“Mom was cremated. Since corpusmancer bodies are sought after as vampire shells and as Constructs, Ceinwyn Dale had it done for my sake. Your sake too, I guess. You ever meet her, you should thank her.”

  “Oh,” JoJo whispered, stuck between relief and despair. “She started talking about Grandpa and then complaining about Grandma. She was so proud of Nick. Of me. It seemed . . . you’re sure?”

  “According to another necromancer asshole I know, some are real . . . as far as necro-shades are real. Which they ain’t. Bit like a fairy, I guess, only . . . just a shadow of even the weakest concentration. Most of what Susan says isn’t even that real. Just . . . in her head. From what I’ve seen, ‘Mom’ is a way for Susan to say something to us that she’d usually be too polite to ever bring up. Kind of stuff you and I don’t have problems with.”

  “You don’t want it to really be Mom,” JoJo accused. “Not even a piece of Mom.”

  “But you do.”

  King Henry just stood there, as silent as a stone, watching the tear tumble down his sister’s face.

  “I miss her,” JoJo eventually whispered, “I’m still mad at Dad. Some part of me will always be mad at Dad. He’s better, a lot better, but . . . he still hit you and yelled at me and . . . and . . .”

  “And he couldn’t save her,” King Henry finished what she wouldn’t say, maybe even admit to herself. “A man’s supposed to protect a woman. No matter how much this modern world tries to turn us inside out, some of that biology is just hardcoded, ain’t it? Dad was supposed to protect Mom. But he couldn’t. Suppose to protect us and instead . . . couldn’t even control us. Me, I found a woman doesn’t need protecting. Hell, not even Val, all the women I’ve liked: Eva, Annie B . . . even Soto Crazy you really want to get fucked up. But you . . . ended up with a man can get you anything. As his pretty little speech claimed earlier tonight, didn’t it?”

  Some of that earlier anger flashed again in JoJo’s pretty little face. “I am not in the mood for some bullshit mancer psychoanalyzing of my marriage.”

  King Henry went to full smirk. “Were fine with it when Val was the subject.”

  “Of my marriage,” JoJo repeated in warning.

  He let it go with a nod, going so conciliatory to even slide down beside her on that old bed. “Fair enough, Little Sis, but since we’re alone, we do have some other shit to talk about now that you’re somewhat calmed down.”

  She scooted away from him. “Only calmer than before,” she warned, “but not calm.”

  The bed squeaked under King Henry’s weight. Wasn’t a room he much cared for. Susan and JoJo’s room. Normally he tried to avoid his sisters. A job every youngest brother knows. Still, Susan used to drag him into one of those corners as punishment for misbehaving—didn’t work any better than Dad’s belt—and JoJo . . . well, let’s just say he’d heard plenty of noises coming from this room over the years. Educational kind of noises. I mean, who hasn’t heard their sister yell at a strange guy to stick the butt plug in already?

  Made his smirk morph into a full grin. Not just the usual canine version either, the actual enjoying-life variety. “Hey, how many gooch juice stains you think you got under this sheet?”

  She smacked his shoulder with another knuckle-punch. “Jackass . . .”

  “Yup.”

  “Besides . . . this is Susan’s bed. I carved up the bedposts on mine.”

  Low hanging fruit, ain’t it?

  “Don’t,” she warned. “Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking too.”

  “Who had the high score?” he couldn’t help himself.

  Now that punch actually made him wince. Was . . . was superhuman.

  “Damn,” he grunted. “Did you just use coyote-anima on me?”

  Her patience was at an end, “Are you just bored? Or do you—”

  “I know what makes a Shifter a Poly-Shifter,” he shut her up quick.

  “But—”

  “You ain’t gonna like it . . . cuz I don’t like it either.”

  “I don’t care! We won’t know until Nick is older anyway, he’s just a baby,” JoJo went full delusional, “And if he’s not a Poly-Shifter, we don’t plan to stop with him, you know. I’m still young. Horatio would like a daughter too I think, and—”

  “A Poly-Shifter,” King Henry spoke over the blabbing, “is what happens when a mancer, more likely an Ultra, gives anima to a Totem.”

