Some Were In Time (14 page)

Read Some Were In Time Online

Authors: Robyn Peterman

Tags: #paranormal romance, #Humor, #Vampires and Werewolves

BOOK: Some Were In Time
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"Um, no," Hank said with a lopsided grin and twinkling eyes. "Motorcycles."

 

I wanted to laugh and I wanted to slap him. He had enjoyed that one too much. However, I was relieved to realize a herd or gaggle of pigs would not be running behind the Hummer.

 

"Where are we going?" Pat yelled as it pulled up on the largest motorcycle I'd ever seen.

 

"I think we should drop my children off at the compound and get them settled in before we go after the Dragons," Dwayne suggested like any good parent would.

 

"That sounds like a plan," Hank agreed as he grabbed a can of gasoline and poured it around the trailers. "We need to burn this place down. No trace of the Cows can be left," he instructed.

 

“You don't have to do that," Pat told Hank.

 

He stopped patiently and waited for Pat to explain. God, he was going to be a good dad…

 

"We can blow the farm up in less than a minute."

 

Granny started running like Satan was on her heels and put her hands over her hair. Oh my sweet hell, I joined her as I realized what was about to happen. Hank was quick to follow, but Dwayne stood proudly with his children as they bent over and aimed their asses at the dilapidated farm behind them.

 

"Run," Hank shouted as he yanked Granny and me along. "This is gonna be bad."

 

"We're all gonna die," Granny shrieked as we tried desperately to put more distance between us and the eight Cow gastric inferno that was about to occur.

 

Hank picked both of us up as we sprinted and dove behind the Hummer. We were a good half-mile away now. Thank god we hadn't pulled the Hummer up to the trailers. The roads were so pitted we left it down the road when we'd picked it up an hour ago. It would suck having to share a hog with a Cow.

 

The sound was deafening, but the stench was like one I'd never known. Death didn't seem like such a bad option at the moment. The farm blew up in an explosion that could be seen for miles. The Cows jumped on their bikes and dragged an asphyxiated and paler than normal Dwayne with them.

 

We piled into the Hummer as they threw Dwayne in the back.

 

"Go, go, go," Francis shouted to Hank. "That there fire's gonna get worse before it gets better."

 

I was certain we'd all lost brain cells or at least our olfactory senses in the blast—but more shockingly, we were alive to tell the story no one in their right mind would believe.

 

As we floored it out of the property with the Cows behind us I started to laugh. Hank and Granny joined me until tears ran from our eyes. Dwayne just sat sprawled in the back and grinned.

 

"My children are something else," he gagged out proudly.

 

"That they are," Hank said with a grimace and a cough.

 

***

 

"Something is very wrong here," Dwayne snapped with a wrinkled brow as we stood in front of his massive mansion in southern Illinois.

 

It was white and had an antebellum feel—elegant and symmetrical with a grand entryway flanked by columns. The porch wrapped the entire front of the home and balconies peppered the upper level. It was breathtaking and I had a hard time imagining it as the Cows’ new home.

 

The grounds were manicured within an inch of their lives. Blossoming trees and beds of blood red flowers blanketed the area.

 

"This place is beautiful," Granny said and punctuated it with an appreciative whistle.

 

She was correct, but so was Dwayne. Something was off. I felt it in my gut. Hank did too.

 

Nothing looked amiss—it was in the air. A malevolent, almost undetectable mist hung on the breeze. The Cows stood quivering behind us.

 

"What the hell is it?" Hank asked as we scanned the area.

 

"Is the phone you used to call Junior secure?" I asked, wracking my brain to try and figure out how something had found us.

 

"It's a burner," he said tightly as the power that rolled off him made me back away. "Can't be traced."

 

"Sweet Dolly Parton in a jog bra," Dwayne hissed. "I texted the Were Possum designer and told her everything about my children and my house. I forgot I could be traced."

 

"Who in the hell would know to trace Dwayne?" I snapped as I pulled my Glock with my right hand and directed the Cows to get low with my left. "Me and Hank I get… but Dwayne?"

