The Flame Game

by R. J. Blain

  “Goodness gracious. I took you on a single road trip, and you evolved into a terrifying demoness capable of taking over the world. I am so proud of you. You hoodwinked me!”

  “I think my gorgon-incubus doohickey did the majority of the hoodwinking. I’m innocent. I didn’t find out anything until after. I’m just claiming credit because that is totally something I would do, given a single opportunity.”

  “You really would. Arthur was all smug with me yesterday. The bastard knew, yet he made me freak out and go to the hospital because I threw up at the smell of wine.”

  “Wine isn’t good for mommas.”

  Perkette wailed. “My drinking days are done. Over. Gone, forever!”

  “Only until after you breastfeed. Apparently, pregnant cindercorn care is ridiculously complicated. Sam asked me to call you because he needs your napalm recipe. Pregnant cindercorns require it. I run really hot and need the fuel to keep going. And when divines tell my husband I should be rationed napalm and poisons, apparently, he listens.”

  “Poisons?”

  “That part is easy. I just play with gorgon snakes until they bite me. We’re adopting a gorgon woman until we can match her with a suitable husband, so she can help with that. She was in a bad spot, and she’s too old to go back to her father’s hive permanently. The kids can also help once we get them back from his grandfather. My gorgon-incubus doohickey is only whining a little over how his snakes don’t get exclusive biting rights.” I regarded my left hand with a scowl. “Annie’s snakes had to do a lot of biting yesterday, so I’m a pincushion. I had a left hand. It’s now full of holes.”

  “It sounds like you’ve had an adventurous few days.”

  “Yeah. My asshole parents tried to light our house on fire, and the fuckers hurt my roses. They were arrested. My roses should survive, but it is taking an archangel and the Devil working together to make that happen. Don’t panic that we went into your house and took our car.”

  “I had noticed the alarm was disabled, and we did see footage of the Quinns having their way with our house. Do we need to come back from Vegas?”

  “It’s okay. We’re playing around in New England. I made Sam eat sea bugs! He liked them.”

  “You actually got him to eat seafood?”

  “Not only did he eat it, he liked it.”

  My husband sighed. “You were right. Sea bugs are delicious.”

  “I love when he tells me I’m right. Sea bugs are delicious, and I proved it to him. We had a really nice dinner last night. It included many varieties of sea bugs.” It had also cost a small fortune, but while I’d floundered, my husband had paid the bill without missing a beat. Had pixie dust worked on me, I would have taken a dose to get over the excess.

  I’d even been aware of ordering ridiculously expensive food, but I’d been so excited to feed something new to him I hadn’t computed how much our gluttony would cost.

  “Good. He needs some spice in his food life. So. Sam is the guilty party?”

  “I fully support my husband’s decision to create mayhem in the form of unexpected children. I was too busy conspiring for twins,” I admitted.

  “You were conspiring for twins when you haven’t gotten used to having two children yet, so you thought you’d have me deal with quadruplets?”

  “I support his decision!”

  My husband laughed. “Just route the phone through the speakers, Bailey. I’m man enough for this conversation.”

  “If I hang up on you, it’s my fault. Quinn wants to join the conversation.”

  “Okay.”

  After some fiddling and a few curses, I managed to make the vehicle do what I wanted. “Okay. There. Can you hear me?”

  “Sure can. You’re in so much trouble, Samuel Leviticus Quinn!”

  “I volunteer my family to help babysit,” he replied.

  “You are no longer in any trouble,” Perkette announced.

  I laughed. “Are you feeling okay otherwise?”

  “So far. I’ve been a moody mess, which is why I ultimately went to the hospital this morning. Apparently, being a moody mess is what happens when you have ovaries and a functional uterus you didn’t have in November. Then my husband started snickering. That’s when he assigned some blame to one of the Quinns.”

