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‘Who is my birth mother?’
His smirk now had a malicious bent. ‘Was. You’ve had enough names from me today, Lucy. You should have asked that before you agreed that my debt had been repaid. Run along now.’ He jerked his head and three ogres started towards me.
The power play made my anger boil over, and I glared at him. He was being a malicious jerk. I didn’t care what his crows said about him, he was an asshole. ‘You’re a son of a bitch.’
‘I never said that I wasn’t.’
‘No, but your crows did,’ I grumped, glaring at the fickle birds scattered at his feet.
I wanted to leave on my own terms, not be frogmarched out of his garden, so even though I wanted to beg for my mother’s name, I refused to give Krieg the satisfaction. Besides, Jess’s message was still in my mind; maybe she already knew my mother’s name.
I walked out to my parked car and waited for a moment to see if Bastion would join me. I titled my head up. I could just make out his griffin form circling high above me. He let out a screech goodbye and flew off. What had he heard? Or was he still just in stealth-mode?
I got into the car and started for home, trying to ignore the vindictive way Krieg had said, ‘was’. My mother was dead.
I felt numb; I couldn’t even cry about it. I didn’t even know her name – how could I grieve for someone I’d never known? But though I couldn’t grieve for her, I could grieve for the loss of the possibility of her, the loss of a relationship that now we would never have. I decided that until I spoke to Jess, I’d keep a faint hope alive that Krieg was wrong. That he was simply being cruel.
If I’d had Jess’s radar it would have been pinging because I was lying to myself to keep that faint hope alive. Sometimes lies give us the courage to carry on.
My mind was whirling, and I drove to the mansion on autopilot. Even so, as I approached the mansion I knew that the shit had hit the fan. Our sturdy, cast-iron gates had been rammed and were crumpled with the impact of a huge vehicle.
Dammit. Whilst I was off grilling Krieg, someone or something had attacked the mansion. Greg was going to go ballistic at me and I deserved it, I admitted miserably. I should have told him where I was going, but I hadn’t wanted him to talk me out of it.
It was chaos as I drove up the drive. The whole area was swarming with werewolves in wolf form, and violence was crackling in the air. I glanced around, trying to make sense of the situation.
There were heavy track marks on the gravel driveway but to my untrained eye they looked like two sets, as if someone had come and gone. I could just about make out something in the darkness near the front door – God, not something,someone.A small bloody mess lay there and my stomach roiled. Don’t let it be Bobby. Anyone but Bobby.
I raced over to the body and felt a surge of relief when I saw greying skin. It was a gargoyle. I experienced a moment’s guilt; whether it was Bobby or not, someone had been beaten to a bloody mess.
I went closer and gasped as I made out Reynard’s features. He hadn’t been turned to stone, so presumably he’d managed to leave the ogres’ den okay, but then he’d been caught by someone. I should have checked in on him earlier.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I knelt by his side. I’d liked the quirky little Frenchman. The tears started pouring down my cheeks; I didn’t care if that made me look weak in the eyes of the pack.
Then, through my tears, I saw Reynard’s hand twitch. My sobs died in my throat and I scrubbed my eyes to clear my vision. I leaned closer, held my hand over his mouth and felt the faintest of breaths. He was still alive!
All that blood – how could he be alive? My hands were shaking as I dialled Amber’s number. ‘Amber? I need your help. Reynard’s been dumped on my doorstep and he’s covered in blood. I barely recognise him. He’s breathing but only just, and I don’t think he’s got long. What can I do? Can you get here?’ In my panic, I was babbling.
Amber’s voice was reassuringly calm. ‘I can head out to you but if he’s as bad as you say, I won’t get there in time. I’m at least half an hour away. I gave Mrs Dawes some emergency supplies – I can talk you through a general healing rune that should keep him alive until I arrive.’
‘Mrs Dawes?’ I screamed at the throng of werewolves. ‘I need you! I need Amber’s emergency kit.’
‘I’ll get it,’ Mrs Dawes said briskly. Thankfully, she was still in human form. The only other person still on two legs was Thea Frost, and I didn’t have the headspace to wonder what that meant. She was pale, and wringing her hands with anxiety.
Mrs Dawes returned moments later with a black leather bag.
‘I’ve got it,’ I said desperately to Amber. ‘What do I do now?’
‘There are three jars inside. You need to get out the one that looks purple. Pull on the plastic disposable gloves before you do anything, then get out the thickest paintbrush. I’m going to hang up then give you a video call so I can show you the rune you need to paint on.’ She didn’t wait for me to agree, and suddenly the dial tone was ringing in my ears.
I was all too aware that Reynard would die if I failed to do this right. My hands were still shaking as I struggled to pull on the plastic gloves. Mrs Dawes passed me the Kilner jar filled with purple gloop. As I tipped the paintbrushes onto the floor, the phone started to ring. Amber was on video call, and I wasn’t ready. I didn’t have the paintbrush. My heart was hammering…
Esme stepped up and took control of us for a moment to calm me down. All it took was a second or two of her steady presence thrumming though me and I calmed. We could do this, we could save Reynard.
There were a dizzying number of paintbrushes. Amber wasn’t bloody Monet; why did she need so many of the damned things? I flicked through them impatiently before Mrs Dawes calmly selected the thickest, as per Amber’s instructions.
I swiped up to accept the call. ‘What took you so long?’ Amber snapped. ‘Reynard doesn’t have time for you to piss about.’
‘I wasn’t pissing about, I was trying to find the bloody thickest brush. Why do you need so many brushes? It’s ridiculous.’
