.
"I know. Just remember they have little sympathy and fewer brain cells," she said. "What can I get you to drink?"
"I'll have a Dr. Pepper," Mack said immediately, and things went back to normal. Sort of.
Dinner was great; Mack ate a huge plate of food, Gina was the best waitress ever and at the end, she handed me a slip of paper with her phone number on it.
I had no idea how hard it would be to act cool instead of like an idiot when that happened. I thought Uncle Lion's grin might outshine the sun as we walked out the door.
I do know that Dad gave Gina a huge tip. She deserved it, after waiting on a table with eight people—Joey and Karzac were with us, too.
"You dog," Mack elbowed me before I could climb into the back seat of Dad's SUV. We'd been forced to bring both vehicles in order to haul all of us.
"Not a dog," I claimed, tapping my chest. "She made the move, man."
"You didn't push back. I've seen you push Marilee back a hundred times."
"Dude, I didn't want Marilee."
"That's fine. More for me," Mack sat back on his half of the seat, a smug expression on his face.
"Marilee is still in the hospital," Dad pointed out as he started the engine. "Things may never be the same with her, Mack."
"Yeah. I know." Mack sighed and stared out the window.
"Honey, don't worry. Things will work out," Mom swiveled in her seat to talk to Mack.
"I sure hope so," he mumbled.
We drove past the exit to get to our house and went even farther east. I hadn't bothered to ask Mom and Dad where the new house was, so I was about to find out.
Mack and I stared as a tall, arched metal gate swung open when Dad hit the button on a remote. We drove past and the gate closed behind us. The gate turned out to be the least amazing thing there—a three-story house waited, and it looked like something out of a picture book.
Wyvern and Company Page 4