I got to the apartment building with a few minutes to spare, barely
pulled into the parking lot when I was instructed to make my way to
my dad’s place. A not too long drive that brought us out of the
city after getting a few seconds to speak with everyone in the lobby.
Arthur promising to keep in touch before we left, and Gevaudan
looking like she’d barely slept. Our drive out of the city and a
short trip to a stretch of streets with sparser houses I’d grown
up.
Mostly repaired, a few patches of tarping and building supplies still
scattered about, with a few remaining people painting frames or
packing supplies. My dad himself already outside when our cars pulled
up, stood at a large grill juggling a few trays worth of ingredients.
My grandma a short distance away stood in a thick winter jacket and
scarf despite it barely being down to the mid forties.
I was the first one out of the car, and a little thankful for that,
already walking up to my dad while taking a final long drag of my
cigarette. The man looking at me with a look of disapproval until I
tossed it on the ground and crushed it out.
Neither of us trying to look too hard at the other for a while until
my grandmother announced, “your cheeks healing nicely, looks like
you ripped the stitches though.”
My dad actually looking shocked at that, head whipping up and staring
at the stitches on my cheek while I turned them away from the two. A
couple fingers reaching up to the mark, the flesh loosely knitted
together, all by single loose string and one stitch left. Even that
last section easily removed with little fanfare and pain, glad that
enough of the muscle and skin had gone back together to think it’d
heal itself as I answered, “got into a fight, just gotta avoid
ripping it open again.”
My family seeming unconvinced by that, though my dad at least having
the decency to not push it while still asking, “you win?”
“There’s a Purist back at Dante’s Inferno I’m worried
probably isn’t getting the best selection of names to choose from,”
I admitted with a curt nod, not sure what else to add on except, “any
word about Percy?”
My grandma the one to answer that, letting out a small sigh as she
admitted, “he’s… well, seen people in worse condition after
what he went through but that’s just saying he’s not dead.” The
woman shifting in place a long moment before adding on, “we can
talk, I ran back home and grabbed some stuff early this morning.
Meantime you-”
A cheer rang out through the air that nearly made me jump, my dad
suddenly smiling brighter than I’d seen him in a while as he pushed
past me. Unsure of how to react even as I processed him calling out,
“Gevaudan! Jesus fuck, is that you?”
The woman blushing even as she accepted the hug, letting out a small
grumble as she brushed it off, “yeah, yeah, I was this tall last
time you saw me and it’s been too long. You’re the one to talk.
You going gray already?”
My dad huffed at that, shaking his head as he stepped back and
admitted, “I already got enough of that from your brother. How is
he anyway? Haven’t heard from him in…. Fuck, thinks it’s been a
year or two now. Heard he moved?”
“LA, The Lady finally decided to trade him out,” the woman
agreed, looking ready to say more before a cheer rang out and Marty
ran up carrying his plush wolf to hold her hand.
My grandma covering her mouth to stifle the whine of cuteness she
wished to let out, and my dad looking surprised as he looked down at
the kid. His smile suddenly broadening, “you had a kid! Misha
mentioned that I think, said you adopted?” The man walking over to
offer his hand to a scared looking Marty, “come on, put it there!
What’s your name again? Not sure I was told.”
Marty hugging his aunt’s leg tight as he could, hiding his face
until she announced, “this is um… well, this is Marty.”
The look my dad gave something that might have been funny if I wasn’t
the one about to explain that as he slowly lowered his hand and said,
“well, that’s my name too. Take it you didn’t name him?”
“Didn’t really think of the connection at first,” Gevaudan
admitted with a shrug.
My grandmother giving me an encouraging look all I needed to sigh and
take my opportunity, not that I’d get a better one, as I admitted,
“I um, named him.”
What I said seeming to not fully process for the man at first as he
started, “well, why did Gevaudan let you name him something like
that? Figured if she was adopting he’d already have a-”
His jaw snapping shut as it hit him, eyes closing, the man looking
ready to speak a dozen times before he walked back to the grill. A
few patties and hot dogs tossed on the burning grill while he
continued working without another word. My grandmother and I looking
at each other for a long time unsure of how to properly react while
The Lady’s men walked by with Gevaudan’s luggage.
