“No!” Perry cried, and the rejection was so swift that Sascha knew the Queen wasn’t offloading any BS her way. “Not at all. It’s self-imposed but—”
“But?”
“I just don’t want them to miss out.”
Sascha pondered it a second. “That would involve me having five kids, Perry, and I’m not about to do that,” she teased.
“You’re a brave woman. Three is enough for anyone,” Perry said with a little laugh, but there was a twinkle in her eye that said her three were exactly enough for her.
Sascha snickered a little, but after taking another bite of cake, admitted, “I don’t think that’s an issue. At least, not with my guys. Tin is such a handful that when I was pregnant, I knew we were all concerned about what having another one of him around was going to be like.” Guilt swarmed her at that.
“Why is he a handful?”
“My men are all geniuses. Devon is halfway to madness,” she explained with a little chuckle. “It’s my kind of madness, but it has to be said. He’s nuts most of the time but boy, he’s…” She thought about the word that best described her man. Her lips curved as she settled on, “Delightful. I never know what he’s going to say or do. I never really understand him and yet, he’s one of the purest spirits I’ve ever met. He’s not innocent. By any means. But his soul is.”
Perry smiled. “I’ll look forward to meeting him.”
Snorting, Sascha shook her head. “He’ll probably offend you. Don’t take it to heart.”
A short laugh escaped the Queen. “How will he offend me?”
“Well, he’s like an adult version of Tin. Blunt, honest to the nth degree. He can’t help it.”
“Ah, so you feared having another one of him and Tin around?”
“Yep,” she said with a small smile. “It’s crazy because Tin isn’t Devon’s biologically, and yet the two of them are like two peas in a pod.” She cut a look at the two bright blond heads that were getting into mischief over in the corner where the stack of toys was situated. “It’s weird but he’s like them all.”
“Nurture over nature,” Perry said with a shrug. “A beautifully delicious quirk. Alice is like Xavier—so smart, so hungry for knowledge, but she can go from inquisitive to impish like George in the blink of an eye. And I swear, she can make half the court quiver in her wake when she decides to throw a tantrum—she’s so damn regal like Edward, it’s creepy sometimes.” She rolled her eyes. “Not that that happens often, thank God.”
“Just often enough to remind you of her father?”
Perry smirked. “Exactly.”
Laughing, Sascha set down her now-empty plate with a sigh. Though it was rude, she settled back in a pose that mimicked Perry’s—slouched, head cushioned and supported, legs crossed at the ankle.
“She’s going through a phase that I’m fighting half the court over at the moment,” Perry admitted, making Sascha quirk a brow at her.
“What kind of phase?”
“She’s insisting she’s a boy.”
Sascha cut the little girl a look. “Ah.” That explained the boyish cut to the clothes and the shorn mop of curls atop her head. “Is it a problem?”
“She won’t wear dresses, so yup,” Perry confessed with a sigh. “I don’t want to confuse her, but she’s just insisting—”
Sascha raised a hand when Perry seemed unable to continue with her statement. “I understand. They’re stubborn little boogers sometimes. No making them do anything when they have their own mind.”
There was relief and gratitude in Perry’s eyes as she admitted, “One of my ladies-in-waiting is determined to make me feel like a real shit over the fact I’m letting her wear boy’s clothes, but if that’s what she wants, then why stop her? I’m sure it’s only a phase, and forcing her to conform when she’s so young just seems ridiculous.”
“It is,” Sascha said with a nod. “But it’s causing arguments?”
“Not with my guys. They just think it’s funny. But with the courtiers? Yeah.”
“You haven’t spoken of the tension it’s causing?”
“No.” Perry shook her head. “They’re so busy and—”
“What? You aren’t?” Sascha snorted. “You have to tell them, Perry. Look, you told Edward about the guy who said you needed to stop moping. Why haven’t you explained about this?”
