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“She is mine, and you can’t have her. I am onto the wily ways of dragons, and if I let you touch her, you’ll try to steal her.”
Alastair hooted his laughter. “You have that right, Kinsley. If you want a Blazewing, I can put in an order for one, Mrs. Ramons.”
My mother held up two fingers. “Better get one for the lout, too, else we’ll never hear the end of it.”
My father sighed. “My wallet is going to need a trip to the ER at this rate. It’s bleeding money. My wallet is absolutely hemorrhaging money.”
“You and your wallet will survive. Alastair, we’re going to need derringers to match hers, and we’re going to also need a pair of Flamerunners. We will not be outdone by this youngling. Navy for him, red for me.”
“How about orange with red swirls? I can get a custom grip delivered for you in a few days.”
“Oh, yes. Please.”
Alastair went to his computer, clicked his tongue, and tapped at the keyboard. “All right. The Blazewings, which I can get the same year run as Kinsley’s, will ding you nine thousand each and can be here on Friday. The grips can be here on Saturday, and I can have them installed and ready to go on Sunday. I have two Flamerunners in stock, but they’re a model down from the one Kinsley has. If you want the same as Kinsley, they can be here on Friday.”
“We’ll wait for the ones on Friday,” my mother requested, and she placed her purse on the counter near Garnet before petting my kitten. “What do you have that is suitable for a carbunclo and her hummingbird sidekick?”
“Neither are licensed to use or carry firearms, Mrs. Ramons. I recommend you take them to the pet store down the street.”
I smirked at the dragon going up against my mother and winning. “I bought them presents when I was on my outing today, so they’ll be fine. After we’re done here, I need to go to the store to get hot sauce for Garnet.”
“I’m sure we can handle acquiring hot sauce for your kitten.”
“She eats hot sauce?” Alastair asked, and he raised a brow.
“If you put hot sauce on a pile of mashed potatoes, she will fling herself upon the bounty with amusing enthusiasm and require a bath afterwards,” I replied, grinning at my sleeping kitten. “I’ll have to teach her to be a little less messy when hot sauce becomes involved, but she’s still a kitten, and it’s good for her to be excited and enthusiastic about her supper. She’s still learning what she likes, so I take the time to explain what everything is when we’re in the grocery store, and I get her something new to try whenever we go.”
“I can’t say I’ve heard about this peril with carbunclo kittens.”
“She’s worth the trouble, and bath time is sacred. Garnet loves water. I’m going to have to give her weekly baths just to appease the beast.”
“It could be worse,” my mother informed me. Then, after a rather dramatic pause, she said, “She could love mud puddles and hate baths.”
As I was guilty of such things as a child, I recognized I’d lost the battle and the war. “That’s very true. She loves mud puddles and baths, so I am the most fortunate of carbunclo parents. Cleanup is a breeze.”
According to my mother’s expression, she would find some way to make me pay.
“We better buy cases and holsters since we’re here anyway,” my father said. “And we’re going to need a safe, else the little lady here will bust us left and right for inappropriate care of our firearms.”
“If you fail to take care of them properly, I will confiscate them and keep them for myself.” I would, too. Such beautiful pieces of art deserved to be loved and cared for appropriately. “You better sell them that obscenely expensive safe that might keep me out of it should they fail to take care of their Blazewings appropriately.”
“You got it, Kinsley.”
* * *
Monday, April 27, 2167
The Pearl Ward
Dragon Heights, Wyoming
An hour into my parents’ shopping spree at the gun shop, I woke Garnet through rubbing her belly, and I kissed her little nose and cooed to her while she stretched and made sense of her new surroundings. Once she recognized me, I scooped her up, snuggled with her, and carried her around, wondering how best to rein my parents in, who were putting some serious thought into buying me an extra gun or two.
My protests had fallen on deaf ears.
“Grocery stores do have closing hours,” I called out, hoping someone would pay attention to me for a change. “Garnet needs hot sauce.”
My kitten mewed and rubbed her little nose against me while purring a storm.