by Aaron Crash
He sniffed and smelled cigarette smoke. Luckily, Sabina was sleeping because smoking around the baby would’ve triggered World War Four—the Zothoric Wars counted as the third one.
Mouse came walking up the path. She stopped when she saw people out on Sabina’s porch. She took a last drag of her smoke, the cherry reddening, before exhaling out the smoke. She crushed the cigarette out but kept hold of the butt.
She walked over without talking.
Reggie had her eyes closed, her face glowing with bliss as she sucked on the bottle. She wasn’t just getting food but Animus as well. Children received the life-giving energy from the dragons around them.
Mouse sat down next to them, watching.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked her quietly. It seemed crazy for anyone to be up at three in the morning who didn’t have to be.
Mouse threw a glance at the bungalow. “Can we talk? I mean, I don’t want the wrath of Sabina. She’s kinda gotten scary.”
“We’ll keep our voices down,” he said.
The night was still for once—no breezes disturbed the tops of the sagebrush. The stars were a heaven of twinkles above. Lights, soft and relaxing, glowed from the perimeter hotel wall.
The Morta Clique’s pool party with Abby Free had broken up around one a.m., but not before Sabina seriously considered throwing Impetim grenades at them. Heridan had been the loudest, of course, since she could be so evil and uncaring at times.
He’d have to talk to them. This clique dynamic wouldn’t fly. He did wonder why Uchiko was following along with Heridan and Nefri, but then he knew... the ninja was in love with both, and she was feeling cut off from Sabina, her cariño.
Pru also felt disconnected from the Latina Magician. However, Pru was dealing with the baby disruptions far better, though that made sense. She had her sister, and those two couldn’t be closer. Also, Pru wasn’t afraid of the clique, and she’d steal Nefri away for some girl time every now and again.
Nefri and her smiles, she could communicate so much hate, relay so much sarcasm, with just a smirk. Pru admired that. Steven and Heridan were considering using NecroMend, or another ability, to try and restore Nefri’s voice, but the magic involved was complex. FleshForge worked with the person’s Animus, and Nefri didn’t have that. NecroMend could alter the cells, and yet, that came with a price. Many thought the Ohkreela had been driven insane because of NecroMend.
For now, Nefri had her smiles, and she walked around with a tablet and a stylus, which she could use to write mean notes. Either Tessa or Mouse had said that Nefri put the dark in dark elf.
“Earth to Steven,” Mouse whispered. “Are you there?”
“Sorry,” he said. “Just thinking about all my crazy wives.” Reggie was done with the bottle. He got a little cloth and put it over his shoulder. He then laid the baby on his shoulder and patted her back. She let out a dry burb, thank goodness, and relaxed onto his chest. She was so warm, far warmer than a human baby, and he loved the feel of her, his little girl.
He loved her more than anything he’d ever loved in his life. Giving her up would kill him, and yet, that was what his parents had done, handing him over to Joe and Flo Whipp. That had taken more courage, love, and sacrifice than he had inside him.
Steven settled the sleeping baby in his lap. “She has to learn to comfort herself at night. We’re going to have to try having her cry it out.”
Mouse chuckled softly. “Yeah, you have thirteen women around. Good luck keeping them away from a crying baby. Zoey would go psycho mother bear on us if Reggie was crying and no one was around to hold her. You don’t want Zoey losing her shit like that.”
“I don’t,” Steven agreed. “But there are fourteen women for the time being. Quinnestri is back with us.”
Mouse waved her hand. “Yeah, like her worshipfulness is ever going to take a night with the melody machine there. Reggie’s greatest hits are just one song, over and over.”
The petite blonde had her arms wrapped around herself. She was shivering a little. She scooted close to Steven and laid her head on his arm.
“What are you doing up, Mouse?” he asked. “You love sleep. You should be sleeping.”
“Sleep is an iffy thing for all of us nowadays. I kept thinking about the meeting, and about the world, and how everything has changed. And then I went out walking and saw her elfliness and Michaela Montes having some special girl time in the eastern field.”
