Wyvern and Company Page 3

  "Too bad we're not superheroes. That could solve everything."

  "We're not superheroes," Mack sounded depressed. "Man, I wish your mom was here."

  "I think she's your mom, too," I shrugged. "She sure left the house the other day like a bat out of hell when she heard you got hurt," I added. "And pissed—man." I shook my head at Mack.

  "She made me feel better yesterday—for sure," Mack said. "Like the weight was lifted for a while."

  "Want me to call her?" I lifted the cell phone she'd lent me.

  "If you don't mind."

  "Hey, you think your dad will let you come home with me? I don't think Mom will mind if you stay with us."

  "I want to," Mack nodded. "Dad's got a job going in Visalia, and Beth's classes at Fresno State take up most of her time."

  "Then call and ask," I nodded toward his cell phone. "I'll call Mom."

  Twenty minutes later, I drove Mack to my house. Mom met us at the door. "Honey, how are you feeling?" she held Mack's face in her hands. He let out a sigh, as if the weight were lifted again.

  "I have your bedroom ready," she said. "But you and Justin can play video games in his if you want."

  "I do," Mack nodded and offered her a lopsided grin when she let her hands fall. "Thanks, Mom."

  "Anytime, baby."

  Normally, Mack would consider himself too old and way too macho to accept baby as an endearment. He didn't mind a bit when Mom said it to him. "I'll have dinner ready in two hours," Mom said and shooed us toward my bedroom.

  "Let us know if we can help," Mack called out.

  "What are we having?" I asked.

  "Fried chicken."

  Mack stopped in his tracks and turned around to walk back to Mom. "I love you." He flopped his arms around Mom's neck and gave her a hug.

  Mom cooks meat for Dad and me, because we're carnivores. She's vegetarian. Yeah, it sounds weird, but that's the way it's always been. Mack's favorite meal is homemade fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy and fresh green beans. Mom wanted him to be happy and get his mind off recent events, so she was cooking something he loved.

  I was all for it.

  * * *

  Adam's Journal

  Sweetheart, Lion and Dragon are coming for dinner, I sent. We have to discuss this mess and what we should do about spawn in the area. What the hell are they doing here, anyway? This is a breach of the agreement.

  You can't ever rely on their complete compliance, she sent back. Maybe somebody didn't get the memo after Corpus Christi. I'll cook extra chicken for Lion and Dragon. Mack is here to spend the night with Justin, and if I have my way, he'll stay until Martin is done with that job in Visalia. He's too far away if Mack happens to need him, right now.

  Are you prepared if things happen with him? I asked. It was a valid question.

  I think I can handle it, she responded. He's having trouble dealing with the emotional fallout from that pile of spawn-induced shit. I'm more concerned about those six kids they have locked up in a mental ward at the hospital, she went on. You know they were bitten.

  That's why Dragon and Lion are coming—we have to discuss this and come to some sort of decision.

  Adam, I'm really not feeling good right now.

  Sweetheart?

  I think I'm going to be sick.

  On my way.

  Ten seconds later, I held my breath and my wife's hair while she vomited in our toilet. This hadn't happened in more than eighteen years. I sent mindspeech to Joey, telling him to get here quickly. He folded in, took one look at Kiarra bent over the toilet and put his hands on her forehead.

  She stopped dry heaving immediately.

  I flushed the toilet while Joey pulled Kiarra away and set her on the dressing bench nearby.

  "Let me check," Joey's hands went to her abdomen. "Yeah, Adam, you're gonna be a papa again. I'll ask Karzac to come so we can confirm, but this looks like a done deal from my perspective."

  "Fuck, shit and damn," Kiarra cursed before shaking her head at Joey. "Right when we have to deal with the fucking spawn from fucking who knows where."

  "Sweetheart, you're cursing in front of the baby."

  "Look, you're probably five or six weeks along, if that," Joey attempted to placate my wife. "You still have six more weeks or so to smite spawn if the need arises."

  "I don't like that idea," I snapped.

  "I don't care," Kiarra snapped back. "Getting pregnant again wasn't exactly in my plans, Adam Chessman."

  "You're blaming me?" I tapped my chest with a finger.