Only as I was beginning to worry the news had fully broken him he
said, “Gevaudan, how about you and um, Marty… Leila’s inside,
things are pretty rough on her right now and she’s resting. How
about you two get settled in, see if she can’t dig out some of our
old kids movies for Marty?”
“That sounds good, I’ll just… I’m going to head inside,”
Gevaudan admitted, quickly guiding Marty into the house and leaving
the three of us outside.
My dad continuing to work the grill while he stared off into space,
opening and closing his mouth to speak occasionally while he loaded
plates and my grandma and I watched. Only as everything was off the
grill, a few remaining patties and sausages nearby he made sure were
still to shape and counted, he stopped his efforts. A wet wipe
grabbed from the station, hands cleaned off, aluminum foil and tops
pulled back over containers.
The moment he finally finished letting out the longest of sighs, the
man slowly leaning forward onto the cart in front of him until he
looked ready to fall to the patio’s concrete. A groan that sounded
almost like a scream escaping him until he finally stopped and
started, “Hawk, I…”
“Mary,” my grandmother corrected the man for me, my dad looking
at her like she grew a second head, “look whatever you’re about
to say, at least give her a bit of respect it’s not easy having a
kid.”
“Yeah, it requires a lot to happen first,”
my dad hissed, looking over to me as he rose to his feet, hands
waving around the air a long moment before he finally spat out,
“How?! You don’t
have the whole-”
“Werewolf!” I snapped a little louder than expected, the urge to
apologize outpaced by the frustration of him not getting that
slowly settling in with an annoyance I didn’t know was there.
My hands grabbing the straps of my bra and bouncing it just enough to
be noticeable as I continued, “HRT usually isn’t this good!”
“Okay, but, how,” he continued, gesturing over me with a
half hundred noises before seeming to think he’d realized, “Percy?!
I swear I’m going to-”
“Why the fuck does everything assume I’m fucking Percy!?” I
snapped, my grandma only offering a shrug, “I just met him again!
No, fucking, Chaser’s son!”
My dad’s face immediately shifting to disgust as he yelled,
“Misha?!”
“No, we didn’t even end up dating, it was-”
“What?!”
“It wasn’t Misha! Hunter! Fucking, other son! Fucking, Hunter!”
I screamed, my dad looking taken aback by the outburst, “Fucking!
What the fuck! Look, I get it, big surprise! How about we be
surprised about me being a mom, and not me… being a mom!
That fucking work, or you need me to explain the fucking birds and
the bees too! Actually, maybe I fucking do, because you didn’t
think to warn me I might be a werewolf after you decided to fuck
one!”
I was shaking, a pit in my chest, not able to stand still as I paced
a small spot on the patio even as I couldn’t figure out why
I was so mad. My dad’s face turning up in disgust, and the man
marching forward as he roared, “do not fucking talk to me that way!
I am your father and this is my fucking house! You’re the one who
came walking in with a surprise kid, and you named him after me?! I
already found out half the supernaturals know your last name’s
Jameson; what if actual people find out?! I have a reputation, you
know that right, I can’t-”
“Oh, you have actual people!? I didn’t realize I didn’t
count as an actual person-”
“That is not what I fucking said and you know it!”
“Sorry for assuming after all you’ve said! What, afraid some the
older hunters won’t trust you around their dogs?! Oh I’m sure
you’re suffering so much with your great reputation and beloved
expertise in the-”
“You wouldn’t know suffering if it slapped you over the head, I
gave you an easy life!”
I stared him down, the anger feeling like a balloon inflating in my
chest as I resisted the urge to throttle him. A thousand words
boiling over until without conscious thought I muttered “mom should
have fucking ate you.”
He lunged.
Only a half foot, hand raised, finger pointing, and the wolf lunged
in turn.
