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“Has he apologized?”
“In the way that he apologizes. ‘I would do anything to protect you,’” I said, in a pretty good imitation.
Mallory nodded. “He gave you an alphapology.”
“What now?”
“An alphapology. The apology made by the alpha male, which isn’t really an apology, but more a reason for insane behavior. Catcher does it all the damn time. Drives me up the wall.”
“Alphapology,” I repeated, kicking the tires. “Yeah. That’s pretty much it. What do I do about it?”
“Depends on Darth Sullivan’s particular brand of alpha. He knows you’ve got a rocky relationship with your family, but he also knows they matter to you. And frankly, Merit, at least some of his asinine behavior is because of Reed. Reed’s a crazy asshole, and crazy breeds crazy. If Ethan gets to the point where he acknowledges the phone call was a mistake, you can carry on.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then Darth Sullivan isn’t the man I thought he was.” She reached out, took my hand, squeezed it. “And he is that man, Merit. Look at it this way. If this is the testing, you know you’ll get through it. Or at least through it enough to get knocked up,” she said with a snort.
“That’s not really funny.”
“I know.”
“You know, I’m kind of surprised Gabriel didn’t mention this to you when you were tutoring with him.”
“Gabriel’s really weird about his prophecies. He doesn’t like to talk about them.” She frowned, as if considering her words. “I’m not even sure ‘prophecy’ gets to the heart of it, not really. The word makes it sound like he knows this independent piece of information—this bit of knowledge that’s separate from him. But it doesn’t work that way. Shifters are connected—to the earth, to the things living on it, to the kind of”—she waved her hands in the air—“universal timeline. The things they prophesize, that knowledge, is part of that interconnected timeline. Part of who they are.”
“That’s pretty deep.”
“It sounds like horseshit,” she said with a grin. “Like the nonsense I’d have spewed in my Grateful Dead and patchouli days.”
“Those were very colorful days.” Mallory had braided her hair, worn broomstick skirts, and stocked the fridge with Cherry Garcia. I hadn’t complained about the last.
o;Let’s go outside,” I said, heading off another round of bruises, “and I’ll tell you everything.”
• • •
I walked her through the House and the cafeteria, which was filled with chattering vampires and the scents of meat and chilies. It was Tex-Mex night, a House favorite. Thankfully, the food kept their attention as we walked past.
I led Mallory outside to the House’s enormous pool, a beautiful rectangle of sparkling water. I sat down on the concrete that surrounded it. Mallory sat in front of me, cross-legged.
She put a hand on her chest. “Is it because of the magic? Because you don’t trust me? Because you don’t want me to know that you’re trying to get pregnant?”
The fear in her eyes was obvious.
“No,” I said, and when she looked at me, I said it again. “No. Big no, little no, no. We’re not trying to get pregnant, and it doesn’t have anything to do with you or trust. It doesn’t have anything to do with anything, really. It’s just—it may not ever happen. It’s all very fuzzy and up in the air.”
She frowned, then cast a quick and wary gaze at my crotch before lifting her gaze to mine again. “You’re going to need to explain that. Jeff was vague on the details, and I’m not really sure I understand how pregnancy could be fuzzy or up in the air.”
“Because it’s a prophecy, not a pregnancy test. Gabriel thinks we’ll have a child—me and Ethan. But that would basically be a miracle among miracles.”
“Why?”
“Because no vampire child has ever been born.”
She leaned back in surprise. “Ever?”
“Forever ever. Three known vampire conceptions in the entire history of the world. None made it to term.”
Her expression fell. “Damn, Merit. Those are pretty shitty odds.”
