Falling From Grace

by L. T. Kelly

  “You know I want to stay here with you. I pledged myself to this clan, and I meant it when I did. You’re my family now, not them.”

  Fuck. What had this clan done to force such submission from her? From what Geo told me, Grace had been a defiant loner, and now she wanted to belong to this witch clan and socialise with them? Something was horribly wrong.

  Freya’s eyes widened, and she held up a hand so her palm pointed at the centre of my chest, her incredibly long, black hair swishing behind her as she moved.

  Before I managed to engage my brain with my body to inform it to move, Pearl hurtled on top of me, bringing me down next to the witch couple and their baby. We moved in unison, using each other’s weight to roll and achieve a standing position.

  Freya raised her palm again, stopping dead when she saw what I had clutched in my hands.

  Seven

  Baby Love

  I held the screaming child in front of me, like a symbol of how far I was willing to go, as though assured by my actions. Though I was anything but confident. This was not my style.

  The baby wore a blue baby grow, so I guessed he was a boy. I ripped him from his mother’s chest on my way back up from the ground where Pearl had knocked me to avoid the glittering sparks spitting from Freya’s palm.

  “Let us leave, and he’ll be just fine,” I barked.

  Pearl placed a hand on my shoulder. I wished I could see her face, but I couldn’t risk turning my head to view her expression.

  “Grace, if you want this child to survive, you’ll come with us. We’re not going to harm you. We want to make sure you’re okay,” Pearl said, doing a much better job facing adversity than me.

  A soul-piercing moan flooded the square. Hot palms pressed against my thighs. I automatically flitted my eyes downward to the source. The baby’s mother wailed, “Please, give me my baby back.”

  Her pleas barely made sense, undistinguishable through the hiccupping sobs ripping from her throat. She gripped my thigh harder as I returned my attention to Freya. I came close to acquiescing and handing the baby back to its red-faced mother, but that wouldn’t do us any good.

  I had no clue what Freya had thrown at me, but it had sure as shit scared the crap out of Pearl enough to abandon her hiding place. That in itself was enough to respond with everything I had.

  “I’m okay. Can’t you see that?” Grace spat.

  I glared at her, tightening my grip on the child and bearing my fangs.

  “Give the baby back, and I’ll come with you,” Grace told me calmly, but it was too nonchalant for my liking. She had no intention of leaving with us.

  I gathered the newborn to my chest. The crying stopped as soon as I cradled the infant and jiggled him up and down whilst issuing soothing, shushing noises.

  “Okay.” The wailing from the child’s mother calmed when she reached up to receive her child, but I held him tighter. “Come with us, we’ll take the baby and you can both return tomorrow evening, if you wish.” I cocked my head. The sobbing continued from at my feet.

  Grace’s shoulders sagged, resigned to the fact she would be leaving with us. She gingerly stepped forward.

  “Try anything while we’re leaving and you’ll have her to answer to,” I warned Freya, flicking my eyes down to the baby’s mother, extracting her from my leg with a shake.

  We backed away from the gathering, Grace hesitantly following us, her lips downturned.

  Once we cleared the surrounding forest, we picked up pace. I peeked down to the baby, his eyes softly closed, his pink lips bunched up like a rosebud.

  “You’re so fucking stupid,” Grace huffed, looking down at her previously white sneakers that dripped with mud from the moorlands.

  “Watch your mouth,” I scolded her. “If you hadn’t been so selfish in the first place, perhaps none of this would have happened. Instead, four people hauled their asses up to this godforsaken shithole to make sure you’re still alive. What the fuck did you think you were playing at giving them your blood anyway?”

  “They’re my friends,” she whined.

  “Do you know how pathetic that sounds? You’re not a kid in the playground anymore, Grace. This isn’t like giving sweets to the kids and hoping they’ll be your friend. This shit is serious.”

  “It’s my blood. I can give it to whom I want.”

