Grace held her son in her arms as the rest of the family ate dinner. They were just as loud as they usually were, but the cursing had stopped. She was glad for it.

The other day Mattie had been staying with them and said she’d dropped her fucking milk. The glass had shattered, of course, but it was the way she’d said it that had shocked her to the core. After that, she had a talk with everyone, and told them to curb it or be thrown to the curb. They got the message loud and clear.

“You want me to take him?” She handed Bradley to Lincoln and was amazed someone as large as he was could be so gentle with such a small thing. And get the baby to sleep faster than she could at bedtime as well.

When she got up to get another drink, she caught her sister and Mark necking in the hallway. Clearing her throat to warn them only made Ginger jump. Mark, however, laughed at being discovered.

“We’re happy, what can I say?” She told him it showed in them both. “It feels good to be in love, don’t you think, Grace? And I have children too. A little boy and the most wonderful girl.”

He’d told Ginger that it mattered little to him who their father was. All he wanted was raise them with her, and hope they turned out for the best. Grace didn’t see them being anything but well-loved children, and they were already talking about having more. Ginger had never had a planned pregnancy, and she was really looking forward to having it with Mark, she told her.

“Before I forget to tell you, we’re going to move into the Conrad house now that it’s empty of all that stuff. That way we’ll be closer to you guys. Mark is having someone repaint all the walls too.” They’d been living in a rental since they’d been together. She missed her sister sometimes but was glad she was happy. She deserved it.

Looking out the kitchen window as she drank her tea, she thought about the paintings out there. The ones that she’d been working on for two weeks now. Deciding that no one would miss her—and if they did, they knew where she’d be—she went out to the studio and pulled the sheet off the large painting, so that she could work on it. It was nearly done, and with the others, there were a total of twelve. She thought it was her best work yet.

It was during the nineteen thirties, and her muse had lived in one of the places along the docks. To have called it an apartment would have grossly over stated what it was. It was four walls that had running water only when it rained. And even then, it would have been left from the tenant above her.

The large painting was of the apartment. The three-legged table sat in the very middle of the room. There wasn’t a chair to be had, so she used an old crate to sit on. It also served as extra storage space if needed. Muse couldn’t read or write, but she could sing. It would make her a coin or two when she was able to get off work early enough to literally sing for her supper. Her money packet would go for rent and what little food she could afford. Which wasn’t all that much.

The rats in the corners were to show how bad it had been for her. Her coarse laughter belied the sound of her voice when she was singing. There was a picture on the wall, torn from a newspaper long ago. It had been tacked up by a nail that had seen better days.

Her dress was washed every other day, and now it hung near the window that wasn’t open but provided a nice breeze because the glass had been broken. She sat in her shift, her boots drying by the door so the rats wouldn’t chew through them again.

She sat on her crate eating a rotten potato, the last of her food until she got her pay packet again next week. Unlike the other muses that she’d worked with, this one spoke to her as she painted and brought what she was telling her to life. It was why it seemed so real—she had someone telling her just exactly what she needed it to look like, so that her story could be told.

Lincoln joined her just as she was cleaning her brushes. The painting was finished; they all were. As he stood in front of it, looking at it with fresh eyes, she asked what he thought about it.

“It looks wonderful. You’ve got so much detail in it that you can almost smell the potato she’s eating. And the way that you gave the viewer the entire room, it says a lot for her living conditions. Did she ever tell you her name?” She told him that none of them except for Hank’s father knew them. “That’s so sad. But I don’t think anyone would recognize her. You’ve turned her face just enough so that you only see her sunken cheeks. She looks starved.”

“She was. That’s how she died, she told me. A few days after this point in the painting, she was found lying on her sheets. They just wrapped her up in them and threw her in the rubbish bin. There is a painting in the other room that reflects that. But you’d have to remember the color of the sheet in this one to get it.” He nodded. “She’s gone now. She left when she said that it was perfect. I hope Garrett will take these. They’re a little darker than the others were.”

“He will. He’s been trying to get me to tell him what muse is working with you now. I think he’s right in calling your art The Muse Painter.” She liked it as well. “Do you have anyone wanting you now? Or are they giving you a break?”

“I have someone, but he wants to wait a little while. He can see me with the baby, and that makes him very happy.” Lincoln pulled her into his arms. “The others must think I’m rude, just walking away like that.”

