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Amoira’s Story: Mother Dearest I

~JEBIDIRAH~

The First Time Around

“Jebidirah,” Mother coos, her voice dripping with equal parts curiosity and venom. “Where is your brother?”

How should I know? He’s got no self-control, always letting his cock lead him into trouble.

“Dead in a ditch?” I spit back, not bothering to cover my disdain.

Beckham, lounging against the wall with his arms folded, smiles like a feline that’s just finished torturing a mouse. “He’s not going to show.”

Mother’s attention snaps to him. “Why not?”

Don’t do it, Beckham. He knows Arrik bought our silence. We may not trust each other, but the three of us have always honored our deals. Arrik turned over Velis’s location to buy protection for his new human. If Beckham betrays that, it means our alliance is finally over. All Dhiant will break loose between them, and I’ll be caught in the middle. I silently urge Beckham to make the smart choice for once in his wretched life. Arrik warned him that his next betrayal would be the last.

But Beckham, our resident instigator, chooses to bait chaos .

“He’s with his new master,” Beckham says, a glint of malice in his eyes. “In Tacoma, Washington, United States of America, Earth.”

Idiot!

Mother moves across the room with a fluid grace that belies her rising anger. She aggressively yanks open a drawer, rummaging through it with unsettling calm. “That pale brunette?”

“Yes, Mother. He’s missed our last three check-ins because he’s been spending time with ‘that pale brunette,’” Beckham continues, his voice tinged with sociopathic glee.

“Why?” Mother’s jealousy flares, as it always does whenever Arrik—or any of the men in our family—pays any other female mind. She always knew I’d never love another woman more than I love her. That’s why she locks eyes with me when she doesn’t want the others to see her emotion. Only insecure women become this jealous. And Mother is the most jealous of them all.

“Because he likes her, Mother,” Beckham says, savoring each word. “ Romantically .”

Mother jerks her hand from the drawer, thumb pricked by something sharp and now bleeding. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s a human.”

Beckham, ever the performative son, offers her a white handkerchief. “Isn’t it odd? He found her through his vessel, and yet he’s still attracted to her. His love for her is like that baby snake he found and hid. Shall I kill her for us, Mother?”

Ah, that’s why he’s provoking her. He wants an excuse to inflict punishment.

Mother’s panic tightens in her chest, and I can feel it, like a ripple of anxiety echoing through the air as she sticks her thumb into her mouth, eyes on mine. “This is the same brunette he was tying things up with last week?”

“He didn’t tie things up,” Beckham says, prowling around Mother’s peach camelback couch like the predator he is. “He took her to see the seven wonders of the human world. And now, he’s planning to run away with her. ”

“No, he’s not,” I scoff, though doubt creeps into my voice.

Beckham merely raises an eyebrow, like he’s holding onto a secret.

“Which vessel led him to her?” Mother asks, her voice sharp. “The one I gave him? Or the antique from that nymph woman?”

“The green one Lady Evangeline left for him,” Beckham replies.

“I still don’t understand why she left it for him and not her own son,” I mutter.

“Because, Jebidirah,” Mother says, lighting her pipe with a flick of her wrist, “this is how she gets back at me. She always thought she could steal my sons the way she stole my husband. Arrik was merely the most malleable target.”

Arrik is a fool, like Father is a fool, playing games for the sake of lust. Obsession. Infatuation. They all reek of it—Arrik, Beckham, Father. Velis takes more than his share of everything without a second thought. And then there’s the na?ve human, running her mouth with sympathy and advice, oblivious to the fact that she’s leading Arrik to his death. All because she played hard to get with him. Who nets a master in a used mercantile? I saw where she lived when I tracked them with my bird. She’s a peasant. A human peasant will become our lady—all because of Arrik’s cock.

I’m over it.

“As am I,” Mother hisses, disappearing in a fury of anxious smoke.

“Mother!” Beckham barks, gripping my shirt as we reappear in Mother’s city dwelling, morning light blinding through the closed shades. “How are we supposed to handle Arrik? The contest ends tomorrow, and he’s gone completely rogue! At this rate, the half-breed will ascend the throne!”

He shoves me forward, the glee from earlier gone. Now he realizes how dangerous it was to let that human spew her nonsense at Arrik. She’s brainwashed him, just as I warned them she would.

“This is all Jeb’s fault—for letting Arrik get this close to the human,” Beckham accuses, throwing me to the wyverns.

“Oh, shut up, Beckham!” I spit back. “None of this would have happened if you weren’t infatuated with her too!”

Mother responds with a stinging slap across my face. “Don’t spout nonsense, Jebidirah! Beckham has no capacity for infatuation, especially not with a human worm.”

Beckham catches my eye over her shoulder and gloats, a wicked curl to his lips. He knows he’s got an unhealthy, obsessive fixation on our brother’s mate. He had a hard-on the entire last encounter with them. We nearly lost because he was too busy playing with Dolly Jones!

