Rich Boy: Growing Pains - 5. Chapter 5

"Happy birthday, young man," Madam Calhoun said with a smile on her face as they all sat down at the conference table. Beyond her, he could look out the window at the Phoenix skyline. The Mage Council's ‘office' was on an upper floor of one of the larger downtown skyscrapers. It was actually a rather small office, with four rooms including the conference room they were now all sitting in.

For this meeting, Worthington was dressed in a business suit, as was both Larry Ohlman and his Aunt Elizabeth. It was at the end of the workday for them, and they'd come here directly from work. Stacy was dressed in a caftan covered in printed roses, and Lily Parker was wearing a dress that showed off her bulging stomach quite well. Jamie was also dressed in a suit and sitting next to him. Walter Grassley was dressed up in a pair of slacks and a white shirt with a blue tie.

The reason for their attire was obvious from the number of mages that were watching them from the tables arranged around the room. Fortunately, it was a large enough room, and the table was designed just for the eight of them, so there was plenty of room for the others to watch. If necessary, they could even place a second ring of chairs around them.

"Thank you, ma'am," Worthington said with a smile. He'd finally had a good night of sleep the night before, and was recovering from a hectic week of spell casting that he hadn't quite been prepared for beforehand. It seemed that every night they had been there, one or more of his former colleagues from the boarding school had wanted his time and attention in bed for much the same reasons as Mitchell Pierce. David Heart had not been one of them, thankfully.

"I believe we can get started now," Stacy said with a nod as two more people filtered into the room. Both of them were strangers he had never seen before, an older couple with hair gone to mostly gray and the man walked with the assistance of a cane. Worthington nodded and leaned forward in his chair as he looked over the ‘agenda' that had been prepared. That was Elizabeth's and Larry's doing, insisting a public agenda was important. They prepared it and e-mailed it or faxed it out to everyone in the community the day before one of their meetings.

"I hereby call this meeting of the Valley of the Sun Mage Council to order," Worthington said without expressing the mental sigh he was feeling. "Our first order of business is the approval of last meeting's minutes."

"Move to adopt," Elizabeth said with a grin. She knew how he hated the stilted nature of these meetings, but she was right in that following a set format both provided the Council with an air of legitimacy, and it kept the proceedings much more civilized than a less formal process.

"Seconded." Larry Ohlman said. The two attorneys were the ones most familiar with ‘parliamentary procedure.' Fortunately, Worthington's education had included this since the business world operated off of it as much as any government-type entity.

"Any discussion?" Worthington asked. Amelia Gorman, a retired secretary, was their official note-taker and spent twenty hours a week ‘running' the office of the Mage's Council. According to Madam Calhoun, she needed the extra income and had been a good legal secretary for her professional career. Worthington had hired the woman without hesitation, and she was the only person sitting in the area behind him and Jamie at the head of the table. "Hearing none, all those in favor please say ‘aye.'

With that, the easy part of the meeting ended, and they got down to business. During the week he'd been in Clairville, twelve ‘refugees' had crossed their wards into Phoenix with the intention of settling in a ‘safe' area. All of them came from portions of Nevada where another demon attack had occurred. They spoke of a great deal of fear in the mage communities there, and people seeking shelter in Las Vegas only to find no promise of protection whatsoever. The mages in that city were adopting a policy of ‘each to their own.'

The twelve mages represented members of three different families, two Light path and one a relatively unknown Dark path couple just into their mid-twenties and with two young children. Another two were the older couple that had entered last, and a family of eight including two grandparents, a middle-aged couple, and their four children ranging in age from six to fourteen. All of them were present in the room today, as were several other people Worthington might wish were elsewhere at the moment.

"Before we begin our business agenda, we have a period of comment where any member of our community may address the Council on any issue that is not currently on the agenda," Worthington said, and this time his voice reflected how much he hated this part of the meeting. Patrick Kensington, the elderly patriarch of the Kensington family, had survived the battle with the demons and was always at these meetings, and always had something to say.

"I am Patrick Kensington, and I wish to protest the blatant flouting of custom by this council!" Patrick said vehemently as soon as Worthington finished.

"What custom is that, Patrick?" Calhoun asked in a voice that expressed her relative indifference to whatever he was saying. That only seemed to make him more irate.

"This agenda!" The man nearly shouted as he held up the single piece of paper he'd printed out from his e-mail. "It flouts the custom of not writing about magic!"

