by K. F. Breene
“Not now, Mr. Tom,” I said, rolling my head the other way, looking at the buttery sunshine layering the cream windowsill.
“Yes, miss. I brought you some coffee.” He didn’t turn away.
“‘Not now’ means I’d like a little alone time before I get up.”
“Yes, miss. And why wouldn’t you, with that mage always staring, or Austin Steele throwing his weight around, making everyone nervous.”
“Sebastian is a godsend, and he only stares when he’s trying to figure something out, like why I keep messing up spells so he can teach me to do it better. Which he does. Austin isn’t making anyone nervous. He’s the same guy he’s always been. Just…hotter, somehow.”
“He might not be making you nervous, but everyone else is on eggshells when he’s around. He’s gotten much more intense.”
I shrugged. I hadn’t noticed.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” I said.
“Yes, miss. Pastries are ready and waiting, and we’ll have a nice brunch in an hour or so. Master Jimmy is up and at ’em, in the shower and getting ready for his egg hunt. I’ve taken the liberty of—”
“Egg hunt?” I rubbed my eyes to try to rid them of sleep. Normally, I’d sit up and reach for the coffee, but my stubbornness had kicked in. I wanted a moment to pity my situation before I put on a brave face, and I wanted to do it in silence.
“Yes, miss. It’s Easter, remember? Egg hunts are a customary tradition for Dicks on Easter.”
I stared at him for a beat, reading nothing in his placid expression.
“When did you dye Easter eggs?” I finally asked.
“Oh no, miss, don’t be silly. I’m not in the habit of throwing away food, and there are only so many boiled eggs and egg salad sandwiches a person can eat. No, I used the plastic eggs and put money in them. Master Jimmy said that was his favorite type of Easter egg hunt growing up. I hid the golden egg very well, trust me. It’ll take him all day. I haven’t hidden the Easter basket. I don’t quite understand why you’d hide one Easter item and not the other, but Dick and Jane customs can be head-scratchers. As for Easter brunch, I’ve had Edgar set up the garden tent on the lawn. As soon as we move out that way, I’ll slip a mimosa into your hand, don’t you worry. There is no reason to be sober for this year’s Easter when you haven’t been sober in years previous. Now, if you’ll just rise and get ready, we can kick this day off to a smashing start.”
My heart ached and my lower lip trembled. He’d said he had taken care of the Easter basket, which was the only tradition I’d kept up after Jimmy was grown, but he hadn’t told me about everything else. I should’ve known Mr. Tom would find a way to make Jimmy’s last day perfect.
“Okay.” I pushed up to sitting and reached for the coffee. “Give me a moment.”
“Of course, miss.”
I showered and freshened up, pushing away the sadness of Jimmy leaving and trying to focus on being thankful he’d gotten to stay for so long.
In the kitchen, on the table by the window, waited a lovely wicker basket with a pink bunny propped up inside. Chanel sunglasses sat beside a royal-blue box of exotic truffles. A Louis Vuitton scarf took up the edge, with a black jewelry box resting on bright lime Easter basket filler.
“Mom!” Jimmy stood at the island, the contents of his basket spread across the surface, his hands out and fingers splayed. The same lime filler lay discarded on the island in tufts, his much larger wicker basket pushed aside and his stuffed bunny leaning on its side. “What did you do? You can’t afford all this!”
Closed jewelry box in hand, I leaned around him to check out his wares. Beats earphones, an iPad, Prada sunglasses—
“Are you serious with this?” He shook a box at me, forcing me to lean back. His smile took up his whole face and his eyes gleamed, reminding me of the Christmas he got a Game Boy and about peed himself with excitement. “Are you serious with this?”
His hands kept moving, shaking the box, and I squinted to see the jiggling lettering.
“Virtual reality gaming!” he said, and widened his eyes. “Virtual reality gaming. My buddy wants one of these so bad. He was just telling me the other day how awesome it was. How’d you know?”
Mr. Tom pushed aside some of the basket filler so he could set down a silver tray filled with an assortment of pastries, breads, cheeses and jams. His expression was smug.