  My husband chuckled. “I’ll accept a lot of the responsibility. Had I known you wanted children, I would have had the problem fixed long ago. Any incubus or succubus can do the work. I’m not as good at it, so I had Arthur ask my grandfather. My uncle helped. They actually started messing with you before Christmas. There’s no guesswork on the conception date, if you’d like to give that to your doctors. That said, your real doctors have been preselected for you, and I’d like to see a human beat an archangel at the baby game, especially my grandfather, who will do just about anything for an invitation to babysit children.”

  “Can I thank you in a few days after I deal with a ridiculous number of tests? You know how tests make me when I’m not the one conducting them, Sam.”

  “You’re welcome, Tiffany. My wife is innocent this once, though. She was too busy hoodwinking me for twins with my other relatives to be able to hoodwink you into having quadruplets.”

  “I’ll come up with a suitable present. There aren’t really any standard treatments for my problem.”

  “Outside of an incubus or succubus, and those are expensive.”

  “It would have been five million,” Perkette replied. “I’d looked into it before marrying Arthur, and Arthur was okay with what we couldn’t have, and well, who has that sort of money?”

  I choked on my own spit. “It’s how much for what?”

  “It’s five million for that level of miracle unless you get lucky and an incubus or succubus decides to take pity on you. I’ve never gotten lucky. That’s pretty rare, but it does happen.”

  I grumbled curses. “That’s insane.”

  “It is what it is. I mean, no ovaries is a pretty big stumbling block. I’m going to have to explain this to my mother. She’s going to accuse me of having slept with the Devil. And then Arthur is going to laugh. I’ll have to tell her no, I slept with Arthur, but the Devil may have involved himself, and that’s just going to be an interesting discussion.”

  I dug out my personal laptop, booted it up, and opened the word processor. “So, Perkette. How exactly does a strong, manly gorgon-incubus doohickey make my favorite treat? I need napalm, and he wants to be able to make it himself. You know, in case we can’t swing by the CDC and get them to give it to me.”

  “Despite her grumpy attitude about that, the CDC is allowing her to have napalm. I’d just feel better if I can make it myself.”

  “Well, which grade do you want and how expensive do you want her treats? I have varying recipes.”

  “Start me with a lower grade and work me up to better grades.”

  “Okay. This one isn’t a terrible grade, it’s cheap, and it’s easy enough for manly gorgon-incubus doohickeys to make. Go to a camping store and get a big jug of the camping gel.”

  “Methanol?” Quinn asked.

  “Yeah. Methanol gel. You can get the pink stuff, too. Either works for this. Mix that with equal parts diesel, a quarter part neutralizer, and hot sauce. The hot sauce is only because Bailey likes hot things and I thought it was amusing, so I added it. Once you have that all mixed together, seal it up in a container so the fumes don’t kill you. I recommend you use a practitioner trick to contain the fumes. They’re a problem with this mixture. Get some charcoal, grind it up or smash it, and add it to the mixture. Quarter part. Then add a quarter part of lighter fluid. Use a cup as a part, and that’ll give her enough to cause some trouble and have a good time without the extreme hangover—hopefully.”

  “Napalm hangovers are the worst,” I complained.

  “Well, you be careful making that for her, Sam. It’s toxic, and the only reason I get away with making it is because of practitioner tricks. If you can’t do the tricks, I’ll make several bat
ches and put them in sealed containers for her enjoyment.”

  “I can handle the required practitioner tricks, so don’t worry about that. How about the higher grade napalm?”

  Perkette listed more ingredients, how much needed to be added of each, and the extra precautions needed to mix the stuff without asphyxiating in the process. “I recommend against mixing it until you need it, unless you’re really good at sealing in fumes.”

  “I’ll be careful,” my husband promised. “And I will ration out her treats in acceptable quantities.”

  “Good idea. Ah, bugger. I have to go back into the hospital gauntlet, where I’ll get yelled at for my age in addition to the appearance of ovaries I shouldn’t have. Wish them luck. If they keep pissing me off, they’re going to need it!”

  She hung up before we could say a word, and I saved the formulas for the napalm. “Maybe we should have given her a little more warning.”

  “Maybe a little, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. That said, we better leave them gifts and bribes until she forgives us for meddling behind her back.”

