by Lisa Ladew
A white special services vehicle, a full-size, long-bed police pickup, sat at the curb, with Harlan at the wheel, idly people-watching, his expression quiet and a touch sad. When he saw them, he jumped out to help Bruin with the luggage, but Bruin had already flung everything into the back of the truck.
“Who gave you the chauffeur job, Harlan?” Mac asked. “You bite off someone else’s ear while we were gone?”
Harlan threw him a nasty look. “Lots of shit going down. Trevor wanted you briefed in person since you’re going to be in charge for a month or two. Maybe longer.” The unspoken, “Maybe forever,” hung in the air, but neither one addressed it.
They all knew that when the first baby from the first One True Mate was born, everyone’s life could change in a flash. Trevor might be called on to give his life to protect his children from the moment they emerged into the world. Khain would have to know that actual pups being born, decades after he stole the lives of the mothers and mates of every member of the KSRT, (the Khain Special Response Team) indeed, of almost every shiften in the world, would be a big deal. That it would breathe new life into all the shiften who wanted to see him dead. Mass grief had hobbled every male shiften back then, but things were different now. Pups would reflect to all shiften their resolve to never, ever, let that happen again. The pups being born was even more dangerous to Khain than the One True Mates being found, one by one, because now little beings existed that both shiften and One True Mates would kill for. Would never cease looking to obliterate any creature who tried to even muss the hair on their little heads. Fool the shiften once, Khain, but soon they will be gunning for you like only parents can.
Khain’s only possible solution to such an event would have to be to strike fast. To kill each and every pup as soon as it was born, to strike a chasing fear and abject hopelessness into the heart of any who dared to mate and bring pups or cubs or wyrmlings into the world. If he didn’t kill himself trying to eradicate each and every offspring, he was as good as dead. The shiften would hunt him down in his hell-like home, the Pravus, and find a way to incapacitate him.
His time being short, his will was assumed to be agitated, and everyone was on high alert.
Remington, the felen (big-cat shifter) doctor overseeing Ella’s pregnancy said the babies were well and big enough to be delivered. He did not have a projection or due date, since Ella was half-angel and no one knew how that would affect the pregnancy, but he bet it would be soon. When pressed, he would only say, seven days to a week, more or less, is my best guess.
Trevor had refused to leave her side, even taking to standing at the bathroom door as she tried desperately to have just one moment of privacy.
Heather’s belly was also growing fast, and it was almost as big as Ella’s, which worried Graeme, her dragen mate, and Remington both. Heather was a tall woman, but not a large one. She was strong, but how big would the wyrmling get? Dragen women were normally wide through the hip and belly, but Heather was more of a toothpick, with suggestions instead of swells. She looked like she’d swallowed two basketballs, even though she’d gotten pregnant a month after Ella.
Mac and Rogue climbed in the front seat of the truck Harlan had driven to the airport. Bruin opened the back door for Trent and Troy and waited for them to climb in before he got in himself.
Harlan pulled into traffic, and got them onto the highway before he started talking. “Ella’s due any day, you know that.”
Mac grunted. The whole shiften population knew that. Males were flying in from as far away as Japan and Australia to see the first shiften babies be born, the wolven camping out on Trevor’s lawn. Who knew what the bearen and felen were doing. Ever since the females had been killed, relations had been strained between the different shiften factions, each believing the other could have done more than they did to prevent the loss.
Almost all the shiften females who were still alive had moved into Trevor’s home, in the guest rooms and the basement. They all wanted to be Ella’s midwife, doula, and bff all rolled into one.
Most of the shiften had never believed this day would happen. They all had thought pure-blooded shiften pups would soon be extinct. One generation left, and it was aging badly.
Not that the pups in Ella’s belly would be full-blooded. They would be a quarter-angel, half-wolfen, and a quarter human so in a way, full-blooded shiften were still dying out, but this way, they were dying out in a manner that left a checkmark on Rhen’s side of the board, instead of Khain’s. Khain had intended there never again be anything different or stronger than a half-human, half-shiften. But no one had ever seen anything like what the pups would be. They all assumed one would be stronger than any pure-blooded shiften. All the better to fight Khain. To ensure what had seemed like a great victory to him, ended up being the blow that finally defeated him for good.