That surprised Steven. He thought Michaela was straight. She certainly was conservative, unless she was talking dirty, and then all bets were off. Quinn wouldn’t have pushed the quiet woman into anything she didn’t want. Hearing about the two of them together gave him some rather lurid ideas.
He hoped Quinn found comfort with the quiet woman.
Mouse settled her hand on his, which cradled the baby. She touched the gold band on his ring finger. “I love being married to you. I felt you wake up, and so I figured I’d have a cigarette and come out here to keep you company.”
“Zoey hates that you and Tessa smoke.”
Mouse blew out a breath. “She doesn’t get the whole Dragonsoul healing thing. These Icharaam’s Promise Centers are going to be curing cancer for people. And we have the best healers in the world right here. But anyway, I don’t want to talk about my tobacco habit.”
“Do you mean your nicotine addiction?” he asked.
“Whatever.” She continued to caress his hand. Her eyes drank in the baby. “Reggie is so beautiful, so wonderful, and such a pain in the ass. You know babies are cute so we don’t kill them at night, right? It’s like biological or whatever.”
Steven wasn’t sure where this was heading. “Hey, Mouse, let’s not talk about killing my daughter. I was enjoying the moment.”
Mouse laughed a little. Reggie was warming his lap. She was warming his side. And the night rolled on, the sage giving their little time a nice perfume. A breeze swept up to remind them they were in Wyoming, but the concrete wave kept the breeze’s fingers off them.
“How many mothers are awake, right now, with their babies?” Mouse asked. “All of us are together, I can feel it, especially after feeling the nothingness of the Battle World, how it was. There’s so much life on this blue-green gem, and not just humans, but dragons and mice and birds and zebras. Fucking zebras, man, in Africa. And we’re all just here, doing the life thing... dads and moms and babies.”
Steven didn’t comment. It was like Mouse was talking to herself, guiding herself to her point. She’d always been the troubled one, fighting against life—either rejecting it with booze or running headlong into suicidal acts of heroism. Going full Mouse.
“I never thought I’d get married again, not willingly. I mean, I figured I’d be dead at this point.” She stopped talking and pushed her face against his arm. “Mulk didn’t care much for me. He’d have sent me on some stupid mission where I would’ve died. That would’ve been okay. I wanted to die. Alcoholism is just suicide on an installment plan. I think I’d have killed myself eventually, Steven. I think about that, and it makes me sad. I would’ve missed out on this, being here, with you and all your crazy wives.”
“I’m glad I married you,” Steven said.
“I’m glad you cheated during our big sword fight.”
A bat flashed overhead, catching a mosquito, before disappearing. Mouse seemed to be gathering up her courage to say what she really wanted.
She sighed. “I can’t bring a baby into this world. I can’t... can’t risk myself like that. Do you understand?”
“It’s totally up to you.” Steven had to be gentle when he laughed, so as not to wake Reggie or hurt Mouse’s feelings. “It’s not like I’m hurting for uteruses.”
“Oh, you dick.” Mouse bit his arm gently.
“Seriously, Mouse, there’s no pressure for you and me to have a baby. Reggie will be enough for me for a long time.” Steven did know there were a few women in his Escort who were interested in having a child. Among them, surpr
isingly enough, was Skylar Blacke. She’d lost several children to the horrors of Dragonlords murdering the children of other Primes. Now, she knew Steven would keep her and her babies safe.
“I feel selfish, though,” the little woman said in a choked voice. “I’d love the baby too much. And this world, yes, we’ve done well beating the bad guys, but the universe is a big place, full of God knows what kind of horrors. I’d be afraid every day. I’d be out of my mind with worry, every day, because if this little part of me died, I would die.”
“You’re not wrong about that,” Steven said quietly. “With Reggie, it’s like I put my heart into the hands of other people. I’m trusting them not to crush it.”
