My grandma wasn’t exactly a flashy woman, her car the same sensible minivan she’d had my entire life. A dull green vehicle that had gone through an engine change and complete rework of the suspension just in my memory. What modifications I knew were made to it, mostly a few hidden weapons, barely noticeable compared to what I was used to seeing hunters do.
My grandma, dressed in a pair of jeans and floral blouse, not getting out of the car as I climbed into the passenger seat. Cynthia staring me down several seconds until I put on my seat belt and then asking, “you smoke?”
I closed my eye a moment, almost on instinct lying, “of course not.”
Cynthia just raising a brow while scolding me, “I’m old, I haven’t lost the ability to smell. Can I have one?”
Not really wanting to press matters I relented, taking a carton from my red leather jacket and awkwardly flipping it open with one hand. The woman reaching out to take one offered while I got my own and struggled to light each of ours.
Only as I finished my own she finally told me, “terrible habit, I hope you know.”
“I’ve been told,” I admitted, rolling down my window while we continued on, “thought you told dad you quit?”
“Stressful few years,” my grandma actually laughed a little at that, a small wave of coughing following before she asked, “what you do to The Lady? Never got your dad that bad, or… well, maybe worse for a human, but only the once.”
I flinched at the question, eye closing a moment before I admitted, “when Martin… when Dad got shot, I um… friend of hers, Chasse, you know her?”
“Chasseresse?” my grandma snorted, “yes, heard she was calling herself that these days.”
“She told me it happened, The Lady didn’t want me to know, but…” I stopped a minute, my mouth suddenly feeling painfully dry, “I went to the house he was staying, contact of The Lady’s. Usually she’s, well, you know, more forgiving, but this time…”
A thin hand rested on my own, gently squeezing it while the two of us fell into silence for the car ride. The woman not trying to comfort me or prod further while we continued on through the city until she finally pulled in front of a large glass building. Not The Corner I was necessarily expecting, but I trusted her to know what she was doing well enough.
My grandma not bothering to say anything while we climbed out and started in, the woman adjusting her purse while she walked until she stopped outside the door. Stock still for a long time before she rolled her eyes and opened the door herself, holding it for me while we entered into restaurant.
Surprisingly packed, at least for this close to the holidays, it looked like something between a cafe and brunch place. A decent number of people sat around with just coffee, and still a good chunk eating with plates and silverware while the lone server pushed around a cart.
My grandma not even needing to speak before the server walked up and told her, “Father Arthur’s waiting for you already, Mrs. Taylor. I’ll be up to take your orders as soon as I’m done down here.”
My grandma smiled, an immediate warmth to her even as she started off and answered, “take your time dear, and please tell your mom I said hello. It’s been much too long since she called me.”
No room for the woman to talk after us while my grandma started up a small spiral stair case in the corner of the room, onto a balcony lined with a few doors on our right. The woman starting towards the farthest even as I asked, “hunters?”
“Friends of them,” Cynthia shrugged with a smile, “the rooms up here are sound proof though, and her mom owed me a favor.” My grandma stopped outside the last door just long enough to push me to the side a moment, raising one finger before she stepped inside and called out, “Arthur! Oh it’s been too long, how are you doing, dear? You look positively youthful.”
A man laughed, the sound of a chair scraping and pulling while he called out, “Cynthia! Darling, it’s nice to see you looking so young, I was afraid you’d make me feel old! Did you get a hair cut?”
“Oh a good bit ago, I’m not afraid to admit it, you like it?”
There was another scraping of chairs, the man laughing to tell her, “you look beautiful as always. I have to admit, I was surprised you called asking for me to lunch, but I won’t even pretend I wish to lodge a complaint. You said you wanted me to meet with someone?”
I wasn’t sure if that was my cue, but I took it as one all the same. A quick step into the room, perhaps a little quieter than I meant to be as I hardly made a noise even closing the door behind me. My grandma sat at a table with a man I hadn’t met before across from her, seemingly not even noticing my entrance.
