SONS of DON

by Brenda L. Harper

  The play ended, and Cei settled back down beside her. He slipped his hand into hers and leaned close to whisper, “I hope you’re not too miserable.”

  “How could I be miserable?” She laid her head on his shoulder for a brief moment. “As long as you’re having fun.”

  He groaned. “I’ve been around long enough when a woman is just trying to placate me,” he said, kissing her cheek lightly. “But I’ll take it.

  The crowd around them began to cheer again as the next play ended in a touchdown. Cei was immediately on his feet again, screaming and exchanging high fives with the people around them. Rhein had stood, too, but he quickly settled back down beside Gwen.

  “It’s a good game.”

  “Wouldn’t know.”

  He looked at her for a long second. “You want to go get something to drink?”

  She nodded. The relief must have been clear on her face because Rhein stifled a laugh as he stood. She followed him out of the stands and along the concrete path that led to the snack shack at the far side of the field. There was a line that wrapped around the outside of the building, and the front of the narrow building where the bathrooms were also sported an impressive line.

  “Texans and football,” Rhein said. “I’ve never seen anything like it anywhere else.”

  “They take it pretty seriously.”

  “They? You don’t consider yourself a Texan?”

  Gwen shrugged. “You have to be born in the state to be considered a Texan. I have no idea where I was born.” She buried her fingers in her pockets as a cold breeze picked up around them. “Could have been Guam, for all I know.”

  Rhein tilted his head, as though considering that idea. “Guam? No, you don’t have the right accent for that.”

  She laughed. “What does accent have to do with it?”

  “Everyone has an accent from the place they were born. It’s a scientific fact.”

  “You don’t.”

  Rhein leaned close to her, as though what he was about to say was a secret. “You haven’t heard me when I’m mad yet.”

  “Hmm. So that Welsh accent comes out, but only when you’re mad?”

  “Exactly.”

  They moved forward in the line a few feet. Gwen shivered, that breeze moving up around them again. It had seemed so warm out when she left the house, but now there was a definite chill to the air.

  “Cold?”

  Rhein had his jacket off before she could object. It was warm, the heat of his body still caught in the cotton material of the lining. She pulled it tight around her, the jacket so much bigger than her that she could almost wrap it fully around herself twice. And it had this delicious scent to it…one that made her think things she knew she shouldn’t.

  They moved forward again.

  “So, last night…”

  Gwen looked up into dark blue eyes that were softened by something like understanding. She sighed as she bit the inside of her lip. She’d already had this conversation with Cei—and then Tony and Theresa, who explained that if she got killed on their watch, the state would take the twins, Anna, and Melanie from them, too—so she wasn’t really in a hurry to have it again. But she knew Rhein had gone out looking for her. She felt like an explanation was the least she owed him.

  “I got spooked. I just…I had to get out of there.”

  “Was it the crowd? Or did you see something?” He stepped back a foot or so, instinctively aware that the line had moved again. “Cei said he thought you’d seen Bran.”

  “I did see Bran. But it wasn’t that. It was…”

  She hadn’t told Cei about the warning the wind had given her, or how she had imagined that the fire turned into a creature that reached out to grab her. It seemed crazy, now that she thought about it. Even with all the things she had learned over the last few weeks, it still seemed completely insane that a fire could take on a personality, that it could become a creature intent on hurting her.

  But she knew what she had seen.

  Rhein didn’t push her. He stood with his back to the line, watching her with that same gentle, kind expression. Gwen wanted to tell him the truth. She wasn’t sure why she felt like she could trust him, but not Cei. Wasn’t even sure it was about trust. Maybe it was just his kind face…not that Cei’s face wasn’t kind. In fact, side by side, she couldn’t tell which one had the kindest, or the most handsome, face. There must have been something about the way the Welsh chose their immortals during the Iron Age.

  “You’ve been through a lot in the last few weeks, Gwen. Learning about all of this…I can’t imagine how overwhelming it is. I’m not sure I would have taken it as well as you have.”

  “Yeah?”

  He turned slightly, but leaned over a little so that the corner of his head nearly touched the top of hers. “And you’re going to see things…I’ve known other demigods who saw some pretty unbelievable things, but it’s all real, it’s all a part of who you are and what you are. And—someday—it’ll make sense.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know.” He looked down at her, his gaze so filled with compassion that she wanted to melt into him, into his gentle nature. “You just have to survive long enough to get to that moment.”

  “How many of your previous charges survived to figure this thing out?”

  Rhein straightened again and turned, following the line as it moved inside the small cinderblock building that housed the snack shack. “That doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

  “I want to know.”

  Rhein gestured to the menu board. “Pick anything you want. I’m buying.”

  His words were generic, the kind that you hear every day and don’t really mean anything. But to Gwen, they were like the ice bucket challenge, like someone had just poured a pickle bucket full of water and ice over her head.

  He didn’t want to tell her. That told her everything.

  None of them had survived.

  She and Morgan…they were the only ones.