  I stopped dead and grabbed her shoulder until she spun around to face me. “Do you have a death wish?” I breathed. “They can get addicted to you. The few drops you’re giving them now will make them crave more and more. You’ll be dead. Is that what you want?”

  “I don’t care, and I don’t want to discuss this anymore.” She turned on her heel and trudged off ahead of Pearl, who caught up and walked beside her. I hung back, stepping carefully to avoid waking the baby.

  We finally reached the small parking lot on the edge of the expansive moorland that led us to the witches. I huddled into the back seat of the Mini with the baby, concerned with the possibility of being stopped by the police because of the lack of a car seat for the child.

  “We’ll stop for supplies, milk, nappies… Shit like that,” I said to Pearl. “Hopefully there’s a gas station around here somewhere. They stock stuff like that.”

  “Do you know how to care for a baby?” Grace asked haughtily.

  “I should hope so. You’re the last baby I looked after, and you seem fine, if not a little dense.”

  *****

  The blood we’d shared whilst devising our plans earlier in the evening drained from Claire’s face when she opened her front door to find us struggling to remove our muddy shoes, as well as grappling with shopping bags filled with supplies for the baby.

  Her high-pitched voice sliced through me. “A werewolf in my residence? I think not.”

  Older vampires found it difficult adjusting to the abolishment of the laws separating the species. Claire eyed Grace as though she were a steaming turd in the middle of a perfectly manicured lawn.

  Grace growled and bared her teeth, and Claire stepped back, hissing. Talk about cats and dogs. I held a palm up, shooting Pearl an apologetic glance. She’d raised concerns regarding Claire’s possible lack of hospitality when it came to teen werewolves and witch babies, but I reassured her that I would sort out any issues if they arose. I mean, Claire had seemed like such a helpful person earlier, drawing the map and serving up breakfast.

  “Claire, I cannot apologise enough for this–”

  Claire stepped farther back into the hall, her eyes landing on the bundle resting in the crook of my arm. She rushed to slam the door in our faces, but I managed to wedge my foot into the gap in time to stop it fully closing. “Now, please, Claire. I’m aware this must be somewhat of an inconvenience.”

  “Inconvenience?” she screeched, her eyes almost popping out of her head.

  “We had to get her out of there. They were going to drain her dry. We had to take the baby to achieve that. Sure, you don’t have to let us inside. I can simply call her mother and her uncle. I’m sure this would be a wonderful place for them to visit on the next full moon.” I glanced around the largely uninhabited area surrounding the quaint cottage she lived in. “A perfect time for them to get their revenge on the vampire who turned their family member back to the witches,” I said nonchalantly. “Your funeral.”

  She opened the door, releasing my foot. Threatening other vampires wasn’t my thing, but I’d done so too many times in the last week. The world seemed to be going to the dogs, and to top things off, the baby started to wriggle, most likely awakened by Claire’s pathetic shrieking.

  I pushed past her, through the hallway and into the kitchen, selecting a bottle of pre-made formula from one of the shopping bags and heating a pan of water on the stove to warm it up. By the time it was warm enough, the baby’s cries had reached an ear-splitting volume. I shoved the screw-on teat into the baby’s mouth as soon as the milk warmed through. He immediately clamped onto it, sucking for dear life.

  Stony expressio
ns were being exchanged in the living room between Grace and Claire. Pearl’s obvious tactic had been to keep quiet and sit with a mildly idiotic smile held in place, as though it may serve to lighten the mood. It didn’t.

  Grace sucked in a breath between her teeth with a sly smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’re going to be in trouble.”

  I tipped my head to one side and gingerly took a seat on Claire’s squashy sofa, placing the bottle on the coffee table, manoeuvring the child so his chin rested on my shoulder and rubbed his back, gently patting.

  “Giving Jonah that shitty bottled milk.”

  I raised a brow. “What would they rather me do? Rip his mother’s tit off her?”

  Claire tutted from the corner. “Let him starve?” I added, hearing a faint burp escaping Jonah’s lips. I cradled him again and put the teat back into his eagerly searching mouth. “Don’t mind her, precious one. You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?” I cooed, raising him up and pressing my lips to the velvet skin on his forehead.