A tall and thin man, he looked well into his thirties and was probably a deal older if he was a werewolf like he smelled. The slight tinge of wolf fur hanging to him, incense and wine and old leather books trying to hide it. His dark red hair cut short and well groomed, a black clergy shirt and collar making it pretty hard to not tell who he was.
Father Arthur sipping a cup of coffee even as my grandma gestured him towards the door and announced, “you remember my grandchild? I told you about them, the one who died, well… they’re alive, found out she was a werewolf and woman. Arthur, please meet Mary.”
Arthur turned to face me mid sip, his eyes going wide a moment and his cup exploding over himself as he choked and sputtered over himself. The man nearly falling over on the floor, jerking to his feet patting at his lap and hissing in pain even as my grandma held a handful of napkins out. Arthur quickly patting at the coffee while I let out a sigh and walked to sit beside my grandma.
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Yeah, another guy who recognized my mom. I probably should have gotten used to this.
Well, get this out of the way.
“Hi, I’m Mary, yes Eva’s my mom. No, I’ve never met her. I assume you’re one of her exes, she seems to have a lot of those, we can avoid dancing around that if you want.”
Arthur let out a few noises, after a moment settling into his chair and looking ready to speak up before the door opened with a small knock. The server peaking her head in to ask, “everyone ready to order?”
“I’ll take a BLT with a London Fog,” Cynthia answered without consulting us, gesturing to Arthur to admit, “and another coffee for him, he always gets the breakfast burrito. Mary, dear, are you hungry? How do you feel about tea?”
“I like it,” I admitted hesitantly, almost whispering as I asked, “can you order for me?”
“Same thing I got for her,” the woman spoke up, the server giving us a thumbs up while she left and my grandma told me, “London Fog’s basically a latte made with Earl Gray. I can’t have much coffee, terrible on my stomach these days.”
I nodded, at least able to say I liked Earl Gray even if I’d only recently tried it. Arthur still staring me down with the expression of a deer in headlights until I asked, “can we… look, been through this before, can we not be weird about my mom?”
Arthur nodded a few times, swallowing air before admitting, “yes, um, sorry, Eva um… I wasn’t aware that she had a daughter.”
“I wasn’t either or I would have tracked her down already,” my grandma admitted with a small hum.
He laughed a little at that, an almost hollow noise while he shook his head and admitted, “yes, well, um she’s your… granddaughter?”
“I certainly didn’t fuck Eva, no offense Mary.”
I blinked, halfway through asking if that was something to take offense to when Arthur started, “yes, well,” the man pausing to sign the cross, “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Mary wasn’t it? Did Eva pick the name?”
“I did, trans,” I reminded him, the man’s mouth staying open a long time before I decided to finish, “look, I know this is probably weird, but honestly I don’t want to know anything else about my mom’s romantic history, can we just-”
“It’s not that,” Arthur interrupted lips thin, serious expression breaking into a laugh, “Eva, she was um… well, you know. I hadn’t heard from her in, why, over two decades now. Spoke with her friend a few times, but I just wasn’t aware I had any nieces and-”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted him on instinct, eye closing as the words set in, “did you say nieces?”
He blinked, eyes widening a moment as he finally admitted, “right, you… weren’t aware of that.”
I nodded, both of us turning to my grandma with her small smirk watching us over. The woman just offering a quick shrug as she admitted, “a woman needs her entertainment. Besides, she wanted to talk to you and I wasn’t precisely sure how to bring up the fact you two were related between then and now.”
Arthur took his turn to nod, several slow blinks passing before he asked, “so um… Mary, you’re The Lady’s new right hand are you not? I hadn’t really attended any of those meetings, I’d just heard there were, um, rumors of a semblance, though figured The Lady just had her types.”
It felt a little gross hearing it phrased that way, but I nodded at least and told him, “I was in the Purists,” my grandma’s raised brow making me lie, “short time, not very long, but um… was kind of a parole for me to work for her. I’m off parole, technically, but don’t really have anything else going on and um…”
Arthur nodded, eyes darting across me a moment before he winced in pain and tried to lighten the mood. Almost a fake humor as he asked, “any other family members you’ve come to surprise me with, Cynthia dear?”