Harlan shrugged a shoulder, rubbing at his salt and pepper beard with his free hand. “Shay is past due, by three days. Her doctors say she will give birth to her babies in forty-eight hours, tops.”
Rogue held up a hand, a bit of spark coming back to her expression. She did like to gossip. “Wait. Remind me. Shay is…?”
Bruin answered from the back seat. He could see all the family trees in his mind, like actual trees, and the One True Mate lineage was endlessly fascinating to him, not that he’d had too many chances to ask the mates questions yet. “Ella’s half-sister. Same mother, different father, and the father could possibly be Grey.”
Rogue shook her head. “And Grey is the crazy wolf who thinks he’s in love with Rhen, the goddess who can’t get back into her body, and he’s so in love with her that he’s keeping her enemy alive because he thinks if the demon dies, the goddess dies.” Mac nodded, but she kept talking. “Some of his greatest hits have been stealing my sisters from their homes, placing them with abusive assholes, stripping them of the objects of power that their father left for them, and keeping those objects for God-knows-what, excuse me, Rhen-knows-what, and then getting his stupid ass stolen by the demon and maybe killed, maybe not. Is that the Grey we’re talking about?”
Mac snorted. “That sums Grey up. Crazy motherfucker.”
Bruin thought he heard a begrudging admiration in Mac’s voice, which didn’t surprise Bruin. His nan had always said that being bloodthirsty had to drive everyone moonstruck eventually, and all wolven were bloodthirsty, it was in their nature.
Some more than others, Bruin had learned. He didn’t mind.
Rogue put up her hand and Mac fist-bumped her. They celebrated the weirdest things.
Rogue’s fist opened and she slammed it on the dashboard. “Here’s what I don’t understand. Out of all the women in all the world, how would the angel, that Azerbikestain-
“Azerbaizan,” Bruin muttered from the back seat, but Rogue talked right over him.
“Like I said, Azerpakistan, find someone Grey already had a kid with, to impregnate with the first One True Mate?”
Bruin leaned forward and touched Rogue on the shoulder. He loved this part. “But that’s where it gets good. Jaggar thinks that Azer and Grey were actually friends.”
Rogue stopped him with a hand. “And Jaggar is?”
Bruin looked at Troy, who raised his canine eyebrows and gave Bruin side-eye as if to say, “I don’t know how to explain Jaggar.”
Bruin tried anyway. “He’s the guy with the half-and-half face who never looks anyone in the eye. He’s kind of a wolf think-tank. Like they go to him if they can’t figure something out. He locks himself in a room and ‘focuses’ until all the pieces come together or the answer falls into his lap.”
Rogue nodded sharply. “A smart cop. Oxymoron or just not a moron. Got it. What’s with his face?”
Mac told her. “His mom was wolven, but his dad was felen.”
“What!?” Rogue cried, her mouth falling open. “That’s possible?”
Mac shrugged. “We didn’t used to think it was, although I’ve heard of foxen mating wolven, but I don’t know i
f that counts… Foxen are-”
Rogue finished for him. “Fucked up. Right. I’ve heard. You all don’t like them cuz you aren’t sure where they came from.”
Mac nodded. “Yeah, Jaggar thinks that Azer and Grey bonded over who wanted to bone Rhen more, but was at the same time more unsuited for her, and that’s how the angel found Ella’s mom. He followed a thread in the life of the only shiften he knew on a first name basis. Grey was dating Ella’s aunt, Patricia. Azer first implemented his give-the-shiften-new-mates plan with Patricia’s little sister, and BAM, Ella is the first One True Mate and her older sister is half-bat-shit crazy. But here’s where it goes from crazy to fucked up. Guess who Shay and Ella’s grandfather is.”
Rogue twisted in her seat, throwing Bruin a look. “Grey’s dad.”