  Chapter 10

  “I knew this would be perfect,” Theresa said as she stepped back and studied Gwen in the mirror. “Your face was made for a tiara.”

  Gwen reached up and touched the cubic zirconia stones on the silver tiara Theresa had just spent the last fifteen minutes carefully settling among the curls and bobby pins that were her hair tonight. She had this terrible urge to run her fingers through the carefully arranged French knot, to pull all this feminine crap out of her hair. But even she had to admit that she looked pretty good.

  A pale blue dress fell from thin straps over her shoulders to just above her knees, the material hugging all the right places and flowing from all the wrong ones. She had never liked wearing dresses, but she felt almost like a girl in this. Almost.

  “You’re sure it’s not too much?” she asked, her fingertips barely scraping over the very top of the tiara.

  “It’s perfect,” Theresa repeated, so much pride in her voice that Gwen was afraid she would break her heart if she protested much more.

  Gwen studied her transformed face for a moment—she was wearing makeup…she never wore makeup—and let a slow smile slip over her lips.

  “Thank you for helping me.”

  “Of course.” Theresa touched her shoulder lightly. “I know we’ve only known each other a short time, Gwen, but I like to think we’re friends, at least.”

  The friends talk.

  Gwen had heard this before. She’d heard just about every variation of the foster mother-trying-to-be-your-buddy talk. Twenty-two foster homes in fourteen years. Twenty-two foster mothers who didn’t want to be her mother, but hoped they could at least be friends.

  But, again, none of those twenty-two women had known the things about Gwen Theresa knew. So, maybe she should give her a break.

  “We are,” Gwen said.

  Theresa smiled that wide smile she seemed to wear like a badge of honor. Or a mask to hide a certain amount of fear of her wild, unpredictable foster kids. But she didn’t
say anything else. She just patted Gwen’s arm and walked out of the room.

  Gwen picked up her shoes from the floor, a pair of pumps Theresa bought her the same day they bought the dress. At that time, Gwen hadn’t really thought she would go through with this. She thought she would talk her way out of it. But that was before Cei, before he asked her to go with him, before he kissed her and promised they wouldn’t have to stay very long.

  A slow smile spread over her lips as she remembered that kiss. Would it always make her heart flutter whenever he looked at her that way? Whenever he touched her that way? Gwen had come to the conclusion a long time ago that she was too jaded to allow anyone to reach her on an emotional level. She’d been hurt too many times. But it just felt different with Cei.

  She hoped it was always different with Cei.

  She stood, a little unsteadily on the unfamiliar heels, and checked her reflection in the mirror one last time. She touched the tip of the arched tiara, still not sure it wasn’t too much, but secretly pleased with the way it made her look. She felt like a princess. Wasn’t every little girl supposed to feel that way at least once in her life?

  She grabbed a light sweater and headed downstairs, her thoughts drifting. Melanie must have been waiting for her because she was right there when Gwen stepped onto the second floor landing, the dark expression on her pretty features suggesting she didn’t want to wish Gwen a good time at the dance.

  “You think you’re really something, don’t you?”

  “No,” Gwen said, nervously smoothing down the skirt of her dress. “But you seem to think so, as you’ve told me several times.”

  Melanie’s eyes narrowed slightly. She stepped forward, her eyes moving from the tip of Gwen’s shoes to the top of her tiara. She reached up, as though to give the tiara a little shove, but Gwen stepped back.

  Gwen had been in enough foster homes—and dealt with enough kids with chips on their shoulders from whatever baggage their experiences had dumped there—to know when someone was aching to start a fight. She really didn’t want to fight tonight.

  “I should go,” Gwen said, gesturing toward the stairs. “They’re waiting for me.”

  “You mean Cei’s waiting for you.”

  Gwen tilted her head slightly. “I know you like him, Melanie. I’m sorry things haven’t gone the way you thought—”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  She only nodded, not sure how else to acknowledge the statement without inciting Melanie’s anger even more.

  “I was here long before you,” she said, stepping toward Gwen again, her finger pointed like a gun cocked and ready to fire. “I’ve known Theresa and Tony longer than you. And Cei…” She seemed to hesitate there. “You come marching in here like you’re someone important, like the whole world revolves around you.”

  “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “Intention?” Melanie shook her head, the greasy knots in her blonde hair bouncing off her cheeks. “You don’t even talk like one of us. You talk like you think you’re better than everyone.”

  Gwen started to bite her lip, but then remembered the lipstick Theresa had carefully helped her apply. Instead, she stepped back, again smoothing the folds of her dress tighter against her slim hips. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “I want you to leave.”

  Gwen laughed. She didn’t mean to, it just kind of slipped out. The idea that she could leave here, now, after everything that had been revealed to her, was somehow comical to her. A month ago, even a few weeks ago, the idea of moving on to another home, to another group of broken kids and well-meaning foster parents, wouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But now—there was no other place out there where the people knew and understood Gwen’s special circumstances. For once, she had found the one place where she really belonged, whether she liked the idea or not.