“That’s why Sabina is freaking out, I think.” Mouse nuzzled his arm with her nose. “She can see into the future, and she knows that Reggie’s life isn’t going to be perfect. And she can see into her own past and the horrors there. It’s like if she’s not careful, she’ll only focus on the bad stuff and not the good stuff. I’m glad you’re being patient with her. I don’t think I would be. I’m, uh, not exactly patient even when I’m at my best. Another reason why I should never be a mother.”
“You’d be a great mother,” Steven said. And meant it.
Mouse spit out a breath in disbelief. “You’re going to have to elaborate on that.”
“You were so nice to Zoey when she first came to us. And you’re sweet to Quinn, even when she’s being difficult. You love deeply, Mouse. You love with your whole heart. That’s why you’re so willing to sacrifice yourself. With your child, you’d do anything for them, anything. And that’s why you’d be a good mother.”
“It would also make me a crazy mother.” Mouse found some laughter not tinged with bitterness. “There’s a fine line between a loving mother and a crazy mother, a very fine line. But I don’t imagine I’ll have to walk it.” She sighed out her relief. “Thanks for understanding, Steven. You’re the best. Are you going to sleep out here?”
“I was,” he said. “Just me and Reggie.”
“And your Mouse,” the blonde said.
They all fell asleep on the outdoor couch in the quiet night, keeping each other warm. Steven only slept a couple of hours, but he woke with the dawn, refreshed. He’d slept deep, dreaming comforting dreams of holding a baby, though it wasn’t his daughter, Reggie, it was a son.
And his son was given a name meaning peace. He couldn’t remember it, but just the idea of a peaceful boy joining his family made him feel good.
He wanted peace. He wanted the many wars in his life behind him forever.
Steven and his Escort had fought enough.
Chapter Eight
ROBERT STAINS LOCKED the door to his study in his mansion in Barnaby Woods, one of the richest neighborhoods in Washington, DC. He’d made his fortune selling out to lobbyists early on, made some keen investments on Wall Street, and then milked them for decades.
He hadn’t become the Special Executive Liaison to the Supernatural Community because he liked fucking dragons. He’d never fucked a dragon, and he didn’t plan on starting now that they were all supposed to be one big happy family.
No, he’d become the liaison because he knew about keeping secrets and keeping things balanced, and he’d negotiated a seven-figure salary. He’d also got to handpick his staff, which included Bernard “Buster” Lumpkin.
Buster Lumpkin had been a fat jovial man from Alabama. Lumpkin had been a pity hire, a friend of a friend of a friend, but that’s how Washington, DC, worked. It was how the world worked. You did favors, then got favors in return.
And then fucking Buster betrayed him, and Robert found himself scurrying to be relevant.
Now that the big bad space demons were gone and the dragons were united behind Stevie, it was all changing. The president said he wanted to shake up the SCD, and that meant new leadership. Buster was chosen. When he took over, Lumpkin had thrown Robert a bone—he’d remain as a consultant, which meant money, no power, and bullshit by the spoonful.
The real story? The president didn’t give a shit about the Supernatural Community Department. Stevie and that brat Bud Novak had asked for someone else to work with.
Robert’s wife was happy he still had a job, so she could squander his money, and his children were happy because they could stay in their ivy league schools. Everyone was so fucking happy except for Robert. It was like he’d been sent off to the pasture with a pat on his butt after decades of service. He’d kept all that dragon bullshit hidden away, all the assassinations and all the battles. Every time the dragons slipped up, he’d been there to make sure they stayed hidden.
It had gotten harder and harder as Stevie rose in the ranks.
What really had been the end of Robert’s career was the death of Morty Flint. Morty had loved Robert, and they’d golfed together, drank together, smoked cigars, and talked about how the world should be.
Morty and Robert had been tight. Stevie? Not even close. That kid didn’t even like to talk on the phone. Robert had to deal with Bud Novak—not even his father, but Bud!—who was some squirt of shit not worth a flush. Every time he saw the kid, he wanted to put his hands around his throat. Robert had socks older than Bud.
