Page 58 of Kiss of Wrath

What kind of child logic was that?

“Tell us another story,” Linda urged, rubbing her cheek against Mordr’s thigh.

Ruff studied Linda’s action and came up on Mordr’s other side, using Mordr’s other thigh as a rubbing post, causing white fur to fly about.

“I’m hungry,” Larry said.

“Me too. Me too,” the other children chimed in.

“Pick me up.” Linda opened her arms and reached upward.

Mordr stared down at her, bleakly. He could not. He just could not. Wasn’t it enough that he was here, was surrounded by all these children? Did he have to bear their touch as well?

Sensing his discomfort, Cnut picked up Linda and swung her high in the air, causing her to giggle, and Mordr escaped into the house. He wasn’t hiding, exactly, but he needed some space to breathe.

From behind the closed door of the office, he heard everyone enter the kitchen. The sound of chairs scraping the floor. Water running. Child chatter. Cnut offering to slice the bread. Arguments over who sat where. Laughter.

Once Mordr was calmer, he was about to leave the office. He was embarrassed. Weak, he was, to let such little things affect him so much.

Just then, through the open doorway, he heard the phone sitting on Miranda’s desk ring. One, two, three times before the answering machine kicked on. A computer voice asking the caller to leave a short message with a name and number.

First, there was heavy breathing. Then, a male crooned, “Dad-dy’s coming!”

Even through the phone lines, over the miles, Mordr recognized the voice of evil and felt the berserkness he had tempered for so long begin to bubble to the surface. Like a volcano.

Would he be able to control it this time?

Ten

They could be Mickey Mantlessons . . .

A clearly distraught Mordr went into the house on hearing Linda once again call him Daddy, and his two brothers with deliberate care laid their cloaks carefully on a picnic table and moved nimbly about the yard in jeans and T-shirts, challenging the kids to a game of “killer croquet.” Considering their size, they were quick on their feet, dodging this way and that, jumping over hoops, bending to get just the right shot, making their own rules.

Miranda had started to go in after Mordr, but his brothers had held her back, telling her that Mordr just needed a little time to calm down. This was nothing unusual. He would be all right shortly.

So, Miranda watched with appreciation as the two men entertained the laughing children, taking their minds off concern for Mordr. There weren’t many men who came into her children’s lives, and she could see how much they were enjoying the male influence.

Cnut and Harek and Mordr were similar in appearance in terms of height and blue eyes, but had varying shades of hair and body types. Mordr was more bulked up than Cnut or Harek, although they all had muscles aplenty. Cnut’s hair was long and black, while Harek’s was more modern, the brown strands spiked into deliberate disarray. And, of course, all three had those slightly elongated incisors, more evident on these two brothers since they smiled so often, unlike the grim Mordr.

After Harek had taken his turn, Miranda asked him, “Do all seven of you brothers resemble each other?”

Harek shrugged. “Somewhat, I suppose, though we are half brothers.” At her arched brows, he explained. “Same father, different mothers.”

“Seven different mothers? Was your father married to all of them? I don’t mean all at once, of course.”

“You have no idea.” Harek laughed. “My father was a virile man, and, no, he did not wed all our mothers. He usually had two or more mistresses, in addition to his wife.”

Miranda was shocked, rather outraged, and did not try to hide her reaction.

“I know, I know, you want to say that my father was not so much virile as a horndog,” Harek observed.

Miranda didn’t even try to disagree. “And you don’t condemn your father for such actions?”

Harek shrugged. “My father is long dead. ’Twas a different time and culture.”

Miranda wanted to ask more questions, but just then Cnut hit the ball with his mallet so hard that it sailed over the back fence and into a neighbor’s yard. It just missed a picture window.

“Holy shit!” Ben exclaimed.