King Hall (18 page)

Onscreen, the wind carried Ezra’s deep, booming laugh as I came out of the ocean water looking like a drowned rat, the camera zooming in on me —
charming
— and showing me grumbling under my breath until I stopped in the surf, nostrils flaring.

Holy shit. I had no clue I could look like that. Gone was the carefree, sweet young woman. In her place was a predator that would have scared me if it hadn’t been…well, me.

The room went silent, seeing what I was.

Watching the scene unfold on the flat screen, I saw my eyes flash blue and my head fall back, the breeze picking up my melodious, urgent howl to perfection.

All the Kings went outwardly rigid at the sound, also knowing what it was.

The shot zoomed out, catching me leaping through the air to Ezra’s side. It only looked mildly impressive to me, but to a Com it probably seemed as if I had strings attached to my body I flew so high and for so long. And yeah, thank God for those little blurry boxes they put on nude body parts because the camera zoomed in as I started stripping. The recording caught Ezra and me arguing, though not our quieter words, and then you heard the first gunshot even as our guards were rushing to us from the sidelines.

I heard a deep grunt from the person filming when I shifted, letting me know the person taping us was male, and the video showed our mad dash back down the beach. I saw three guards go down — they were dead — then we disappeared from view behind the bend where the guy couldn’t film us. Although, he did film the Coms rushing across the beach with their guns drawn.

By this time, the Kings were cursing obscenities at the TV screen, a few phrases I didn’t think them capable of, as Antonio took a step forward, watching the screen intently with a look of study on his face.

Footage still rolling, it pictured us as we came back around the curve of the beach, or, at least, as a wall of blue water did. The speakers thundered with all the gunfire erupting. The man recording it panted heavily and the picture moved. Seemingly, the man debated running, but the image steadied, and so did his breathing, as a stream of golden light erupted from the top of the wall of blue water.

The man caught everything on video. The guns being lifted and firing on their owners. The wall of water dropping, me shooting, Jack drowning his victims, Ezra’s blood bath, and the men flying into the air only to fall to their deaths. Then the wall of water shooting back up, and our guards attacking when our assailants fired on us again. Disgustingly, the footage kept rolling even as the Coms charged the water-wall. Over the speakers, all you could hear were their screams, the image vivid as blood flew. The camera zoomed in as the wall of water went down. The image caught Jack, Pearl, and Ezra swiftly killing their assailants, and then swung to me being plowed into.

King Kincaid cursed, and then froze, eyes on the screen as the Com’s gun was drawn.

The footage indicated my friends had been rushing to help me, but the recording also caught me twisting the guy around so I was on top, missing getting shot, with the picture zooming in right as I put my elbow into the Com’s head.

King Kincaid’s fists shot in the air.

The picture scanned the beach, showing the dead, before it cut off, going blank.

The anchor woman was shown once more, and she cleared her throat, her eyes considerably panicked as she said rapidly, “
We, here at KLGM, would like to express to Ms. Ruckler, Mr. Zeller, Ms. Cooper, and Mr. Collins how deeply disturbed we are by this Com extremist group’s activities. It is an atrocity, a truly heinous act. Their beliefs and conduct are not shared by anyone here at KLGM
.”

Antonio shut the TV off.

As one, all five turned to view us.

As if it hadn’t been bad enough before, with all of them knowing what we had done in the first place — the authorities, both Mys and Com, had been called to the scene, probably by the guy with the camera — but now it was in live-and-living color worldwide.

It was safe to say we were in even more trouble.

King Fergus peered down the line of Kings. “House arrest, unless they’re with each other at a King’s house or school, until Graduation sound about right?”

I swallowed.
That was four and a half months.

King Nelson clucked his tongue. “Maybe, they shouldn’t even be allowed to be together at the houses. Keep them separate, except at school.”

All four of us went rigid. That would be…undoable.

King Venclaire was staring at Ezra, and unhurriedly shook his head. “No. They’re here to form bonds with one another.” He scowled. “They just need to learn to follow the rules.”

King Kincaid stared me in the eyes, his narrowed. “If we don’t want to separate them, then let’s give them a little
something
to do while they’re at our houses to keep them out of trouble.”

My lips pursed as Antonio chuckled. I didn’t think I was going to like this.

