Page 26

TWENTY-SIX

His beast within had given him the only way out: death.

With the enhancer on, my talent grew into a dragon, one with a mind of his own but inclined to play nice with me, his host. I hesitated to think of my talent as an it when riled.

The gunshot wound had woken him, and he pulled against my hold, ready to seek out those who meant me harm and deal with them.

My talent would get what he wanted, but I wanted to make sure he only killed those deserving of their fate, and that meant doing my best to protect the RPS agents defending the airstrip and plane. Knowing Daphne had my little girls, Madelyn, and our new family of pets safely out of the way helped.

No matter what happened to me, they would be out of the line of fire—unless the terrorists pursued.

That thought chilled me, and it angered the beast within.

I understood my brother and his fate well enough.

His beast within had given him the only way out: death.

I wanted life, and my talent knew it. I didn’t just want my life, however. I wanted Daphne, Madelyn, Danielle, and May to be protected. I wanted every RPS agent at the airstrip to walk away with nothing more than bruises and grazes. I wanted Eddie to go home to his mom and dad and his collection of other parents, who surely freaked over the fact he was in the middle of a terrorism event and one of the targets.

I wanted my sister to have a sense of security when the dust settled, knowing I could—and would—do anything to protect New York and our family.

When I released my flames, the world would know that I, the Prince of New York, was not just some snooty royal with an enjoyment of smoothing feathers and helping those I considered to be a friend.

I was a flame, and I would burn brightly—and those who dared to engage in terrorism would burn to ash, and as I was not some fool lacking finesse, only they would burn.

I would leave their clothes untouched and pristine so we might extract what evidence we could from their remains.

My thoughts captured my talent’s attention, and I swear he purred, much like an oversized cat anticipating a chance to toy with his supper.

After a lifetime of clinging to my talent and keeping him held back, aware of my brother’s fate, it was easier than I thought to release my hold and allow him to run free. Rather than burn me from the inside out and take everything and everyone around me out in a blaze of glory, my magic manifested as small motes of fire and light, much like fireflies on a clear summer evening where a million stars twinkled overhead through the trees.

Terry sucked in a breath, and Eddie whistled.

Then, one by one, the motes drifted down the cargo bay ramp. A whoosh warned me of the fuel’s ignition, but neither heat nor smoke came near us. A gentle breeze accounted for that, directing the inky plumes away from the plane.

Dark snakes slithered from the fuel, and within the churning smoke were flashes of blue and orange and white. The blue warned me of the fate of those who stirred the serpent’s ire.

The hottest and purest flames tended to burn a pristine, electrifying blue.

An RPS agent, a Californian as far as I could tell, endured one such serpent of smoke and flame climbing up his leg, detaching, and settling on his shoulder, taking the form of a winged beast, as much of a cat as a dragon. It opened its mouth, yawned flame, and settled, waiting.

Terry lifted his hand to his ear and said, “Prince Ian has gotten to work. Please disregard any hitchhikers that you may acquire. They are his workings. I do believe he is showing the world he is a dragon and a lover of all feline and animal kind.”

“It’s true,” I told Eddie in a whisper. “But if he thinks I’m actually controlling this, he’s out of his right mind. Do you know all those things they tell you about New Yorkers having to constantly control their magic? I’m breaking all those rules. I think my talent might be a kitty dragon, and we should name him Sir Kitten of Clan Dragon so he knows he is an acknowledged and cherished entity.”

Both RPS agents sighed.

After lowering his hand, Terry said, “At least pretend you’re controlling your talent, Ian.”

“But then I’d be lying, and I only like lying to terrorists and nasty politicians.”

He grinned at that, shook his head, and resumed working on his phone, leaving me to my work, not that I was doing much of anything beyond basic direction.

Some of my smoke serpents opted to take the form of horses, ranging from the size of squirrels to demonic drafts that sparked flame from their hooves as they charged across the tarmac.

The first terrorist to die failed to dodge one such manifestation, and as I’d wanted, he burned but left his clothes and belongings behind.