  "Enough." When Karzac appears and growls like that, it's time to shut the hell up. He put his hands on Kiarra. "Yes," the Refizani physician nodded. "Yes. You are correct, young Joey. Pregnant. Six weeks. Kiarra, please tell me that this does not upset you. After all, Lion and Marlianna would love to have children, yet they cannot. So far, you are the only one among us who has overcome the necessary obstacles."

  "Fuck," Kiarra hung her head. "I'm not upset about another baby. I'm upset about the timing." Her eyes begged Karzac to understand.

  "Then I understand. It is not, as you say, the best time for a little one. We will work around that, won't we?"

  Karzac has light-brown hair, green-gold eyes, stands at roughly six feet and has a soft spot for my wife.

  "I guess," she mumbled.

  "Has your stomach settled?"

  "Yes. I need to get back to the kitchen to finish dinner. I promised to make fried chicken for Mack."

  "Would you like me to take a look at the young one?" Karzac lifted an eyebrow.

  "Sure. I've already squashed Mack's memories twice. He really needs somebody better suited to handle the emotional side to this."

  "Then I will talk with him. Come, I will follow you to the kitchen, gather soft drinks for your son and his friend and we will have a talk."

  "Thanks, Karzac."

  "You are very welcome."

  Chapter 3

  Justin's Journal

  I seldom see Uncle Karzac. He showed up that afternoon. Yeah, I knew he was a doctor and plenty busy, but somehow, Mom and Dad got him to make a house call. He brought two bottles of Dr. Pepper to Mack and me, then sat on my bed and talked to both of us while Mom cooked dinner.

  He had good things to say, too. He told Mack that feeling guilty about surviving was natural. Lots of people felt that way in traumatic circumstances. He said what I did, too—that it wasn't Mack's fault that the bad stuff happened or that he'd miraculously lived over it.

  We also discussed people who did bad things for reasons known only to them, and that Mack wasn't responsible for any part of that, either. I could tell Karzac wasn't happy that Randall Pierce's dad stuck Mack in the same cell with a homicidal lunatic, but he didn't come out and say it.

  When Mom knocked on the door and said dinner was ready, I could tell Mack felt better, and it wasn't just because fried chicken waited in the kitchen.

  That night, we had dinner with Uncle Karzac, Uncle Lion, Uncle Joey and Uncle Dragon, something that seldom happens except at Christmas. Uncle Lion grinned and teased Mack and me, but it was a gentle teasing—about stuff that really didn't matter and made us laugh.

  Uncle Dragon watched both of us with guarded attention. He does that a lot—as if he's making sure everybody is safe. Mom always says Uncle Dragon does it out of habit. I have no idea what that means, but it's nice to know.

  Mack admires Uncle Dragon a lot—he's only seen him a few times, but since Dragon is Asian and has a long, black braid down his back, Mack says he looks like an ancient, Japanese warlord or something.

  After dessert, which was banana pudding, another of Mack's favorites, Mom, Dad and my uncles went to Dad's study to discuss business. Joey didn't go to the meeting; he helped Mack and me clear the table and load the dishwasher instead.

  "Want to see the latest?" Joey held up a flash drive when we were finished in the kitchen. He'd been working on his own video games, and the last one looked pretty cool.

 
"Yeah," Mack said, his eyes shining. Joey was working on what might prove to be the coolest game ever, and Mack and I couldn't wait to try it. Joey did all the computer work for Dad's business, but he did this on the side and wanted to start a gaming company someday.

  This game would be a good start on that dream. Joey had serious talent in that area—he'd graduated with honors from MIT. That's why he could help with all my math and science homework—those subjects were never a problem for him.

  Mack and I followed him as he led the way to my bedroom and my computer.

  * * *

  Adam's Journal

  "I don't like the idea of waiting," Dragon said before sipping the bourbon I'd poured for him. "We only need a plan to get them out of the hospital before taking care of the situation. They're not human any longer—we all know that. I know their parents will be devastated, but devastation is better than being bitten and turned to spawn by your own children."

  "I agree with Dragon," Kiarra said. "Who has ideas on getting them out?"