 

"Only one person I'm aware of knows Dwayne and I are working with you," Granny said in such a vicious tone of voice that the Cows started to cry.

 

"She wouldn't," I shot back with more conviction than I felt. Angela wouldn't set us up to die. She was my friend… kind of. I knew I annoyed her, but I certainly didn't think that she'd kill me over it.

 

"Can you explain this?" Granny demanded.

 

"No more than I can tell you the gender of Dwayne's children," I snapped angrily. I did not want to believe Angela would ambush us.

 

"We're girls," Pat whispered in a frightened voice.

 

"I'm sorry," I apologized sincerely and wanted to crawl into a hole. "That was extremely rude of me."

 

"No worries," she said kindly. "We know we're unattractive."

 

Now I felt like an ass, but at least I knew what they were before I died.

 

"You're all beautiful," Dwayne insisted. "You just need a bath, some blonde highlights, a little lipo and a new wardrobe. I have that all covered and if any of your eventual boyfriends make you feel unworthy, I will kill them dead after a marathon torture session."

 

"Thank you, Daddy," they all said in unison.

 

"You're welcome."

 

"Um, Daddy?" Jamie raised her hand to speak.

 

"Yes, dear?" Dwayne replied.

 

"It smells like Fire Starters to me."

 

Crap balls. She was right. I detected a faint Dragon scent. This was bad. Hank and I had experience with Dragons. Dwayne had destroyed two with a disastrous and messy mind meld, but as far as I knew Granny was a Dragon fighting virgin… and the Cows were probably useless.

 

"She's correct," Hank said grimly. "I can't tell if they're still here."

 

"I can feel them. They're still here," Granny whispered in a strangled voice.

 

"How and where?" I demanded wildly as I sprinted to the back of the Hummer and pulled out the liquid that prohibited the Dragon shift. Junior had created a compound that when ingested by a Dragon would keep them from shifting. A brilliant invention, considering a shifted Dragon was roughly the size of a football field.

 

I tossed loaded squirt guns full of the solution to the Cows, Hank, and Dwayne. Granny was frozen to her spot and had apparently lost her damn voice.

 

"You aim for the mouth," I informed the terrified Cows in a clipped tone. "The eyes or ears might help, but the mouth is a sure fire win—pun intended. Do not under any circumstance get it in your own mouth. You won't be able to shift if you do."

 

"What is this stuff?" Francis asked shakily.

 

"It's stuff that will keep us all from burning to a crisp if we aim correctly," I explained tersely. "Can any of you shoot?"

 

"Hell to the yeah," Pat said with pride. "We might be pacifiers, but all of us can shoot a single testicle off a bull from three hundred yards. Squirting some shit in a mouth won't be no problem."

 

Deciding not to correct her about claiming to be a rubber nipple, I narrowed my eyes and slapped my hands on my hips. "Are you bullshitting me?" I demanded. "One nut? The other one is totally intact?" I wasn't sure even I could shoot so accurately. Nuts were pretty close together.

 

"Yes siree," Jamie jumped in, defending her sister's boast. "One nard completely obliterated and the other one left in perfect acorn status."

 

"Jesus," Hank grunted as he leaned forward. "Harsh."

 

"Yep," I said, impressed. "But effective."

 

"My girls are amazing," Dwayne added as he too bent forward in phantom pain.

 

"I hate to break up the party," Granny whispered in a tone that made every hair on my body rise, "but there are approximately twelve Dragons on the roof."

 

I glanced up slowly and my blood turned to ice. They hadn't shifted yet which was to our advantage. Twelve of them. Twelve of us… kind of. I had a horrifying feeling the Cows might bolt. Dwayne removed his shirt, grabbed Granny's head and shoved it into his neck.

 

"This is another fantastically shitty idea," he ground out as Granny titty twisted him to break his hold. "Granny, drop fang and drink. There is no way in hell we're coming out of this alive unless we can all actually fight Dragons. I don't think I can mind meld twelve at once."

 

"Will I be able to fly?" Granny asked as she let go of her death grip on Dwayne's nipple.

