Page 22

Monday, April 27, 2167

The Pearl Ward

Dragon Heights, Wyoming

Tourmaline zipped over,chirping and squeaking in his general excitement. Laughing, I held out my finger so he could land. I petted the hummingbird, asking if he had a good time on his outing. The bird bobbed on my finger, reminding me of overexcited parrots unable to contain themselves.

I praised him, transferred him to my shoulder, and took a sleeping Garnet from my father, who held her nestled in the crook of his arm. She remained asleep, and I discovered I could do whatever I wanted with the limp, softly snoring kitten. Giggling, I cradled her, resisting the urge to rub her furry little belly. “I see you tired her out today.”

“We went to three rock shops,” my father announced. His exasperated tone matched with him crossing his eyes did me in.

I laughed at him.

The carbunclo slept on, oblivious to the noise around her.

“And how many stones did she sucker you out of?”

“Six,” my mother complained. “And the bird got us for one, too.”

“Good job, Tourmaline. We’ll set up your new rock so you can see it from your nests, okay?”

Tourmaline chirped and clicked at me, and he continued to bob on my shoulder.

My father heaved a sigh.

“You’re the one who invited them to go shopping with you. It’s not my fault you did not refuse their requests. I shall make certain to praise them for having transferred the wealth of dragons into their hoards. And yes, I have decided my carbunclo and my hummingbird are deserving of hoards.” I took care to rest Garnet on the counter, where she continued to sleep, and pulled the box with my Blazewing in it over. With a flick of a finger, I popped open the lid and revealed my new weapon. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

My parents came over to admire the weapon. My mother reached for it, and I slapped her fingers. I picked up the Blazewing and showed them both sides of the barrel. “If you want one, you’ll have to get your own, but she is mine, and you may not have her.”

“I was only going to look,” my mother muttered.

“She is mine, and you can’t have her. I am onto the wily ways of dragons, and if I let you touch her, you’ll try to steal her.”

Alastair hooted his laughter. “You have that right, Kinsley. If you want a Blazewing, I can put in an order for one, Mrs. Ramons.”

My mother held up two fingers. “Better get one for the lout, too, else we’ll never hear the end of it.”

My father sighed. “My wallet is going to need a trip to the ER at this rate. It’s bleeding money. My wallet is absolutely hemorrhaging money.”

“You and your wallet will survive. Alastair, we’re going to need derringers to match hers, and we’re going to also need a pair of Flamerunners. We will not be outdone by this youngling. Navy for him, red for me.”

“How about orange with red swirls? I can get a custom grip delivered for you in a few days.”

“Oh, yes. Please.”

Alastair went to his computer, clicked his tongue, and tapped at the keyboard. “All right. The Blazewings, which I can get the same year run as Kinsley’s, will ding you nine thousand each and can be here on Friday. The grips can be here on Saturday, and I can have them installed and ready to go on Sunday. I have two Flamerunners in stock, but they’re a model down from the one Kinsley has. If you want the same as Kinsley, they can be here on Friday.”

“We’ll wait for the ones on Friday,” my mother requested, and she placed her purse on the counter near Garnet before petting my kitten. “What do you have that is suitable for a carbunclo and her hummingbird sidekick?”

“Neither are licensed to use or carry firearms, Mrs. Ramons. I recommend you take them to the pet store down the street.”

I smirked at the dragon going up against my mother and winning. “I bought them presents when I was on my outing today, so they’ll be fine. After we’re done here, I need to go to the store to get hot sauce for Garnet.”

“I’m sure we can handle acquiring hot sauce for your kitten.”

“She eats hot sauce?” Alastair asked, and he raised a brow.

“If you put hot sauce on a pile of mashed potatoes, she will fling herself upon the bounty with amusing enthusiasm and require a bath afterwards,” I replied, grinning at my sleeping kitten. “I’ll have to teach her to be a little less messy when hot sauce becomes involved, but she’s still a kitten, and it’s good for her to be excited and enthusiastic about her supper. She’s still learning what she likes, so I take the time to explain what everything is when we’re in the grocery store, and I get her something new to try whenever we go.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard about this peril with carbunclo kittens.”

“She’s worth the trouble, and bath time is sacred. Garnet loves water. I’m going to have to give her weekly baths just to appease the beast.”

“It could be worse,” my mother informed me. Then, after a rather dramatic pause, she said, “She could love mud puddles and hate baths.”

As I was guilty of such things as a child, I recognized I’d lost the battle and the war. “That’s very true. She loves mud puddles and baths, so I am the most fortunate of carbunclo parents. Cleanup is a breeze.”

According to my mother’s expression, she would find some way to make me pay.

“We better buy cases and holsters since we’re here anyway,” my father said. “And we’re going to need a safe, else the little lady here will bust us left and right for inappropriate care of our firearms.”

“If you fail to take care of them properly, I will confiscate them and keep them for myself.” I would, too. Such beautiful pieces of art deserved to be loved and cared for appropriately. “You better sell them that obscenely expensive safe that might keep me out of it should they fail to take care of their Blazewings appropriately.”

“You got it, Kinsley.”

* * *

Monday, April 27, 2167

The Pearl Ward

Dragon Heights, Wyoming

An hour into my parents’shopping spree at the gun shop, I woke Garnet through rubbing her belly, and I kissed her little nose and cooed to her while she stretched and made sense of her new surroundings. Once she recognized me, I scooped her up, snuggled with her, and carried her around, wondering how best to rein my parents in, who were putting some serious thought into buying me an extra gun or two.

My protests had fallen on deaf ears.