A growl escaping my throat, one fist bunching the front of his shirt,
moving to force his hand away and only stopped by the noise he made.
His yelp pained, anger falling away and turning to pure fear, his
legs giving out and his body falling hard onto the ground out of my
grip. Some small pop filling the air, and the coppery tinge of blood
following shortly behind.
My dad unmoving on the ground, one hand gripping his chest while his
breath spiraled, too quick to fill his lungs, eyes staring off into
nothing. The anger in my chest fading away, replaced with something
between fear, pity, and nothing while I looked down at him.
Body moving before my mind as I stepped past him, pushed into the
house, walked through the thankfully empty living room and up the
stairs. The sound of people talking coming from my room, converted
into a nursery some time ago anyway, while I went into Percy’s room
and closed the door behind me.
The man still in the hospital, having not touched the place in a few
days, but his presence still here. His clothes, his computer, his
knick knacks and notebooks, and his smell still hanging in the air. A
passive presence, too often in this room to not leave that part of
him behind like a finger print.
Not the best comfort, I would have preferred being able to talk to
him, but at least something familiar. The sort of nostalgia for good
times this house probably should have brought which helped to at
least stop me from screaming as I laid back on the bed. Face buried
in a pillow, the familiar feeling of tears welling in my eyes, breath
forced steady as I tried to focus on the familiarity.
Eventually, maybe a few minutes later or an hour, a knock on the door
interrupting my wallowing.
A long sigh escaping me, head half raised as I asked, “who is it?”
and slowly pushed myself up on the bed.
The voice that came through surprisingly quiet as Leila answered,
“just me, I… can I come in? I wanted to talk to you.”
“Go ahead.”
My step-mom opened the door only wide enough to slide in, even if it
was still wide enough far enough long in her pregnancy she was. The
door silently closed behind her as she walked over and looked between
the bed and Percy’s desk chair. After a moment taking the later, a
low groan escaping her as she sunk back into it and stared up at me.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Both of us seeming to assume the other would speak first until Leila
bit the bullet and told me, “I talked to Cynthia and… I’m sorry
for earlier.”
I nodded, hesitating myself to answer before admitting, “you were
right. I killed that hunter a few weeks ago. You weren’t exactly
suspecting me for nothing.”
“I know, I…” she paused a long time, clearing her throat before
continuing, “I saw you leave with him. When people said he was…
It wasn’t hard to guess, but Cynthia told me how The Lady works and
made me understand. Even if you killed him, it’s not like you had a
choice, and… look, I’m sorry. I’ve been treating you badly.”
I nodded, a small part of me wanting to accept the out, accept the
lie, and another part…
“The Lady didn’t make me kill him,” I confessed, Leila looking
more confused than anything at the words, “I… I panicked? It was
an accident, but… The Lady took credit to help me, make sure you
wouldn’t investigate it the same.”
“You panicked?” she asked, the tone disbelieving, “how do
you?…”
A look crossed her face, and whether she would understand or not I
told her, “I felt like shit, he started flirting with me and I
figured might as well try a hookup. We were having sex, he kissed the
back of my neck and told me I was being a good girl, and… I was
somewhere else, and my claws ended up growing, and I… I killed him.
I don’t fucking know what happened, I just… I panicked.”
My words hung on the air, Leila’s expression unreadable even as she
slowly rose to her feet. The woman crossing the room in a few
half-determined steps until she stood in front of me, a hand loosely
gesturing to the spot next to me. A brief nod, moving to give her
more room, and she fell beside me with a low sigh.
Her expression distant, twisted on itself before she finally
admitted, “I… I understand.”
“You’ve killed people because you panicked for no reason?” I
asked, having to laugh at the absurdity of that response.
My humor in the moment killed by the cringe Leila made before she
admitted, “I… if I’m understanding right, I think I’ve been
in a similar… It’s something you’re not…” and she sighed,
her face hardening as she told me, “My uncle. I still can’t let
people play with my hair too much or I start going somewhere else.
Your dad started twirling it around his fingers once while he was
half asleep holding me and I nearly punched him. It’s… it’s
called a flashback, when you end up somewhere like that again because
something reminds you.”
