Page 54 of Red Dragon’s Flame

Mikah watched as another child crept up next to the first one, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. “What do you do for them?” he asked. He’d handled the approval of supplies and clothing for the refugees, and the healers to work with them, but he’d never been involved with the assimilation process itself.

“Like I said. Give them time. Mostly they come out of it, and they’re running around with the rest in a couple of months or so. Other ones need more healing, for their minds. Brock used to be good at that.”

There was regret in his voice. Brock, even when he was five or six, had been an extraordinarily gifted healer, able to reach into the minds of damaged shifters and help them and their animals.

As he’d grown out of childhood, though, he’d seemed to lose the ability—or, as they all suspected, his own adolescent turmoil paired with that of his maturing wolf couldn’t withstand the chaos in other people’s animals.

Touching all those damaged and violent minds had taken its toll. He’d turned from a sweet, sunny, lovable child into a moody, withdrawn, brooding teenager. Now he was twenty, and no one knew quite what to do with him.

He’s stopped healing altogether in his mid-teens. When he turned eighteen he’d gone in for Enforcer training—weapons and security. But no one knew if he was serious about that. He’d stopped confiding in anyone.

“Devon’s not a disturbed shifter,” Mikah pointed out, returning to the subject at hand. “But you’re probably right about the rest of it. The trauma of seeing her parents die, of almost dying herself, and then the enforced isolation—” He shook his head. “It’s kind of amazing she’s as together as she is.”

“She’ll be all right,” Gerard said. “Why don’t you bring her down to the bar one night? The wolves in the main section can get rowdy, but if you all stay in the other room, she should be okay.”

The other room was for wolves that weren’t fully adjusted to freedom, or whose animals didn’t respond well to crowds. Everyone knew that wolves hanging out in the other room of the bar should be approached with care.

“Good idea,” Mikah said. “I’ll see if she wants to come.”

Mikah’s other problem was that they weren’t making much headway dealing with the Allohim. Thorne and Tyr hadn’t come up with anything else so far, and Cazbek kept calling to ask if he could kill the ones hanging around his penthouse.

“They keep coming back,” he explained, during one of their regular video calls in Emon’s office. “And they lurk outside the windows at night. It’s creeping Lucinda out.”

Emon said, “I’d prefer not to get rid of them entirely. We may need to capture one for information.”

“Okay then,” Cazbek said. “I’ll tell the Bad Bloods.”

Emon narrowed his eyes. He said, in the silky voice he got when he was just about to get really pissed off and flame someone, “What do the Bad Blood crew have to do with this?”

Cazbek said, “Oh. Well, everybody’s heard about the flying monkeys, right? So last weekend Flynn and Sloan and Xander and some of the girls came over for a monkey shoot. We had a cookout on the rooftop, and then they sat around with fucking crossbows, shooting at any Allohim they saw.” He paused, then added, “And some seagulls.”

Zakerek said, “Oh, shit, that’s awesome! Why didn’t you call me?”

Emon facepalmed. “What happens if they miss? The arrows are probably raining down on the streets of Seattle.” But Devon could have sworn she saw him trying not to laugh.

Cazbek said, “Kira made self-detonating arrows. If they miss, they explode mid-air. So if anyone sees them, they’ll think they’re fireworks or bottle rockets.”

Devon, both curious and horrified, asked, “And what if they kill an Allohim and the body falls on someone on the ground?”

Cazbek shrugged. “Hasn’t happened yet. Those things are pretty good at dodging.”

“Cazbek,” Emon said in a warning tone.

Lucinda called from offscreen, “Don’t let Caz fuck with you. He put a spell net around the penthouse, in case one of those morons actually hits something. The pieces will never get to the ground.”

Cazbek grinned. “Okay, I did really. But what I want to know is, how long are those things going to keep this up? Mikah, you’re my bro and I love you, but I can’t run these wards forever, they need a crap-ton of power and they’re magical creature magnets.”

“I know, sorry,” Mikah said. “Really. We’re doing our best.”

Cazbek sighed. “I guess we’re cooking out again this weekend.”

“Don’t start without me!” Zak yelled.

Emon just shook his head.

Chapter 25

Mikah tried to find a good moment to tell Devon that Gerard had invited them to the werewolf bar. And that he thought it would be a good idea to go.