Mother forgets we were all bred from the same soul. Arrik is now willing to do anything to protect his human, and the half-nymph is helping him. I wonder if Mother knows about the deal they made. Best she not.

Mother pierces me with her gaze, sensing I’m hiding something.

Beckham looks at me the way Uncle Felix looks at him. “Don’t be sassy, Jeb. I’m fairly certain you allowed them to escape, and once I prove it, I will deliver punishment.”

He is excruciatingly annoying.

I hate this family.

I hate that human.

I hate that nymph.

And I hate that nymph’s mother, who ruined our lives and turned Arrik against us. And all Vel’s half-blood supporters who have ridiculed me from the day I was born. The feeblest of the fabled Reilhander triplets.

Imagine being so low on the list that your father forfeits two others and still passes you up for a half-breed .

Mother’s fault. For making the other two into monster children. Arrik is barely civilized, and Beckham will never be. His breakage is permanent.

“Be nice, Jeb. And water my plants.” Mother sweeps across the windows, drawing them open as she conjures curlers in her hair and an oversized suitcase that begins to fill itself beside her armoire. Her hair is raven blue in the sunlight but turns black as she steps into the shadows. She is a beautiful woman, even if nearly empty in the soul.

“Where are you going?” I ask, helping her into her traveling cloak.

“To see a djinn reader. I mean to understand that vessel Adelle Evangeline gave my son that corrupted him. And I mean to understand why fate won’t allow me to cut that human out of his life. Even your grandfather can’t seem to separate them. Whatever destiny line is at play, it’s an important one.”

“And the time-travel paperwork you had me fake for you?” Beckham asks, lounging in her apricot-colored chair, now flipping through a brochure about new vessel models.

“Time travel?” I question, my jaw locking with worry.

“I’m taking a trip to find out the implications of this girl’s involvement in our life.”

“To the past?”

She looks at me coldly, challenging. “We’ll say yes.”

“You aren’t going to the future , Mother?!” I protest. “Mother! You’ll go mad!”

Everyone who travels into the future returns broken from what they’ve seen! Grandfather is a master over time. She should know that.

“I just want to protect my son, Jebidirah. You know Arrik has always been my favorite. You’re second.” She takes my cheek and waits for me to kiss her, telling me as I pull away, “You are my only good son, Jebidirah. Watch Beckham while I’m gone.” She disappears in a funnel of raven-blue smoke.

An extra-sharp parchment glider, made from the vessel brochure, flies past my earlobe and sticks into the brick wall with a thud. “Fess up, Jeb.”

I hold a hand to heal the cut on my neck, glaring at the one responsible. “Confess what, you rake ?”

“You may have hidden it from Mother,” Beckham says, stepping closer, “but what is the deal Arrik made with Velis? If you don’t tell me, I’ll run and stab Dolly Jones through the heart right now.” He manifests a dagger in his hand, giving it a twirl.

I don’t believe him.

He disappears, returning five seconds later and holding out his hand.

I hesitantly open my palm beneath his, and a clump of dark hair flutters down. I let it fall past my palm to the ground. “Velis is going to help hide them and give them protection. In exchange, Arrik is giving up his contest earnings to Velis. Velis will be laird in place of Arrik, and in return, Arrik gets to keep his arrow-pointed lover,” I confess.

“Arrow-pointed lover? Did Father make that up?” The rest of it catches up with Beckham’s iota-sized brain, and his face turns ashen. His blue eyes shift to the red of the dragon magic Grandfather bequeathed him. “They think Velis is going to win the contest?” In a flash, he’s in front of me, his nails digging into my shoulders.

“Don’t take out your dissatisfaction on me, Beckham. I have nothing to do with it.”

“I know you don’t, stupid . I just want to hurt something weaker than me.”

“Did you not hear Mother?” I push him off, and he rips my sweater in the process. “She’s going into the future,” I reiterate as I shrug my stretched garment back into place, then blink to mend the tear.

“So?” He doesn’t seem to care.

“She’s already on the brink of madness after what Father did to her and Grandfather’s reaction to it. If she goes to the future, she’ll be driven all the way. ”

Beckham’s face contorts, but he quickly hides it. “You hid Arrik’s deal from Mother. Why ? You must be getting something out of it too.”

I say nothing.

“You made a deal with them, didn’t you?” Beck presses.

If I resist, I’ll only waste time. Beckham always gets what he wants. “Arrik is the most skilled with memory manipulation,” I say. “He’s going to remove Father’s memory of me, so I can finally be rid of him. He might do the same for you, if you want out.”

“Why would I want out? Grandfather Varhon plans to make me his heir.”

“Come with me, Beckham. We need to find Arrik’s human mate before Mother goes mad again. Or have you forgotten she slaughtered your last master? Father lost a quarter of his wealth covering it up!”

Beckham considers it, then his face shifts to a cruel grin. “Your way sounds boring. I think I’ll kill Dolly Jones myself and see how Arrik responds.”

He disappears before I can react.

I hate them all.