Perry sighed. “I’m not sure. I guess I’m feeling defensive and protective. She’s little. What if Edward insists she starts dressing like a girl?”
Sascha frowned. “I don’t get it, Perry. The dude’s got eyes. He can see she’s not wearing costume skirts and a false tiara. Nor is she waving around a plastic wand with a crown of braids on her head. I mean, I didn’t see it at first, just thought her clothes were a little boyish, but Edward and the others have to have noticed.”
Perry started gnawing on her bottom lip. “I want her to have some freedom before it’s all taken from her.” She closed her eyes then. “Did you know the DeSauviers make their kids go to boarding school at age six?”
Sascha’s mouth dropped open. “No fucking way.”
Perry’s eyes closed in misery. “Yes way.”
“You’re going to fight that, aren’t you?” Sascha demanded, sitting upright. There was no way in hell she’d be ready for Tin to be away from home most of the time in four years.
“I’m going to try. They’re so stubborn sometimes,” Perry whispered, like she was confessing a deadly sin. “I have to pick my fights, and that’s going to be one of them, but even if I win, there’s no guarantee that they won’t want her to go away a few years after that. Protocol,” she mimicked. “I fucking loathe it.”
Sascha reached up and began to fiddle with her bottom lip. “You need to talk to them, Perry. This life we’ve chosen is complicated enough without taking communication out of the picture.”
It was only as she said the words that she realized that was what she’d been doing herself.
For months.
She’d told her men the bare minimum, and instead, had been using her body, their dominance, as a means of communication, and that? Well, it was one of the least healthiest things she’d ever done in her life. And back in college? She’d tried ecstasy, for Christ’s sake.
Staggered by the realization of what she’d been doing all this time, Sascha barely heard Perry when the other woman said, “I know you’re right. It was so much easier before, and then? It wasn’t exactly easy juggling three guys. Each one of them so different, yet, with their paths so ingrained in them…”
Sascha cleared her throat. “The boy thing—look, it might not be a phase, Perry. You know that, right?”
“I know. I’ve been reading about trans kids and stuff, but I’ve no idea how something like that would even be received here. It’s not exactly embraced back home, is it? And here? They’re a thousand times pricklier about tradition. I just… I don’t care what she is as long as she’s healthy and happy.”
Sascha pondered that. “Okay, doing a U-turn here, but also, she might not be trans and it might just be a phase, but what isn’t a phase is boarding school at six.
“If you can’t talk to them about something as simple as Alice refusing to wear dresses, then how are you going to fight them on the boarding school shit?”
Perry’s cheeks pinkened as she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Sascha, I-I just realized how inappropriate it is that we’re talking about these things…”
Sascha snorted, well aware Perry was backpedaling now. But she wasn’t about to allow that.
She hadn’t been able to discuss her men, her life, her family, to anyone in forever. She hadn’t been able to discuss just how fucking hard it was to make things work in a household where several men were in the picture—each with diverse beliefs and different backgrounds.
“Okay, so you told me something that’s messing with your head. Time for me to spill, yeah?”
Perry’s eyes rounded. “Sure.”
Sascha grunted and t
hen, to a woman who was pretty much a stranger, she blurted it all out.
The miscarriage. The stillbirth. The fact that she’d only been able to express herself when she was tied to a bed, her ass pink from being caned, her body aching from being fucked as one of her men controlled her pleasure. She told her about Jane, about her fears, about the danger Tin had been in and when she’d finished, Perry just stared at her and said, “I think we need more cake.”
And like that, Sascha knew she’d made a friend for fucking life.
❖
“You have to tell me what’s going on, Rick.” Sean was well aware he was pleading, but fuck, he needed answers. More importantly, his woman needed answers.
“You’re not on the case anymore, Sean.”
“I know that,” he growled. “But this bitch infiltrated my home, Rick.”
A sigh came down the line and Sean knew the detective well enough to know he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose with impatience.
“Look—” Sean started but he was cut off.