“No, they know how your mind works now. Even Cooper said you’d need a break from this one soon. He knows as well as I do that you’ve been out here a great deal.” She looked up at him and smiled. “I don’t like that. It means I’m going to have to do something I won’t be thrilled about, doesn’t it?”

“I want to have a big country Christmas. I know it’s a few months away, but I want to plan for it now.” He said that he’d like that as well. “I don’t have a lick of ornaments, nor do we have the first thing for Bradley.”

“I’m sure that he won’t remember this Christmas any more than Wendall will. They’re too young to care.” She told him that she would. “Of course. All right, we’ll start looking for ornaments. I know this really nice Christmas shop that we can go to and get a start. How big of a tree are you thinking?”

“One that will fill the corner in the living room. And another for the entrance hall. That way everyone can see it as soon as they come in.” He told her that was a good idea. “Also, I want to paint all of you around it. For the mantel.”

“As in the women too?” She said that was it. And when the others came, she’d add them in. “Okay, that sounds good. And I like the fact that you’re so positive there will be more. Why are you so sure?”

“The fates would want all of you to be happy. Don’t you think?” Lincoln nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “My sister even got a nice man out of this. The dragons are bringing their mates to see you guys, and the sooner the better if you ask me.”

“Tristan is terrified of his mate. He hasn’t met her yet, and he’s afraid that she’s going to be a ball buster, and he won’t be able to handle that.” She laughed with him. “I told him she could be a gentle soul too and do whatever he wants. I think that frightened him too. He wants to have fun. I guess we’ll see when she gets here.”

They talked about the mates coming while she cleaned up. Grace would need to call Garrett in the morning so he could finally see the paintings. She’d gotten into the habit of not allowing him to until they were all finished. He tended to drive her batty asking how far she was from completing the next one, so he could see it. She got more work done that way.

They sat in the living room and she rocked Bradley while he took his late bottle. He was a good boy, sleeping through the night and only waking up if he was too wet. Rarely did that happen, and she was glad. As a new mom, she was getting much more sleep than Ginger.

After he was taken up to bed by the nanny, she sat on the couch with Lincoln. She was making a list of things she wanted to get for Christmas to make the house shine, and he was reading the paper. It was what they did nightly to relax after a long day.

When he woke her up, she realized that she must have dozed off and he’d carried her up to their room. Lincoln even undressed her and put her in the bed. She told him that she was exhausted.