"Do you have a suggestion on a better way to disseminate information about the Council meetings and making sure all of our citizens knows when and where we are meeting as well as what we are discussing?" Larry Ohlman asked calmly, and Patrick glared at him.

"It's your job to figure those things out," Kensington grumbled. "I'm just pointing out how you're abusing our custom and risking the safety of our community. What if mundanes got a hold of this?"

"Are you going to give it to them?" Calhoun asked him archly without even turning around to face him. "Do you print it out without casting the aversion ward on it that we recommended?"

"I…no, I cast the spell on it." He grumbled. "Still, any one of us might not be that careful."

"Then we will appreciate your assistance in finding a better way of disseminating our agendas and meeting notices," Elizabeth said sweetly. "I, for one, really do appreciate it when members of our community step forward and volunteer like this. Worthington, please make sure this is on the next agenda so we can make it an official task force with Mr. Kensington in charge."

"Now wait a moment!" Patrick nearly yelled. "I didn't volunteer for this…"

"You spoke up about it being a problem." Calhoun's voice matched Elizabeth's sweetness now. "Are you saying you refuse to help solve a problem?"

"No," Patrick grumbled, and Worthington smiled just a little bit. Stacy's idea on how to shut Kensington up looked like it was going to work after all.

"Then it is so noted that we will take up the creation of a task force, chaired by Mr. Patrick Kensington to discuss methods of disseminating our agenda, meeting notices, and similar information without risking violation of the custom of no printed information on magic or revealing our existence to the mundane world," Worthington said calmly. "Is there anyone else wishing to speak at this time? No, then let's move on to the first order of Old Business. Elizabeth?"

"Funds from Sinclair Enterprises have been transferred to cover the operating expenses of the Council for the next year," Elizabeth said. "This includes one part-time employee, the lease of these facilities, and for supplies related to the creation and maintenance of the wards around our perimeter as well as miscellaneous sundry items. Next year's budget will be submitted to Adept Bradwell for funding in June of that year, and it will be expected to be implemented by the First of July."

"Any questions?" Worthington asked and smiled as they moved on through the few items still remaining under old business. Mostly they were reports not requiring any new decisions, but a few minor decisions were made regarding the southern wards. Those touched on Indian reservations, and they were nervous about stepping on the toes of the Native American population who had their own system of magic and shamans at the tribal level.

It was the first item under New Business that caused the expected uproar, again with Kensington leading the charge, but this time Mira Robertson was right there with him. The oldest member of the family that Patrick normally feuded with seemed joined with him on this issue. Some might be pleased to see two families that normally feuded on the same side, but not when he was their joint target.

"I don't care if the demons are attacking elsewhere, we can't just take people in willy-nilly off the street!" Patrick Kensington said.

"For a man who normally doesn't know his head from a hole in the ground, Patrick's got the right of it on this one," Mira argued at the top of her lungs. "Let them stay here a day or two but then escort them to their cars or whatever and show them to the border. Have those boys of yours follow them on their motorcycles to make sure they leave!"

"Damn right!" Patrick agreed. "We can't have those demons thinking that just because we're taking in people, we aren't abiding by that little agreement that keeps them out of here."

"They stay away from here because they fear the cost of acting against us, and because we have wards that will warn us if they, or anyone associated with them enters our valley," Calhoun said sharply. "The Light demands we accept these people into our homes and do whatever is needed to help them."

"It's a decision for the Adepts to make, I say." Patrick countered. "They aren't bound by the Light!"

"It is a decision for the Council to make," Jamie said flatly with a glare at the man.

"What does Sinclair say?" Mira countered. "He's the Head of the Council right now, not you."

"We agreed to be bound by the decisions of the Council," Worthington answered after considering his words carefully. "As Chair, I speak neither for nor against this proposal unless the vote is tied. Now, instead of a round-robin on this, how about we follow some order. Is there a motion on the floor regarding what to do about refugees?"

"I move that we accept any refugees fleeing the depredations of the demons, so long as they agree to live under the same conditions as those of us already here." Madame Calhoun said in a dignified voice.

"Second." Stacy, Elizabeth, and Larry said at once.

"Let us discuss this issue," Worthington said. "I will hear one speaker for the motion first, and then we will hear from someone on the Council who is opposed. Once all Council members have spoken, we will allow mages here to speak their mind, one opposed and one supporting in rotating order for one minute each. There will be no second opportunity to speak until all have had the opportunity to speak once."