  "You will do nothing of the sort." Thorsten appeared in a brief flash of light, wearing a huge frown. "I command that you allow this to play out as it will," he added.

  "What the fuck?" Kiarra bristled. She disagreed with Thorsten more than half the time, and often argued against his decisions. The rest of us let her take point on things of that nature—it was her right to assert her opinions, after all.

  "Kiarra, I will hear no arguments this time," Thorsten huffed. "This is the way it will be. Watch and wait, then take them down when it becomes necessary and not before."

  "And that could happen in a crowd of people, just like Shaver Lake," she protested.

  "Most of those are dead," Thorsten hissed. "I trust Adam can place compulsion on the boy if it becomes necessary."

  Right then, I knew my wife wanted to hit Thorsten. She didn't, but only because Pheligar appeared and held her back from our superior. The Larentii didn't harm her; he merely wrapped a blue arm about her body and pulled her against him. I couldn't think of anyone who might escape a determined Larentii, and that included Kiarra.

  "Kiarra, he has spoken," Pheligar said. It wasn't difficult to tell that Pheligar disagreed with Thorsten's decision, too—he merely wanted to keep Kiarra safe and away from the minor god's wrath.

  "There," Thorsten jerked his head at Kiarra and Pheligar. "I have commanded this. You will not hunt them; you only have permission to take them down if they attack. That's the end of it," Thorsten muttered and disappeared.

  The room was quiet for several seconds after Thorsten left.

  "We'll stay to fight spawn," Dragon offered, nodding toward Lion. "We don't have assignments coming up for a few weeks."

  "Then we'll let things play out, just as commanded," I growled. Pheligar released Kiarra, who looked very much like a ruffled and offended hen at that point.

  "Allow this to play out as it will, my ass," she muttered as she stalked out of my den.

  "Pregnancy will not improve her temper during this volatile time," Pheligar observed dryly once she was gone. "I will be more vigilant—it is my guess that this spawn epidemic will spread quickly if we cannot actively hunt them, and she will be tempted to use her abilities past the twelve-week mark."

  "Does that mean we'll see more of you, then?" Lion asked.

  "Logically speaking, if I am present more often, then the likelihood of your seeing me also increases."

  "Save me—he's employing logic," Lion pretended to be choking.

  "I assume that was an attempt at humor. I assure you it was wasted effort."

  "He said let things play out as they will. That means we can go if we hear or see evidence of spawn, right?" Dragon asked. "I swear I will go at even the hint of spawn. The six in the local hospital? We wait and watch. I have already visited the hospital to prevent the personnel from drawing the blood of those spawn-infected teens—it was to save the lives of the staff. You know the newly-made spawn will see such as an attack and kill as a result. It is also my fear that Kiarra is correct—these may turn in front of a crowd when the time is right and their hunger for human flesh takes over. I have no idea why Thorsten has decided thusly. The results of this decision may serve to panic a nation that has no idea what may be attacking it."

  "We may have other worries, too," Lion pointed out. "While I can't say for certain at the moment, those who sent the spawn may have formed alliances with humans. Perhaps that is why Thorsten made this decision."

  "We have another problem, too," I said.

  "Yes." Pheligar agreed. "Justin's eighteenth birthday is approaching."

  "Three weeks," I said. "If things should happen with him, they will likely happen then."

  "Not the best of times to teach a fledgling," Dragon nodded.

  "Kiarra is keeping an eye on Mack, too," I said. "We may have two fledglings."

  "When will you tell your child of the impending birth of his sibling?"

  "We'll have to tell him soon, I suppose. We should keep it under wraps until he and Mack are in a better place emotionally, I think."

  "I agree with that decision," Pheligar said.

  That surprised me—the Larentii acted as if he were a member of our group instead of an aloof superior. I refused to blink or show my confusion. Perhaps it was that he stood with us on this, instead of blindly accepting Thorsten's latest decision.

  "May I suggest," Pheligar went on, "a larger home? If you find suitable land to purchase, we can have the home built to your specifications quickly. If you buy enough land, you can build a guesthouse where Lion and Marlianna will reside. With Thorsten's command, I believe this could take weeks or even months to conclude. Make sure to build a house with many bedrooms; Dragon will want to move in with Karzac."