Perhaps they would be unable to speak to us, but their possessions might tell us their secrets.

After the smoke came the flames, some of it taking the form of stalking cats, large enough to devour my sister’s tigers in one bite. Some converged into the shape of dragons, taking to the sky to hunt their prey.

Then it dawned on me that my talent took the route of least resistance, feeding on the spilled fuel rather than on my reserves. “Terry, can you ask the airstrip staff to dump fuel from the tanks?”

Terry did as told, and after a few moments, I spotted someone darting for the nearby fuel pump, opening the nozzle, throwing the hose on the ground, and turning the valve.

Fresh fuel spilled onto the tarmac, and the agent wisely bolted for the general safety of the airstrip’s primary building some three hundred feet away.

A few motes of flame lingered around me, and one darted off, appearing near the spilling fuel and setting it ablaze.

A herd of stampeding horses surged forth and headed in the general direction of the road. With a little luck and enough fuel, they would find Daphne and the rest and bring a swift end to anyone foolish enough to threaten harm to them.

“Damn, Ian. That’s impressive. How are you doing on the exertion front?”

“I’m fine. This isn’t nearly as much work as I thought it would be. The fuel is providing the energy. I’m just giving it direction. I’m going to feel it tomorrow, I’m sure—there are too many fire sources for me to control individually, so I’ve removed the leash.” I grimaced. “And the collar. My talent is wild and free right now, and I’ll worry about reining him in once he’s done hunting. And he’s pissed.”

“Because Madelyn and your children are nearby, and they might go after her and the others,” Eddie said in a subdued tone.

I nodded. “And we don’t know what their talent rating is, and this group hates those without demonstrable talents. At most, they’d consider them to be bargaining chips to get at me. Daphne and Madelyn would be safe enough. Zach might be safe enough if they view upper elite as valuable. But my little girls? They have no value to these scum. And Madelyn is only valuable because they understand my talent is a dragon, and he is second to none.”

“He’s really not. Your sister is strong, but this goes beyond anything we’ve seen in a flameweaver before. Perhaps Dennis,” Terry murmured.

“No, Dennis wasn’t really stronger than me. He was… broken. Dennis couldn’t accept the dragon, and the dragon did the only thing the dragon could to bring Dennis peace, and that was to let him go. They died because Dennis’s dragon was ultimately a being of mercy. Dennis couldn’t accept what it is to be a New Yorker. I’m a different breed of cat.”

“Your dragon clearly adores you, because I don’t even think there’s going to be soot stains on Will’s plane once you’re done here. Sure, he’s going to have a fight clearing her from salvage, but you’re not even melting the tires, and they’re designed to melt.” Eddie pointed at something out the window. “There are piles of clothes lying in literally burning flame, and they aren’t burning, Ian.”

“I wanted the evidence.”

Terry’s phone pinged, and he grimaced upon reading the scene. “Your sister is going to kill you personally when you get home. Someone has been taking pictures of your smoke dragons and cats, and she feels you have been holding out on her. She wants a shoulder dragon now.”

“She has rats. Tell her to give them little dragon wings, and they can be her shoulder dragons. I am not teaching her how to make shoulder dragons, especially not when pregnant!” I inhaled, forced myself to calm down, and added, “I did not know I could make shoulder dragons until just now.”

Terry chuckled. “I hope nobody tells her about the fire horses. She’s going to be inconsolable if she can’t make fire horses. But if that gets her to do her exercises…”

On second thought, teaching my sister how to conjure fire cats and dragons might prevent her from trying to light water on fire, as she loathed the other exercises we were supposed to do. “I’ll see if I can figure out how to teach her how to conjure fire dragons and cats if she forgives me for being shot.”

“Nobody has told her you were shot yet. I highly recommended against us telling her until later. Much later—after you’re done at the hospital later.” Terry regarded me with wide eyes. “How long does it take for you to recover from a gunshot wound?”

“As I have never actually been shot before, I don’t know.”

“Do you think we can hide this from your sister for that long?”

“I highly doubt it, Terry.”