Robert sat at his desk, his computer on, streaming the big speech, the big announcement to the people. He could’ve gone to the press conference, but no, he didn’t want to look pathetic. And fucking Buster Lumpkin had everything running smoothly.
If only Buster had been a fuckup. That wasn’t the case. The Alabama man had risen to the occasion. Buster was a true politician who could work both sides of the aisle to get what he wanted. It made Robert’s fall from grace even harder to take. Robert had thought he was untouchable. He wasn’t. Then again, very few people in the world were.
Except for Steven Drokharis. With his power, with Silas von Forcade gone, no one was going to go up against him. Robert hated that. He loathed it. Yes, it was envy, but fuck, why should Stevie have all the power?
Robert watched the cameras flash and the reporters getting themselves into a quivering frenzy as the press conference approached. They were doing the conference in the UN, which made a certain amount of sense. There weren’t just American Dragons, after all, but Robert didn’t much care for the UN. The United Nations was a lot of talk, not a lot of power, and even less action.
Robert had come ready for the most historic event since the World Trade Center’s twin towers went crashing down. He lit his best Churchill, and he uncapped his best scotch, and he watched as a ring of fire appeared in front of the podium and the microphone. A Magica Porta spell, right there, on live television, streaming across the world.
A beautiful dark-skinned woman in a red dress walked through the portal. He’d seen her before, but her green eyes were darker now, and she seemed older, more serious.
Aria Khat. She was going to give the speech. It was a ballsy move, but then, Robert could understand it. It wouldn’t play well with some people, but would Steven have been a better choice? He was a white kid barely out of his teens. Liam Strider might have been the best choice, though even then, there would be controversy. Fuck, there was a shitload of controversy with everything nowadays.
Aria talked about dragons, about hiding from the Zothoric, about the IEGs and the IPCs and the changes they would bring, to every industry, to every sector, and suddenly the world had clean energy and the promise of healing. Even the worst diseases would be cured. Cancer would be like polio in a few years.
Icharaam’s generators. Icharaam’s promise.
Robert knew the history. The Alpheros brothers came here to hide, and Icharaam had fallen in love with the apes, and it was Icharaam who had wanted to make the world a better place.
Well, it had taken tens of thousands of years, but the old fucker finally got what he’d wanted.
Robert puffed on his cigar and drained one glass, then two.
Aria said the dragons didn’t want to rule and that the humans would take care of their own government
. However, she did add one last thing... something about the worst of human crimes would no longer be tolerated.
No more slavery for anyone. No more human trafficking. No more genocide. The dragons would be watching.
“That, bitch, was a mistake.” In a fit of anger, Robert yanked off his toupee and flung it across the room. “The dragons can’t police us humans, no, because that’s a slippery slope. We don’t know your agenda. And I for one don’t trust it. I’ve seen how you fucking dragons like to murder each other. Is that really going to stop? Hardly.”
He sat, fuming, as another portal opened on the main stage of that circus. Steven Drokharis in a black suit, no tie, stepped forward, along with the goth girl with bright cherry-red hair and tattoos. She was wearing a conservative blue gown, though she was still showing too much cleavage.
Steven Drokharis and Tessa Ross, the most powerful magic-users on the planet, along with Aria, who was newly back from the dead. The trinity of the future, or that was what the headlines would probably say.
A man and his two women. Pornhub searches on harems and ménage à trois were going to skyrocket.
This world didn’t need dragons, and the people didn’t need dragon gadgets or hocus-pocus healing. Things had been fine before.
“This is all going to end badly,” Robert said.
His phone went off just as Steven and his whores waved goodbye and went back into their portal.
He checked the number, and it wasn’t a blocked number, but someone from his contact list. A single word:
Collidium.
He hadn’t put that weird name in his phone. Who had added it to his contacts?
This wasn’t right. Robert declined the call. The caller didn’t leave a voicemail.
But Robert Stains wasn’t going to let this mystery remain a mystery. He had contacts in the FBI’s IT forensics unit. He’d have some egghead check his phone to see how anyone could’ve added something to his private, very secure phone.
Collidium.