Wyverns Never Die, Chapter 1
Honeymoon from Hell #3
Sorry I’ve been out of it a while. I’ve just been getting over a cold. Mostly it just means I’m dragging like I haven’t gotten any sleep.
However, Wyverns Never Die, Honeymoon from Hell #3, comes out on February 5th, so I have do SOMETHING that looks like promotion.
So, free chapter.
Chapter 1
More Trouble in Little Japan
Eating lunch with the Yakuza was not something that Marco Catalano had wanted to check off his bucket list, but it wasn’t the oddest meal he had ever had. He’d once had to break bread with Enrico the mobster. He wasn’t the biggest fan of Japanese, but he settled for the “knockoff” dish, chicken Teriyaki—Marco just assumed that, like many ethnic foods, it was about as ethnic as he was.
Marco looked around the rest of the table and refrained from smiling. Across from him was the Yakuza oyabun (boss), Taoko. He was an older gentleman of stature. Marco tried to cast Taoko in a film; he either wanted James Shigeta from Die Hard or Mako… if Mako didn’t sound like he’d smoked five packs of cigarettes with breakfast.
Nope, definitely Shigeta, Marco concluded. Mako never looked that good in a suit.
Seated next to Taoka was Merlin “Merle” Kraft. Merle wore his standard dark-blue windbreaker, which matched his midnight-blue eyes. Merle didn’t look like much, but Marco knew he was something else. He was a fast, insanely-skilled martial artist, for one thing. He didn’t want to speculate about the rest.
The leader of Merle’s SpecOps team, a big beefy fellow named George Berkeley, sat next to him. It was irony that his name was pronounced “bark-lee,” especially since George was a shape-shifter who’s other form was an Irish wolfhound. Unlike the traditional werewolf myth, shifters turned into the physical animal manifestation of their deepest, darkest dark side. George was laid back and friendly until he was pissed off, so Irish wolfhound fit him perfectly.
Then there was Marco’s wife. His sardonic smile softened a little. No matter how he considered it—she was his wife, he was her husband—the thought just made him happy. It wasn’t even that she was beautiful, even though she was. Her red-gold hair was thick and full, and he just wanted to run his fingers through it, even at the dinner table in front of the Japanese mafia. Amanda was just… elegant. Her fingers were long and slender, like a pianist’s. Her poise was perfect. Her skin was soft and clear. Her amber eyes looked like they glowed… sometimes, they glowed for real. She didn’t match his intellect in sheer tonnage, but the way she thought more than made up for it. If she wasn’t on par with him, matching him every step of the way, she was only a step behind, and never for long.
Amanda’s full pink lips turned up slightly as she glanced his way. “Later,” she whispered.
Marco refrained from chuckling. She probably felt his heart rate speed up. Is she still surprised that I react this way just thinking about her?
Amanda went back to her blue-rare Kobe steak. Red meat was a steady part of her diet. Since Amanda’s organs still worked, she consumed as many iron-heavy foods as possible. It helped her body make her own blood. He never asked how much that helped Amanda cut down on blood consumption, but only because she was always embarrassed by dietary inquiries.
Merle sighed as he sank back into his chair. He sipped his Guinness and grinned. “To think, this time yesterday, we were in a fight to the death.”
George chuckled. “No kidding. My body still feels bruised.”
Oyabun Taoka chuckled deeply. “I almost wish I was there to have witnessed it all.”
Amanda smiled gently. Her Russian accent was slight and careful as she added, “You might have been caught by an errant lightning strike.”
Taoka blinked, then winced. “Oh. Yes.” He shrugged. “At least we are in a world without Roland Li and his men.”
Marco nodded as he chewed his chicken. He thought about it, and decided it needed something extra. He swallowed. “Pity that it’s not the end of the arms dealing. Pass the soy sauce, please?”
Everyone stopped and stared hard at Marco.
“What did you say?” Merle exclaimed.