"I made the motion so I will speak in support," Calhoun said as she stood slowly from her chair and looked around the room. She spoke for exactly one minute before sitting down in her chair again. At Worthington's call, Lily Parker rose to speak against the motion, her main point being that when this valley was under attack, no one lifted a hand to help them.

Jamie and Larry Ohlman didn't speak, but Elizabeth countered Lily's arguments before Sean spoke against hers. Stacy summed up the arguments for it and countered some of Sean's points before Worthington recognized Patrick to speak against. When he tried to go past his one minute, Worthington cut him off and moved on to Detective Kendrick who added her voice in support.

While the arguments were being made, he watched the faces of the newcomers and tried to gauge their reactions. Light or Dark, it didn't seem to make much difference. The children were bored, not paying attention while the parents watched with apprehension on their faces. The older couples seemed amazed more than anything at the give and take of the process.

"Is there anyone else speaking in opposition?" Worthington asked after the eighth person had spoken in support.

"Am I allowed to speak?" The elderly gentleman who was seeking to move into the valley asked.

"Are you rising to speak in opposition?" Worthington asked, and the man shook his head slowly.

"I move to suspend the orders of the day to allow the gentleman to speak." Larry Ohlman said and was seconded by Elizabeth. A quick vote showed unanimous support and Worthington nodded for the man to speak.

"My name is Bill Connors." The man said slowly and carefully. "I must admit, I didn't like the idea of what you folks got going here, but my wife and I are too old to fight off demons ourselves, and we don't like the idea of being dinner for them much at all. We thought we'd have to be coming here and swearing some Oath of Fealty or the like to a Dark mage, and we were willing to do that if its what it took to stay alive. Call it a sacrifice, if you will. That's how we looked at it. But, after hearing what's going on here today, I want you to know that if you'll have us, we'd be honored to join your number. What you're doing here is what should have been done long ago, in my opinion. If it'll put you in danger of demons coming back here, though, you should tell us to go on our way. Maybe now that we've seen how you operate we can convince others to do what you're doing."

"Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Connor," Worthington said as he saw the reaction of the people in the room to the man's comments. "Is there any more discussion? Hearing none, I call for the vote. All those in favor of the motion to accept these refugees into our community, please say ‘aye.'"

Worthington was inwardly pleased when all of the Council members except Jamie answered with an aye vote. Jamie didn't cast a vote, something they'd both agreed on that unless the vote was going to be close, they'd stay quiet as Adepts. Both Patrick and Mira looked unhappy but didn't protest as they moved on to the next order of New Business, actually accepting the refugees into their community, garnering their commitments to the authority of the Council in matters of defense and dispute arbitration if all parties agreed.

The meeting was adjourned shortly after that, and Worthington left after a few words with Stacy and Elizabeth. They'd had a small party for him at the house earlier that day, and now he and Jamie were headed out to Clairville and the party that was waiting there for him. He'd tried to deny that he was looking forward to it, but Brandon had confirmed the Dwarf King was already there, as well as quite a few dwarves and other magical creatures.

The heat outside was stifling, and Worthington couldn't help the occasional glances skyward to see if there were any storm clouds forming. It was too early for the monsoon season, but he remembered last year with clarity and didn't want a repeat. He and Jamie had spent a lot of time warding the castle at Clairville and were confident his Uncle couldn't repeat what he'd achieved last year.

Still, he couldn't escape the memories.

The house in Scottsdale was empty as they stopped there briefly to change into a set of the clothes provided by the dwarves. Tonight's shirt was his favorite of the bunch, a dark gray with tiniest glimmers of silver and gold like faint stars in the twilight sky. Over the shirt, he wore a black leather jacket that had been a present from Stacy and Elizabeth earlier that day, and his new helmet that had been a gift from Jamie. Without saying anything, he met up with Jamie, and they turned their bikes towards the hills and the waiting party in Clairville.

The road was fairly deserted as they drove up into the mountains, and they were able to make good time around the frequent bends and turns. The cooler air in the mountains felt good after a day in hot Phoenix, and Worthington relaxed a bit as they traveled. He couldn't say why exactly, but as they approached a particularly tight turn just past the German restaurant he'd first visited with Tom, he slowed down much more than usual. Jamie, of course, matched his speed easily, and when they made the turn, they both slammed on their brakes, causing their tires to squeal.

Something slammed into his chest, and he felt his body flying off the bike as his breath was knocked out of him. Even in midair, and stunned from the impact of whatever hit him, he noticed his bike going down on its left side and throwing up sparks as it careened towards the truck lying on it side across both lanes, and Jamie trying to keep control of his bike as it skidded towards a stop just short of the obstacle. Then he landed on the road with a jarring impact, and he blacked out.