Mac smiled a little, laughed, then shook his head like Rogue had a lot to learn. “Grey,” he said heavily.
Rogue stayed perfectly still for a moment, then shook her head back and forth dramatically. “Some nice little inter-species incestuous soap opera you all dragged me into.” She looked at all of the males in turn. Mac first, then Harlan, then in the back seat to Troy (fleeting) and Bruin, then lastly Trent (fleeting again). She faced forward in her seat. “Just a regular Days of our Predators, and somehow I got a starring role.” She bit a nail and her voice almost turned bored. “What do you all care if sister-Shay is about to have babies, too? Who’s the father?”
All the males stopped breathing. Was someone really going to tell her it might be Khain out loud? Trevor had been the one to come closest to saying the actual words, but when Ella had put her foot down, he’d backed down. Ella had said the baby (they’d thought there was only one baby, then) was not to be harmed, and she would personally be the one to make sure of that, and since they’d decided to acquiesce with her wishes, not a one of them had talked about what might be. Not openly anyway. Or not that Bruin had heard.
Bruin shivered, knowing the wolven would wait, watch, and only relax once they knew it wasn’t true. If the babies ended up being the children of Khain and they had incontrovertible evidence that it was true, somehow, one of them would have to kill them. Bruin glanced at Mac, wondering if he would be given that task. Or Harlan? Harlan was strong and quiet, always doing his own thing. Bruin did not know him well.
He knew that none of them wanted to have to stand up to Ella after it happened and tell her they had planned to kill her niece or nephew all along. She was the first One True Mate, and no one was going to risk her wrath if they tried to force an abortion on her comatose sister, to kill a child in utero who could possibly be the child of a demon and grandchild (and great-grandchild) of one of the wolven’s strongest Citlali. Come on, a Citlali who could befriend an angel? That was a strong male, and one who probably earned his crazy.
Rogue waited for an answer, so Bruin finally gave it to her. Rogue was easier on him than she was on Mac, and she couldn’t speak ruhi, the unspoken language that only some shiften could speak and interpret with their minds, broadcasting directly into the minds of others, so Trent or Troy couldn’t tell her. Harlan apparently wasn’t going to. “Shay is in a coma, and has been since Khain stole her and took her to the Pravus. So she hasn’t been able to tell us who the father is. She had a boyfriend before all of this happened. He came to Serenity to look for her, and he said they weren’t using protection when they had sex. They never did. But he didn’t’ know if she was pregnant or not.”
Rogue caught on quickly. “Ohhh, so she was in the Pravus and you all are afraid that Khain is the father of the child. You think he put her in that coma by forcing himself on her.”
The mood in the truck turned heavy and thick, the air becoming warm as the males internally thundered their disapproval at Khain’s actions, all of Khain’s actions. If he had been there, they would have showed him what it felt like to be raped and terrorized into a coma. Bruin thundered and plotted along with the rest of them. Bearen didn’t seek altercations with Khain, leaving that to the wolven, but Bruin was strange for a bearen, always had been.
Rogue didn’t notice, or didn’t comment. “But Khain has to have had sex with humans before, right? And even shiften before? Isn’t he centuries old? I can’t imagine he’s lived this long without ever trying this kind of thing before.”
Bruin cleared his throat. “Some think that’s what foxen are. Leftovers from bear or wolf forced pairings with Khain. Foxen aren’t stronger than wolven or bearen, though, and they don’t seem to have any of Khain’s magic or special abilities. They might have in the old days, but as the children bred with other foxen, or humans or shiften, they became more like shiften, only their smell has always been distinct and their animal has always been more fox-like when they shift. Bigger than a fox you would find in the forest, but still reddish and slinky and slim.”
Mac’s head swiveled toward him, his brows raised. “Bears believe foxen were fathered by Khain, somewhere in their ancestry?”
Bruin shrugged. “That’s what my nan used to say.”
Mac swallowed. “You remember your nan?”
Bruin nodded. “I do. Not well, but she was soft and sweet and was always nice to me.”