  JoJo’s eyes were so wide they might burst at any second. “That . . . that can’t be.”

  “Confirmed by multiple sources, Little Sis. Hasn’t been experimented to one hundred percent proof, obviously, but . . . as far as weird anima shit, it’s pretty much as factual as weird anima shit gets.”

  “If that was true then there would be more than just Horatio! And me . . .”

  “There probably are. Still, like I said, you’d need a lot of anima to do it instinctively. So . . . Ultras, those are the really fucking strong Poly-Shifters. Like you and the hubby. The thing with Ultras is that they’re pretty rare and Ultras who accidentally give to a Totem would be even rarer. Intras though . . . bet there are a lot of Intra Poly-Shifters don’t even know they got the super juice to make a second copy. Still, even they wouldn’t be as common as you’d assume. Were Nations just started growing into powerful factions again in the last couple decades, didn’t they? Before that they were largely ignored, even laughed at, or just . . . ass backwards people living in the wild somewhere. Things change, but in the same time frame you have Ceinwyn Dale kicking ass at recruiting more and more mancers and the Curator gobbling up Wilders might have found their way to a Nation like you did.

  “But given all that . . . still probably are more of you. They just keep it quieter than even King Vega, cuz they didn’t have the same incentive . . . rumors served to make him stronger, didn’t they? But for ol’ random shifter out there? Just get them killed. Good to be King, ain’t it? Still . . . even he only let it go to rumors. Was only you who told me about it. I’d have never known otherwise. So why can’t there be more?”

  JoJo’s breath sounded quick and light. “That’s impossible,” she somehow got out, her chest heaving back and forth, threatening to rip her dress open.

  King Henry squinted at that fact. “Since when do you have actual boobs?”

  “This isn’t—”

  “Susan was the one with boobs. You were flat as an ironing board. Man, hormones are some scary shit.”

  “Impossible,” JoJo gasped, fully hyperventilating. “Impossible. If that was true . . . if that was true then—”

  “Yeah, I already said it, Sis. You were a mancer.”

  She made some type of noise that wasn’t even a syllable, much less a whole word.

  “You were a mancer. So was Vega. So . . . well, let’s call it likely that Nick is touched by the elements too. Can’t know for years yet. According to Val, five is the earliest we might, which is sooner than Coyotes perform their Ritual I imagine, so at least we got that going for us.”

  “Thirteen,” JoJo forced out.

  “So yeah, well before that. Portable anima detectors are pretty amazing shit . . . even if Paine made the damn things. Point is: if we get lucky, Nick won’t be a mancer and there’s no big deal. But if he is . . . the boy will have a choice to make. Being he’s my nephew, I’d like him to get to make that choice, Little Sis.”

  “That’s . . . that would ruin everything.”

  “Know you’re processing a fuck-ton right now, but shouldn’t all them pap-bag enlargement hormones make you concerned about your kid’s future instead of your own security? Can’t say I’m taking very kindly to your reaction. It’s a bit—”

  “He doesn’t need me to make Poly-Shifters!” JoJo whispered in sudden horror as another realization set in, even more selfish than the first.

  “Seriously?”

  “King Henry, you can’t tell him! You can’t mention any of this. Not just for me. For Nick too. We’re perfectly secure right now, don’t you see? Nick has to be a Poly-Shifter . . . it’s all so perfect. But if you . . . don’t, please don’t!”

  King Henry’s head tilted in confusion. Some of it was sarcastic confusion, he admitted, but . . . what the fuck did she just say? “Are you sure you’re my sister and not a Welf?”

  “Do you want me to punch you again to prove it?” she growled at him.

  “Also, what happened to ‘love of my life’ from earlier tonight?”

  “Horatio is the love of my life.”

  “You ain’t acting—”

  “He loves me and I love him, but politically I’m still a gringo princess bitch with a mancer brother, who just sacrificed dozens of lives to save her mancer sister. My status as a Poly-Shifter is valuable outside of the marriage, of course, even if the specifics spread, but it’s much more valuable if they don’t. And as for the marriage . . . I’m a producing queen now! I gave King Vega an heir! A Poly-Shifter heir! Do you understand what that means for me?”

