Theodore: Xavier’s Hatchlings ― Paranormal Dragon Shifter Romance Read online

  Chapter 1

  Patrick got out of the car he’d borrowed and started up toward his mom’s house. When the man, a big guy, stepped out from the house, Patrick stopped. They seemed to be eyeing one another when Patrick realized that he had a right to be going into the house because his mom lived there. Walking closer, the man came toward the steps and leaned against the post that he supposed was holding up the porch roof.

  “You need something, Patrick?” That startled Patrick, and he stopped again. He was sort of glad for it. He’d gotten himself out of shape in the last few years and needed to rest more and more. “The house and the lands here are being protected by my family until the will is read.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” The man told him. “I don’t want to steal anything—what a thing to say to me. I’m here to pick up a few things my dad said I could have when he passed on. I’ll just get them and be on my way.”

  “What items are they? I can check with Mrs. Black when she gets back to see what he left you.” Damn it, Patrick thought. Everyone had an angle to keep him from getting some shit from the house. “Do you have them written down?”

  “No, I don’t have them written down. I’m going into that house, and you’re going to get out of my way or else you’re going to be hurt.” The man looked him up and down before bursting out into peals of laughter. “What the hell do you think is so fucking funny?”

  “I would say that it has to do with you trying to tangle with a man that is obviously not only stronger than you’ll ever be but fit too.” The woman that spoke was behind him, and he turned to look at her. “Hello, Father. I see you’re up to your old shit again, aren’t you? However, if you’re smart at all, which everyone knows you’re not, you will just walk away and live to see another day.”

  “Pembroke?” She nodded at him as she made her way up to the porch where the other man was. “I thought you was dead. What the hell are you doing here now? There ain’t a thing here for you.”

  “And you know this how, I’m wondering? It doesn’t matter. I’m here for Grandma.” Pem looked at the man, then back at him. “I was wrong to stop you from tangling with this guy. You should do it. It might be the best laugh I’ve had in a while when he kicks your ass all the way to that piece of shit you’re driving around. Isn’t that Millie Jackson’s car? Did you steal that too?”

  “No, I didn’t steal it. She lent it to me.” The man put out his hand and told Pem his name. “You didn’t offer me the same kind of courtesy, Mr. Manning. Why is that?”

  “You’re here thinking that you can scam your mom out of her things. She’s here because her grandma asked her to be.” Mr. George Manning leaned against the post again. “The will can be read now that your daughter is here. Until then, you aren’t getting in this house. Even after the will is read, I’m doubting very much that you’ll have much in the way of a welcome mat being put out.”

  Pem asked if she could go inside. After telling his daughter that she could, George told her that her grandma was out to dinner with his brother. Pem went into the house without a word to him. Damn it, why was it that everyone treated him like this? He was a Black, too.

  “You should be going, Patrick. I’m sure that if your phone is still working, they’ll notify you when the reading will be done. I’m sure even after death, Harold has plenty to say to you and your brother Austin.” Patrick asked how he knew so much about his family. “I’m interested in not just who they are, but what their thoughts are, unlike you. You only want to know what sort of things you can get from people. Mrs. Jackson has called the police on you. She’s only just found out that you took her car again. I’m assuming you’ll be in jail before the end of the day.”

  Patrick got back in the car and decided he’d be back later tonight. With the old lady in the house with his kid, he was a shoo-in to be able to knock the two of them around enough to get something to tide him over until the will.

  He didn’t even know what the hell his parents had that they figured needed to be mentioned in a will, of all things. Damn it, the last time he was in the house before his dad died, there hadn’t been much more than the four walls and some crap that nobody in their right mind would want.

  Taking the car back to Ms. Jackson, he found the police there waiting for him.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Jackson, I surely am. I needed to go and see my mom, and then my daughter showed up. I should have asked, I know.” She huffed at him. “No harm done. As soon as my dad’s will is read, I’ll even put gas in your car for you.”

  He was thrown against the car and read his rights. The entire time he was trying his best to talk to Ms. Jackson, the old bitch, about not pressing charges against him for just borrowing her car for a bit. As soon as he was put in the back seat of the cruiser, Patrick tried the same thing on the cops.

  “It wasn’t gone that long. I meant to tell her, but I wanted to see my little girl.” The cop turned around and asked if Pem was back in town. “Yes, that’s who I’m talking about. She sure did grow up to be a pretty thing. You should be asking her out.”

  “I’m married. How that kid is a part of you, I’ll never understand.” He said he had good genes to pass on to her. “You would think you had something to do with her being an upstanding person. How much do you know about Pem, Patrick? I’m betting you don’t even have a clue as to not only how old she is, but when her birthday is. Do you?”

  “I don’t care about such things as age. Besides, if she’s older than twenty, then I don’t want to know.” The cop turned around, saying something about bastard fathers. “I bet you don’t know it either, now do you?”

  “She’s twenty-seven. Her birthday is in December, the same day as mine. She and I went to grade school together. That was about the time she skipped a bunch of grades.” The cop turned back to him. “She’s also been to war. I’m betting you didn’t know that either.”

