It was five hours before Vishous came back into the Audience House’s kitchen. And Rhage couldn’t decide whether he was glad the initial interview of the uncle was over … or shit terrified to find out the results.
As V sat down at the table with all of them, he was clearly tired, his hair plastered back off his forehead like he’d been pulling his hands through it, the tattoos at his temple glowing in contrast to skin that was too pale, his gloved hand shaking a little as he lit a hand-rolled and took a deep drag.
Rhage took the teacup he’d been drinking hot chocolate out of off its saucer and pushed the little porcelain plate in his brother’s direction. So the guy had an ashtray.
Then he sat back, took Mary’s hand, and waited some more.
It wasn’t a surprise that Vishous took his time before he spoke, and even Z came over and sat down.
“So here’s what we got.” V tapped his cig over the saucer even though there was no ash at the end. Then he pointed to the thing. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome,” Rhage murmured.
Fucking hell, he almost didn’t want to hear it. Mary, on the other hand, was leaning forward, obviously prepared to deal with whatever the news was.
He drew from her fighting spirit. ’Cuz at the moment, he was feeling pretty fucking ball-less.
“So Ruhn gave me all the details he knows about Bitty’s mother. The names of their sire and mahmen. When and where she was born. Where she lived and who with before she came to Caldwell. How she met that asshole she mated. What he knew of what happened after she came here.” The brother took another inhale and released more of that Turkish smoke. “He also told me about where he’s been living, what he’s been doing, who he’s been associating with.”
“What does he do?” Mary asked roughly.
“He’s a manual laborer. He lives in South Carolina. He works on a big estate down there.”
“What’s the bloodline?” Wrath demanded. Like the King was prepared to go and seize the estate as if they were back in the Old Country. “And did the stories make sense?”
V put his palm up even though Wrath couldn’t see it. “Look, I’m not going to tell you your royal business—”
“But you’re going to anyway,” Wrath muttered.
V focused on Mary, as if he recognized that she was the one who was going to care most about the process. “The most reasonable and responsible thing for me to do is go down there myself and verify everything. I have addresses, contacts—including the family he’s worked for. I have all the details of his life up until now—”
“I’m coming with you,” Rhage said, and started to get to his feet.
Except now he was the one getting palmed. “No, you’re not.”
“The fuck I’m going to let someone else get to the bottom of this shit—”
“No,” Mary said. “You have a conflict of interest. So do I. This needs to be done by a disinterested third party.”
Rhage eased back down into the seat. The idea of sidelining an investigation like that made him want to pound his forehead into the table until the thing splintered and then powdered into sawdust—
“This is bullshit,” Wrath announced. “Let me talk to him. I’ll know whether he’s telling the truth.”
V shook his head. “With regard to the facts as the guy sees them, sure. But it’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is.” Rhage was aware of the beast surging under skin, the stress juicing him up. “If he’s a lying piece of shit—”
“The issue is his fitness,” Mary cut in. “Fitness to be a parent—”
Rhage released his shellan’s hand, curled up a double’s worth of fists, and slammed them into the table, splitting the heavy oak boards down the center. “We’re her parents! We’re her fucking parents!”
As he leaped up, Mary went with him, catching one of his arms and hanging all her weight off it. “Rhage, you need to relax—”
“I’m her father! You’re her mother—”
Mary lost her hold on him and then he was pulling a RHONJ and flipping the table, sending his brothers and the King jumping back as china and glassware went airborne and then shattered all over the place.
“This is fucking bullshit!”
Immediately, his brothers were on him, Z catching him from behind and cranking him into a neck hold, Butch coming from out of nowhere—when had he gotten to the house?—and grabbing him around the waist from the side, Mary trying to get in his face so he would focus on her.
The only thing that kept the beast still inside him was the fact that it had gotten out the night before. If that shit hadn’t gone down at the clinic, he would have trashed the whole back wing of Darius’s old mansion.
“He can’t take her away!” he screamed at no one and everybody. “We just got her! He can’t take her—he’s a fucking stranger—”
“Rhage,” Mary got directly in front of him, jumping up to catch his eye. “Rhage, we have to—”
Latching onto her wide, sad stare, he moaned, “She’s ours … she’s ours … this stranger can’t take her away—she’s ours.…”
He was babbling, he knew he was babbling, but it was like someone had uncorked the bottom of his brain and every boogeyman fear he’d had about Bitty’s future was funneling down and out his mouth.
Mary let him go for a time, but then she took the reins. “Rhage. The reality is that we knew we had to get through this six-month waiting period. And Bitty … she talked about an uncle. We need … as hard as this is, we have to see this through. It’s what’s fair … it’s what’s legal.”