“We’re all doomed.”

* * *

It took an hour for my talent to root out and eradicate the terrorists at the airstrip, and I endured the wait sitting on a tack box Eddie had unbolted with some help from Terry and dragged over so I wouldn’t have to keep standing on my bad leg. Unbeknownst to Daphne and those with the truck, a group had tailed them, but the RPS agents in hot pursuit had witnessed my herd converge, crash their vehicles, and eliminate them with extreme prejudice.

If they had evidence, the horses had shown no mercy, and I understood why.

My talent understood what those terrorists had been after, and he meant to make it clear to the world that nobody would be touching our family, not on our watch.

Then, one by one, the motes of fire and light returned to the cargo bay before winking out, leaving trails of smoke and little else in their wake.

As Eddie predicted, the plane had emerged without even a hint of soot on its pristine surface. While the RPS agents mourned over the bullet damage, I expected Will would repair his baby while getting another one, as there was only one thing better than having the world’s best horse cargo plane, and it was having two of the world’s best horse cargo planes.

I dug out my phone, sighed, and dialed my sister’s number, aware she’d light my ass on fire if I didn’t call her promptly.

“Are you all right?” my sister demanded.

“For the sake of this discussion, can we better define what you are asking?” I asked, wondering how to tell her I’d been shot, it hurt like hell, and I was about to have a bad day.

The instant the adrenaline wore off, I expected I would be a hair from crying.

Pain sucked, and I wanted nothing to do with it.

“You are not dying.”

“I am not dying,” I confirmed. “I have done a few bad things, however. Remember when I slipped my leash before you went on your walk around the Royal States?”

“I do. You about gave Zach and Peter heart attacks.”

“I was being fitted with an enhancer.”

“Ian, you did not get an enhancer. We do not need enhancers.”

“I was fitted with an enhancer, and I used it for the first time today. Well, outside of factory testing. It works quite well, and I like it. It has a suppressor built in, so if you do get close to exertion, it activates the suppressor. It cost a lot . Our asshole parents think I bought an extra suppressor because I’m a good little son who flinches if I don’t meet expectations.”

“Okay. Good job. How many terrorists did you kill?”

“All of them minus the ones the RPS beat me to.”

“Good work. And Madelyn?”

“She had already left the airstrip with the animals, Zach, and Daphne when the attack started. There was a pursuing cell, but I had a herd of wild horses, and they ended that threat with extreme prejudice.” I sighed. “At no fault of anyone present, there was a ricocheted bullet that met my leg, but it’s minor. Terry already bandaged it, and I’ll be fine.”

“You were shot.”

“It’s minor enough I can still walk on it, at least until this nice adrenaline spike I’m riding wears off and the enhancer fever kicks in. And yes, enhancer usage has a side effect of a nasty fever. I’m going to be fever walking around the Californian palace driving everyone insane.”

“Ian,” my sister wailed. “Who shot you?”

“Honestly, it could have been anybody. It was a ricochet, not an actual murder attempt. But if it was a terrorist, the terrorist is very dead now. My talent handled the situation like he’s a very large cat and he wished to play with his food. I’m pretty sure he had picked who he played with the longest based on if he witnessed them attacking an RPS agent. It was a little brutal.”

“A little?” Eddie muttered. “Dad’s being seen by the royal physicians because his heart definitely did not like the terrorism event. In good news, he’s happy I emerged unscathed. In bad news? I told him you were shot, and he’s been dressing me down ever since. I guess being pissed I let you get shot is better than having an actual heart attack, but he’s probably going to be going in for heart surgery. It would not surprise me if they give him at least one stent to fix his heart problems. I’m pretty sure they’ve narrowed down which version of cardiac disease he has. Mom told me she has had it, and she’s taking his old damned ass to the hospital, and he is not leaving until he has his operation. The operation before the heart attack means he doesn’t have the heart attack at all.”

I nodded my approval. “Good. Tell him that it’s my fault. I thought it was a good idea to introduce myself to the bullet. But you can tell him I’m borrowing you to be my personal assistant and legs until mine is back in full operating condition.”