No, I most certainly didn’t. The Kings really knew how to pick their punishment to torturous perfection. The meaning was clear. While they dealt with the influx of calls from Mysticals around the world and the United States of America politicians to set up a time for us to speak together, we got stuck every other night babysitting.

We weren’t even paid for it. The Kings just called every Mys they knew in the area that had small children, and dumped them on us, giving the parents free evenings. As an added bonus, we weren’t allowed to call in reinforcements.

Like say, oh, people who actually liked kids.

Where most people — Com or Mys — saw adorable bundles of joy, all four of us only saw tiny imps with too much energy, who always smelled of ketchup, had perpetually sticky fingers, and who had no filters on their tiny, loud mouths. To say I was never having children was a no-brainer since I was a hybrid but, even if I hadn’t been, I still never wanted to have a kid. My friends agreed wholeheartedly. And what did the Kings stick us with?

Babysitting.

“Take it,” Ezra muttered to Pearl, awkwardly holding out the nine-month-old that wouldn’t stop wailing. “It stinks.”

“No way,” Pearl hissed, cleaning the peas smashed on the floor from the five-year-olds’ dinner. “I’m busy.” She scrubbed viciously, even though that particular area was spotless.

“Here.” Ezra held the child out to me. It was our first night of punishment and we were at my place while the Kings were at King Venclaire’s house. Cowards. “I think it needs changed.”

Blotting the spot of juice on my shirt — I had no clue how it had gotten there, except that it was in the shape of a munchkin’s handprint — I scowled. “I’m not changing it!”

Jack raced into the room chasing after a three-year-old, who was carrying a full-sized carrot and making a hacking motion with it.

Ezra jumped in front of him, letting the toddler, who was wearing only a drooping diaper, squeal away happily. “Take this one. I’ll get the slasher.”

Jack sniffed, and made a face. “Man, I’m not stupid.” He tried to outmaneuver Ezra, which was useless since Ezra was a Vampire. “I’m not taking the kid that crapped itself. I’ve got duty of the one who keeps stabbing the deer Shifter.”

“I don’t think so!” Ezra shouted, clearly ticked, holding the child away from himself, the kid screaming even louder. “If this kid needs to be changed, we can work this one out together!” He glowered at all of us.

Feeling a little guilty, I nodded. It really wasn’t fair to stick him with this task.

Jack and Pearl did the same.

Grudgingly, Jack grabbed the diaper bag the parent had left, digging through it before laying a plastic thing on the kitchen table from its depths.

Ezra quickly placed the squalling kid on top of it.

We stared.

“What now?” I asked, trying to hold my breath. The kid reeked.

Jack shrugged and grabbed a diaper from the bag. “We put this,” he shook the diaper, and pointed at the red-faced kid, “on that.”

“How?” Pearl’s head cocked.

Ezra growled. “I cannot believe they stuck us with these mongrels!”

“That’s not going to help.” Pearl patted his arm, glancing at the diaper bag. “Is there an instruction booklet in there?”

Digging through the bag, I found nothing except a lot of tiny clothing and some wipes. I held said wipes up. “We could probably use these.”

Ezra glared at the squalling kid. “At least we’ll know if it’s male or female after this.” The kid screamed piercingly, its chin quivering. “My money’s on female.”

Pearl and I glared.

Jack waved a hand at it, saying, “We need to take its clothes off.”

Ezra grimaced, but started unbuttoning the once-upon-a-time soft, yellow-footed bodysuit thing it wore, which was now soaked with spit and drool. Debating internally, I decided that if I was the brat I wouldn’t want to be soaked, so I pulled a clean, lavender bodysuit thing out of the diaper bag and put it on the table next to the new diaper and wipes. Ezra nodded at the clean clothes, mumbling, “Hey, that’s good. Maybe, it’ll shut up if it’s dry.”

We all nodded.

Then, we got a revelation as he pulled the clothes off.

A smell permeated throughout the kitchen that was so foul all four of us gagged.

Holding the clothes away from himself with two fingers, Ezra hollered, “It came out of the diaper! It’s all over!” He swung the soiled clothes our way. “Take it!”

Pearl and I screeched, jumping back.

Jack moved into action, snapping on yellow gloves from the sink and grabbing the trashcan. He seized the dirty outfit and dumped it in the trashcan, which he sat down near us.