  “You’re making me sick.”

  “I can’t smash buildings!” JoJo snarled at him. “My girlfriend can’t disintegrate armies! There’s a real world out there. A terrifying world where humans are food. As soon as I found out about it I did everything I could to protect myself. I became a Shifter and as luck had it, a Poly-Shifter! And yes, I married the strongest, most influential man that I could find, a man that scared me just a little bit because I knew if he scared me then he’d scare those things too. I will never be food again, King Henry! My baby will never be food!”

  He did hug her then.

  Knew for once to keep his mouth shut too.

  Just held her.

  Let her feel safe.

  Let her calm down.

  Food.

  So that’s how it was.

  That’s why . . .

  “They ate on you?” he eventually had to ask. “I didn’t know.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered into his chest.

  After a few seconds more, she composed herself enough to push away, sitting up straight, head high. “Hormones.”

  “Yeah, I think you leaked on my coat . . .”

  She finally laughed instead of punching him. “King Henry—”

  “I wouldn’t ever tell him without your permission,” he promised. “As far as the Asylum is concerned: the fewer Poly-Shifters, the better it is for us. Me too. Just . . . just wanted you to know the truth. And know about Nick’s options . . .”

  “We don’t have options.”

  “You do, just got to be willing to pay the price.”

  “And how’s that going for you, Brother Dearest?”

  He sighed at that. Damn women in his life always able to make good points. “We’ll see, won’t we? Also . . . do have to admit I thought you’d react a little differently.”

  Her turn for some confusion. “Like what?”

  “You were a mancer,” he said again. “An Ultra probably. Like me. Like Suze. Don’t know what kind, but . . . you probably could’ve done some wicked shit, Jo. Maybe not disintegrating armies, but . . . who knows? Only you sacrificed it, all without knowing. I don’t get it . . . figured you’d be angry.”

  No anger, but he saw that pride rear up in her dirt eyes again. “I am a Coyote. I made my choice. I picked my side.”

  Don’t ever forget it.

  She seemed to be daring him, so King Henry pushed, “And Nick?”

  “Is Prince Vega,” Josephine Vega declared, chin raised in defiance.

  Too bad, Sis.

  You would’ve made a great geomancer . . .

  Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

  Everyone else had settled down into a lethargic post-dinner evening in the den and kitchen, chatting and telling more stories, but being King Henry was suddenly feeling quite fucking unsettled he took up position on the front porch, ass not-so-firmly on a concrete step.

  His only company was a root beer float.

  Good night for some ruminating, he guessed.

  Had to work up to it for once.

  His mind still wanted to go a million miles an hour, but his heart just couldn’t quite take it. Truth be told—and damn if he hadn’t got into plenty of trouble for stealing and telling them truths lately—he was worse than worn out: he was emotionally cored. This family and its fucking surprises just never stop, do they?

  Val hadn’t run away screaming somehow . . . so there was that at least.

  And no one was bleeding . . . yet.

  Still got a Vamp to deal with though, don’t I?

  Plenty to ruminate and rage about there. Vampires. Fucking vampires. Blood babies and blood gods both. Velvet eyes pleading with you to save them from a glass prison . . .

  King Henry took a sip of his float.

  Good stuff. Something about that color when the ice cream mixed with the soda, wasn’t there? Still hot and muggy out, so that specific vanilla amalgamation came quick like, before he was even half done with it. A thick brown-amber slosh . . . not looking so different from geo-anima, really. In fact, King Henry had to bet that if you could make a geo-anima type of Slush, that’s exactly what it would look like.

  What would be the point of Geo-Slush? Fuck if he knew. Wouldn’t work with a water base like the real Slush does, have to use something else. Mercury, maybe? But again, what would be the point?

  Does it need a point?

  Night didn’t seem to have a point, so why should anything else? King Henry didn’t currently have a point, not besides sipping his root beer float.

  He supposed if Ceinwyn could focus on one task for longer than an hour and taught him at least a couple multi-pooling lessons by now then he could’ve at least been doing something that was sort of, maybe a little bit productive right now. If just for fucking practice . . .

