Page 62

Week One

T oday has been a bitch of a day.

That little toad, Longworth, was running his mouth from the moment he walked in the door after lunch. Apparently, some chit moved home after being gone since high school and they topped his gossip meter off like a Guinness at a pub crawl. He was damn near salivating as he regaled the admin staff in the break room. I’ve never liked the lascivious feel of the grapevine in this town, and the whispers this afternoon confirmed why. The people who feel like their families rule this place look down on every other citizen as if they’re unworthy of their presence—even a shitty little troll like Aldous Basil Longworth.

His wife was a witch with a fortune of her own, and his human family made their fortune in tobacco. I did some digging when I first arrived, always cautious of those I have to work with, and found her death was… questionable. Given his proclivity for running around town with that ‘personal assistant’ of his, I’d bet their marriage was one of political alliance. His daughter Ophelia was a hybrid placement, and she’s definitely as venomous as he is. I’d bet they treated Anastasia Keene like garbage when she was alive.

I have no patience for people like that—supe or otherwise. My lifespan dwarfs theirs by millennia, and there’s absolutely no reason to allow that kind of soul-sucking bullshit anywhere near you. I delight in causing chaos in the shriveled dandy’s day, and Mayor Cornelia rarely chides me for it. She inherited Aldous as part of his family’s deal when the Society bought the town, so she doesn’t have a choice but to employ one of their family members as her assistant until their line dies out. I’d have no problem fixing that situation for her, but she’s adamant that children shouldn’t pay for the sins of their elders.

Alas, even she isn’t old enough to accept that children almost only pay for the crimes of their family throughout the entirety of history, no matter what species you study.

The shrewish asshole was in all of his glory today, so I left work in a foul mood. I sent Odie home ahead and headed for Atwater’s, picking up some sustenance. I’d go to the Speakeasy, but I have the feeling it’ll be another hotbed of trash talk about this fascinating woman and I’d prefer to meet her in person before I decide if the rumors are true. They make her out to be a homely, roly poly idiot who made a fool of herself at one of their stupid balls, and while it may be correct, that was over a decade ago. Surely she’s not so objectionable as an adult?

Suddenly, a solid body rounds the corner of the snack aisle, crashing into me with the force of a person on a mission. I shake my head, blinking at the wild-eyed beauty looking at me as if she wants to sink through the floor into the center of the Earth. Her emerald eyes remind me of my previous home, and the bouncy ponytail makes her look years younger than I assume she is. It occurs to me this must be the infamous Jolene because I’ve never seen her before and she’s wearing a baseball tee with an art pun on it. I know the Mayor approved her application for a license for her gallery and I was hoping to talk her into one of my ‘special’ business names once I met her.

That’s not gonna happen; this girl looks sharp as a tack.

“Easy there, Tíogair. No need to knock me into the bloody biscuits.” Her face turns a lovely shade of scarlet, and I give her a charming smile. She starts to speak, but the two giant cats on either side of her pin their ears back and curl their lips at me.

Jolene looks down at them disapprovingly, and then back at me sheepishly. “It was my fault. Don’t be dicks.”

“Aye, lass. It’s okay. Your wee caits don’t scare me.” I just grin wider as the cats sit, their eyes still narrowed on me. “I’m glad you didn’t knock the messages out of my arms, or I would have to get banjaxed at the sodding pub instead.”

I sure as fuck didn’t want to do that when I came, and I’m even less inclined now that I’ve seen the lass. Her family definitely has some Irish in them, even if it’s her bio parents. The garbage Aldous was spewing made it sound like she’s a ‘lost one’ because she didn’t emerge in her teens and still hasn’t done so in her thirties. It is odd for her to still be waiting for her moment—the percentage of hybrid orphans that never emerge is slim to none. I’m about to ask her name when I realize she’s babbling an apology.

“Um, sorry about… almost knocking you down. I was… well, I wasn’t watching where I was going because I have to get food for these guys. Seeing as we just met, I had to hit the web for answers. They didn’t seem keen on pizza.”

Chuckling, I tilt my head, listening to the delightfully jumbled explanation. I don’t know how she could be any more perfect if she tried—I get the sense this woman is chaos in a bottle and there’s nothing I love more than entropy. “It’s grand, Tíogair. I’ve got my stout, you’ve got your beasties, and we’ll be on our way in no time.”

“Absolutely.” She eyes me with a look that says she’s not thrilled with my easygoing humor, and that makes me even happier. Jolene has some fight in her, and that’s bloody hot. I’d prefer a spitfire that gives as good as she gets. “Let’s go, Jekyll. Come on, Hyde. We have groceries to locate and food to cook. No sense wasting any more time dilly dallying in the snack aisle.”

Jaysus, Mary, and the Holy Rollers, I might be in love.

When I don’t respond, she flicks her ponytail over her shoulder and marches off towards the other end of the store with her animals in tow. I stand there, looking at the spot she left, considering my options. I could follow her, but I sense she’s just not ready for any kind of social interaction at the moment. It felt like she was on the edge, and pushing her wouldn’t lead to the result I want.