  “What you could have done is not kidnap me and a baby,” she informed me, grit in her voice. “You killed my dad, then you think you can show up and start ordering me and my friends around?” She slammed her back into the armchair and glared at me with pouty lips.

  “Killed your father? Your mother would really leave you in the care of someone who killed your father?”

  Her head whipped around to face a darkened window, her arms crossed against her chest. I waited for her to argue that I had never looked after her. I had evidence to the contrary on my phone upstairs. But she kept her mouth shut, showing a possibility of some deep memory of me, even if vague.

  “Your father died protecting his race from extinction. Your father was a hero,” I told her, though I didn’t believe it to be strictly true. I knew what Gabriella told her while she grew up, along with her deceased grandparents, so thought it best to stick to the same mantra.

  “Excuse me for interrupting this delightful reunion,” Claire interrupted from the corner. “But has anyone bothered to find out if the witches are aware of Bartholomew’s whereabouts?”

  I took a sharp intake of breath and almost dropped the bottle. I’d allowed myself to become so distracted by seeing Grace I completely forgot to demand the information before leaving. Managing to rearrange my features in an attempt to appear as though this was all part of the plan, I glanced back to Grace.

  “Grace has been living with the witches for some time. I hoped she would be able to provide us with the information.”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “Tall, blond vampire, right?”

  I nodded, scrutinising her face for signs of bullshit.

  “Why should I tell you?”

  “Because if you don’t, I’ll call your mother and tell her you’re here.”

  “You were going to do that regardless.”

  “I won’t if you tell me what happened,” I told her matter-of-factly.

  Grace chewed her bottom lip. Her eyes darted around the room whilst she considered my offer. My breath held tightly as I chastised myself for not asking the boss witch, Freya, what had happened. Freya would have been a more reliable source than the pouty, immature wolf in front of me. I pondered on what power the witches had over her that made her pliable and seemingly happy to reside with them. What about her studies? Was it a boy or something that held her attention at the witch camp?

  “Okay.” Grace pulled me from my reverie. “As long as you absolutely promise not to tell my mother where I am or where I was.”

  I almost said, pinkie promise, because talking to Grace had been like conversing with a child. What had Gabriella done to make her this way? I looked back in time and thought of the sweet, happy girl I once knew. Perhaps Geo had influenced her in some way with his tales of running away from the overpowering clutches of the Romanos. Maybe this behaviour was akin to that?

  I settled on, “I swear.”

  “He visited with some little dude almost two weeks ago.”

  She meant Bruno, and that fitted in with the timeline. He had left London twelve days ago.

  “Two of our clan members were murdered. They went off-camp to fetch supplies. When they didn’t return, search parties were dispatched. They were found in shallow graves, their throats ripped out.”

  “What did Freya do to Bartholomew and Bruno?” I demanded, jutting my chin out, ready to go and rip that bitch’s heart out, let alone her throat.

  “Nothing. They talked. Freya requested an audience with him to discuss the issues. He thought it was the, the…” She stared skyward, searching for the word.

  “Malapropos?” I finished.

  “That’s it! He promised to solve the murders and dole out punishments. He agreed to come back once he found out what happened.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. An ache spread through my torso and rested heavy on my stomach. The stunning, raven-haired witch with her thin, flowing, woollen dress and waif-like figure had called, and he went running two weeks before our wedding. I willed the visions away. Freya’s pert little breasts rubbing over Bartholomew’s broad, solid chest. Him raising her up and forcing her hips back on his length, sucking at her breast, biting just above her dark, pebbled nipples.

  “How long have you been part of this witch clan?” Pearl asked, leaning toward Grace with a slight narrowing of her eyes.

  The baby had finished the remainder of the bottle. So much for the goodness of his mother’s breast. I popped him back over my shoulder and commenced the soothing rubbing and patting.

  “A few months.” Grace shrugged.