“She’s my daughter. She’s your daughter.”
“In our hearts, yes. But legally—”
“Fuck the law!”
“It doesn’t work like that and it shouldn’t. Think about it—if we’d made it through to the final adoption, we wouldn’t want anyone showing up at some point in the future with rights. This is the reason why we give notice and wait to see if anybody responds.”
“I can’t believe you’re being so logical—”
“I’m breaking in half right with you, Rhage. Just because I’m trying to keep it together doesn’t mean I’m not bleeding on the inside.”
As he went limp, his brothers loosened their holds and he pulled Mary against him. Looking over her head, he watched V stab out his hand-rolled in the sink and immediately light another one.
After a long silence, Rhage said to Vishous, “You’ll be the one? To go down there and …”
“Yeah.” V sucked so hard on the end of that cig, he nearly consumed the entire thing on a oner. “And I’m the right fucker to do it. Not only did I conduct the interview, but out of all of us, I’m the one most likely to remain neutral.”
True, Rhage thought. V was the smartest among them. The most logical. The most unlikely to be affected by emotion.
Goddamn it, how the fuck were they in this situation.
In a brutal series of mental snapshots, he saw Bitty in the movie theater with him and Mary, her arms and legs in those casts. Then he remembered teaching her to drive around the courtyard and up and down the hill … and helping her make her bed in the early evenings … and their ice cream breaks and the bad dreams that he’d woken her up from … and Mary smiling at their little girl.…
“How long?” he asked as Butch and Z started to pick up chairs and debris. “It will take how long?”
“At least two nights, maybe three. But everyone will see me when I’m down there. Either because of my status or because I’ll put a gun to their head.”
“No coercion,” Mary warned grimly. “I can’t—we can’t have that.”
“Take Phury with you,” Wrath announced. “He has a way about him. He’s a good foil for you.”
“All right.” V nodded once. “As you wish, my Lord.”
“You’ll leave tomorrow?” Rhage demanded.
“No, right after I finish this cigarette. I already spoke to Jane, and I have a place to stay.”
“My brother—” Rhage started.
“No,” V cut in. “Don’t you dare thank me. This is a fucking nightmare and I hate it. I hate everything about this. But goddamn it, I’m going to do this right, no matter the outcome.”
There was a long pause and Rhage watched V’s eyes focus on some point about two feet in front of his face. It was clear the brother was already prioritizing things, making lists, thinking of what he had to accomplish.
Then Rhage looked around at the mess he’d made in the kitchen.
“Where is the uncle now?” he said roughly.
V talked through an exhale. “I put him up in a bolt-hole here in Caldie. He didn’t want to accept the digs, but I told him it was nonnegotiable. I can’t disclose where he is—there really can’t be any contact between the three of you right now. Lot of emotion.”
Rhage went over and righted the mangled table with Z’s help. The thing no longer sat square on the floor, one leg twisted and bent at an angle, the top cracked, one plank missing from where he’d punched it. He wanted to move the heavy expanse back into position, to have them all sit around it again, to return things to normal, but there was no future in that.
“Did you tell him …” Mary cleared her throat. “Did you tell him about us?”
V leaned against the wall and ran his black-gloved hand over his goatee. “I told him that Bitty was with a well-qualified and well-vetted foster family who was keeping her safe. I did not share any identifying information or mention the formal adoption. Unless he’s got a legal claim, there’s no reason to go into your private information.”
“What’s …” Mary rubbed her face. “What’s he like?”
Rhage got quiet, freezing in the process of picking up the chair he’d been in from where it had ended up across the room.
V just shrugged. “I’m going to find that out.”
Mary and Rhage took the GTO back to the mansion, the two of them quiet for most of the ride, their hands nonetheless linked except for when he had to shift. During the last leg of the journey, Mary stared out her window, the trees on the shoulder of the rural road a blur in the night, the moon overhead so bright that the headlights were unnecessary.
“I don’t know how to be when we see her,” Rhage said. “I mean, you know, how to be normal.”
“I don’t either.”
They’d decided it made no sense to tell her about the male showing up. What if he turned out to be a faker? How cruel would that be? And yet … how were they going to pretend to Bitty that everything was fine and nothing unusual was going on?
That was going to require acting skills far out of her league.
Mary’s stomach ache, which had begun riiiiiight after she had read that private message back in her office, got even worse as they started up the mansion’s drive, the ascent seeming to compress the unprocessed omelet and bagel, which she’d had at First Meal hours before, into a cement block.