  But nope. Delayed like all the rest.

  Soon.

  Trademark that bitch.

  Make it the Lady's catchphrase.

  Soon, Mr. Price! Soon! Soon, soon, soon!

  Add a fucking laugh track every time she says it.

  King Henry took another sip and smacked his lips as loudly as he could, just to make some noise. See, I’m doing something. I’m being fucking annoying. Who I annoying? Just myself really, but it still counts, right?

  Already had about forty-five minutes of anima in him, so no need for the boring ol’ simple, single-pooling of those not in the know. Unlike him. Who was in the know. Technically. Know I don’t know shit, which is more than I can say about the rest of the Learning Council.

  He’d had that pool since the day started. Used to be just thirty minutes, of course, but that didn’t feel like quite enough in the post-Eureka world. Full hour still occasionally made him buzz, so he went for the middle ground compromise.

  If you say one thing about King Henry Price, say he always goes for the middle ground compromise!

  Still, forty-five minutes of anima was respectable. Nine solid conjurations worth. Or four Big Boys with a tad something leftover. Or forty-five punches make a skull go crack, if we’re feeling extra personal like I did with Conan Sapa.

  Respectable and yet, even that huge chunk of anima felt . . . insignificant. He felt naked, had all day. Kind of feeling made a mundane go out and buy a gun, he guessed. Yeah, cracked too many gun barrels for that to make me feel safe.

  Safe . . . wasn’t a bit of safe left in him.

  Killed Obadiah Paine, fucking evil ass, kid-kidnapping bastard that he was, and yet the world had never felt less safe. Three Queens and all them Wilders could be anywhere. Vega was already in the house. Who knew what the fuck the Eternal Order was up to? Vamps were even worse: they already were everywhere. Across the street from his father, HOW FUCKING DARE THEY?!?!

  Which one of you did it? Which one of you gonna take the first shot?

  The Divine Inanina didn’t need much of an excuse, King Henry reckoned. Pwent would do it in seconds if the reward was big enough. Or maybe Nii-Vah realizes—just like King Henry had—that peace couldn’t last forever. Maybe Nii-Vah gets preemptive. Maybe she sends Annie B after him. Cuz ain’t that a fucked up twist worthy of the Bitch-Queen herself?

  There we are, engine getting nice and hot now, ain’t it?

  Night had itself some purpose.

  Problem across the street needed fixing, so King Henry Price did his usual: he obsessed over it. Focused in on it. Brain started ticking. Fast and faster. Solve the problem. Vamp across the street: deal with it. Must be some low totem-pole spy in there, he figured. No one important. Vega had said a Gentle and that seemed right. No Baron or Count, not for his mundane dad. Anything more didn’t make sense. As much as vampires make sense . . .

  Whoever they fucking were, they must be awake by now. What with the dark of night well-established and the lights being on in their kitchen, had to be in there somewhere. King Henry kept glancing for a peek, but as yet they'd avoided his view. Come on, this is vampire morning, ain’t it? Take a piss, brush them fangs, then stagger out to grab your mail or some other Leave it to Beaver shit!

  Had a normal security camera by the front door, but nothing extra special. Just a poor ass Visalia shithole of a house, about as rundown as the rest of the neighborhood. Extra nice AC unit and a Lexus out front were the only signs something was up. He had a shit ton of questions he wanted answered. They let the Vamp leave or does it have to stay all day and night? Who’s it eating on? The neighborhood cats? Especially annoying children? Crackheads?

  Cuz fucking Bob just can’t handle his shit! Know what, Bob? Vampire gonna eat you first, you dumb fuck!

  Checking out the neighborhood—even considering it was a poor residential neighborhood—the street sure was crowded. Just enough make you edgy, feel like you’re trapped and have to smash your way out. Vega was partly responsible what with his backup thugs stupidly piled in that single SUV. The muscle, the guns, the expendables . . . and not a decent 80s action star among them. If I don’t feel safe with this much anima inside me then why should you feel safe with them peashooters? Could smash that metal coffin flat if I wanted, know that?

 

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