So I sigh, clutching my beer and food, and head in the opposite direction to the registers. Tonight is not the moment, and for someone like me, time is irrelevant. I can wait for the right time because I have the feeling it will be so much sweeter if I do.

Might be time to give my dear old auntie a call and see what her acolytes say about the future of the girl who might be the first mate I’ve found in a millennia.

* * *

“We must watch her, Doyle.”

I roll my eyes, sighing as my auntie glares at me from the gleaming chaise. Her owl, Nyctimene, is perched on an ornate stand watching our conversation. The damned thing was human once, and despite my auntie rescuing her from a truly tragic life, she’s no happier as a bird than she was when she was human. Odie shuffles on my shoulder, letting out a sharp caw to warn the bitter avian not to come any closer, and I laugh. That lazy arsed animal wouldn’t move to defend herself, much less come after me directly.

“Your pet is spoiled, auntie, and entirely too comfortable acting confrontational to superior beings,” I reply as I slouch in my chair. I know it drives her crazy that I favor my father so heavily, and that neither he nor my mother could give a flying pig’s fart about me. She’s the only biological relative who will even acknowledge my existence, and it’s a topic of great controversy.

I care even less than they do. We all are far too old and far too immortal to quibble for affection that isn’t freely given.

“Nyctimene is exactly who she chooses to be in this life. She could not say that before, and it was part of my promise to her,” my aunt says, giving me a reproving glare. “Sit up, dear. Your bearing is too casual for our locale.”

Bloody Mary, full of vodka. I hate this place. My mother’s refusal to claim me means I only visit when I choose, and I’m grateful for that. The Mount is stuffy and formal, full of arrogant beings that are no longer as important as they were many eons ago. Their boredom makes for a multitude of squabbles and infighting—something I’d enjoy heartily if I could watch it—but otherwise, I’m not interested in having everything from my posture to my attire judged based on some ancient bullshit.

“It’s 2021, auntie. You realize that no amount of enforced formality will elevate your family to its former glory, right? The Golden Age has passed, and only the witches and shifters worry about the old ones. You don’t need to act if vase makers are going to line up to have you pose.”

Her eyes darken and she rises, stalking over to me with the bearing of her kind. “You will respect our traditions, Doyle, even if you haven’t been invited to participate. I will never convince your mother to admit her connection if you gad about looking like a peasant.”

Why did I come here before I drank? Rookie mistake, Haggerty.

“First of all,” I say as I stand, stretching my long limbs lazily. “No one says ‘gad about’ anymore. Second, I came to visit because, as per our agreement, I had information you might find pertinent. You say the girl must be protected, so clearly the whispers from your little cult see her as important. Therefore, I’ve done my job well and should be rewarded.”

“I don’t find your sarcasm cute, nephew. You are correct; you did what you’ve been dispatched to do. However, simply completing your tasks doesn’t earn you anything besides your continued employment and comfortable lifestyle. Your generation is tiresome—always with demands and needing praise. I can’t abide it,” she replies as she approaches and straightens my collar.

Humans would be amazed to discover there’s a generation more irritating than Boomers, but here we are.

“Got it. Basic necessities are a luxury and we’re all lazy. Thanks for imparting your wisdom as always, auntie. I should probably get moving…”

Her eyes darken and she throws her head back, a gasp escaping her mouth as the projected vision hits her. I’m not worried—I’ve seen her weird handmaidens do this before, and despite the dramatic nature of it, it will pass in a moment. The voice that speaks is not hers; instead, I believe it’s one the Fates, because it’s loud and booming.

“The destiny of the true lost ones is now set. Their paths shall not meet until the sun sets on the land of the king and queen, but once they are reunited, the journey must be completed to save their worlds. Guard the locked cage, for when it open fully, the seven will free and the end of the twin’s terror will begin.”

My brows furrow as I wait for the spirit of the prophecy to leave her. Auntie is one of the strongest children in the family, so she can handle this, but I always worry. Nitpicky or not, she’s the only real family I have. “You have to give those bitches credit; their timing is always im-fucking-peccable.”

Black eyes blink at me until they return to the clear blue of her normal features. When the tension finally seeps from her form, my aunt returns to her chaise, resting her elbows on her knees as she breathes slowly. “Doyle, I do not know what the Fates meant by this message, but I need you to keep it in mind. I have not had a vision of this strength pass through my conduits for many, many years.”

Sighing, I nod. “I will, auntie. Will you be okay to rest alone or should I call one of the maidens in?”

She snorts, shaking her head. “We’re waiting on new staff members. My idiot brother has been… irresponsible again and my darling sister-in-law exercised her queenly powers to eject the lot of them. Every time this happens, it gets harder to find replacements.”

I snort. Oh, my uncle is probably the stupidest dude bro to ever live, and I’m actually quite grateful that I never have to deal with him. “I will contact you when I have more information. Get some rest… this one was a doozy.”

As I’m walking out the door, I hear her calling after me. “Our kind doesn’t have mates, nephew. Don’t be a fool.”

We’ll just see about that darling auntie.