Eddie laughed, dialed a number, and held it to his ear. “Hey, old man. Are they letting you go in an RPS SUV or are they subjecting you to an ambulance? Good. Remember, if you misbehave, they will call an ambulance, and they’ll let the reporters take pictures. Here, talk to Ian. He’s a bit edgy, and he could use a dad to comfort him before he has to go comfort his kids.”

As Eddie thrust the phone my way, I lost my chance to decline the conversation. Sighing, I put his phone to my ear. “You doing okay, Pat?”

“I want to say I’ve dealt with worse, but I really haven’t. A little discomfort they could tolerate. My blood pressure and discomfort? I get to be treated like I’m an old man on death’s door. I had to complain bitterly for the right to walk to the SUV, but I do not get to walk once we reach the hospital. The wife has a mallet, and she’s absolutely willing to break a knee right now. Maybe if I’m recovering from a broken knee, I’ll give my heart a rest.”

Ouch. “Don’t grill Eddie too hard. It really was a ricochet. Terry is already beating himself up enough over it—and over Will’s plane. The poor plane.”

“I’m sure Will will have plenty of friends willing to pitch in to fix his plane. I’ll talk to him and remind him that the plane isn’t much younger than Mireya, and it’s time he gets a shiny new one while his old one is with the plane doctors. There’s a new one available, and it will only take three weeks to get fitted. I was thinking about buying it.”

I crossed my eyes at the idea of Texas joining in the horse cargo plane competition. “Why don’t you pitch buying the wreckage of this plane, fix it up, and direct Will to the one you were going to buy? You can tell him you’re getting the plane for Mireya.”

Texas’s king chuckled, and the raspy quality to the sound worried me. “Good idea, boy. Please tell me Thunder is all right.”

“Thunder was with Daphne, His Royal Majesty of Maine, Dr. Stanton, the girls, and Madelyn, and the terrorists following them came to a rapid and violent end without them being aware they were being pursued. They got out before the terrorists were in position from my understanding of the situation.”

“Good, that’s a relief. Do me a favor, Ian?”

“Anything you need, Pat. What is it?”

“Smack that brat upside the head for me.”

I changed which hand held Eddie’s phone and did as told, hard enough the younger man yelped. “I have delivered your message, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you. I heard you give it to him good. That’s for worrying me straight to a damned heart attack and an operation, and when he gets home, I’m going to put him through his paces!”

Ouch. “You dad is not happy with you, Eddie. Please spare him a little?”

“I’ll think about it, but he best be coming home and having a damned good excuse for this travesty!”

I frowned. “Which travesty, Pat? It was a ricochet.”

“Ask him what Texas RPS protocol is for him using the switch. The wife is glaring at me, and I think she wants the phone.”

“I can talk to Jessica if that’ll help calm her down.”

“It might, but it might not. We won’t know until we try. Here, talk to the brat from New York, babe.”

While they transferred the phone, I eyed Eddie. “What is Texas RPS protocol for you having used the switch?”

“We lock down all Texan royalty. Lock down protocols in Texas mean a whole lot of boredom for the royals for three days. I’ve basically sent my parents to their room for three days. In this case, it’s a hospital room that will be under heavy guard until Dad’s released, and after Dad’s released, they’ll go on lockdown again because he had an operation and that’s how we handle recoveries. I’m not sorry.”

Ah. No wonder Eddie wasn’t melting down over the situation. He’d pressed the one button that guaranteed his parents were safe and sound, and his beloved dad got the care he needed to make the heart attack risk disappear, hopefully to never bother anyone ever again.

Eddie was likely proud as hell of himself, as he had every right to be. In his shoes, I would have been proud, pleased, and ready to face any punishment to come my way.

It meant he still had his dad for years to come.

“Ian, baby, are you okay?” Jessica asked.

I stared at my leg, which throbbed and informed me nothing was all right. “Okay is questionable, but I’m in a survivable state. Only terrorists were killed, so honestly, I’m doing great. How’s Pat, really?”