For Jamie's part, he'd been thinking about the expected party tonight, and the girls that had been invited. When he noticed Worthington slowing down, he did so unconsciously even though he didn't understand why. Normally his brother sped up into curves like this, especially since they knew the road so well and there was so little traffic.

The truck lying on its side was definitely a danger, and he struggled to keep his bike under control as he braked hard. Worthington was a far better rider than he, so he was shocked to see his brother fly off his bike. Still, he had to concentrate on his bike first, getting it to stop without losing control and he managed it just a few feet short of the truck, and he winced as Worthington's bike crashed into the overturned vehicle's undercarriage. He'd just kicked down his bike stand and was preparing to get off his bike and go check on Worthington when something slammed into him from the side. It was with shock he realized he'd just been shot when his helmeted head hit the pavement and saw stars flash in front of his eyes even as his chest felt like he'd been kicked by a mule.

Sinclair was nearing despair. His two halves had figured out what was happening and fighting back to maintain their independence. For weeks and weeks now, they had taken all his hard work and slowly begun to undo it, making him weaker as they worked. He fought back when he could, but they almost always found his handiwork immediately and neutralized it. At the rate they were going, they would have him weakened and be ready to rid themselves of him within a month.

Now, in this moment, he had a grand opportunity to show them how he was right, that they were weak without him, and that they should surrender their individuality into his care. Even as the Jamie part of him lost consciousness, he reached out through truncated tendrils of control and wormed his way deep into their minds and bodies. The barriers they had raised were gone with their sudden lapse into the blackness, and even though individually they were so stunned they would not wake soon, he was alive, and he could act through them.

First, he removed the shattered helmets from his heads with two sets of hands, and then he stood, forcing more breath back into his bodies. Shields against physical attacks sprang up over both his bodies even as another bullet struck against the Worthington body. Sinclair laughed through both sets of lips and fired a massive bolt of energy in the direction the bullets had come from. A fire started on the hill, and he waited to see if there were any screaming figures running from the area.

There were none, but he could feel more living beings approaching him from the other side of the overturned truck. A quick check showed the dwarven clothing had protected his bodies as well as he'd been told. The bullets were lodged in the shirts after having penetrated the motorcycle jackets both of his bodies were wearing. By extending his senses, he detected the figures now massing behind the overturned truck preparing to swing around and attack with their guns. He laughed again as he moved his two bodies to stand next to each other. This way he would use less power for the shield.

Another spell lifted the massive truck from the ground. It took a lot of power, but the stunned looks on the faces of the soldiers was more than enough payment as it lifted over their heads. The sounds it made as it shifted and landed atop them was most satisfying.

Sinclair was so busy laughing he didn't sense the mages behind him until they struck at him with bolts of pure power. They struck his shields, and he could feel them start to buckle. He'd wasted too much power, and his Channels were too far away just yet for him to draw on them. They were approaching though, on Brandon's bike. He could feel that, and so he poured more power into his shields, staying on the defense for now.

No! He screamed mentally as part of him started to wake. Worthington was coming back to consciousness, and already struggling against his control. He had to expend some of his concentration from the shield in order to keep Worthington under control. Desperately he tried to send Worthington back to sleep, but the other part of him started to stir as well, and he could not fight both of them while keeping his shields up from the furious attack that was happening outside. He was faced with a choice. Either he could allow the two halves to regain control from him, or he could let the mages attacking him succeed.

It was no choice, really, because as long as his bodies lived, there would be a chance for him.

Worthington barely had time to erect a shield over him and Jamie as the single consciousness gave up control and fled into the recesses of their minds. His chest hurt like mad, and he could feel a trickle of blood flowing down the back of his neck. Still, they were under attack, and he had to keep the shield up because Jamie had fainted again with the shock of the Sinclair consciousness retreating.

Power flooded into him as Brandon got close enough on his motorcycle, and he drew just enough to reinforce his shield and allow him to send a small healing spell into Jamie. His brother came awake, and while the barrier between them wasn't up, they could feel each other's thoughts. Carl was still too far away for Jamie to pull power from him, but he had enough power of his own to take over the defense while Worthington began to pull more power from Brandon for an attack.