  “Us?” I asked. “I think you mean you. I was too busy meddling behind your back to meddle behind hers.”

  “I’m sure she’ll only make me suffer a little.”

  I laughed so hard I cried. “Sure, Sam. Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

  On his quest to be the perfect husband, Quinn decided we needed burgers with fries, and he scoured Maine to find a takeout place suitable for my special needs.

  The sad truth revealed itself upon our arrival at the fast food joint he’d selected.

  My reformed fish-hating spouse had found a place with lobster rolls and burgers so he could indulge while pretending to cater to me. I raised a brow at the menu posted by the door. “If you think I’m getting a burger when sea bugs on bread are readily available, you’re insane. Oh! Clam chowder.”

  “I wanted you to have the option for a burger if you wanted it, although I see my choice of making sure they also served sea bugs was sound. So, what would my beautiful like for lunch today?”

  I checked the offerings again, and I gasped when I noticed the pet menu. “They have a menu just for pets!”

  “We can dine in because it’s a pet friendly establishment. That was also a factor.”

  I squealed and bounced in place, and Blizzard bounced with me, barking his excitement. Avalanche, as was her wicked way, pounced the husky’s tail. “I was already resigned to eating in the rental until we made it to the hotel tonight.”

  “I thought this would give us a good chance to come up with a strategy.”

  “How are we going to come up with a strategy without knowing what we’ll find?”

  “I’m going to make some educated guesses.” Smiling, my husband took Sunny’s leash, and the instant he ordered her to heel and headed for the restaurant’s front doors, Blizzard and Avalanche followed, doing their best to heel with Quinn.

  Laughing, I hurried to catch up so the poor animals wouldn’t try to strangle themselves heeling as ordered. To keep the pets happy, I shoved their leashes into my husband’s hands. “We need to teach them to heel with the leash holder rather than the person giving the order.”

  “I find this oversight hilarious and endearing.”

  While my husband juggled three leashes and the animals, I strolled to the counter, which instructed us to stand in one place to order or wait to be seated. As I expected trouble, I got out our permits for our pets.

  The hostess, a young woman with her pale hair captured in a ponytail, gasped when she saw Avalanche. “Oh, what a cute kitty! What breed is that?”

  “She’s an ocelot kitten.” I held out the paperwork the CDC had given me. “I hope she won’t be a bother?”

  “Oh, absolutely not. Pets are welcome as long as they’re legal. We keep the animals on this side of the restaurant, and we use some practitioner magic to keep allergens out of the other half of the restaurant. Will you need the pet menu?”

  “We absolutely will need the pet menu. This is their first time in a restaurant.”

  The hostess smiled. “For two humans and three pets?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “This way.” The waitress led us to a booth, handed us the menus, and headed off, returning with three pet beds, which she put down on the floor at our feet. The puppies and kitten needed no other invitation and made themselves at home. “Would you like anything to drink?”

  “Coffee, black,” my husband requested, and he stared into my eyes as he did so.

  “Spiced minty grass of some sort.” Damn it. “Tea. I meant tea!”

  “We have spiced grass, but it isn’t minty,” the hostess replied with a smile. “We have mint syrup if you’d like your spiced grass to be minty, however.”

  “Hit me up with a pot of the regular spiced grass, and because I’m really curious, a cup of spiced grass with mint syrup,” I replied, meeting my husband’s challenging gaze with a raised brow.

  “I don’t know what I just lost in that exchange, but take me for all your worth, because you won that without question,” my husband stated as soon as the woman left. “Also, for the record, she thinks you’re hot.”

  “Wait. She thinks I’m hot? Not you?”

  “Yep.”

  I blinked, leaning over to catch a glimpse of the woman as she went to make our drinks. “You’re not upset, are you? Does this bother your sexy incubus self? She’s a woman. Didn’t you say rejection hurts your pride?”

  “I am more delighted because she sees you like I see you, and that is very gratifying. My sexy incubus self is rather pleased with this. Really, I’m very pleased, and you will be rewarded for being so beautiful tonight. I have zero regrets about this situation.”

