Chapter Two
"There's no way, Jason. That goddamn hunk of metal barely made it over the pass." Bree stood beside Jason as he ran his fingers over the sleek, curving silver hood of his new Viper 3000 sports car. Bree looked on, her face drawn into an expression of mild disbelief. "I mean, c'mon. Look at it. It's meant for city streets. Not half-eroded pre-War country roads."
Jason straightened up. Brushing his hands off on his jeans, he opened the driver's door—it opened upward, sticking up and out like a swift's wing--and slid in behind the wheel. "She's fine," he said, slamming the door behind him. He leaned across the middle console. Rolling down the window on the passenger's side, he gestured for her to join him. "C'mon, get in. Don't be a bitch."
"Oh no you didn't." Bree wrenched open the door. She slid in before Jason could retreat back into his own space. Putting him in a headlock, the warrior girl lowered her lips close to his ear. Her voice was a dangerous growl. "You wanna take that back, Captain?"
Jason saw stars. Her wrist pressed hard against his trachea. He choked, gasping for air. "No fuckin' way." He managed a cocky grin. His eyes began to water. "You'll have to kill me first."
Bree released him with a dramatic sigh. Rolling her eyes, she said, "You'd rather choke to death then apologize? Sounds like a bitch move to me."
Jason chuckled, rubbing his throat. "Ah, shuddup, Redd. You know, I could accuse you of High Treason for that. Any attempt on the king's life is seriously uncool. And I'm technically Nathandria's king."
"Only technically." She tipped her head. The teasing light in her eyes lessened. "You should really make it official, you know. When we get back, that should be the first thing you do. Otherwise, if you die—and I'm sorry for having to say this, but given your flawed sense of personal responsibility and track record of reckless incompetence, that's a serious possibility—Rosetta takes the throne. And I mean, I know you love Rosetta like a sister, but I'll be damned if she's not just a little power-crazed. She just wouldn't make a good queen for Nathandria. You can't deny that."
Jason sank against his seat. The momentary lightness he'd felt a moment before melted. It felt as if the weight of the universe had just been unceremoniously dumped into his lap.
"Oh look." Bree sat up straighter, pointing out the window. Her voice lifted. The atmosphere in the car lightened noticeably. "Sterling and Morgan are coming. About time."
"Yeah, that was a long-ass bathroom break," Jason said. He turned around, facing the back seats as Sterling and Morgan slid into them. "Hey guys." He smirked at them. "How was it? I've heard park bathrooms are super shitty these days. Not enough maintenance. Let me guess: the toilets were overflowing, right?"
Morgan leaned forward. Seizing the Outlaw Prince by the throat, she pulled him in for a violent kiss. "Stop spewing shit, McKinley," she whispered, pulling back, "before I start confusing your mouth with your ass."
Behind Morgan, Jason caught a glimpse of Sterling's expression. Nathandria's famous tracker was scowling openly at Morgan, his silver eyes narrowed to slits. "Why is she even here?" he complained. "There's no point in having her along. I'm a much better tracker than she'll ever be. You don't need both of us. And as I'm obviously the superior tracker, I would strongly suggest..."
"She helped us get this car without showing any IDs or permits." Jason cut Sterling off. He settled back into his seat. Placed his hands on the steering wheel. "And she knows this part of the nation better than you do. She's staying. I don't wanna hear anything else about it."
"Can we please just get on the fucking road?" Bree's voice was dangerously calm.
"Yeah." Jason turned over the engine. Throwing the car into gear, he peeled out onto the rough, uneven road through the arid Channeled Scablands of mid-southern Nathandria. The Viper 3000 purred under his hands, vibrating as it flew over potholes and wide cracks in the crumbling asphalt.
It took about ten minutes for Morgan and Sterling to get bored. When they did, they immediately turned on each other for amusement, ripping into one another with vicious taunts and derogatory observations. As the fighting escalated, Jason finally reached his limit. "Shut the fuck up. Holy fucking shit! I can't even hear the thoughts inside my own goddamn head." He found himself gripping the steering wheel as hard as the throat of a much-hated foe. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, he continued, "Sterling. Stop being a fucking baby. Morgan, stop being a bitch."
"They can't help it," Bree said, laughter in her tone. "It's what they naturally are, Captain. Don't shame them for being themselves." The fighting started anew, this time with Bree at its center. Jason quickly gave up trying to quell it and resigned himself to a long, tedious, ear-splittingly-loud journey.
By the time they reached the small town where Bree had grown up—Ellensburg, she had called it—the sun was beginning to go down. Day three of the quest for the lost LEGACII members had begun. The goal still remained far out of reach.
"This is it." Bree pointed to a gravel driveway leading toward a small but elegant wooden cabin. The cedar planks were weathered but free of moss or mold. A rocking chair swayed gently on the newly laid porch; the wind caressed the tall grass on either side of the quaint stone path to the front door.