Rick grumbled, “I get it. I get it. But it’s complicated. Fuck, when is this shit not? I wish you weren’t involved so you could help, Sean. Dammit. This woman is messed up.”
“Who’ve you got working the psych angle?”
“Eloise Rippon.”
“Her?” Sean scowled at the desk he was seated at. “What the fuck are you using her for? I thought you were going with Medcalfe. I mean, she’s crap, but Rippon has a screw loose.”
“Because you’re not allowed to work on the case, dipshit,” Rick grated out. “You think all of our psych team is shit.”
“That’s because they are. They all think they’re on some kind of police procedural show—” When Rick snorted, Sean hissed, “You’re amused because it’s true.”
“Maybe. Okay, look, Jane was abused from a young age.”
“Let me guess, four.” It was Sean’s turn to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“You got it.” Rick sighed. “One abuser, and they sold her out. There’s no condoning what she did—”
“But she’s rightfully fucked in the head?” Sean clucked his tongue. “Survivors don’t all feel the need to go around killing kids, Rick.”
“I’m not saying that.”
“No. And I’m not either, really. It was beyond wrong what she endured. But she didn’t exactly right it by doing what she did, did she?” He ran a hand through his hair. Victim shaming wasn’t about to go on the top of his to-do list for the day, but fuck.
There was no excuse for what Jane did, but only through learning of her past could they find some explanation for the acts Jane had committed.
“Her abuser died when she was seven and that was when the abuse stopped. From what we can see of her records, she adjusted well. Surprisingly so…”
Sean shook his head, then realized Rick couldn’t see him. “No. It fits the profile. Intelligent. Above average intelligence. These crimes were perpetrated over five years, Rick. That takes some balls but also brains.”
A disgruntled hum sounded down the line. “Who’s telling this story? Me or you?”
“You,” Sean grunted.
“Anyway, she adjusted. Great grades, did very well at school through to university then she got pregnant. Single mother.”
“Then her kid died, right? When he was four?” Sean remembered this part of the file Vasily had dredged up on Jane, and he reached up to rub the back of his neck. Most of this information had been procured illegally so he had to pretend he didn’t know half the stuff Rick was telling him.
“Yeah,” Rick barked. “Meningitis.” He blew out a breath then. “Look, Sean, if you see her interviews, you can see she’s adamant she’s saving the kids.”
“That’s why she preserved them the way she did.”
“Yeah. The sick bitch thought she was saving them from the world.”
Nausea churned in his gut. “How did she select her victims?” He’d have hazarded a guess and said they looked like her deceased son, but all the victims had been as different as north and south. No similarities.
“She insists they selected her.”
Sean’s mouth twisted. “How did they do that then?”
“Happened to come across her at the park. Talked to her in a store. Something small. She’d follow the kid and the parent or parents’ home, and begin stalking them.”
Sean ran a hand through his hair. “What changed with me?”
“She was curious.”
“Not interested in Tin?”
“Too young,” Rick confirmed. “Like you thought. She was there for you but…” Another grunt. “She’s fallen for Kirov.”
For a second, his mouth gaped, then he bit off, “No fucking way.”
“Yes way. Says she loves him and that they’re due to run off and get married at any time. The woman’s fucking crazy—she’s talking about you and those guys you live with sharing Kirov’s woman.”
Sean winced at that. “Why the long spell between victims? Did she say?”
“She was methodical and each child had to fit her specifications.”
“What? That they were four?”
“Four and ill. In some way.”
“Angel of death?” Sean groaned. “Fuck no.”
“Yeah. Messed up, right? You know all the victims were sick in some way.”
“Not dying though, Christ. Pardeep had fucking psoriasis! It wasn’t about to kill him! And Sammy had asthma. How was that terminal?”
“Don’t shoot the messenger. This isn’t my story; I’m just telling it.”
Conceding that with a huff, Sean demanded, “Carry on.”
