The Flame Game (Magical Romantic Comedies #12) - R.J. Blain Page 0,120
hangover.” Quinn went into the SUV, got out a small cooler, and retrieved some of Sunny’s bones, which he brought over and put in front of the wolf’s nose. To my relief, the animal gave a few sniffs before struggling to chew. While he had some difficulties, he managed.
“It’s fairly advanced rabies, but it’s a good sign he can still eat,” my husband said. “This is going to cost me a fortune, isn’t it?”
“Late rabies treatment expensive,” I agreed. “Oh, well. Bye, money. We have new wolf. Maybe friend with Sunny?”
“Or our other wolf. At least he’ll have a pack if he can’t be rehabilitated.”
“Okay. What we do now?”
Sam pointed at a small building near the lake. “Long Lake, the town, is basically nothing but a few homes scattered along the shore. They go to other neighboring towns, all of which are abandoned due to the outbreak. I drove around the entire lake checking. I couldn’t figure out where Long Lake was, discovering that the narrow areas between the actual towns is what most mean by Long Lake. That used to be a tackle shop, and it was the last building in the area open before the whole thing shut down.”
“Wow. You learned a lot.”
“I got here an hour ago, but you were exhausted, so I wanted to let you rest. So, I figure with nothing near here, if Morrison shows up, he’ll come to the only drivable vehicle in the entire area. We should be easy enough for him to find. Morrison has a high magic rating, but he’s best if he’s given a lot of time to prepare, and he forgets guns exist. It’s his weakness.”
“He forgets I blow big fire.”
“Bailey, I don’t even know if he actually realizes you’re a cindercorn. He’s not the brightest crayon in the box.”
“But it in CDC file.”
“That means nothing when it comes to egotistical police chiefs. I mean, I didn’t think you were an actual cindercorn until I got scolded by my family for having found an actual unicorn without telling them about it. I mean, I knew you became a fire-breathing lawbreaker, but that’s different from actually being one.”
“Right. Me think vanilla human for long time. We inn-o-cent. Where you want me to be?”
Quinn pointed at a shadowy stretch of forest between the tackle shop and the water. “Hide in the shadows there. Be a stealthy cindercorn, and should Morrison show up, we will race. I’m not sure what he’s going to do, so I’m going to loosen the wolf’s leash in case we can’t take care of him right away. I’ve protected the rental as much as I can, so our pets should be okay. But if you get a chance at him, snort your biggest flame.”
“Okay. Will do that. Set wolf loose. Poor thing can’t do much. Leave more bones for him. Keep busy. He hungry? Maybe food?”
“Sunny won’t mind sharing some of her lunch.” Quinn returned to the rental, grabbed a handful of meat, and left it for the wolf before loosening where the leash connected to the tree, leaving it in place. “Hopefully, he won’t notice it’s not tied and stay put while he eats. I’d rather not have to chase a rabid wolf around a lake loaded with dead animals.”
“Poor puppy hungry. I go hide, be good. Make big fire when needed. If needed.”
I headed for the shadows and my husband went back to the SUV, leaning against it while facing the road circling the lake. As hoped, the wolf stayed put, pausing in his bone chewing long enough to eat the meat.
Hiding in the shadows didn’t work while a steaming unicorn, but snowbanks from the wind off the lake gave me a few places I could burrow into my former nemesis, which did a good job of keeping me comfortable while also offering a place to stay out of sight. My husband, to all appearances, relaxed while he waited. Considering the size of the lake, I could only hope it didn’t take too long for our unwanted guest to arrive.
Then again, with my luck, our unwanted guest would leave us waiting for hours. Would Quinn notice if I took a nap in the snowbank?
I could use a few extra hours of sleep and an entire tanker of napalm.
I deserved a good napalm bender, and if I needed to torch the entirety of a rabies-infested lake, I would work hard to have a record-breaking bender.
How much napalm could a determined cindercorn consume? Would the CDC