  Melanie didn’t find Gwen’s reaction all that funny.

  She shoved Gwen into the wall behind her. Her head snapped back, slamming against the plaster with a hard crack. She saw stars for a moment as shock slowed her reaction. She barely saw Melanie coming at her again. In the last instance, she saw Melanie’s intention in her raised fist and she ducked, sliding under Melanie’s arm as the momentum of her punch threw her forward. Melanie hit the wall with a resounding thud.

  It only made her angrier.

  “You bitch!”

  Melanie rushed at Gwen. She was shorter than Gwen, heavier, too. She probably could have gotten the better of Gwen—especially in this awkward getup—if the things that had happened these last weeks hadn’t happened. But they had.

  Gwen waved a hand in the air and watched as Melanie stopped, as though she’d just walked into a solid, brick wall. She cried out, her nose immediately becoming something of a facet, blood gushing so quickly it stained the front of her white t-shirt before she could lift a hand to stem the flow.

  “What the…?” She touched the wall in front of her, her hand flattening visibly against the invisible barrier. “What did you do?” Her eyes widened as her hand moved upward, then down. “What are you? You…you’re a freak!”

  Gwen backed up, her hands behind her searching for the edge of the banister. “I’m sorry about your nose,” she said as she took the first two or three steps down backward so that she could watch Melanie. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Gwen didn’t turn until she was nearly at the bottom of the stairs. The moment she did, she could hear Melanie’s pounding footsteps as she was suddenly freed from the barrier. Gwen expected Melanie to grab her as she rounded the final few steps, but she didn’t.

  “Oh, don’t you look lovely?”

  Tony and Theresa were waiting in the living room with a camera. Rhein, Morgan, and a couple of girls Gwen recognized from school were sitting on the couch. Rhein smiled softly when Gwen came into the room, a smile that she would remember in her dreams that night.

  And then Cei stepped forward.

  He was dressed in a casual suit, a dark blue that made his eyes stand out even more than they usually did. There was no tie, but his crisp white shirt made his fading summer tan look fresh, his dark hair seem almost exotic. He was holding the traditional mum he’d given her that morning, the ribbons and bells shivering with his movement. His fingers shook a little as he hooked it to her chest. She was pretty sure that last little caress was intentional, but couldn’t read his expression as easily as she’d been able to before.

  Melanie burst into the room behind them, her hand covered in blood where she still held it to her nose.

  “Melanie!” Theresa cried as she shoved the camera in Tony’s hand and rushed to her side. “What happened?”

  Gwen glanced at her, more curious than anything else to hear what she might say. Melanie met her eye, that dark expression still there—maybe a little darker than before—but when she spoke, there was only embarrassment in her tone.

  “I walked into the wall.”

  “How on earth did you do that?”

  “I was texting.”

  Theresa shook her head as they led Melanie into the kitchen. “I’ve told you that phone would be hazardous,” she said over her shoulder, apparently to Tony.

  Tony just shrugged.

  ***

  After more than a dozen photos of the six of them and a quick ride in Rhein’s car—Morgan and the two girls shoved in the backseat while Gwen rode on Cei’s lap—they arrived at the dance, which was being held at a local hotel, in high spirits. Cei immediately took Gwen’s hand and led her out to the dance floor, tugging her close to him despite the quick, bass-heavy beat of the current song. He swung her around and moved her into a steep dip, making her laugh as he lifted her back to her feet.

  “You are going to have a good time tonight,” he said, his lips brushing her cheek. “That’s an order.”

  She laughed again. “So, now you’re my commanding officer?”

  “I am your guardian, your friend, and your boyfriend.”


  “You are.”

  She felt his smile more than saw it. They were dancing practically cheek to cheek—although he was significantly taller than her, so it was more cheek to chest when he wasn’t leaning down toward her—their bodies moving in perfect time with one another. She’d never danced before. She’d never bothered to go to a school dance. Never saw the point. So this was another first for her, one of many she anticipated experiencing with Cei.

  As the music shifted from hard rock to ballad, he straightened so that she could move even closer against him. She rested her cheek against his arm and found herself watching the crowd around them from the center of the room. Morgan was laughing near the refreshment table with a bunch of boys from their history class, his date nowhere in sight. Ms. Dru was there, too, standing not far from Morgan, looking at him as though she couldn’t quite understand him. The girl from Gwen and Cei’s French class who was always watching Cei was dancing with one his football buddies, but she was watching him just as she did in class.

  And then there was Rhein.

  Girls just seemed to gravitate toward the two of them. Tonight was no exception. Rhein was surrounded by girls where he sat at one of the many tables situated to the back of the dance floor. His date was there, clinging to his hand as though she was afraid he would drift away if she didn’t anchor him down. But there were others—some cheerleaders, some wallflowers who’d been brave enough to come to the second biggest dance of the year without a date—sitting in the chairs around him or standing behind him, as though just being near him gave them some sort of social creed.