Chapter 3 #5
I had to do a double-take, for the second time, to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
It was the weirdest thing. There had to be forty guys, big guys, marching in step, with their arms stretched in front as far as they would reach, the tips of their fingers touching the idiot before them, all forming lines that led to the two musclemen toting my sister like a parade banner.
That should've been enough. But wait, there's more. These asshats put the nuts on top of the messed-up, crazy-ass, freaky, fartatstic sundae of insanity taking place not twenty yards in front of us.
From one of their marching steps to the next, Magic filled the air, and the idiots went from wearing jeans, T-shirts, and work boots to being outfitted for Halloween– or a Mardi Gras Float.
Atop their heads were trucker hats with horns popping out of the top.
Over their shoulders were backpack-like straps that held tiny, papier-maché wings the color of overfired clay pots exactly between their bulging shoulder blades.
But wait, there was more.
No, the crazy did not stop there.
On all their hands, still outstretched and touching the dude in front, were tawny leather work gloves with misshapen and bent roofing nails pushed through the tips to resemble what I could only imagine was supposed to be talons.
And just like, my mind forced my eyes to look at their feet, and sure enough, there were the same screwed up nails poking out of the toes of camel-colored work boots.
It was wild. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry.
I wanted to let Aideen come forward and set them all ablaze.
But I didn’t...
I stuck to my guns and followed the rules.
And was I rewarded for my restraint?
No. No, I was not.
Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the leader of this merry band of screwball psychopaths, a guy that was at least half a foot shorter than all the others and tucked away at the front of the line where I couldn’t see him, yelled, “Halt!” As the group came to a jerky halt, he kept going for five.
.. long... steps before spinning on his toes, throwing back his shoulders, and throwing both arms straight in the air with such force he actually had to take a step back to keep from falling on his ass.
And that’s when I saw it.
A plastic monster mask, circa 1972, covering his face.
Yep, that’s right. It was thin, molded plastic with holes on the side where the silver grommets that were holding the rubber band poked through, and that rubber band was stretched so tight around his big, fat head that it trembled with the strength it took not to explode into a hundred pieces.
It should've been creepy. It should have made anyone who had ever seen the movie Halloween, the Rob Zombie remake, run screaming into the night to find a closet where they could hide.
As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that's what he was going for, but to my sister, friend, Mate, and me, it was just sad in the weirdest, most fucked-up way possible.
Grown men, dressed like some kind of mixed-up, hardware store, dollar bin rejected Wyvern wearing sun-bleached plastic masks, trying to do only the Goddess knew what was more than a bag of mixed nuts, it was the whole damn farm!
All I could think of was calling Dr. Maxine Monroe at Bailmore Hall and having them all committed.
And I wish it had ended there, but it didn't.
Not by a long shot.
Nothing in my life ever did.
Arms swinging from side to side, up-and-down, and back and forth like he was conducting the Boston Pops Orchestra at the crescendo of the 1812 Overture, the kooky king of the faux-scaled nutballs roared, “Burn the Dragon Queen!”
And that was when I lost my freaking mind.
Up on my feet, I vaulted over the natural hedge created by long, tall stalks of giant reed, switchgrass, cordgrass, maidencane, Lindhemer’s muhly, and more than a couple of rotting tree stumps that we were using for cover in a single leap.
It was impressive. I didn’t think so at the time.
Hell, I wasn’t thinking about anything but saving my baby sister.
However, in retrospect, it was a freakin’ miracle that I launched my curvy, five-foot-seven-inch curvy bod over all that beautified junk, ignored getting scratched, poked, and slashed, and ran-yes, actually sprinted towards the assholes trying to incinerate my baby sister.
Charging straight for that son of bitch while Aideen's wings sprouted out of my back, it was then that I realized how cool I was and took a split second to be totally impressed with my own athleticism- but it was only a split second.
Then I screamed like the seriously pissed off Dragon Queen I happened to be at the very top of my lungs.