  “Why are you drilling me about my kid? Don’t you have anything better to do than to tell me shit that I don’t give two shits about?” Patrick looked out the window as he continued. “She’s here on account’a her thinking she is going to be getting something from my parents. Well, I know whatever they had to give her, it’s not worth her coming here to get it.”

  He had no idea where his daughter had even been living. She’d left his home when she was a teenager. Not that she’d moved all that far away. His mom and dad had taken her in for a little while. At least he thought so. It seemed that every time he went over there, she’d be right up his ass again. It was his dad who had kept him from hitting her.

  They more than likely had thrown her to the side of the road too. He’d had enough of her wanting to get into his business. Maggie, her mom, she’d been sick back then too, if he remembered right. All Pem wanted her mom to do was to leave him, and then they’d be all right. How all right did she think they was going to be when Maggie was dying? Whatever the reason, Pem had left home, leaving him to care for her mother. Pem should have been doing right by her mom.

  Patrick had spent just one day with his sickly wife before he’d had enough of her whining and wanting him to get her up and around to the bathroom. He called her an ambulance that night after knocking her around a little to shut her up. When they had taken her away, he’d never slept so well as he did that first night. He’d not seen hide nor hair of Maggie or Pem since, except for at Maggie’s funeral some weeks later.

  He’d only been notified that she’d finally passed on when the funeral place wanted him to pay the bill. Fuck that shit. He had more important matters to attend to than paying for a funeral that he knew damn good and well the state had money for.

  Once he was in his jail cell, he was left alone. Patrick liked himself as company. He was the only one that gave himself the answers he wanted to hear. Laughing a little at that, he did wonder when supper would be served. If he remembered rightly, as it hadn’t been that long since he’d
been locked up, they had a pretty good meal plan going on.

  Patrick had been told some days ago that he’d been mentioned in his dad’s will. What he could have left him after Patrick had gotten everything out of the house that was worth anything, Patrick didn’t know. He’d been taking things from the house since Maggie had died. If not for taking the shit, he’d have had nothing. No food. No house. Nothing but the shirt on his back.

  He did think on what the cop had told him about his daughter, Pem. Could she really be twenty-seven? And what was that bullshit about her being in the war? There hadn’t been any wars that he’d heard of since his dad had been in one. Thinking of that, Patrick did wonder if Pem had any money. She’d be ripe for picking if she did.

  When she’d been no more than about five or so, the doctors wanted her tested. He thought for sure that they were going to see if she was retarded or something. But it turned out they thought she was some kind of gifted kid. Maggie had wanted to put her into some program or another. The only program that Patrick was aware of was one that drunks went to. So, he put his foot down and said to make her go where the rest of them kids went. He didn’t know what had happened after that, now that he thought on it. For all he knew and cared about, Pem had disappeared off the face of the earth.

  She’d been all right as someone to knock around a little. About the time he’d been told she was gifted, she got right smarter at not being anywhere close enough to him to hit. And that little shit had started carrying a shiv with her—a shiv, of all things. Pem had gotten him good with it a few times too. Not that he wasn’t able to get a few licks in himself, but she wasn’t any fun after that. Her being smarter than him didn’t help either. Patrick thought for sure that she’d be egging him on when it came to him using words wrong.

  “If I say them, then that’s the way she should have said them. Kids don’t have any respect for their parents anymore.” The voice from down the hall had him realizing he wasn’t the only one in the jail this time. She told him that nobody treated a person any worse than fucking family. “You got that right.”

  “What you in here for? Knock over a liquor store? Did you perhaps kill someone? I’m in here for no other reason than the judge told me that without a house or job, I couldn’t leave. I have one, damn it.” He didn’t know if that was all the reason but didn’t say anything to her about that.

  “No, I didn’t kill anyone. I wanted to, let me tell you. But now I have to figure out a way to get out of here and go to the reading of my dad’s will. It should have been done sooner, but my daughter was out someplace and couldn’t be reached. She’s a bitch too.” The woman laughed. “I had me the steaks all lined up to steal, but this is putting a damper on things I got going.”

  She told him she had the same issues. “That son of a bitch even said he was going to sell off my car. How the hell am I supposed to get around and to my job and house if he does that? I’m gonna be telling them who’s boss, let me tell you. I have myself a plan, and once I’m out of here, I’m going to be executing it and a few shits that have been doing me wrong too. I’m Sandra Merkle. I’m going to be a millionaire as soon as someone gets their head out of their ass and figures out that I’ve been falsely jailed.”

  He just rolled his eyes and laid back on his bunk. Patrick no more believed she was going to get out than he believed he was going to win the next lottery. Some people, he thought, thinking that they were more than they really were, got on his last nerve.

  “Here’s your meal, Patrick.” He must have fallen asleep and rolled out of the cot onto the floor when the person spoke to him. Christ, he could barely get up off the floor, he was so out of shape. “The doc will be in to see you in the morning. He’s making sure you don’t have anything likely to make us sick. I mean, other than your stench. When was the last time you had a shower? You smell like rotted meat.”

  Taking the tray, he stayed on the floor where he’d landed. Even if he had a table, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to get up to eat at it. Once he had the covers off the plates, he hollered for the cop again. When he came back, Patrick showed him what was on his plate.