Marco blinked a few times, trying to figure out what the problem was. “That’s not the end of the arms dealing. Supernatural weaponry? Yeah. They’re still out there.” He looked at the pot. “Maybe some more tea?”
Amanda reached over with her long elegant fingers. She grabbed the soy sauce and the tea pot and pulled them towards her, halfway to Marco. Slowly and patiently, her voice as sweet as cyanide, she said, “Marco, my love, you should explain why or how there are more weapons.”
Marco blinked and tilted his head. “Why? It’s easy.”
Amanda smiled gently. “Assume we are stupid.”
“You? Never.” He looked to George, Taoka, and Merle, thought of several witty one-liners, then reconsidered voicing potential insults in the Yakuza leader’s own restaurant. He cleared his throat. “Roland Li’s hands were immaculate. No dirt under the nails, even when the nails were a foot long and shot lightning.” He glanced at the three men and waited. He blinked. “They were the hands of a professional politician. This isn’t a guy who assembled the necromancer ray guns in Chicago. He didn’t even whittle the wands used to throw fireballs at people. There were hundreds of lasers in Chicago, put together by hand. Those bullets that converted matter to energy explosives? Those were hand-loaded into the cartridge. Does anyone see Li hand-loading cartridges in San Francisco? Has anyone found any evidence of any loading devices? No. Of course not. He’d need a manufacturing system. He’d need a factory.”
Merle’s eyes narrowed. “But Li sold the weapons. We know this!”
Marco nodded. “Of course. But he’s the retailer, not the wholesaler or the manufacturer. He didn’t make the guns. Hell, if he were comfortable with guns, do any of us think that he would have pulled out a katana in our last fight? No. He would have pulled out a pistol with the firepower of a tank.”
George chuckled. “Nah. If he were really smart, he would have just called down lightning and blew us all to Hell. Otherwise, why engage with us in melee?”
Marco shook his head. “He couldn’t count on a lightning artillery strike getting all of us. What if he’d missed one? Last thing he needed would be someone sneaking around and stabbing him in the back.” He reached over and took the soy sauce from Amanda’s hand. “Not to mention, he’d already used a lot of power. We blew up his house, with him in it.” He shook out a few drops. “We nearly hit him with his own apartment complex. What Li’d done had a lot taken out of him. To be certain that he killed all of us would have required leveling every building in the Presidio. I don’t think he had enough power at that point.”
Marco put down the sauce, then took the tea pot from Amanda. He filled his tea cup, then he topped off his ice water. “Li generated an energy field, defending him from projectiles. After he killed the four of us, he probably could have convinced the other Yakuza that running was a better idea. And frankly, they would have been right to run.” He glanced to Taoka. “If we were dead, you would have been better off having someone kill him in public, or poison him, before he killed you.”
Taoka nodded. “And Li certainly would have been obligated to kill me. I concur.”
Marco shrugged and sipped the hot tea. “Yeah. Anyway, the weapons. Some of these were handcrafted. I think the closest Li ever came to working with his hands may have been typing.”
Merle glared at Marco. Marco ignored it. Merle was just pissed at the messenger. I don’t really blame him, Marco thought. I wouldn’t want a repeat of all that if I could avoid it. Especially if I thought I was already done with the job.
Merle sat back into his chair. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look. We blew up every property even tangentially connected to Li.” He glanced at Marco. “And someone blew up everything Shrimp Boy’s Triad held onto. There are no records, no invoices. Where would we even start?”
Amanda sighed. “You’d have to walk it backwards. Find every package ever sent to Li’s homes or his offices. Start with the apartment complex. The entire building was filled with his men. Every floor and every apartment were filled with Triad. I can think of no better place to deliver illegal shipments than right there.”
Merle frowned. “I’ll have to reach out to every package delivery service, and hope the post office will play well with others. Crap.”
George clapped a meaty hand on Merle’s shoulder. “Look at the bright side. You won’t have to do anything until the morning.”