"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.