I nodded, the words setting in with a slow realization as I answered
her confession without thinking, “my best friend, from when I was
in the Purists.”
The words feeling wrong on my tongue, the idea Alpha could have ever
been something I considered even worthy of talking to almost
impossible, and at the same time…
It was the first way I could think to describe him, the memories
bringing a numbness I hadn’t expected to find buried there. Not the
fear, not the crying, not the panic I was used to his memory
bringing, but just… numbness. My mind almost too tired to summon
even disgust for the man at the moment, my body hardly able to summon
more than a brief twist of the heart before that little bit of nerves
left.
My mind a fog even as Leila told me, “if… I know your dad’s not
the best with most things. I’ve been trying to get him better about
your name for little as that’s worth, but I know he’s not his
best around you. If you need to talk to someone about… well, this
sort of thing, you can call me or we can get lunch or… I’m
sorry.”
“You didn’t know.”
Leila nodded, a hand gently held out which I took in my own. The both
of us holding each other until she told me, “you know, I’m…
yeah, I’m way too young to be a grandma, but Marty seems like a
nice kid.”
“He is,” I admitted with a small laugh, shaking my head while I
dug out my phone and pulled up the album I’d made of his pictures.
Phone held out for the one while she eagerly took it, starting to
scroll through as I told her, “I just… I raised him a few months
but I couldn’t do it any longer. If it makes you feel better,
you’re probably going to have an easier time giving birth than I
did.”
“Oh gods, do I want to know?” Leila asked, a small tinge of fear
actually in her voice.
Still not stopping me as I admitted, “water broke a little earlier
than expected, everything wasn’t working out naturally. I’m a
werewolf, our babies have the same healing factor for the few hours
while our blood clears out or something weird, I told my husband to
just cut me open.”
“Husband?” Leila asked with a snorting laugh, stopping on a
picture of Marty dressed up for his first day of preschool, “well,
guess kid but… honestly always had my assumptions, never mind. Who
is it?”
The interest nice enough as I told her, “Hunter, he’s… he died
recently, we were broken up for a while, tended to say I was divorced
for simplicity sake. Not… marriage and being mates is different in
the Purists, Marriage is deeper, it’s saying they’re your only
even if one dies, but it’s close enough.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We were… we weren’t close,” I sighed, taking my phone back
as Leila finished and going to search for a picture of the man. Only
as I was looking at my albums, thinking it through it struck me I
didn’t have one. I’d given him the locket with our photo back,
we’d not really been a couple to take pictures together regularly.
I was never going to have a picture of him again.
The though sitting weird in my chest even as Leila admitted, “well,
Martin said your mom had similar problems, and Cynthia said her
doctors were surprised how easy hers went. Maybe I’ll get lucky and
it’s nothing on his side of the family making them that bad.”
“He tells you about my mom?” I asked, the news actually catching
me off guard after years of getting a fake name and story from him.
Leila at least not hiding it as she told me, “more than he used to.
He… I knew the basics, he used to have nightmares a lot more, we
talked about it sometimes when we’d both wake up. Since you came
back though… you look like her.”
“I know.”
“No, just…” Leila stopped a moment, laughing at the point she
was about to make, “he says you look just like her, just
younger with long hair and the eye patch on the wrong side; first
thing he told me before you came over for that first dinner. After
you left he looked at me and said Eva hated Stew too, too many
distinct flavors, and he does that a lot. If you’re over a bit
and head upstairs or leave he’ll just… He makes me stop him, he
hates talking about her, and… Look, I don’t want to say what’s
not my place but-”
I squeezed her hand, understanding hitting me like a hammer and
bringing bile to the back of my throat. Months of asking about my
mom, trying to figure out anything I could about her, just spending
time around people she knew, and at the same time…
Opening old wounds.
My mouth tasting bitter as I asked her, “should I leave?”