“You no longer have Muse keeping you awake all night, wanting you to paint.” She nodded and closed her eyes. “You rest now, love, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

~~~

Lucas stood in line at the bank. He had to make several deposits, and didn’t want to be rushed about it. Sometimes when he came in this late there would be someone behind him, huffing and puffing about how long he was taking. He told Ginger he’d do it today since he was leaving the office early.

He was two from the teller when he heard the man yelling from the front of the bank. Robbery? Today? Damn it. His first afternoon off in a month, and now he had to deal with this crap. Sitting on the floor where he was told, Lucas reached out to his brothers and told them what was going on. Cooper laughed, and Xavier said to shift and step on him. He had such funny brothers. But they did promise to call the police.

The man is a bear shifter, and he has a hint of tiger on him. No, not that, something more domestic. A cat, maybe? I don’t know. Anyway, he has two guns in his hands, as well as one on his ankle. You know, for a bank this size, you’d think he’d have a partner or two. Carson pointed out that he was a shifter robbing a bank with other shifters inside; he couldn’t be too terribly smart. True. But this is seriously messing with my plans tonight. I was going to order a pizza and eat it in front of the television.

Isn’t that what you do every night? He was going to hit them all when he got out of here. Lincoln went on with his teasing. The last time I went by your house and it was trash day, I think I counted like fifteen empty pizza boxes.

Very funny. You should go on the road. You could be a comedy act all by yourself. It’ll take away from that when I disfigure you. Lucas told them what was going on now. He wants the bank manager. Something about being turned down for a loan here. He’s losing his house too.

Do you know who it is yet? He said that he didn’t, the man was wearing a mask. I’ve been asked if he’s limping. Cooper explained how he was in town on an errand and had come to the bank when he’d called out. The police were there now, and they were trying to get the man to answer the phone.

Yes, he’s limping. He’s got the bank manager down on his knees now. I think he means to kill him. Lucas stood. He didn’t want anyone killed if he could help it, and the man screamed at him to sit down. “Look, I know that you’re upset, but killing that man isn’t going to help your situation.”

“You think not? It’ll certainly make me feel better knowing that he’s dead.” Lucas asked if he could help him secure a loan. “You got money you can hand over without asking for my firstborn? I felt like he was going to when I was here last week.”

“I’m sorry that he put you through that, but the truth of the matter is, he was just doing his job. The people higher than him are the ones that make him follow the rules. And then there are more above them that do the same. It’s a nightmare.” The man nodded and seemed to have relaxed his finger off the trigger. “Why don’t you put the gun down, and perhaps you and I can work something out?”

“You’re one of them Manning people, aren’t you?” Lucas told him his name. “Yeah, that’s it. My sister works for one of the million companies that you own. You’ve been bringing jobs around.”

“We’re trying. Do you need a job?” He said that he couldn’t work due to his medical record. “Why is that?”

“I’ve got something wrong with my head. Sometimes I don’t know where I am or how I got there.” Lucas asked if he meant he was blacking out. “Yeah. I told the doctor down at the veteran’s place, and they said it was all in my head. Ain’t that what I was saying to him? Anyway, he gave me medicine, but it costs so much. This guy wouldn’t give me a loan against my house so I could buy it, see?”

“Okay, put down the gun and I’ll work something out with you to buy your drugs.” He said it wouldn’t work. “Why not? You don’t want to take your meds?”

“It’s too late for that.”

The gun went off and Lucas fell back.

He knew on some level he was hurt, but his mind was still trying to work around that he’d been shot. When the second sounded, he knew that the man, whoever he was, had either shot himself or the bank manager. Either way, he wasn’t going to loan him the money now. Someone slapped him in the face and he looked up at Winnie.

“I’ve been hurt.” She said no shit or I’m sorry, but he was reasonably sure, knowing her, it was the former. “He shot me, and I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You puke on me and I’ll make you hurt worse than you are right now.” He said that he really did hurt. “I know. I’ve got you now. We’re going to take you to the hospital. Okay?”

That wasn’t right. Winnie had turned into Carson, and he wasn’t sure where Winnie had gone. Then he saw Cooper, who was yelling at him. Something about him not being able to die and he’d better not be testing the theory. Closing his eyes, he tried to make the room stop spinning, but all that did was make him sicker. Things were not going well for him.

The next few times he opened his eyes, he quickly shut them again. Things were moving. The walls were swaying back and forth. His hands were invisible. And he couldn’t feel his fingers. When he asked someone for a trash can, he could have sworn he was going to be sick, but all he did was heave. Then nothing.

“Mr. Manning? Can you hear me?” He opened one eye. That was all he could manage with the other being held down. “Mr. Manning, my name is Doctor Carver. I’m the one that operated on you.”

“You’re very pretty.” She thanked him, but he could tell he annoyed her. “What happened to me?”

“You were shot. Do you remember anything about it?” He wasn’t sure what was real or not, and told her about Winnie turning into Carson, and then his brother telling him he ate fifteen boxes of pizza. “I don’t know what that means, but I’ve removed the bullets. I’m to understand you’re a dragon. Can you shift and heal?”

“I’m not sure there’s enough room in here.” She looked around, but it was too much for him and he closed his eyes. She asked him to please open them and look at her. “You smell pretty too. Almost like almonds and vanilla. Do you wear that?”

“No, I don’t wear perfume. Can you tell me your name?” He sang the little song about pudding and tang or something like that, and she frowned at him. “Mr. Manning, did you hit your head too?”

“You’re her, aren’t you?” She asked who that would be. “The one. The other half. The one and only for Lucas Manning.”

He was singing again and felt silly when he realized it. Trying to straighten up, he looked at her once more. She was asking him to tell her his name, and he couldn’t remember anything but how she smelled. And how beautiful she was. She asked again if he’d hit his head.

“I don’t know. Maybe when I fell back.” He looked at her, everything coming to him in that second. “I was shot. He shot me in the chest and I fell back. Did he kill the bank manager?”

“Yes, then himself. The other customers said you tried to get him to not kill anyone.” He said he had. “Are you stupid? What the hell were you thinking, bargaining with a man with a gun? Christ, men are so stupid.”

“Even pissed off, I think you’re lovely.”

He felt a pinch in his arm, then he began to fade out. The doctor told him not to fight it, and he promised that he wouldn’t, that he was happy with her. If she said anything else, Lucas didn’t remember it.