Jason pulled the car over, parked it, and powered it down. He opened the door and slid out. As soon as his feet touched the slush-covered pavement he knew something was wrong. The air was thick, close—his nostrils were clogged with the heavy stench of death. He lifted a hand to cover his mouth, wrinkling his nose. Turning back to his companions, he mumbled around his sleeve, "Careful, guys. Smells like an open grave out here."
Bree let out a huffing breath as she walked around the front of the Viper and joined him on the snow-packed lawn. "Oh my gods." Her eyes went wide. She took off running before Jason could stop her, her booted feet kicking up clots of snow and ice.
"Goddamn it." Jason ran after her. He made it to the door first due to the fact that she tripped over a sprinkler head concealed by the heavy snowfall. Reaching up, he knocked loudly, his knuckles thrumming with pain as they connected violently with the unpolished wood. At once there was the sound of a latch being undone on the other side. It was followed by the tell-tale thunk-click of a gun clip being loaded. "Hello?" Jason called. He kept his voice even and cheerful. As unthreatening as possible. "Is Mrs. Redd there?"
The door swung open so fast Jason barely had time to leap out of the way. Fighting the urge to reach for his own gun, he faced the woman standing before him with his head up and his shoulders back. The woman looked to be in her mid-to-late forties, with graying black hair and laughter lines permanently etched around her eyes and mouth. But she wasn't laughing now—her dark eyes flashed a warning, and her hands were folded neatly around a raised and loaded submachine gun. The muzzle of the weapon was aimed squarely between Jason's eyes. "Huh," he said, "thought Deyanira'd be able to afford more attractive assassins."
"That's my mother!" Bree said, aghast. She came up behind him, limping slightly and cradling one hand in the other. "Dick. I'm legally obligated to hit you now." She did.
"Ow." Jason rubbed his newly throbbing ribs. "I think you broke something."
Bree's mother lowered her gun. Stepping forward, she gave a small cry and wrapped her arms around her daughter. "Bree!" she said, laughing. Jason saw tears in her eyes. "You made it here safe. I thought..."
"Yeah, I'm fine, mom." Bree's face lit up with happiness like nothing Jason had ever seen in her. Especially not since the Strocosia Morbus outbreak. Every inch of his friend glowed as she pulled back and pressed a kiss to her mother's forehead. "Missed you."
Jason cleared his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morgan and Sterling hanging back, eyeing the emotionally-charged situation with almost comically similar expressions of disdain.
"Oh, sorry." Bree stepped back. She turned to Jason with a watery smile. "Mom, this is Jason McKinley. Yes, that Jason McKinley. Turns out he's not such a bad guy after all. It's... it's all really complicated."
"Hey." Jason held out a hand for Mrs. Redd to shake. "Sorry about the..." he made a vague gesture between them, "...thing. You're pretty scorching for your age, actually." Bree elbowed him hard. He winced, ducking out of reach of further punishment. "Hey, I'm just sayin'!"
Mrs. Redd fixed him with an intense stare. "I like you," she said after a moment of tense silence. Her voice melted, becoming rich and sweet. Like buttermilk over fresh strawberries in spring. Reaching out, she caught Jason's hand in a strong grip and squeezed hard. He was suddenly very glad she wasn't actually an assassin. He wasn't sure he'd be able to take her in a fair fight. "I'm Candice," she said, "but mostly I go by Candy. Always have, always will. Just suits me better. Candice is too French for my tastes."
Jason saw Bree flash him a secret smile. He nodded to Mrs. Redd. Bringing their joined hands up, he pressed his lips lightly to the back of her hand. "Then I won't give you a French kiss," he said, earning him a third jab in the side. Dropping Mrs. Redd's hand, he turned to Bree, scowling. "What the fuck, Redd?"
"Watch it," Mrs. Redd said, "that's my daughter."
"Yeah, McKinley." Bree smirked at him. There was a pure, playful light in her eyes that he hadn't seen in a long, long time. "My mom's gonna fuck you up if you mess with me."
Glancing over his shoulder at Sterling and Morgan, who were still standing uncomfortably in the middle of the lawn, he mouthed "Save me."
"Well, I guess I should invite you inside." Mrs. Redd stepped back from the door, holding it open. "Wouldn't be very polite of me to leave you hanging around on the doorstep all day. I just have to warn you, though: a couple of East-Coast-sounding guys turned up this morning looking to rough me up. Wanted to know something about a Nythriam, whatever the hell that means. So naturally I killed them all. I've already finished burying one..." she pointed out past Morgan and Sterling at a freshly turned patch of earth beside the driveway, "...but the other five are still in the living room. I'd advise against breathing too deep when you're inside."
Bree was the first through the door. Jason followed close behind, gesturing at Morgan and Sterling to join him. Together, the rag-tag companions traipsed into the cabin like wary foxes entering a well-guarded chicken coop. The door slammed shut behind them.
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(Question of the Chapter: What do you think of Bree's mother? ;D)
Hope everyone has a great weekend! Thank you all so, so, sooooo much for the continued support. Everyone who has ever read/voted/commented on this story is someone I love very much! Again, thank you guys. Have an awesome week, and I hope you enjoy/enjoyed this chapter! <3