 

"No," he said.

 

"Well, that doesn't really seem fair," she whined.

 

"Life is not fair and then you die," he hissed. "OR NOT if you drink my blood. Do it, damn it. Now."

 

Granny bit down without another complaint. My stomach churned at the thought she might end up having the same effects I did. However, Dwayne was right. We were staring at dismal odds at the moment. We stood a far better chance of coming out alive if we had his dark and scary Vampyre blood in our systems.

 

"Hurry," Dwayne insisted to Granny as he zeroed in on Hank. "You're next, big boy."

 

"I've already killed a Dragon," Hank said as he scanned the area surrounding us for movement on the ground.

 

I let myself go into my mind and pull up my Vampyre part that scared the living daylights out of me. Glancing up at the roof again I gasped in fury and dismay. The Dragons had disappeared. "Son of a bitch, they're gone. What's in the back of the house?"

 

"A pool in the center. Cabana to the left. Tennis courts to the right," Dwayne laid the landscape out succinctly. "You killed one Dragon," he told Hank. "How'd that work out for you?"

 

"I'm sporting a new arm and leg other than the ones I was born with," Hank ground out through clenched teeth.

 

"Drink," Dwayne shouted at him. "We don't have time to argue and you won't be any help if you are missing body parts."

 

"Point," Hank said as he let his fangs drop and sunk them into Dwayne's neck.

 

Granny was shaking with the new and deadly power that coursed through her small body. Her eyes were dilated and her hands bunched into tight little fists at her side. However, the person I really worried about was Hank. His power was enormous without the Vampyre blood. What in the hell would this turn him into?

 

I needed to focus on the positive even though I wanted to rail at the Heavens.

 

"Are any of you able to fight?" I asked the Cows.

 

They stood in mute terror and my stomach dropped to my toes. This was a clusterhump waiting to happen. I pushed the ugly thought from my mind that Angela was responsible for this and focused on the matter at hand.

 

"Essie, you and four Cows will come with me around the right side of the house. Granny and Dwayne, you take the others and go left."

 

Hanks eyes blazed and the power that shimmered around him was mind-boggling, sexy as hell and completely unnerving. Dwayne was no slouch either. His skin glowed and his eyes were frightening slits. I held up my end as I felt the rush of unstable Vampyre voodoo fill my body. My hair flew wildly around my head and there was no breeze. Granny seemed to be the one a little off. Grabbing her, I shook her and made her look at me.

 

"Can you do this?" I demanded. "Are you okay?"

 

She nodded, winked and literally levitated off the ground.

 

"Okay," I muttered as I whipped around to Dwayne who was watching her in shock. "That is totally not fair. How the hell can she fly?"

 

"No clue, doll… and no time to figure it out," he said as he took Granny's hands and pulled her back to earth. "Plan?"

 

"Not really," Hank said. "Weapons won't work. We need to get the solution in as many mouths as we can or today will be our last. Remove the heart or head—neither is easy."

 

"Cows, you cannot run under any circumstances," I barked. "If you can't shift and fight, you need to aim and shoot the liquid."

 

"Should we fart at them?" Pat asked timidly.

 

To die of asphyxiation or by Dragon… that apparently was the question. Why Shakespeare came to mind every time I was facing death lately was a mystery, but it was an apt inquiry. We'd made it through the farts before; perhaps we could live through them twice.

 

Hank rubbed his jaw and blew out a long breath. "You will use your, um… gas bombs only if we tell you to. They may be a good distraction, but they could also debilitate us."

 

"Our ass-fire aim is pretty accurate," Harley said. "It does permeate the air, but the main damage goes where we shoot it."

 

"Good to know," Hank said with a wince and shudder. "You will fart on them only on command. We clear?"

 

Everyone nodded.

 

"I honestly can't believe I just said that." Hank laughed and ran his hands through his hair. "Essie, come here."

 

Hank grabbed me by the waist and kissed me hard and fast. My toes curled and my lady bits clenched in desire. I knew the kiss could be our last, but I refused to believe it. I would not believe it.

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