“Grocery stores do have closing hours,” I called out, hoping someone would pay attention to me for a change. “Garnet needs hot sauce.”

My kitten mewed and rubbed her little nose against me while purring a storm.

“Garnet needs hot sauce,” my father told my mother, and he engaged her in a staring contest. “We should just get her all three.”

“All three it is,” my mother announced, and she grabbed two of the cases they’d been arguing over and hauled them to the register. “Grab that other one, then we’ll load up that duffel bag. Kinsley, we’ll take the firearms over to the Millson home for storage until your safe and locker are installed.”

“Except her derringer,” Alastair stated, and he waggled his finger at my mother. “It is loaded with non-lethal rounds and should stay with her.” The dragon reached under the counter and pulled out a small box, which I recognized as containing more of the 10mm pepper spray rounds. “You should purchase these for her, as it would allow her to keep her protection piece loaded at all times.”

My mother examined the box, spotted the marking for pepper spray, and nodded. “We’ll take two boxes. Those are useful.”

Alastair grabbed another box and added it to the pile.

“A hundred rounds each of everything she needs, and I’ll call John and warn him she’ll need space in his safe until hers is installed,” my father said, bringing the third case over and patting the counter. “A hundred rounds of that pepper spray for that other brat’s derringer, too.”

I rolled my eyes over my parents’ behavior. “No more shopping. Garnet needs her hot sauce, and then I have to head home and make her supper.”

“We can go out for supper,” my mother replied. “We’ll make sure your little baby has her mashed potatoes and hot sauce. Stop worrying. We can go on a venture to buy hot sauce tomorrow.”

By the time my parents decided to set me free and go back to Miami and terrorize people there, I’d be spoiled. While I would be spoiled, I’d also be in a better position to enjoy life and advance myself. I would still take the tests and make my own path, but if I fell, help would be a call away.

That would take some getting used to.

“All right. We’ll go out for supper, but we need to stop at a grocery store first to buy Garnet hot sauce.”

“We can swing by a grocery store so Garnet can pick out a few bottles of hot sauce.” My mother reached over and petted my kitten and scratched beneath her chin. “We’ll make sure you have everything you need, sweet baby.”

We’d both be spoiled by the time my parents finished with us, as would Tourmaline, who had decided to take a nap in an impromptu nest of cloths I’d purchased to help care for my new weapons. Rather than comment about it, I went to the counter where my bird slept, rubbed my finger against his breast, and cooed at him to wake him up. Once he’d stirred, I encouraged him to get on my finger and transferred him to my shoulder. “We’ll have to make sure Tourmaline is fed before we go. He’s tired, and he’ll probably sleep through the night again.”

“He’ll be like that for another week or two,” my father said, and he came over to give my bird a gentle petting. “And don’t you worry about a thing, either, Tourmaline. We’ll make sure you have a comfortable place to sleep, even if we don’t drop you off first. Your mommy likes having you close, so you’re not going to be in the way. Why don’t you come ride in my pocket and take a nap in your nest?”

To my amusement, my father had a tiny wicker style nest that fit in his jacket pocket, and Tourmaline made the short flight to him, crawled inside, and settled in. Unable to resist, I got out my phone and took a picture of the bird. “You just get some rest, little baby. You’ve had an exciting week.”

We all had.

“Why don’t you step outside for some fresh air,” my mother suggested, and she claimed Garnet from me. “We’ll be out in a moment. Garnet is going to pick you a present, and then we’ll be along.”

“I’ll deliver the firearms with the safe and locker tomorrow,” Alastair announced. “That’ll save you a trip. If you really want the lot delivered to the Millson residence, I can place a call and handle the delivery myself.”

“Tomorrow’s fine,” my father said, staring my mother into submission. “She has her derringer for today.”

“Tomorrow’s fine,” Mom conceded, heaving a sigh to let everyone know we tested her patience. “Run along while we finalize the payment. It wouldn’t do to have you faint dead away at the total.”

Considering they were buying two Blazewings, more ammunition than was sensible, a few extra firearms, and whatever Garnet selected, the total would vex me. Rather than deal with any additional commentary, I headed outside. According to the sky, we’d burned away most of the day in the gun shop, and we’d be foraging for dinner in the dark. Unlike at my arrival, the street bustled, and I picked a spot near the door but out of the way, observing the people as they went by.

A metallic glint caught my eye, and I turned my head in time to observe a heavyset man, less muscular than my father but on a broad frame, take a swipe at me with a blade reminiscent of a surgeon’s scalpel on a hatched stick for a hilt. Rather than bring my arm up to protect my face, I spun around, whipped my leg up, and kicked, aiming for the man’s hand. He twisted his wrist in time to score a hit across the back of my calf, which would make a mess of my ability to walk for a while. I yelped, followed through, and touched my foot to the ground long enough to reset my stance, spin again, and smash my heel into the bastard’s face.

He bellowed his fury, and the deep sound, louder than any human could make, warned me I dealt with a dragon—an angry one out for my blood.

In good news, he dropped the blade, which bounced along the sidewalk.

The man transformed into a dragon, an old one with silvery scales that shifted and reflected light in such a way it appeared to be molten. The displacement of his size knocked me off my feet, and I hit the concrete hard.

My cut calf, which I had disregarded while defending myself, informed me nothing was all right. Having been stabbed before, I recognized something else was at play.

Being sliced hurt like a bitch, but not with the same searing level of pain the wound inflicted upon me.

With a clawed paw far larger than I, the mercury dragon swiped out, snatched me around my chest and waist, and launched into the sky with a bone-rattling roar.