“Mr. Tom was probably listening at your door when you were talking,” I said with a chuckle, the jewelry box groaning as I flipped the lid. A diamond tennis bracelet surrounded two diamond studs, glittering in the sunlight streaming in behind me. “Oh wow, Mr. Tom, these are beautiful.”
“Yes, miss. I have excellent taste.”
I gave him a flat look, but showed Jimmy.
“Oh crap, Mom. Did he buy all of this?” Jimmy touched each item in front of him before picking up the sunglasses. “Do I have to give it back?”
“The estate bought all of this,” Mr. Tom said, “and as soon as your mother finally gets around to officially transferring it into her name, she can take credit. Until then, your thanks will have to wait in limbo, with her best of intentions.”
The flat look continued.
“That is awesome.” Jimmy put on the glasses. “I’m going to look so dope in these. They’re designer! I’ve never had anything designer before. Girls love a guy who has a little bling.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then—”
“No, no, Mr. Tom.” I held up my hand. “This is plenty. You’ll have to wait until his birthday to continue spoiling him.”
“She really can kill the mood, can’t she, Master Jimmy?” Mr. Tom tightened his lips while grabbing a bottle of champagne. “When you two are through, you may head to the back garden and begin the egg hunt.”
Jimmy laughed with maniacal delight, snapping a picture of the headset with his phone. “Max is not going to believe this. He’s going to be so jealous.”
“Share with him.” I touched Jimmy on the shoulder. “It’s okay to celebrate good fortune, but it is not okay to hold it over other people. You need to share.”
“Yes, Mom,” he replied dutifully, ever the sullen teenager when he wanted to be.
Mr. Tom hadn’t been kidding. He slipped a mimosa into my hand the second we reached the lovely white tent arching over a rectangular table surrounded by foldout chairs. White netting draped to the sides, secured to the tent poles with large cream bows, leaving it all open. Jasper and Ulric, both dressed in white slacks and tweed jackets, outfits that had undoubtedly been picked out by Mr. Tom, milled around the grass in bare feet, sipping their own mimosas. I wondered if they’d gotten baskets. Given they were both from towns that were mostly magical, where people didn’t seem to celebrate the same things, they probably thought this was yet another example of Dick and Jane oddity.
They were still looking, though. Our traditions might seem strange to them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t fun.
“Now, Master Jimmy.” Mr. Tom stood next to the tent, straight as a board, his black tux swapped out for a cream one. “The eggs are hidden in this section here.” He put his arms out to the sides. “Starting from the house and going to the edge of the wood, not beyond. I’ve hidden a hundred eggs, containing various denominations of—” He cleared his throat. “The Easter Bunny has hidden a hundred eggs, and he—it?—told me that the eggs contain various dominations of money and gems.”
“Gems?” I asked, slipping out of my shoes as well. I hoped Niamh hadn’t put nails in the grass again.
Mr. Tom half turned to me. “Do you not have gems in Easter eggs? They are worth money, so I assumed that counted? We have a ridiculous amount of them in the attic, too big or cumbersome to fit into proper jewelry. The heirs of the past accepted many gifts from hopeful suitors throughout the years, something you will likely miss out on, since you seem to be settling so early. A shame.”
“Gems…like rubies and diamonds?” I clarified. I had no idea what he meant by the rest of it
, and I didn’t care to ask.
“And semi-precious stones as well. Is that not…how it’s done?”
Jimmy’s face had gone slack as he stared at Mr. Tom.
“Be careful when you open those eggs,” I told Jimmy. “We’ll swap out the gems for paper money. Mr. Tom is not really…in touch with real life.”
“Well, whose fault is that?” Mr. Tom grumbled. “I’m not the one that’s supposed to be making these monetary decisions. Honestly, miss, you can run into battle, but you can’t take a blood oath? It’s only a little blood. Hardly a slice of the finger. You invented a game so you could get stabbed—what’s the big deal?”
“Go.” I waved Jimmy away. “Go! Go find money. Mr. Tom certainly put way too much in the eggs.”
“Did he say…” Jimmy shook his head and turned. That had done it. There was too much to unpack in what Mr. Tom had said, and Jimmy’s brain had shut down. It happened about once a day.
