Chapter 5 #3
True to his claim, Erik’s father lit a fire under the entirety of his family, his wife included.
Rather than join in on the familial brawl, my fiancé sat with me on one of the tables and observed the festivities with open amusement.
To make it clear he was on his father’s side, he provided me with a fancy cocktail loaded with alcohol.
In the Millson family, ladies planning a clutch stayed far away from the temptations of booze.
My fruity beverage had at least four different liquors in it and could drop just about anyone under the table.
I expected someone would be carrying me to the SUV, which Erik would be driving—and that I’d be headed into the station rocking a hangover.
“I see you talked to my father while you were hiding from the boisterous family affair,” Erik commented during one of the lulls in the brawl.
Erik’s siblings had formed teams, and to my amusement, they were by clutch, leaving Erik’s parents to defend themselves from the whole lot of them, as none of Erik’s aunts or uncles had come to the meal.
He pointed at the siblings from his clutch.
“They’re going to win because my honor is at stake, and while they don’t remember my rough entry in the world, everyone else does.
They’re going to take advantage of their sentimental ways.
Mom and Dad are going to lose because Mom will start wailing and crying because her fragile little latecomer, me, is growing up.
And she swore there would be no accepted procreation offers from my father until I was safely venturing off on my own.
Every last one of my siblings is going to beat the snot out of her while yelling that I’m officially a proper adult and to have another clutch already.
It’s going to be ridiculous, and we won’t get out of here until after midnight.
I’m going to start drinking, because Dad is going to inevitably drive us home with Mom, and they’ll fly back here.
That is when Dad is going to book time off work and work on his plan to secure another clutch. ”
“I feel like we’re being used for nefarious purposes.”
“I’m the only one in this family who wasn’t traumatized by the circumstances of my birth,” he informed me in a solemn tone. “This fuss cracks me up every damned time because I don’t remember any of it. Apparently, they’re feuding to prove I am actually a wanted child and not just a leftover.”
I gaped at my fiancé, trying to imagine a world where anyone treated him like a leftover. “Your parents wanted your clutch so badly they misbehaved so much you actually showed up. How does that mean you’re an unwanted leftover?”
“I really don’t know. I do not have self-esteem issues when it comes to my place in the family.
I am spoiled rotten, and I enjoy my status as spoiled rotten.
Sometimes, my siblings even complain I get special treatment, as they can’t get our parents to act like mules when they want to work on an old fixer.
I abused my status as the youngest and whined until they rescued my baby Bentley. ”
That I could believe. “Have you told them you’re not allowed to be completely spoiled at home?”
“Nobody believes you’re at all capable of being a tyrant.
I tried. Now that they’re aware of your parentage, they’re trying to figure out how this happened.
You’re the exact opposite of a tyrant. I behave because I currently enjoy my living arrangements, and poor behavior wins me exactly nothing.
I’ll admit, I did have my mother teach me how to cook and clean properly so I wouldn’t get evicted. ”
I laughed, as I had done similar.
My mother loved cooking, and my father loved when he got to run away with me and indulge in fast food, which wasn’t as often as either of us preferred.
I’d needed minimal help with the cleaning part of things, as I’d entered the world with helpful tendencies.
“You’re fine, Erik. I’m just dense and possibly a little stupid when it comes to men. ”
“A little? I despaired over how I might get you to even get fast food with me.”
I snickered. “I’m blaming my parents for this.
They had zero inclination to teach me how to flirt, hunt for a suitable male, or date.
I think they were trying to teach through example, as they did a great deal of flirting and at-home dates, which resulted in me being utterly clueless.
I’m a little sorry about it, but I’m not sorry about the fast food. ”
“Maybe we should turn this into a drinking game and get so drunk that my father is forced to call in some purple dragon friends to detox us on his dime.”
I saluted him with my drink. “Game on, Erik. What are the rules?”
“Every time one of my siblings lands a solid blow on one of my parents, we drink. That way, we might actually survive tonight.”
