Page 62 of The Flame Game

“The most common method of dust production involves the gorgon victim being alive at the start of the process, and then the decaying body used to strengthen the dust. It is possible to make the dust from just the bodies, but the dust is typically impotent and incapable of infecting others with the virus. You can view that type of dust as potent bile. If they took a male, they would have killed his females first to demoralize him before they began the batch of dust production—or held them hostage to force himself to be a more willing sacrifice.”

“Like that gorgon prince where we killed Audrey.” Technically, Quinn had done the killing, but I’d been there causing trouble, so I accepted my share of the responsibility for his ex-wife’s demise.

“Exactly right. He wouldn’t have done that unless he was trying to save his bride, his wives, and his children. That much of his sacrifice didn’t go to waste. He lost his wives, but his bride and youngest whelps survived—and his sole surviving daughter.”

“The little whelp was his?”

“Yes, from his previous hatching. She’s with her grandfather’s hive now.”

“Do you think she would get along with Beauty and Sylvester? They have a lot in common.”

“We can inquire for fostering. And yes, they do. I’ll call about fostering her after we’re back and we have a chance to talk with Beauty and Sylvester.”

“Maybe we should have requested napalm.”

“They’re bringing a few cups for you. They’ll have you purify the statues with flame before we use neutralizer on them. You’ll torch the entire exterior, and then we’ll do an investigation of the interior. They’re going to dome the building so you don’t light it on fire, and they’ll do a secondary dome around the garden so you can be a happy little pyromaniac. Hopefully, you can neutralize this batch of dust without harming the victims.”

I had my doubt on how effective that would be, but I would do my best. “Should I shift now?”

“If you want. You can poke around while sporting your fur coat if you think you won’t get too cold. And if you do get too cold, I’ll enjoy warming you up tonight.”

“Can you warm me up tonight even if I don’t get cold?”

“That was my plan,” my husband admitted with a shameless grin.

“Gorgon-incubus doohickeys are not precisely complicated to care for, which is a good thing, as I’m not sure I could deal with a high maintenance man. I only have lower grade pills with me.”

“They’re bringing a supply of the high grade pills, so don’t worry about it this once. It’s not that you can’t take the lower grade transformatives, the higher grade ones are just better. But at this stage? You can get away with a lot—or so says my grandfathers. All of them.”

“Has anyone told you that you have too many grandfathers?”

“On occasion.”

“I have more grandfathers than you do, so I can’t really say anything. But we have too many grandfathers.”

“We really do. Try not to light anything on fire before the CDC arrives, but if you went inside and had a look while a unicorn, you shouldn’t do any harm. Just don’t step on anything that might be evidence.”

“You could ride me inside and tell me what’s evidence and what isn’t evidence.”

“I didn’t bring your saddle, Bailey.”

“You don’t need a saddle to ride me. You’re not going to hurt my back.”

“I was less worried about your back, truth be told. Your spine is more pronounced than a horse’s underneath all that fur, though I wonder if you being at a healthier weight has helped with that.”

Oh. I thought about that, and I winced at the thought of a sharp spine to the groin. “You’re right. You’re banned from riding bareback unless it’s an emergency. Should such an emergency occur, I will have to nurse you back to good health. We should check and decontaminate the statues first, anyway. If we have time, then we’ll investigate the building.”

“To be fair, I’m not really a fan of riding regular horses bareback, either. Saddles are useful things.”

“I don’t know how to ride a horse,” I reminded him.

“You’ll learn how to ride on a cindercorn, I’m afraid. I’m very jealous, and I don’t want my wife riding a horse when—”

I lunged across the vehicle and clapped my hands over my husband’s mouth. “We do not pervert my future horseback riding lessons with your gorgon-incubus doohickey naughtiness!”

My husband laughed and kissed my hands. When I released him, he said, “Okay, my beautiful. I will try to limit my jealousy and inquire with my uncle on how to shapeshift into a regular horse, too. Especially when you’re first learning, I’d feel a lot better if I’m playing at being a horse rather than put you on a school horse. Some of them have opinions.”

“If you say so.”