“He’s having a heart attack. It’s mild, it was caught right as it started, and the physicians have mostly halted its progress. He’s going in for whatever operation he needs, but we already had the cardiac surgeons on call. We knew it was coming, we just didn’t know when. So, smack Eddie again for me, and then give him a hug and tell him he did it exactly right, because the alarm going off got the cardiac docs on the move. That’s our protocol, and I’m damned glad we have it right now. It won’t be an easy night, but Melody is on the way to help with the procedure, and we have a bunch of specialists on call just in case. Once His Royal Majesty of Maine reaches the palace in San Francisco, a helicopter will be dispatched to get him to Dallas. Pat will be fine. Keep Eddie with you and give him a lot to do. Having him hovering here won’t do anybody any good. Randy’s here, and these old men will play cards and complain bitterly that they’re old men.”

It occurred to me that New York might have the perfect RPS agent for Texas: Marcus.

“I actually have a proposal for you, Jessica—and not the wedding kind, sorry.”

“Aw,” the queen replied, and she laughed. “That was a good one, though. What do you have for me?”

“Ask Randy if he wants to help two traumatized children in New York get settled, and in exchange, you can have Marcus, who might quite possibly be the perfect new detail lead for Pat. Marcus is a great agent, he’s ready for the big league, and it’s not his fault he got the short end of the stick in New York. We’ve been trying to cultivate him, but we have trust issues that are not at all his fault, and we want to love him on our details, but we flinch.”

One day, we might not flinch, but Monty had managed where Marcus had not—and Marcus would love everything about Texas and the king he would protect.

“Oh, you sweet, beautiful boy. Hold on. Randy, talk to Ian. Ian, just repeat what you told me, okay?”

“Okay.” I rolled my eyes at the thought of a singular cell phone being passed around the SUV on route to the hospital.

“If you aren’t sitting, please sit down,” Randy begged rather than greet me like a sensible man.

I laughed. “I’m sitting, I promise. You better be sitting, too.”

“As a matter of fact, I am. How can I help you?”

Unlike with the queen, I took my time detailing my idea for how Marcus could advance his career, how Randy could worry about being the king’s friend more than the king’s head of detail, and how he, once Pat recovered, might come to New York and help me settle my little girls, who needed men like Randy in their lives.

Once done, I waited, and I wondered what went through the Texan’s head, who had spent almost the entirety of his career serving his king.

“You know, Ian? I think you might be onto something with that idea. I’ll pitch it after we see what happens in the hospital.”

“He’ll be okay, won’t he?”

“He’ll be okay, but it might be sketchy for the first few hours. We’ve been preparing for this, and Maine has been on alert. The issue with your children has upset everybody, so I’m not surprised this happened when it did. That it’s so mild that we can just drive him is a relief. It’s the best case scenario for us. Keep an eye on Eddie, would you?”

“I will,” I promised. “Give Marcus a call if you feel comfortable with going ahead. It’s not like Terry can assist since I just came up with it. Just blame me when you tell my sister.”

“You got it. I’m going to let you go, but don’t be surprised if someone calls you back to check in on Eddie.”

“If you can’t reach me, call Terry.”

“Roger.”

Once certain the call was disconnected, I returned Eddie’s phone. “Randy is comfortable with your dad’s situation, so I’m thinking it really is minor. In bad news, he is having a heart attack. In good news, it’s mild. That Randy is actually considering going to New York to help with the girls after your dad is through recovery and they transition is a good sign, so try not to worry.”

“That does help,” Eddie admitted. “I’m sure I’m going to freak out once I’m off work.”

“That’s reasonable, and honestly, I’ll be doing it, too. Just don’t let them give me big painkillers, because when this fever hits, I’m going to be a menace. Please forgive me for this later.”

“I’m sure we can handle a fever,” Eddie replied, shaking his head.

“Remind him I warned him, Terry.”

Terry sighed. “Those are what we call famous last words, Eddie, and because you dared to say them, he’s your problem.”