Leila taking too long to answer, the answer clear even as she told
me, “your his daughter, and I know he loves you. I think… he
needs time, but I understand if you don’t want to give it to him
now. It’s not a great situation for anyone.”
Whatever I could say next interrupted by the door opening, the wolf
bristling even as my grandma stood in the door holding a large tray
of hamburgers and hot dogs. A large plate of fried potatoes and
greens alongside it as she told me, “Mary, I got more than enough
for the three of you to eat and watch movies — you need to put on
some weight so I threw on extra — would you like soda or tea?”
It took me a moment to process what she was saying, but after a time
I told her, “um, sweet tea, sorry, Leila and I were just-”
“I was talking to your father, I get it,’ Cynthia interrupted me,
her smile surprisingly warm as she added on, “Marty and Gevaudan
are in your dad’s room, only working TV in the house after the
other day. I’ll drop off the food there and, if you’re done, I’d
like to talk to you for a moment… in private, Leila, dear.”
“I’ll go check on Martin,” Leila agreed, rising unsteadily to
her feet and walking past my grandma, giving a brief nod and telling
her, “can you send Mary my number?” before she left.
Not sure where else to go, my old room a nursery not without anywhere
to really sit beyond a rocking chair, I remained in place. My spot on
the bed not changed until my grandma returned to the room carrying a
tiny cooler of all things. The faded four quart container sat on the
bed between us and easily popped open, a large metal flask inside
joined with a paper bag wrapped around some shallow box.
The box removed, sat aside, and the flask taken off the ice as my
grandma took a long pause staring down at it all.
Any confidence, energy she had, broken down as she finally started,
“I… years ago, before you were born, I loved a man who wasn’t
your grandfather. One of the Triumvirate, the vampires who were in
charge of the East Coast, and… we fell out. He took an order I
couldn’t forgive, and he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with
it, and it didn’t work out.”
I blinked, genuinely unable to even begin figuring out how to respond
to that revelation.
My grandma at least not waiting for me to force something as she
continued, “he loved me, even after I left, told him I couldn’t
forgive him for what he would have done, and he gave me two flasks of
blood. Vampire blood, it… it stays good for years if you keep it
cold. Flasks to keep myself alive, hold off the worst effect of age,
heal my wounds, save myself if I was ever mortally wounded. I took
sips from the first for every injury that bothered me, and it’s
nearing finished, but this has never been touched. Christopher…
he’s gone, least as far as I know, and I doubt he’d take a woman
like me anyway even if I changed my mind.”
I couldn’t speak, realizing what she was saying as she gingerly set
the flask back in the cooler, her brow furrowed as she told me, “I
want you to have it. Percy, he’ll take months to recover, he might
never recover with what he went through, at least fully. A few
sips of vampire blood can speed it along though, make everything
click back int place, this much… Christopher told me once if I
truly trusted someone, I could have the blood drained from my body to
the point of inevitable death, and this down my throat would turn me.
I think a shot glass, maybe two, you’d have him on his feet in a
day or two.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, not sure what else to say as I took up
the flask, felt the weight in my hands, “are you… are you sure? I
can take a little bit and give it back. I’m a werewolf, I don’t
really need-”
“Consider it the first part of my apology for how my son has
treated you,” my grandma laughed, only then opening the plastic bag
that had been in the cooler. A long and thin wooden box drawn out,
the woman looking at it a long moment before starting, “Now this
one is… it’s something you’re owed. I was going to wait until
Christmas to give this to you, last minute gift, but honestly I’m
going to tell you to skip Christmas if you want and I’ll bring your
family to join you somewhere better. Besides that, I…” She took a
long time, tears forming in her eyes as she looked the box over a
dozen times before finally telling me, “you know William Taylor.”
“I traded some stuff to get some old belongings of his from
Elizabeth,” I admitted with a small laugh, my grandma looking
genuinely impressed at that one, “His old dueling pistols; they’re
in my trunk. I was going to give it to dad for Christmas.”