  “I know what’s there, moron. I’m the one that fixed it up for you. What’s wrong with it?” Patrick didn’t know where to start, so he just pointed at it again. “Yeah? So? You should be thankful that you’re getting anything at all. Eat it and shut up.”

  “All I got was a bologna sandwich here. Some baked chips of some sort. Why would someone bake chips when they can have them deep fried? Where is the mashed taters and gravy? Even a little bit of mayo wouldn’t go unnoticed by me. How am I supposed to get enough with this little bit of food? Come on. You’re pulling a funny on me, aren’t you? Get me one of the meals like you used to bring me: sliced ham and some taters with gravy on it. There was dessert too. Ice cream and pie. This ain’t enough for me to get the hunger pangs to go away.”

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot you were in a five-star hotel and that I should have brought you a wine list too. Will that be all right?” Patrick told him that he’d take a nice bottle of wine if they was offering it. “We’re not. You’ll eat what you got and be happy for anything at all. We don’t have the funds like we used to when there was a cook that would bring by meals.”

  When the cop walked away, Patrick asked about the wine list. When the door slammed behind the other man, Patrick wondered what the hell the world was coming to. Offering a man a wine list, then taking it away was beyond cruel, he thought.

  He picked up the sandwich and bit down into the thing. “One slice of bologna? Where’s the mustard and cheese? I like chips on my bologna sandwich too.” He ate the dried-out sandwich and looked around for something else. The chips were baked, and he couldn’t stand them. He was glad now that he’d not put them on his sandwich like he usually did. “Water to drink? What kind of shitty fucked up place are they running here?”

  “They keep telling me that I’m in jail. Like that’s supposed to be a good excuse for them not taking the time to cut away the crusts and shit. Christ, don’t even bother with the coffee you get. It’s like dirty water.” Sandra asked him what he’d gotten to eat. “Yeah, got the same thing. It must be Tuesday. That’s what you get for dinner on Tuesday. Tomorrow we’ll have fish sticks. I don’t think they’re actually made of fish, but that’s only because I’m used to the finer things in meals. When I get out of here, I’m going to be making some major changes in this town.”

  He let her go on about her money and the things she was going to do. For the first time in longer than he cared to remember, he went to bed hungry. Even when he had no place to call his own, he’d always had a snack or two before hitting the hay. Patrick was going to have to have someone listen to him about the way he was being treated in here.

  ~*~

  Pem hugged her grandma twice before she sat down. The man with her, Theo something, was standing there like someone had to explain to him that he needed to breathe before he passed out. When it finally occurred to him, she thought, he smiled like he’d just learned a new trick.

  “Theo and his brothers have been taking good care of me since your grandda passed on. They helped us out too before Harold went and left me behind. He just loved those Manning boys.” Pem told her grandma that was nice. “You staying here for a bit, honey? I sure would love to be able to have you around a little more than you’ve been able to come see me.”

  “I have no other plans than I’ve got to see a doctor while I’m here. It’s been set up by the hospital where I was until recently.” Grandma asked her if she was doing better. “It depends on how you would qualify better. You know what’s wrong with me.”

  “I do.” She looked at George, who she’d been enjoying talking to before her Grandma returned. “Pem was in the service for a while. She’s a good doctor too. Surgeon, I mean. When she was hurt last year, the president himself gave me a call to tell me that they were taking the best kind of care of he
r.”

  “What happened?” Grandma started to answer George, but she said it was up to Pem if she wanted them to know. “I’m sorry. I should mind my own business.”

  “My unit was dropped off in the middle of nowhere by helicopter about sixteen months ago. It was me and another surgeon and four core men. Instead of it being a drop and go, the chopper we were in was hit by a grenade just as it was going airborne again. It brought it down nearly on top of the six of us. The other surgeon and one of the core men were cut in half by the blades still turning. Another had his head removed. Not that he used it all that much in the first place, but it would have been nice to have his help. I was shot three times, twice in the belly, once in the arm. The third core man was killed even before we were able to retreat to the wooded area where we were headed.” No one said a word to tell her that was enough, so for some reason, she continued. Not even the doctors she saw for her mental health knew the next part. “Billy had no idea how to cut into me to get the bullets out, so I had to assist him in the surgery. After he had removed the bullets, he taped me together with some tape that was in the kit he’d brought with him. He ended up wrapping me up with a towel to keep me from bleeding into the man we were there to operate on.”

  “Where were you?” She didn’t answer Theo. “I’m assuming by what you’re telling us that you were in country. What else happened that day? There was more, right?”

  “Billy kept telling me he’d had enough. Like he was ready to take the next transport out of the place. There wasn’t any way we could get out until someone remembered we’d been dropped off. As I operated on a few more men, it occurred to me that I’d had enough as well.” She looked at her grandma as she finished what she shouldn’t have been telling them in the first place. “It wasn’t the first time I tried to kill myself. Nor the last, as you know. My mind was so fucked up by what was going on around me that I couldn’t deal with it anymore—any of it. My entire life became a series of blood and pain. I cut into my wrists and decided I didn’t want to deal with shit anymore.”