  "Why would I want to do that?" Dragon asked.

  "The Wise Ones approached me. They say Kiarra is carrying your mate in her womb," Pheligar shrugged.

  * * *

  "Here," Lion said, pointing to several acres that once were part of a local strawberry farm.

  "That's ideal—nothing close-by except more farmland," Dragon agreed. I was busy Looking to see what would be required to build an English manor-type home with three stories and a larger garage.

  Dragon didn't express it, but hope shone in his eyes for the first time since I'd known him. Our daughter—Kiarra's and mine—already belonged to the former Falchani Warlord.

  "I will take your plans and with Dragon and Lion's help, it will be accomplished swiftly and with little notice," Pheligar said. Yes, the Larentii was still there. Kiarra had no idea what we were plotting—she'd gone to bed already, claiming she had a headache. Joey took care of it and placed her in a healing sleep afterward.

  "Can you expedite the sale? I can pay cash, but we need paperwork done and building permits filed."

  "I will see to it," Pheligar said. That's one of the things he did—smoothed the way for us to walk into any situation or onto any world and fit in easily. Pheligar had a talent for it, actually, and I was grateful for the cool efficiency of his race.

  "I already have plans drawn up to rebuild the house in England, but it's owned by the bastard's family now and they won't sell it, either. I hear they're hoping for a title to go with the land, but that won't happen. The title died with my brother, after his heirs moved to America. It won't matter how many royal rings they kiss, they're not going to get a title out of it."

  "Where are the plans?" Pheligar asked, interrupting my huff. Pulling the rolled-up plans to me, I placed them in his hand. I'd made changes for a massive remodel of my ancestral home, hoping one day I'd be able to make those changes. I had no idea whether that would ever be.

  "I will see this done—in a week," Pheligar said and disappeared.

  "Fuck me," Lion breathed and shook his head. "I've never seen that Larentii so determined before."

  "I don't think he's ever disagreed with Thorsten so actively, before," Dragon observed. "This is his way of making sure things are taken care of wi
thout drawing Thorsten's ire."

  "So he's placing us on Earth for a reason," Lion slowly nodded.

  "We have to be ready to go at a moment's notice, wherever spawn crop up," Dragon rose and Pulled his sheathed blades into his hands. "My friend, we'll be ready. Adam, I hope you have a place for me to spend the night."

  "I do," I agreed. "We'll just have to move a cot into Justin's room for Mack."

  * * *

  Justin's Journal

  I don't know where the extra bed came from, but Dad and Uncle Dragon moved it into my room because Uncle Dragon was spending the night in Mack's bedroom.

  Mack didn't care—in fact, he was relieved. His twin bed was shoved against the opposite wall after Dad moved my desk and beanbag aside. We hadn't slept in the same room since junior high, after I outgrew my twin bed.

  At six-four, I was as tall as my dad and looked a lot like him, too, except for my hair color. It was a sandy blond and I figured the lighter shade came from my mom, whose hair is pale blonde.

  "You gonna be okay?" I asked Mack when the older folks left the room.

  "This is fine," he said, wiggling into a better spot. Mack looks a lot like his dad, too, with dark hair and eyes. Marilee was stupid for not seeing past his height—Mack is awesome in my book.

  "Good-night, then," I said, turning off the bedside lamp. Sleep was slow to come, that night—too many things swirled inside my brain and I couldn't shut it down.

  * * *

  Hearing the television in the media room on my way to the kitchen was turning into a regular event. This time, Mack followed me as we walked in to find Dad, Mom, Uncle Dragon, Uncle Lion and Uncle Karzac watching TV at seven-thirty on a Tuesday morning.

  We saw images of sheet-covered bodies scattered across a field in Yosemite. That was bad enough, but the sound that came from Mack's throat as he watched?

  It sounded almost like a growl.

  "Dude," I whispered and elbowed him. He turned fast to blink at me.

  "Sorry," he shook himself. "Man, what happened?" He turned back to the screen.

  We saw images of collapsed tents, with long shreds of waterproof fabric lifting in the breeze. Some of that fabric was stained; I knew it had to be blood.