  “She gets a huge tip when we leave. And whatever I think is huge probably isn’t, so we need to double whatever number I try to put in as a huge tip.” I giggled and ducked my head. “This might be a first.”

  “It is part of my extensive campaign to raise your self-esteem.”

  “You’re very good for my self-esteem. I seem to have graduated from my initial knee-jerk disbelief to concern my sexy incubus might become unpleasantly jealous rather than delighted.” I leaned towards him and whispered, “If I wasn’t already the prey of a sexy incubus, I’d say she’s really pretty.”

  “That is because she is really pretty,” my husband replied with a soft laugh, and he checked on our pets. “Is Avalanche doing okay with her meats? I know you’re giving some to her every day, but you don’t usually give her a lot. She’s still pretty heavily drinking milk?”

  “She would very much appreciate some fresh meat from the pet menu, but she should still get her milk, and her meat needs to be in small pieces, so we should look at the kitten menu for her.” I checked the pet menu, my brows raising at the wide assortment of meats and brands they kept for pets. “This is a pet paradise, Sam! They even have moose. Oh, they have edible bones, Sam. We need to get those for the puppies.” I thrust the menu at him. “Are any of those bone types what you give them?”

  He checked. “Yeah, these are good. I’ll order a few extra for the road so they can keep busy while we’re driving around and in the hotel room tonight. We’ll get a box for them to go. It should keep them happy. Oh, I want you to do rabies treatments on them in a few days, just in case, and we’ll do a round ourselves. No idea if we’ll be exposed handling this, so I’d rather just pretend we will be.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I will be sad if I flip off that damned marker again.”

  “And if you do, my grandfather will flip it back on, so don’t worry about it. He’ll want to check on you weekly anyway to make sure the babies are okay.”

  “It’s going to be a constant stream of worriers, visiting and visiting and visiting. Make it clear if they visit, they babysit!”

  “I can do that.”

  The waitress returned with our drinks, and we ordered for our pets first, which amused the woman. Once
certain our furry friends were cared for, I ordered a salad to appease my husband’s vegetable-eating ways to go with my sea bug roll.

  It amused me when he ordered the same thing.

  “I have learned when it comes to sea bugs, I should follow your lead.”

  “What is this strategy you want to talk about?”

  “I’ve been thinking,” he began.

  “Thinking, now that’s a seriously frightening statement right there. That’s almost as bad as when I’ve claimed to be thinking. Do you know what happens when I think?”

  “A slightly mitigated version of what happens when you don’t think.”

  I would feel that burn for at least an hour. “Oh, wow. Do that again.”

  He laughed. “I swear, Bailey. You’re the only woman I know who enjoys it when I fling zingers at you.”

  “That one was just beautiful. I need more of that, or I start thinking life is too perfect. But then those zingers make it actually perfect. I can’t help it. I’m a glutton for punishment, and it burns better when you’re the one handling the punishment.”

  Still laughing, he sipped his coffee. “It’s not as good as yours, but I’ve learned there is no coffee as good as yours. However, this was made by someone who knows how to operate a coffee machine.”

  I held out my hands. “Sip!” He handed me his mug, and I took a tentative sip. As promised, someone with some skill with a coffee maker had made the brew. After a moment of thought and a second sip, I returned his drink. “You may go to the car and retrieve our Thermos, and you may pay the nice waitress to fill it for us. And you’ll call your grandfather and find out if coffee is off the list of things I can have, because that is good enough I will drink it with minimal complaint it’s not as good as mine.”

  “The highest of accolades,” he teased.

  “It’s true! Less tease, more strategy. Although you can still tease while we strategize. I don’t think I can handle a day without feeling the burn.”

  “We’re going to play the flame game.”

  “The what game?”

  “The flame game. Essentially, the goal is to burn Morrison in all regards. We must completely destroy his reputation at the same time we, if an opportunity happens to present itself, eliminate him as a risk. Ideally, we will figure out what his end game is so we can burn that to the ground, too. What we need to know is why Morrison and Audrey wanted to convert so many people into gorgons.”