“It’s not the blood I’m worried about, Mr. Tom,” I said through clenched teeth, then drained my mimosa. “It’s the responsibility. I’m being asked to make a choice that will shape the rest of my life. I won’t be able to get out of it until I die. I know I took the magic, but I guess…” I pushed my hair over my shoulder, turning so the cool breeze could stroke my face. “I guess I didn’t realize the magnitude of it. I just need… I don’t know, I need a little more time, I guess. It’s thrown me for a loop.”
“Well.” Mr. Tom pulled the champagne bottle out of a silver ice bucket on the grass at the corner of the tent. “You can redo the house in your style of choice, and when you are ready, which will hopefully be soon, we can get everything squared away. A little permanence would do us all some good.”
There was nothing little about this sort of permanence.
Fourteen
Austin checked his watch as he climbed out of the Jeep, careful not to touch anything that might transfer dirt onto his crisp white pants or sky-blue polo shirt. He felt a little ridiculous in these preppy clothes, but Mr. Tom had assured him this was Dick and Jane Easter attire, similar to a garden party, and they’d all be celebrating in order to give Jimmy the best send-off they could.
Austin could use a little distraction today. His brother hadn’t just accepted his invitation—he was already on his way, expected to arrive tomorrow. Austin got the feeling that Kingsley was curious to see what Austin had made of himself. Which made him more than a little anxious, given the state of his territory. Every dick-slinging hotshot across the world, it seemed like, women as well as men, wanted to pull off Austin’s newly created mantle. Once subdued, they fell in line, but the constant challenges of lesser-powered shifters were starting to wear on him. It was tedious at best, and it sucked focus and time away from matters that desperately needed his attention, like organization and enterprise.
He caught sight of Niamh across the way, exiting her house in black pants and a black T-shirt, a small hat with a black veil pulled down in front of her face. She looked like she was headed to a funeral.
When she reached him, she said, “Well, what’s the craic?”
“Not a thing. I see you dressed for the occasion.”
“That bollocks is thick if he thinks I’ll dress how he says.”
“I did it for Jess and Jimmy. This is apparently what people wear at Easter parties.”
“What is the deal with the Easter Bunny, do ye suppose?” She headed for the side gate leading to the backyard, where the house crew had fanned out.
“What do you mean?
“Well…it’s a bunny that secretly lays eggs. Is it some sort of science experiment gone wrong, or have we gotten the laws of nature wrong, and the proof is in the mutant bunny?”
He laughed, the decorative gravel along the side of the house crunching under his feet.
“Jessie is goin’ta be a puddle of sad when the boy leaves.” Niamh slowed as they reached the grass. “She almost seems…softer when he’s around.”
Jess stood in the center of the bright green grass, dressed in a cream summer dress flowing in the breeze, two little straps clinging to her shoulders and the bodice hugging her torso. Golden light glinted off her shoulder-length brown hair, and she had a hand perched over her eyes, shading her beautiful face from the sun. Her smile lit up the yard, outshining the bright pops of fragrant flowers hugging the grass.
“Her softness seems to make yer personality a wee bit harder, no?” Niamh said.
“I hadn’t noticed her being softer, just happier. And no, it doesn’t make my personality harder.” He gritted his teeth, trying not to complain about his job. Then, because they were technically in Jess’s territory and he wasn’t the alpha here, he just admitted it: “Having to ask my brother for help with defense makes me want to scrap the whole alpha thing and go back to my old life, where I had very little responsibility.”
“Ye were wasted in your old life. Look, it’s a load of shite right now, with all these people creating hassle, but as soon as you get a few capable people in yer top tier, it’ll take the load off. I think yer just about to turn the corner, so I do.”
He really hoped she was right. Because he was about to face his successful, good-at-everything, stable older brother, and Austin didn’t have much to show for himself. He wondered how long it would take before he got the disappointed look he remembered so vividly from his youth.
“Who died?” Mr. Tom asked Niamh as they neared the tent setup on the lawn, fluffy pastries and square-cut cheeses laid out on a tray. “Couldn’t be your good mood. That has been dead since I’ve known you.”