There were three strong mages attacking them, and he began to send mage bolts at them in an effort to split up their attacks. Unfortunately, they were well trained and experienced at working together. He couldn't quite make out their features but had a distinct impression they were in their late thirties or maybe early forties. While far from weak, three of them did not match Jamie and Worthington, except the Sinclair had been wasteful with their power and used it for a grand gesture instead of using less power to simply eliminate the threat.

Still, he had Brandon and smiled as he could make out the faint roar of motorcycles heading their way. The truth was he had more than Brandon, and he began to supplement his attacks with power drawn from the humans in MR that were also heading this way. Carl reached Jamie's range, and the shield around them flared with power as it firmed up just in time to stop the combined attack of all three mages.

The men could hear the motorcycles too and had obviously meant to spend the rest of their power in an attempt to overwhelm the shields Jamie held. Their attempt failed though and Worthington's counterattack flash-fried all three of them. The bodies were charred flesh and little else as they fell to the pavement from the scouring attack he'd poured at them.

"Damn." Jamie murmured aloud. "We could have…"

"…used one for questioning." Worthington finished, and they smiled at each other sadly before sighing. In unison they raised the barrier between them, letting go of that sweet feeling of being one. Sinclair had nearly gotten them killed, and if nothing else showed them it was wrong, that was enough. They worked best as two people, each capable of acting on their own as well as together. That was how they were meant to be.

"Are you okay?" Brandon's voice was worried as he stopped his bike next to them and looked around with concern. Carl was pale as he tore off his helmet and leaped off the bike to hug Jamie, who winced with pain. Worthington was surprised to see that the ten members of MR who had been in Clairville had ridden down and all had a dwarf on their bike behind them, even Barry who didn't have a second seat on his bike. The dwarf was perched over the rear pommel of the bike, gripping Barry's jacket tightly.

"We're fine," Jamie assured them, and especially Carl who looked as if he was about to cry.

"Looks like you wrecked another bike, Sinclair." Barry laughed as he helped the dwarf off his bike and looked at the ruin of Worthington's latest bike.

"You're not getting your old one back, boss." Rob joked.

"You had better do something about that fire before it gets out of control." The dwarf who had ridden behind Barry said in a deep voice. He had the darkest skin Worthington had yet seen on a dwarf, and his white beard nearly reached his feet when he was on the ground. Like all the dwarves, he carried a strange rifle that Worthington had never seen before. All ten dwarves were on the ground now.

"There's not enough moisture in the sky to call down rain." Jamie murmured as the MR members nodded at whatever instructions Barry was giving them. Two took off on their bikes around the corner while two more went to the other side of the fallen truck. Worthington figured out they had been tasked to traffic control, to keep a car from coming around the corner and slamming into them. That was actually a good idea.

"It's not too big yet," Worthington said after a moment of thought. "Shield it, so it doesn't spread. It'll consume what's there but will die out when it runs out of fuel. That's what firefighters do with forest fire's right? Contain them and let them burn themselves out?"

"I think so." Jamie scrunched up his face and nodded while running a hand through Carl's blond hair as Carl was still holding onto him tightly. Worthington could feel him pulling more power from Carl, and he did the same from Brandon. Together they cast a shield over the fire, keeping it from spreading further up or down the hill. They tied off the magic so the shield would stay in place and only fade once the fire was burned out.

"Not bad." The dark dwarf who had spoken earlier nodded with approval. "What happened, Adept Sinclair?"

"You saved my life this evening, your Majesty," Worthington said with a smile as he opened his jacket and showed the man the bullet still lodged in the dwarven-made shirt.

"Be careful how you say that, lad." King Odras laughed. "Some would say that places you in my debt."

"Others would say there can be no such debt between friends and allies." Worthington countered. "If that is what we are to become, you have shown your value tonight."

"And you have shown the power and skill you will bring to the table as well." King Odras said with a bow. "Power to defeat your enemies in battle, and skill to keep yourself out of debt to a dwarf. That is a good combination."

"Have we complimented each other enough yet?" Worthington asked. "As glad as I am that the shirt you provided stopped the bullet, I think the force of it broke a few ribs, and it hurts to breath. Or laugh. Especially laugh."

"My men will stay with yours to clean this site up." The dwarf king bowed his head ever so slightly. "One of your healers is coming in his car. We will travel back with him."

"It'll be Richie," Jamie said softly. "My bike is fine. Carl and I will head back right now on it."

"You sure you can ride?" Worthington asked, and Jamie nodded. Carl still looked terrified at the thought of almost having lost Jamie. "Your helmet's a mess."