As the great gray manse came into view, with its gargoyles and its countless windows and its towering, monolithic mass, she felt like she couldn’t breathe.
“Take your time parking,” she muttered as Rhage slowed to go around the winterized fountain in the center of the courtyard. “God …”
He eased in between Qhuinn’s second Hummer and V’s new R8. Turned off the engine and the lights. Even undid his seat belt. But neither of them made a move to get out. They just stared ahead, at the rolling, snow-dusted lawn that dipped down to the edge of the forest … at the drop to the valley below … at the show of stars above.
There was so much ugliness that she felt prepared to deal with. And by that, she didn’t mean that she was excited to see tragedy or disease or loss up close and personal. But she at least had frames of reference for all of that.
This?
Well, life was just full of surprises, wasn’t it.
And all things considered, she would have rather learned what winning the lottery was like. Or maybe try going around the world. Or becoming president of the United States.
But not this bungee cord of learning she wasn’t ever going to be a mom. And then finding out she was. And then having all of that taken away.
Potentially taken away, she reminded herself.
Plus on top of that, Bitty was in a damn wheelchair, still recovering from what they’d had to do to her at Havers’s.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go see her.”
They got out together and reunited at the trunk of the muscle car, Rhage putting his arm around her shoulders. As they came up to the fountain, she was sad that it had been all drained and tarped up: The gentle fall of the sparkling water was something she had come to associate with home. But winter in upstate New York did not offer the kind of climate where you wanted exposed exterior pipes to be full of H2O, even if the system was running.
The main entrance to the Brotherhood mansion looked like a cathedral’s front door, a pile of broad stone steps leading up to a portal made all the more regal because of the carvings that graced its jambs. Rhage led the way into the vestibule, and then they put their faces in front of the camera and waited for someone, likely Fritz, to allow them entrance.
The whole time, an inner voice was screaming that she couldn’t do this, she couldn’t meet Bitty’s eyes without being honest, she couldn’t lie by omission, she couldn’t—
“Good evening, master and mistress,” the ancient butler said with a smile as he pulled the heavy door wide. “How fare thee?”
Like I’ve been shot through the heart, Fritz, thank you.…
Mary stepped over the threshold. Frowned. Looked around.
At first, she didn’t understand the sound she was hearing. Laughter, yes. And it was Bitty—but why was it accompanied by—
A water balloon flew right in front of Mary’s face, and it was a case of duck or get soaked. And then Bitty was right on its tail, running full tilt out of the dining room, her hair streaming behind her, her shirt wet, one red and one blue water balloon in her hands.
“What the hell!” Rhage barked as he marched inside.
“Hi, Mom! Hello, Father!”
The little girl kept right on going into the billiards room. And yup, what do you know, Lassiter was on her, a yellow balloon high over his shoulder—at least until he threw it at the girl, catching her solidly in the back. The squealing sound was all delight—and then Bitty twisted around without missing a beat and nailed Lassiter full in the face.
Perfect aim.
Splash!
But that wasn’t the point.
As the wet bomb went off, drenching the angel’s face and all of his blond-and-black hair, Rhage grabbed on to the male and ripped him right off his feet, landing him back-flat on the ground—and then he double-palmed him by the neck like he was prepared to choke the life out of the immortal.
Or … something like that. Whatever.
Mary rushed over. “Rhage—”
“What the hell did you do to her! Where are her casts!”
But then the mom in her made Mary switch gears. “Yeah, what the hell! She’s not supposed to be out of them for six weeks! And not even walking!”
Lassiter tried to answer, but his crushed windpipe wouldn’t let any air out. Bitty was the one who solved the mystery.
“He healed my arms and legs! Don’t hurt him! He made them better—honest! Don’t hurt him, Father.”
Instantly, Rhage released Lassiter and then fell back on his butt as if he realized the show of violence might have triggered memories.
But Bitty didn’t seem worried about that. “See?” She hopped from one foot to another. Spun around with her arms out. Laughed in a happy giggle. “All better!”
As Mary watched the show and then looked at the angel, she had a passing thought that she was kind of done with surprises for the night. “What … what did you do to her?”
Bitty spoke up for her buddy again. On account of the coughing and the gasping. “He just sent sunshine to my arms and legs. He put his hand over the casts, without even touching them, and there was this heat … and then, I don’t know, nothing hurt at all. We sawed off the fiberglass in the garage. That was the coolest part.”
Okay, now Mary was light-headed—and she had to take a load off on the floor. “You did what with a saw?”
When Lassiter finally lifted his head, he was red-faced, but no longer doing an impression of a rescued swimmer. “I didn’t like her suffering.”