“Yes, sir,” Rick grumbled. “She moved around a lot because of her work. All temporary secretarial stuff. Things far below her intelligence level.”
“She was bored?”
“I think so. Rippon says so. Says she wasn’t challenged, and it made this plight of hers take over all the more.
“Anyway, she picked them that way. Random meetings, stalking the victim and their families until she figured out if they needed her help, and then she’d strike. When she did, she’d move on. You know how long it took us to uncover some of the bodies. And it crossed so many towns and cities that no one even pieced the puzzle together until you noticed the pattern.”
The trouble with the murderer had been she’d carefully tended to her victims, but she’d placed them outside—in the woods, a forest, even close to a river. The elements and scavengers had undone their work, but they’d found evidence of cuddly toys and blankets that were used as comforters. Almost like the Egyptians had buried their dead with gold and beautiful items to help them enjoy the afterlife.
Sickness overcame him. The taint of Jane’s stain was so pervasive that it seemed to overtake every single one of his senses.
The puzzle that Rick mentioned made his stomach churn even harder.
What the fuck was wrong with him that he could see a pattern in the games these sick bastards played?
Swallowing thickly, he whispered, “You’ll keep me informed?”
“Sure. But…” Rick blew out a breath. “I wouldn’t hold out hope for much more.”
“Why?”
“She was Chatty Cathy at the start, but now? Not so much.”
Sean dipped his chin. “Isn’t she proud of what she did?”
“That’s what had her talking at the start, but I think the repercussions are hitting home. She’s realizing she and Kirov won’t be a thing. That’s hitting her hard.”
He clenched his jaw. “She’s insane, Rick.”
“Yeah. I’m sure that will affect where she’s imprisoned.”
Sean gritted his teeth. “Keep in touch?”
“Same.”
As he disconnected the call, Sean dipped his head and fell silent, letting his thoughts overwhelm him.
“Nothing much to say, Sean?” Kurt drawled, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his armchair. He’d been there for the entirety of that conversation,
so he knew the score. Surely, he understood why Sean had nothing to say? Why all his words had dried up?
Swiping his hand over his face, he scrubbed it through his hair then changed the subject, “I wonder if coming to Germany with you guys is a bad idea.”
He could feel Kurt’s scowl from across the room. “Bullshit, Sean. Don’t back away from her, from us over this crap. Anyway, Sascha will need you there. Especially after she meets my mother and father.”
Sean sighed. “That supposed to make me feel better? Hannibal Lecter would have needed a hug after he’d met your mother.”
Kurt snorted. “You’re just full of compliments today.”
“And you’re not arguing with me because you know I’m speaking the truth.” Bowing his head, he stared at the space between his feet on the floor. “Wish this would all just go away, Kurt.”
“And it will. Soon.”
“I’m going to stop this shit.” He spoke more to the ground than to his friend.
“What shit in particular?”
“Working with the police. It’s not worth this hassle.”
“Jane wouldn’t have stopped until someone caught her. You did. You saw the pattern, Sean.”
“Only because it was obvious once I had the whole picture, Kurt,” he snapped.
“Perhaps. But only you’d think that way.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Christ, hadn’t he just been wondering why he could understand the way these sick fucks worked?
“No. Not particularly. You don’t have to appreciate your gifts to have to deal with them. Devon’s a perfect example of that.”
Sean snorted. “He loves his work.”
“Sure he does, but I’m certain if he knew how much of his life it truly took up, he wouldn’t be so happy.”
Dipping his chin, Sean conceded, “It consumes him.”
“Exactly. Eats him up, churns him out, won’t let him sleep… At least your gifts enable you to function like a regular human being.”
He sat back, slouching in the seat as he asked, “You have all the meetings arranged in Munich?”
“Of course. They’ve been settled for months.”
Cutting his brother a look, he inquired, “How long have you been waiting to offload that script onto Sascha?”
Sean: Quintessence The Sequel: Part IV Page 7
