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Chapter Eleven
Willow
The plan is simple—I pretend that I’ve been in St. Louis fetching my parents and that I had no idea Maxim was gone until we returned to the city. Then I insist to anyone who questions my appearance at the tower that I’m there to talk to Jimmy about his grandchild.
That’s it.
I don’t want anything to do with Maxim or the North Star pack, I just want my son to know his paternal grandfather. And I’d like Jimmy to meet my parents, since they’ll be sharing grandparent duties. That should get us an audience with Maxim’s father, and by default, Cam. Cam is Jimmy’s shadow and I doubt he’s letting the former Alpha out of his sight these days, even to talk about something private like baby news.
Baby news.
Mybaby.
He’s barely the size of a single poppy seed right now, but he’s so real to me. I’ve seen his cherub face and dark, clever eyes. I’ve watched him laugh and kick his chubby little legs. I fell so deeply in love with him during the course of a thirty-second vision, I can only imagine the love that will fill my heart to bursting once he’s born.
My son is as real to me as the trembling hands that grasp the thick door handle at the main entrance to the North Star tower. As real as the footsteps of my parents following close behind me as we step into the lobby.
As real as the line of enforcers that wait to greet us a few yards ahead.
I pull in a bracing breath, reminding myself that my son is counting on me to make sure his father lives to hold him, hug him, and help him grow up safe and strong, as I meet Hermione’s cool gaze.
Instantly, it’s clear something isn’t right about my friend. She’s distant and when I greet her with a warm, “Hey there, Hermione. Good to see you,” she seems confused by my familiarity.
But she plays it off well. “Hello, Willow. How can we help you? Maxim isn’t here right now.”
“So, I’ve heard,” I say. “Which is why I’m here.” I motion over my shoulder. “Hermione, meet Wendy and Harvey, my parents. We’re here to talk to Jimmy.” I press my hand to the still mostly flat expanse between my hips. “About the baby.”
Her brows lift and pity fills her eyes, making me think she still remembers what happened my last night in the tower, when Maxim drugged me. He warned me that most of the enforcers know the story, thanks to the chatty guard who’d led me back to my room, and that Hermione had been pissed about it, to the point that she threatened to cut ties with Maxim if he behaved that way again.
“Oh, well, congratulations,” she says in a strained voice. “Let me call upstairs. See if Jimmy is up for visitors. If you’ll excuse me.”
She steps away and pulls her cell from her pocket, pacing toward where the lobby opens up ahead, filling with light from the large windows that flood the first three stories with sun. Dimly I can make out the sounds of conversation from the restaurants in the Atrium. It’s still lunch time for normal people—Maxim and I had our feast just after ten a.m.
I cling to the thought, wringing every bit of hope from it that I can. We still have nearly twelve hours left to put our house to rights and get back to the forest to face Kelley. Maxim assured me that he can have a fleet of helicopters and a cargo plane ready to fly in less than an hour if needed—and more than enough warriors to fill them to capacity.
And Mom seems pretty sure that her pack gift will work over the phone—at least the cancelling out part. She’s never tried anything like it personally, but she’s had her ear to the ground since she found out about her gift while she was in high school.
Banishing memories is something that has to be done face to face but revealing what another person’s forgetting gift has erased is allegedly much easier.
“Apparently, it’s like throwing water on cotton candy,” Mom said on the walk over from the garage, where Maxim is waiting for the all-clear signal. “All you have to do is question whether their memories have been tampered with and the architecture of the lie dissolves.”
I pray she’s right.
It looks like we’ll have a chance to test her theory sooner than we thought. Hermione returns after just a few minutes, says Jimmy is happy to receive us at his apartment, and offers to escort us up to his floor herself.
Mom and I lock eyes as we follow her to the elevator. She nods and my heart beats even faster, so fast I have to fight to keep my breaths smooth and even as we wait for the car to arrive.
This is it.
In just a few seconds we’ll be alone with Hermione.
Time slows to a horror movie crawl as the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Hermione reaches out her arm, holding the doors as my parents and I step inside. Then she punches the button and steps back to lean against the wall of the car, her arms crossed in front of her, but never far from the weapon strapped onto her belt.
All the enforcers are more heavily armed than I remember and clearly on edge. I seriously doubt Hermione would fire a gun in an elevator, but as soon as we step out, we’re fair game. And who knows what Cam has done to her head? If he’s erased enough of her memory, she might not trust me at all. She might even think I’m a spy…or something worse. Kelley might have convinced her that I’m the enemy somehow.
I’m well on my way to a full-blown panic attack when Mom says, “So, Hermione, how long have you been Maxim’s second in command?”
“Over a decade,” Hermione says politely.
