Wyvern and Company (4 page)

"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 without 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.

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.