Well, good a time as any.
Reaching in to my purse I pulled out my phone, fumbling with it with one hand and then searching for the album of photos labeled Marty. My, apparent, uncle raising a brow at me until I slid the phone over and admitted, “this is, Marty, he’s my kid.”
Arthur nodded and Cynthia rose to her feet to quickly walk behind the man and look at the pictures herself. Both scrolling through a long moment, looking somewhere between oh this is real and he’s so cute before my grandma asked, “Marty you said?”
“Martin Hunter Jameson, or… well, Rivierre I guess,” I agreed, shifting in place a moment before explaining, “Martin’s my dad’s name, Hunter’s my ex husband. I think Jameson’s technically on his birth certificate, but he got adopted by Hunter’s sister so-”
“Fox?” Arthur interrupted with a raised brow.
“Gevaudan.”
The man nodded, muttering, “grow up fast,” under his breath before asking, “why didn’t you bring him? I would love to meet him.”
“I didn’t know you’re my uncle,” I pointed out, quickly adding on, “and also someone’s sending mercenaries after me.”
Arthur looked surprised at that, lips thin as he asked, “what?”
“Someone’s sending mercenaries out to hit different targets throughout the area,” I explained, maybe a little to formal as I continued, “someone tried killing Vergil, has taken out some of The Lady’s contacts and hunters. I figure they’re trying to get someone to go after her, I mean, no one else is going after her. Samuel didn’t want me talking to you, and-” I stopped, staring onward for a long time before I broke down laughing, “fucking nothing to do with that. He fucking knows you were my mom’s brother, and I looked too much like her.”
The door opened about then, the server coming in with a rolling cart with our items on it she placed in front of us. None of us talking as I stared off sipping my drink, at least halfway enjoying the London Fog and the taste before I asked, “the fuck do I do now? I mean, why did The Lady even think you’d know anything? This was a waste of time.”
Arthur’s eyes lit up a little at that, a small smile crossing his face as he realized, “that’s why Samuel came by.” the stare both of us gave him only broken as he admitted, “he didn’t ask about that, but… well, I’d heard about all that, but he was just playing it like a visit. I mean, asked if I’d heard from a couple people, stuck around a bit, left.”
I nodded, leaning forward as I asked, “who did he think it was?”
“Purists,” Arthur admitted laughing, “asked about a couple Purists he knew, I knew a couple of them through your mom, but…”
A phone rang, my grandma digging around her purse a moment before answering it with a quick, “is this who I think it is?” A short pause following before she hummed and admitted, “yes that sounds bad,” holding the phone out to me.
Not sure what else to do, I took it and held the phone up, almost hesitantly asking, “who is this?”
“Friend of yours,” a woman I didn’t know answered, the sound of the wind in the speaker filling the air, “you got followed inside, four targets. They’re not going to attack you in there, but they’ll likely try on your way out. Are you armed?”
“Manner of speaking.”
“Guns not claws.”
“Probably in my grandma’s car,” I admitted hesitantly, “what do you know?”
“Four people, two men, two women, two groups divided that way. Neither aware the other is there, girls are inside and the guys are hiding in the parking lot,” the woman explained, something clicking softly through the speaker, “speed out through the parking lot, cross across the grass onto the road. There’s a street about three blocks south, low traffic area, few businesses, at least one abandoned building: big door open ready to drive in. I think one party was planning on bringing you there, you get there and hide I can help.”
“How do I know I can trust you here? I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of money on me right now.”
The woman sighed, almost annoyed as she admitted, “Misha’s worth more as a friend than the money. Now, finish your meal, listen to me, and things will turn out just fine.”
She hung up before I could ask more, Cynthia and Arthur both staring me down as I told them, “well, maybe this wasn’t a waste of time. Let’s eat, and then I think we can see if it’s Purists.”