Mac frowned, then looked ahead again. No one spoke as cars and sights raced past them on the highway for miles. Harlan finally broke the silence. “Shay’s boyfriend found her in the nursing home. He’s demanding answers.”
“Perfect,” Mac said dryly.
Harlan nodded but neither male elaborated.
“Perfect,” Rogue mimicked Mac’s sour tone exactly, then switched back to her own voice, her long, artistic fingers drumming on her thigh. “You boys tell me how the next episode of Wolves of our Lives goes, at your convenience. We’re all stuck in this truck for the next two hours and I could use something to pass the time.”
Chapter 4
Willow pulled into the driveway of the hundred-and-twelve year-old farmhouse she shared with her mother. The driveway was long and winding, up the mountain a quarter of a mile past the Honey Depot, the restaurant Willow had opened five years ago, mostly because she was bored out of her mind. She hadn’t been allowed to leave Serenity, because her mother had been told that, until she was twenty-five, Willow would be safe from the demon she was born to fight, as long as she didn’t leave the city. No college, because her mother had said what was the point? Although Willow knew there was more to it. Willow had never gone to school. Lucinda, her mother, was as anti-government, anti-establishment as a pacifist could be. She’d lost her only love, her husband of three months and two days, on one of the last days of the Vietnam War.
Willow couldn’t imagine the pain her mother had felt when she’d gotten the news from two grim-faced soldiers in full dress uniform, while the presidential address from President Nixon announcing the planned cease-fire that would end the war for good, was playing in the background on her tiny, black-and-white television.
Willow had tried to comb some of the pain out of that memory for her mother, but her mother didn’t want that. Wouldn’t allow it.
That was a memory of Lucinda’s that Willow had seen many times, one of only two memories Willow had never been able to block, even when she tried. Her mother walked around with the tremendous loss at the forefront of her mind every day, and it colored her every decision. Willow had been born at home. No social security number ever requested. No birth certificate either. No last name given, no middle name even considered. Willow had had to go to the government office on her own, at 18 years old, and explain her situation, request a social security number, file a piece of paper that gave her a last name and a middle name. Willow had picked her own. The middle name, Meadow, she’d picked because she thought her mother would like it. And the last name, Kendall? She’d picked that by plucking a special memory out of her own mind, a treasured memory of the only time in her childhood she played with girls her own age. Sisters. They had both been fun and full of life, but one had seemed special to her, like a shining and bright knick knack on a
shelf full of dusty and dull ones.
The memory of playing hide and seek with those two girls at Sinissipi Park when she’d been five years old had stuck with her for a long time, growing soft with age, like a river rock that had been in the river for decades, and now was smooth and worn. She couldn’t remember the girls’ names, but she thought the one she’d connected with so well had been Kendall.
Willow had never gone to school and rarely left the farm, never going to daycare or staying with family. Lucinda had been scared, shunning both people and the government. The only reason Lucinda hadn’t had the farmhouse taken from her, was because as the wife of a Vietnam war veteran, who’d posthumously been awarded a purple heart, she never had to pay taxes on the house or land again.
The day that she’d gotten to play with those girls, her mom had been sick, staying overnight in the hospital, so a neighbor had been taking care of Willow. Willow had intense mixed feelings about it then and now. She’d been terrified for her mother, but so happy to be off the farm, playing with children her own age. She didn’t blame her mother, though. How hard it must have been to be told at the moment of your child’s conception, that she would be instrumental in a war against a demon.
Willow parked the truck and walked to the house, but the creaking wood floors and airy, bright spaces only told her that her mother was not in the house. Willow guessed she knew exactly where Lucinda was. She headed to the back porch, and sure enough, the beekeeping blouse and veil were gone from their hooks.
Willow headed out the back door to find her mother in the summer heat. Willow had gotten the bees for herself, wanting to raise fresh honey for the restaurant, and wanting something to do to occupy her endless days of waiting for the ‘angel’, but Lucinda had been the one to take over most of the bees’ care. They both found it tranquil and meditative, an endeavor that always restored mental health and never stole it.