"You wanna see somebody burn, Asshole. Hold on tight ‘cause I'm gonna set your ass on…achoo–achoo–achooachooachoo…”
And that was when I replayed the event of a few hours earlier, the one that set the storeroom of Marvelous Martha’s Brew House and Bougie Bags alight and put into motion one of the greatest days of my life.
Yes, you read that right. I said ‘greatest’.
Sure, part of my shop would have to be rebuilt but I'd met a new best friend, I'd found my One True Fated Mate, and I’d seen a side to Maeve I didn’t know existed and I really liked, and it was all because I sneezed, set my shop on fire, had to call 911, and the Fire Brigade came to my rescue.
Now, that's what I call making a silk purse out of a sow's ear, my friends.
And that’s why they call me the Bougie Bag Dragon Queen of Dragoon Bootay.
You see, one of the things that no one had ever told me, (Nope, no one–not even Momma June or the Aunties Jayne and Brenda.) was that right before a female– doesn’t matter if she’s a Dragon Queen or not– of the Dellencourt Clan meets her Mate, her body gets ready to accept his Magic by producing her very own Dragon Fireballs.
All the years of sitting through the same old stories, the retelling of more Legends than I could ever recall, and not one of those wise old Dragonesses thought to impart the most essential piece of wisdom- I was gonna be a living, breathing flame-thrower right before I met the man made for me by the Universe.
You just gotta love my family.
Anyway, because those flammable, explosive, and volatile blazing spheres cannot just sit around in our bodies without causing serious damage and one hell of a case of heartburn, they are forced out whenever our emotions reach critical mass.
Which, in my case, is pretty much twenty-four-seven.
But… especially when someone I love is in danger. Or when I inhale coffee beans.
(You get that the latter is what caused me to set my shop on fire, and the former is because Maisie was in danger, right? Okay, good. Just had to be sure.)
And, no, I did not know any of this until Aideen decided to chime in and tell me the whole story… about three hours too late. Have I mentioned that the Dragon Queen I share my soul with can be a real pain in the tail? I hadn't? Well, consider yourself informed. Moving on…
Watching their leader be incinerated, fortunately – and unfortunately – had the effect I was looking for.
As I'd expected, the thirty-some-odd other members of what I later discovered was the Revenge Wyverns of the World ran like the Devil himself was after them.
Unfortunately, what I hadn't counted on was that they tossed a trussed up, tied up, and totally ticked off Maisie into the air, leaving her falling face-first towards the sandy, muddy, very wet bank of Crocodile’s Cock with nothing to do but shriek, "Catch me! Catch me! Catch me! Can’t do anything!
Trussed up tight! SAVE MY SWEET ASS, MARTHA! "
Racing forward as fast as my feet would carry me, I barely had time to register the whoosh of air, a flash of gorgeous red hair, and a whiff of saltwater before Kai stopped in front of me and held out his arms. Catching Maisie– trees, fluorescent green goo, and all– he turned her right side up, planted the ends of the tree trunks she was tied to into the wet, mucky ground, and in the blink of an eye, released my little sis.
Wrapping my arms around Maisie, I squeezed her as hard as I could, happy that my little sister was all in one piece, basically unharmed, and in good enough shape to tease my Fae King over my shoulder.
"Hey, Chief! Thanks for the save, but you ever make my sister so much as think about shedding a tear, and I'll turn you into an ever-burning torch, put you on my deck, and splash hot tub water at that scruff on your chin." She inhaled then added, “and I don’t give a good gosh darn if you are a Fae King. I’ll getcha, ‘cause she’s my big sister.”
“Nice to meet you, Maisie,” Kai laughed out loud. “You’re welcome. Any sister of Martha’s is a soon to be a sister of mine. And, no worries, I plan to keep my lady smiling from now ‘til the end of time.”
See? I told you my man was a sweetheart.