“Yer sense of humor died, actually,” she replied. “May it rest in peace.”
“Hey!” Jess turned, her eyes sparkling with merriment. Austin stared for a moment, unable to help himself, lost in that glittering smile. “I didn’t know Mr. Tom invited you. I see you put on your garden attire.”
“Hey, alpha.” Ulric walked up with a fuchsia plastic egg in his hand, no shoes on his feet, and a sense of ease that Austin admired. “Good of you to join. We’ve just about found all of the eggs, but there might be one or two more if you want to help? At first we weren’t allowed to help, but Mr. Tom got a little too creative when he was hiding them, so Jimmy had to call in aid.”
“Yeah, sure.” Austin shrugged, falling in beside Jess, his arm brushing against hers.
“Only you could make that outfit look good,” she said softly as they strolled across the grass, eyes down but neither of them really looking.
“What do you like best? The nearly see-through pants?”
She laughed, hooking her arm through his, sending shivers racing across his skin. “I think the shirt that screams ‘I’m a nice boy’ really does it for you.”
He let himself smile, something he could no longer do outside of this property. “I’m just hoping to throw people off the scent.”
“Make them think you’re nice and then offer them a beat-down?”
“Works every time.”
They stopped at the flowers near the woods, and she leaned around to look at him. Their gazes locked for a moment, and his world spun.
“A deeper blue would really suit you,” she said. He turned so they fully faced each other, their bodies close. “It would bring out your eyes.”
Unable to help himself, he reached up and traced his thumb across her full bottom lip.
“When you became alpha, was it forever?” she asked, so softly that he had to strain to hear.
“Being an alpha is never forever. It is until someone tears you out of your position, sometimes taking your life to do so.”
“So if you don’t like being alpha, you could just step down?”
He trailed his fingertips along her jaw before skimming them down her throat, running the pads of his fingers over her jugular. A shifter would only allow someone they trusted implicitly to touch so vulnerable a place. She didn’t know that, of course, but his body responded like she did know, hard in some places and languid in others, savoring
the touch. The heat of her skin.
“No, it’s not that simple. I couldn’t just let someone else challenge me and take it, either. In becoming alpha, I’ve drawn people to the area, violent people, who need a strong hand to lead them. I’ve bought businesses and am helping others flourish. If I were to pull out, or allow someone unworthy to take my place, it would have negative effects on the community. It would hurt the territory and, most importantly, the people living here. I’m in it too far now to responsibly back away. Which is starting to chafe at present. No one told me the growing pains of starting a new territory would be so…arduous.”
“Uh-oh, you’re bringing out the thesaurus. You must be getting diplomatic on me.”
“Can you guys stop gazing into each other’s eyes and help me?” Jimmy threaded through the flowers at the edge of the wood. “This is way harder than when I was a kid.”
“Oops, Master Timmy, no.” Edgar jogged to the edge of the grass.
“It’s still Jimmy, bro,” Jimmy said dryly, moving on. “Just like yesterday, and the day before. Do vampires have terrible memories?”
“It has nothing to do with the memory,” Niamh said, hunting around the edge of the hedge labyrinth off to the right. “That one is just Froot Loops.”
“I really don’t think he’d hide anything in the flowers, Master Jimmy.” Edgar leaned over the flurry of color, his flower design like a flower fairy had drunk too much, stumbled to the area, and thrown up all her seeds in one go.
“Ah-ha!” Jimmy reached down and plucked a pastel purple egg out of the flowers. “Got it.”
Edgar’s brow lowered. “I’ll need to have a word with Mr. Tom about that next year. My flowers are not the correct place for fun and games. They are prizewinning flowers, and they should be treated as such.” Still grumbling, he wandered away.
Jess gave Austin an apologetic smile and turned, back to scanning the ground.
“Are you having second thoughts about this place?” Austin asked quietly, keeping pace. He could smell Mr. Tom’s scent, fresh in some places and stale in others, working around the garden in a set pattern. It wouldn’t take long for him to find all the eggs, even if blindfolded.