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It left too much time alone with my thoughts, but sometimes it was necessary to listen to yourself for a little while.
When we finally turned onto the long driveway leading up to my uncle’s old plantation house, I was ready to be out of the enclosed space. Between plane to rental car to plane to van, I was itching for some fresh air in my lungs and the freedom of a solitary run. The werewolf in me was none too fond of being caged up, so I knew Ben and Fairfax must be twice as antsy.
Callum was waiting for us on the front porch, looking as regal and impressive as I remembered him. In spite of what a pain in the butt it was to be brought here, and in spite of all the things he’d done to drive Lucas and me apart, something in me still warmed to the sight of Callum McQueen. He felt like family. Not in the same way Grandmere or Eugenia did, but he had his own special claim on me.
I didn’t want to like him, but I did.
He waved a group of pack members towards us, and they converged on the van, opening the back doors and helping unload the two kennels as if it were a task they’d performed a hundred times before.
“Take them to the dovecote, please.”
I nearly smiled, remembering the crumbling medieval pigeon coop where Holden had hid the first time we came here. I’d assumed it was never used otherwise, but apparently Callum found ways to keep it occupied from time to time.
After getting out of the van, I reclaimed the cardboard box from the front seat. The plastic garbage bag we’d used to line the inside of the box crinkled loudly as Mercy’s head wobbled inside. I moved towards Callum, with Desmond following close behind. Holden stayed back near the car, not needing to be told he didn’t belong in this particular interaction.
The vampire didn’t go unnoticed, though. Callum’s gaze fixated on Holden for a moment before returning to me. Amelia brushed past me, going to her place next to Callum. She made sure to stand one step below him so he had the top riser all to himself.
Technically the only person here who could stand as tall as him was me.
I chose to stay on the grass.
This meant Amelia needed to move off the stairs entirely or find another way to make herself shorter than me. She opted to move to the side and take a seat on the nearby porch swing.
If the Southern wolves wanted to play the whole werewolf tradition card with me, I was going to prove to them I could handle it as well as they could. And if they happened to realize how stupid those rules were in the process, then it was a double win.
“It’s a pleasure to see you, my dear.” Callum offered me a warm smile, which soon faltered into a half-grimace. “I do wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Don’t we all.” I tucked the box under my arm, waiting for the appropriate moment to deliver it to him.
A commotion behind him put a damper on the whole exchange. The double entrance doors to the house burst open, and a small woman with dark curly hair stomped out.
My breath caught in my throat, and I almost dropped the box to go for one of my weapons. The new arrival was the spitting image of Mercy. Everything from her hair down to the unhappy glare she was giving Callum absolutely embodied my mother.
I wanted to check the box to be sure.
Desmond shot me a nervous look.
It was Grandmere who stepped between us and diffused the whole situation.
“Savannah,” she cooed, approaching the steps with her arms held wide.
The woman froze, staring at my grandmere as if the old woman might bite her. “You didn’t tell me she was coming,” she said to Callum.
“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she would.”
Callum and Savannah McQueen, Mercy’s only siblings and Grandmere’s two surviving children.
I’d had no idea Savannah looked so much like Mercy. They weren’t twins, and upon scrutinizing my aunt’s face more closely, I could see key differences in their features, but all the same it was like seeing a ghost.
“You were supposed to tell me when they arrived,” Savannah snapped.
She seemed to share her sister’s sunny disposition.
“Savannah,” Callum replied coolly. “Our guests have arrived.”
She socked him in the arm. A bold move for anyone to try on a werewolf king, but it seemed she got carte blanche to torment her younger brother however she chose because he did nothing to stop the behavior.
Savannah gave Grandmere another uncertain look, then came down the steps and approached the older woman. For a moment they simply stared at each other, and I could read every changing emotion on my aunt’s face as clearly as though she were speaking them aloud. Anger, resentment, betrayal, sadness. They were all there. And after the flurry of feelings left her, she reached out and wrapped her arms around her mother, pulling Grandmere in for a tight, nearly crushing hug.