  “Have you seen Bartholomew before?” Pearl asked.

  “Nope. First time.”

  “And you’re sure he never returned to report his findings?” I butted in, awaiting Jonah’s burp to sound through my ear. Rubbing his milky back offered me an odd comfort.

  “Sure.” Grace stretched and yawned. “He gave Freya a huge sum of money for the clan’s troubles and left before dawn. I didn’t see him again.”

  The baby at my shoulder belched loudly, followed by a hot, sticky sensation cascading down my back. Pearl’s lilting laughter flowed through the room, followed by Grace’s and Claire’s.

  My eyelids became heavier as I showered, cleaning the mess off my back and swilling the milky baby sick off my shirt. I met Pearl and Claire on the landing on their way to bed. They’d left Grace alone with the baby downstairs. Of course, whilst we slept for the day, she could easily leave, taking herself and the baby back to the clan. I knew the issuance of a threat would be required to make her stay put.

  Padding into the living room, I found her glaring at a spot on the carpet, deep in thought. I interrupted, making her flinch with surprise at the sound of my voice.

  “If you leave while we sleep, I’ll gather The Assembly and we’ll slaughter the entire clan. That’s if your mother doesn’t get there first. If she finds out witches used you as their personal treasure chest of narcotics, she’ll fucking kill the lot of them.”

  Grace swallowed hard and fiddled with the cuff of her grey hoodie. “I won’t leave.”

  “We will take you back tomorrow, if it’s what you want. But I urge you to consider this throughout the day.”

  She refused to look at me, so I kneeled in front of her. She pulled the sleeping child closer to her, and I realised how young she looked herself. Youthful innocence permeated from her. Hung up on how much she had grown since I last saw her, I lost grip of the fact she was eighteen in a world that was very different to when I were her age.

  “Those witches are using you Grace.”

  Eight

  Girls Just Wanna’ Have Fun

  “Is it a boy?” I asked, trudging over the muddy, moonlit field the following evening.

  Grace laughed hard until tears spilled over her cheeks. I had no idea what amused her so much, but I joined her because it was so infectious.

  “You don’t know the first thing about me.” She shook her head, but a smile remained on her
lips.

  My borrowed Wellington boots squelched through the mud. Pearl walked ahead of us with the baby, her sweet lullabies drifting and filling my ears. There didn’t appear to be an end to what Pearl could do.

  “I’m not sure that’s true. I know you’re good-looking, smart, funny, sassy.” I reeled off the things springing to mind with immediacy.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said sarcastically.

  “If it’s not a boy, what’s keeping you so tight with the clan?”

  “You really don’t know?” Her brows bunched together. “Witch blood makes you human.”

  “It does what?” I almost choked on my words.

  “It makes you human. You watched them drinking my blood last night, but before the full moon, they club together an entire vial for me, so I’m not forced to turn.”

  I sucked in a breath. “You don’t like what you are?” The atmosphere crackled between us for as long as the question remained unanswered.

  “I, err, well… You can’t possibly understand what it’s like for a sixteen-year-old girl to stand naked in the woods with relative strangers, the agony of your bones snapping, the hunger to eat disgusting things, tear it to shreds until the life flashes out of its eyes.”

  “Actually, I can relate to some of those things.”

  “Though when you kill, you’re you, not some fucking wild animal.” She stumbled over her words. The anguish squeaked in her voice. The rawness of her emotions radiated heat beside me.

  “You’re right,” I told her and slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly to me. “I missed you.”

  “It doesn’t bloody well feel like it.” Her voice tinged with a sad laugh as she brushed away tears with the palms of both hands.

  “Grace, your father may not have been around to watch you grow up, but there’s so many people who love you. What you’re doing is pushing them away. Your mother and I never got along. Your dad chose her over me, and I don’t think the sting will ever dissipate enough for me to overcome that sort of pain. You…” I paused to consider if I meant what I was about to say. Deciding I did, I sighed heavily. “You made that worthwhile.”