“Just bring all the bottles and juices, else we’ll be going back to the kitchen every ten minutes,” I suggested. “This is a game we’re destined to lose.”
“Can I call this a date?”
I giggled at the thought of inflicting us at our worst on his family. “You sure can. Raid the refrigerator and see if they have any good cherries.”
“They’re boozy,” he warned.
“Even better. We win a cherry every time your mother flattens one of your siblings.”
“There won’t be any cherries left by the time they’re done if we do that,” he warned.
“That is the idea. If they didn’t want us stealing their cherries and drinking all their booze, they wouldn’t have started a brawl.”
“I like the way you think,” my fiancé replied before heading off to bring us everything we needed to drink ourselves under the table.
* * *
Monday, May 18, 2167
The Diamond Ward
Dragon Heights, Wyoming
Somehow, I dodged a hangover, but the credit for that miracle went to the trio of purple dragons the commissioner summoned upon realizing we’d taken leave of our senses and gotten so drunk we couldn’t remember our names, where we were, or why we’d decided to drink down numerous bottles of fruity booze.
In retrospect, had I known what waited for me at the station, I would have requested I pay penance for my complete lack of common sense.
There was zero organization in the files from the mercury mansion.
It was a good thing the entire lot of them had met their ends at the claws of our families, as I wanted to kill them all for their crimes against their financial records.
After requesting every scrap of paper to leave the estate, I took over the entirety of the conference room and went to work sorting papers so I could begin hunting for the truth behind what Madam Merorie had done.
The why I felt no need to pursue further; the spirits of the departed had given me enough of a glimpse into the woman’s madness to satisfy my initial curiosity on the matter.
With time, I’d walk down that dark road and expose more, but for the moment, I had other stones to turn over and investigate.
Uncovering the financial trail leading to the probable trafficking ring would do the most good, and I would need to ferret out when, where, and how money had exchanged hands.
From my experiences in Miami, human lives tended to start at five hundred a pop.
Some abductors accepted less if it got them their next hit of narcotics or access to sex workers.
I’d even seen a father sell other people’s children so his could attend a private school owned and operated by a trafficker.
I had enjoyed helping to bring that organization crashing down, although my involvement had been limited to making arrests and handling interrogations.
Madam Merorie’s associates would fall, and I would enjoy every moment of it.
When they weren’t napping, Garnet and Tourmaline played, romping around at my feet and engaging in a complex game of tag with rules only the hummingbird and the carbunclo understood.
Sometimes, Garnet would perch on my shoulder and mew inquisitively, and I would take the time to explain why I was organizing everything like I did without appearing to get much done at all.
Unlike in television shows, it could take months to dig through a complex financial file, and at current count, I had the files of seventy-two dragons to work with thus far.
At least I could close the case with Cecilia; the second box I’d sorted had included dossiers on her women along with the identity of their attacker, the same brute of a man that Erik’s mother had torn to ribbons over Death Mile.
The papers indicated he had been learning necromancy from his aunt and that the brothel women were his first forays into the art, copying the work of his great uncle. The dossier linked his great uncle to earlier attacks in Dragon Heights, but I had no information on if the man lived or not.
I didn’t even know his name, as the dossier referred to them by their relation to Madam Merorie.
To her, people were valued by how close they were to her and her blood.
Her brutish nephew had been one of her favorites, and she’d held high hopes for him being able to help her raise her son and husband from the dead.
Making use of my phone, which had a new digital sim installed, I sent a text to Captain Andretti, informing him I had a few questions I’d like to ask him in private.
Then I returned to work, as I had learned early on in Miami that captains had to-do lists twenty miles long with a tendency to grow if left unattended for even a single moment.
I settled into a pattern of identifying the owner of the paper and adding it to their pile so the police could request more financial information from banks, credit card companies, and other institutions.
The sorting work would simplify that for us, as I’d already ferreted out hundreds of different accounts I would need to pull and evaluate for information.
Within fifteen minutes of texting, the captain knocked, entered, and closed the door behind him. “I’m surprised you’re asking for me already.”