We gazed from it to the child with disgust.

Pearl’s eyes flashed as she muttered, “I can come up with a few ways to get the Kings back.”

My own eyes flared as thoughts of revenge took hold. “I’ve got a few ideas of my own. We’ll work out the details later.” She nodded, and we gazed back at the kid, who was turning purple from screaming so much, and I muttered, “You’d think it would know to shut up. That can’t be healthy.”

They nodded.

“So, I guess I’ll take the diaper off since I’ve got,” Jack lifted his hands, “the gloves.”

The three of us stared in morbid fascination as Jack stepped forward, ripped the diaper on the sides, and lifted it back, his voice guttural. “Holy Mary, Mother of God.”

I choked and covered my mouth. That just wasn’t right.

Jack bellowed, throwing the diaper back over the kid, but he wasn’t fast enough. It was male. And the little bugger took the opportunity to piss all over the front of Jack’s shirt. While hollering, Jack tore his shirt over his head and tossed it into the trashcan to stand bare-chested, heaving in great gulps of air. Until he started gagging right along with us because we had started laughing and pulled too much stench into our lungs.

Hearing a masculine chuckle behind us as we coughed, we looked back.

Antonio was resting against the doorframe, his mien entertained, watching us fumble our way through this. His lips twitching, he pushed off the door and patted my head as he passed. Bending over the kitchen table, way too close to the spawn, he started cooing to the tiny, red-faced male. Amazing me even further, the kid shut up, only a few whimpers heard.

Antonio snatched the wipes, talking in a high, grating voice, all the while staring at the munchkin. “Diapers aren’t hard.” He shook his head, leaning down to kiss the mini-monster’s sweaty forehead. “No, they’re not.”
God, he sounded like a mutant.
“In fact, I used to change that mean ol’ Lily’s diapers when she was a baby. Yes, I did.” Again, he kissed the sweaty forehead. “There was one time when she was such a mess—”

I kicked him in the butt, cutting him off. No one wanted to hear this.

“Well, it looks like mean ol’ Lily doesn’t want me to embarrass her.” He pulled the diaper off and the four of us backed away, but watched as he used the wipes and applied the new diaper. Efficiently, he put the clean clothes on the little beast. By the time Antonio was done, the male was grinning at him — and drooling — while clapping his hands like Antonio was the ultimate. “There we go.”

Antonio handed the squirming male to me, his voice normal once more. “That was as a one-time demonstration. Don’t come to me when the next poopie diaper arrives.” His lips were twitching again. “By the smell of it, there’s plenty more in the living room.” Sauntering through the kitchen, he snickered. “Also, they’re drawing on the walls in the foyer with the crayons one of you left them unattended with.”

We scowled at the shirtless Jack, the crayons definitely his idea.

Jack grabbed a scrub brush from the sink, his shoulders slumped. “This blows.”

In silence, we nodded.

Piling into the armored limo, exhausted, I yawned. It was two weeks after the beach attack, and we were on our way to chat with the President of the United States of America about improving relations. Utterly drained, I had barely been able to drag myself out of bed after the late night babysitting at King Venclaire’s home the previous evening. Combine that with my studies at school and combat classes, and I was a walking zombie.

At least I had company in my mindless trek. Jack, Pearl, and Ezra weren’t any better. They had been putting in just as many long days with our punishment and the late night cramming study sessions.

The Kings were already in the limo, dressed in their finest, stuffy suits, watching us progress inside with charmed expressions. Yeah, it was loads of fun seeing us drag ass. All they kept saying over the past two weeks was that they should have thought of this sooner. Sadly, Pearl and I had decided against revenge, for fear of what new punishment they might concoct in those scheming heads of theirs.

All four of us plopped onto one of the side seats, slumping on the soft leather — not caring if our own stuffy suits that the Kings made us wear got wrinkled — while the driver shut the door behind us.

There were bulletproof vehicles in front and behind us holding our guards and our “elite” guards — the Kings had decided it was time to introduce them to the world. Felix was one of them. I hadn’t spoken a single word to him since I had found out what he was, though I was pretty sure my friends had. Especially because of the first day afterward, when he had arrived in class, bloody, bruised, and sopping wet. He had left me alone after that but, unfortunately, still stayed close, doing his job.