“See?” Bitty said. “So don’t be mad at him.”
Mary shook her head. “I don’t understand—”
“Why the fuck did you let them break her bones,” Rhage snapped. “If you could do something like this, why the hell did you stand by while she was tortured in that exam room.”
Lassiter sat all the way up, his oddly colored, pupil-less eyes not shying from Rhage’s hard stare in the slightest. “It is not my job to affect destiny. That I cannot change without exacting proper balance, and sometimes the cost for the gift is worse than not giving it in the first place.”
Mary thought of the bargain that Rhage had made for her to live, before the Scribe Virgin had learned she couldn’t have children; the one where, for her cancer to have been cured, he would have had to never, ever see her or talk to her again, in spite of the fact that they were in love.
Balance was the way of the universe. “But”—the fallen angel held up his forefinger—“that doesn’t mean I can’t cushion the fall of fate’s dominoes. If you get what I mean. Easing the pain without changing the course? That I can do.”
Bitty smiled. “And I’d much rather be running around now as opposed to six weeks from now. Besides, those casts were itchy already. And bathing? Ugh.”
Mary found herself blinking back tears as she squeezed Lassiter’s forearm. “Thank you.”
“Shit,” Rhage breathed. “I’m sorry. And shit, I shouldn’t have said ‘shit.’ Fuck. I mean … damn it.”
As her hellren skidded to a halt with the cursing, Mary felt like breaking down—and Bitty clearly sensed it, bending low with a hug.
“I’m okay. I know you guys worry.” Bitty smiled as she tugged Rhage to his feet. “Come on, let’s go have Last Meal—and before you tell me to clean up the mess, Fritz doesn’t let us.”
Right on cue, a whirring started to fill the foyer.
“He loves his wet vac,” Lassiter said. “Don’t that sound dirty?”
“Not in front of my kid it doesn’t,” Rhage muttered.
Everybody turned to the butler, who, sure enough, had fired up the canister-and-vacuum combination and was cheerfully sucking up the splashes on the mosaic floor in his formal black and white uniform. He paused and looked concerned.
Turning the wand off, he inquired, “Does anyone require aught? Last Meal is going to be served in ten minutes. Perhaps a libation?”
“We’re good, Fritz,” Rhage said, sounding exhausted. “But thanks, man.”
The doggen bowed deeply and then resumed his sucking. Which, Lassiter was right, did sound dirty.
“Come on, Father, you’ve got to be hungry.” Bitty pulled at Rhage’s arm. “Right, Mom?”
God, that hurt. Those names … were like broken glass in her heart.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “I imagine he should be eating something right now.”
That didn’t mean he wanted to, however. And yet Rhage could not deny the little girl, and the two of them went off for the dining room, a tiny sprite who had her mobility back skipping next to a mountain of a male who was walking like he was half dead.
Mary jumped when a hand to help her off the floor appeared in front of her face. Lassiter was back up on his Nikes and staring down at her from his great height with a somber expression.
Abruptly, the fact that the butler was wet-vac’ing up the remnants of a water balloon fight became crystal clear, largely because the grand and colorful foyer—with its malachite and red marble columns and its three-story-high painted ceiling and its grand fireplace and great stairway—was exactly where you didn’t ever want to have one.
Meeting the eyes of the angel, she said, “You knew, didn’t you.”
“That Fritz was going to love the wet vac?”
“That her uncle was going to show up and that Rhage and I were coming home a mess. You knew the distraction was going to help.”
“Oh,” he made a pshaw motion with the hand she had yet to take. “I’m not that smart.”
“And you couldn’t stand to see her in pain any more than the rest of us could.”
After a moment, Lassiter sank down onto his haunches next to her. Reaching out to her face, he brushed one side of it with his right hand and the other with his left.
Then he made a pair of fists and squeezed hard enough to make all the veins pop up in his heavy forearms. A second later, he unfurled his hands. In the center of both his palms, there was a faceted diamond, the two gemstones reflecting the light around them with rainbow flashes.
“A mother’s tears,” he whispered. “So hard … so beautiful.”
“I’m not her mother,” Mary choked out. “Oh, God … I’m not really her mother.”
“Yes, you are. And I’ll keep these so that I can give them back to you when this is over.”
“He’s going to be real. I can feel it. The uncle … is real.”
“Maybe so.” Lassiter stood up again. “But why don’t I keep these just in case, ’kay?”
He strolled off, hair dripping, clothes a mess, all that gold jewelry he wore like part of the sun stuck with him even when he was indoors.
Mary looked at the archway through which Rhage and Bitty had disappeared.
When she felt like she could walk that far … she got up … and did.