“You’re too good to be his daughter,” the older woman scoffed
with a shake of her head, “well… he was married to a werewolf,
semi famous pirate by the name of Cosette. We’re all descended from
them, and… well, the family passed along some of Cosette’s
belongings, I called some second cousins of yours, and they’re
driving them up for me after Christmas. Fuck what Martin says you
don’t need to hide, and they understood why I wanted them soon as I
said there was a werewolf in the family. They had a son, and that son
had a son, and so on and so on until my grandfather who at the age of
twenty married a woman a year younger than him. For her next birthday
he scraped together a lot of his savings and some money he’d gotten
hunting, and got her the nicest necklace he could. My grandma loved
it so much she wore it every Sunday, and when her first daughter
turned twenty she gave it to her. My mom never married, I never even
knew my dad, but on my twentieth birthday she gave me this necklace
too and… well, I only ever had Martin, and I always thought I’d
never have someone to pass it onto.”
The box held out, I gentle took the old wooden container from her,
not even sure if I could guess what it would be. A tradition I hadn’t
really had a reason to be told about, I couldn’t even begin to
guess if it was something I had ever seen her way.
Even as I gently pulled open the box, the old latches loose with age
and the hinges stiff, and looked down at the pearl necklace inside.
Old fashioned, two strands meeting at a clasp decorated in flowers
made of red and green gems, gently laid upon a faded blue silk
cushion with another lining the top of the box.
My fingers gently running over the surface, mouth opening and closing
a hundred times until my grandma gently lifted it from its silk
cushion and started, “here let me show you how to work the clasp,
and I do have a little pamphlet describing how to take care of it
under the cushion.”
The woman already having it around my neck, gently clasping it back
in place as I told her, “I can’t take this, I’m a werewolf,
I’ll just ruin it or-”
“Well don’t wear it when you’re going to fight someone,” my
grandmother interrupted me with a raised brow, “I think I wore
this… two, three times a year at most. It’s what you wear
alongside your nicest outfits, weddings and all that, and… the
rubys really do go well with your hair.”
My vision was blurring with tears, and my grandma looked like she was
close to crying as me when I pulled her into the hug. Unsure of what
I could even say as I kept bringing myself to touch the necklace, the
unfamiliar weight a strange feeling as I told her, “you shouldn’t
have.”
“Well, you’re right I shouldn’t have,” she agreed with a
groan, pushing me away and rising to her feet once more, “should
have been yours a couple years ago. Only rule is-”
“Twentieth birthday if I ever have a daughter,” I laughed,
struggling a moment with the clasp before my grandma reached down and
guided my hand. The woman showing me how to move my hands and place
the necklace back as I closed it up once more and I told her,
“honestly might be… well, not really jumping for another kid
after Marty, few more years at least, but who knows maybe I
only get this for sixteen years. Would be about right for my luck.”
She laughed at that, a full bellied cackle that made her grip her
chest and nearly fall back saying, “oh don’t make me laugh like
that. How about you go eat and spend some time with your own family,
and I’ll go see about making some of my famous butterscotch cookies
for Marty to try.”
“Going for great-grandma of the year award?”
“Let’s stick with grandma,” the woman countered me, smile thin
as she left me in the room with the necklace and cooler.
The box opened once more, still unable to believe I actually owned it
as much as I couldn’t really think of any possible outfit it would
look good with. The older and gaudy design an almost time capsule of-
Who was I kidding myself I fucking had clothes that looked colonial,
no one would think the design was too old fashioned looking. The
blood my next curiosity, the seal on the flask requiring more than a
little upper body strength to pop open with the thick smell of it
nearly flooding my senses the moment it was revealed.
As promised more than full, and the liquid still looking strangely
fresh even as I sealed the flask once more. The item back on the ice
when a final thought struck me, a potential point on the half formed
plan I’d already made.
My hand almost shaking as I pulled out my phone, The Lady called
easily as I made sure my things were neatly set aside. The vampire
answering with a cold, “Mary,” as I was stepping out into the
hall.
My voice shaking as I asked her, “can we meet at Dante’s Inferno
this evening? I know you have your party, but I want to discuss a
couple things with you first.”