"I'll be fine just going up the road." Jamie shrugged. Carl got his helmet back on, and they took off even as Barry was walking back over to Worthington with dark-haired Tom and red-haired Josh in tow.

"Good timing, guys," Worthington told them with approval evident in his voice.

"Brandon started shouting you were in trouble, and we all came," Barry said with a very slight shrug. "His majesty here insisted we bring him and some of his knights."

"Your retainers are most skilled in their riding." King Odras complimented. "I am surprised though that they came here largely unarmed."

"Unless it's with our fists, most of us don't know much about fighting," Josh answered the statement with a shrug.

"We will change that for you if you wish." The King offered. "We will teach you the ways of combat, both with firearms and blades."

"What will you get in return?" Barry asked, already wise to the way of dwarves.

"You will teach us to ride your metal beasts." King Odras laughed. "We will examine them as well, and learn to make our own, smaller machines. Dwarves have never had cavalry before. We do not like horses, but these machines, well I cannot imagine a dwarf not liking them."

"You could always hire professional trainers instead of us," Barry said suspiciously with a frown. "I've seen how you wipe the memories of the delivery drivers. You could do that."

"But then we would have to pay them cash." The dwarf king laughed. "We will train you and your riders how to fight, and you will train us how to ride. Any dwarf who wishes to learn. For every hour you are taught, you will teach an hour. It is a fair trade, and it costs neither of us any gold. More, your people and mine will be accustomed to working together. That is important if we are to be allies."

"For each hour of instruction provided to a member, or prospective member of Mike's Riders, we will provide an hour of instruction in riding a motorcycle to a dwarf," Barry stated carefully. "Or, we will allow our bikes to be inspected for an hour."

"Good addition." Odras laughed. "Very well, that's a bargain we'll take."

Richie showed up as the two were still shaking hands, and Worthington let out a sigh of relief. Careful probing with fingers found the blood trickling down his back was from a small cut that a rock had made, not from his cracked helmet hitting the ground. When Richie reached him, he sat down on the ground in the fading light and allowed the Healer to examine him carefully.

They linked lightly, and he felt Richie's concern for him even as he provided Richie more power to use in his healing. While Richie knit his bones back together and sped up the healing with magical energy, examined his head and relieved the swelling from an incipient concussion, and fixed the major road burn, Worthington examined the concern that Jamie's brother felt for him. The Sinclair consciousness often tried to get Worthington to think of Richie as his brother, but Richie himself felt a great deal of affection for Worthington.

That surprised him a lot.

As Richie finished and they let the link between them dissolve, the dwarves managed to get the truck lifted and set on the side of the road. Worthington winced as Richie helped him stand. He was still sore, but his ribs were as if they had been healing for weeks instead of newly broken. The dwarves were examining the crushed bodies now.

"Thanks," Worthington muttered softly, and Richie smiled at him through a fringe of light-brown hair.

"You're welcome," Richie said gently. "I don't resent you, you know."

"I know," Worthington said softly, slightly ashamed of himself.

"Jamie and I are brothers, and you of all people should understand that nothing you do will ever change that," Richie said firmly. "You are not, and could never be a threat to me where Jamie is concerned. I know that as surely as I know my own name and the fact that our mothers love us both equally. You need to take better care of yourself though."

"Why's that?" Worthington asked with a slight chuckle as the feeling of guilt disappeared from him.

"Because, I love you almost as much as I love Jamie, you dolt," Richie said in a semi-serious voice, but he was smiling. "I'd hate to attend your funeral, and I know damn well that if one of you is in danger, the other won't be far behind. It's the way you two are, ever since you came to live with us."

"I'm sorry," Worthington said and almost laughed at the growl of irritation from Richie.

"What did I just get done saying?" Richie growled but stopped when the dwarven King approached them.

"Your Majesty." Worthington greeted the man who was holding something in his hand.

"You'll want to take a look at these." The dwarf grunted. "I don't know who all you've pissed off, but it appears they have some connections."

"I don't understand." Worthington murmured as he took what looked like and proved to be dog tags. "More than likely they were men hired by my Uncle. Mercenaries."

"Light up one of your mage-lights and look closely at those things." The dwarf grunted. Worthington frowned but did as suggested, lifting a sphere of white light over his head and letting it shine down on the dog tags. What he read there worried him more than if his uncle himself had been one of the three mages he'd killed.

The men crushed by the truck were all active duty soldiers in the United States Army.