Night Creatures: Book 2

by Ebony Brightman

  Blake jumped in again. “What about rough sex?”

  Nisa’s face turned ten shades of red. Pamela was polite enough to keep her eyes on Blake. “While I wouldn’t recommend it, I am confident that your sister can judge for herself which sex acts are compatible with her changing body. However,”—and here she did look at Nisa—“if there’s a situation at home where contact of any kind is abusive or nonconsensual, then I’d encourage you to talk to me about it either now or in the future. There are resources we can offer and organizations that can help you extricate yourself from dangerous circumstances.”

  “I’m okay,” Nisa assured her. “Really.”

  Pamela stared at her a moment, not sure whether to believe her. Then she nodded her head and stood up. “Okay, ladies. Tell the nurse I’d like to see you in a month and she’ll schedule the appointment. She can also give you the number for a place that can perform your amnio and some literature on what foods to eat and what foods to avoid.” She opened the examination room door. “If you need anything before your next appointment, you know where to find me.”

  She closed the door behind her as she stepped into the hallway.

  #

  “I like her,” Blake said as she started up the car. “Correction. I love her. Did you see the way she kicked Shane’s ass out of her office? I might need to marry that Jorge dude.”

  Blake looked over her shoulder, ready to back out of the space, but Nisa stopped her.

  “Hold on a sec.” Blake put the car back in park, then turned to look at her sister. They were facing a concrete wall but Nisa stared as though she could see a thousand yards into the distance. “I think I need to talk to Willa.”

  Blake looked flabbergasted. “Why?”

  “Because getting an amnio is a good idea, but not if it could reveal something in the genetic or chromosomal testing.”

  Blake was confused. “Isn’t that the point of an amnio?”

  “Yes. But what if baby Lycans read as abnormal? What if they want to test the sample further?” She looked at Blake. “Willa is the only female Lycan I know. And she’s also a mother committed to family. I think she’ll be inclined to help me.”

  “She’ll be inclined to control you. I saw that woman. Give her an inch, she’ll take ten miles. Six months from now the baby will be calling her ‘mama.’”

  Nisa couldn’t help but smile. “Really? You think at only one month old she’ll already know how to speak?”

  Blake shook her head genuinely frustrated. “You know what I mean.”

  “Maybe she’ll be break dancing too. Doing tiny head spins.”

  “Nisa, this is serious.”

  “Well, no shit, Blake. Which is why, against every fiber in my being, I know I need to go see Willa.”

  “Without Arlo?”

  “I’ll tell him after. Right now I want to catch her off guard.”

  “Is that even possible? She’s a razor blade in a Gucci jacket. Ready to cut at any moment.”

  “You’re not lying. But I think she meant what she said this morning. That if she’d known about Shane—the whole truth—she’d have made a different offer.”

  “The problem is,” Blake said, “she thinks she has the right to make offers at all. If you go to her, you’re telling her it’s okay to control you.”

  “I’m willing to take that risk.”

  “Nisa, it’s not a risk. It’s a guarantee. You’re opening the door for her.”

  “That may be so, but what else can I do?”

  “Talk to Arlo first.”

  To Blake the answer was obvious. To Nisa, not so much. She pulled her sunglasses out of her purse and put them on. “If I talk to Arlo he’ll try to mediate between us. It was important that we face Willa together this morning but it’s also important that I be able to face her on my own. Now is her chance to prove herself. She’s either willing to help me, or she’s going to lose her grandniece and maybe even her nephew.”

  “I don’t know, Nisa. This just doesn’t feel right.”

  “Shane’s escalating,” Nisa stated.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “I need information about navigating this pregnancy. But I also need to make sure Willa and Callum are on my side. Arlo and I . . . I don’t want us trying to fight a battle on two fronts. Allying with Shane is not an option. For better or worse, I need for Willa and I to be unified.”

  “You’re placing a lot of faith in this woman.”

  “I am. You still got your gun on you?” Nisa wasn’t sure if she was joking or not, and by the look on Blake’s face, it seemed she wasn’t sure either.

  “You know I do.”

  “Okay then,” Nisa said. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER Nine

  Blake had refused to lend Nisa her gun. They’d argued about it all through Laurel Canyon. Blake wouldn’t relent. She’d also refused to wait in the car, insisting that she instead come in as Nisa’s armed backup. In the end Nisa agreed, with the caveat that Blake would let Nisa do all the talking. But they both knew that agreement wouldn’t last five minutes.

  Now they were sitting in the office lobby, waiting to be retrieved. The receptionist had offered them lattes. Neither had accepted, so he’d returned to his seat behind a mid-century desk. Nisa stared at the words on the wall above his head: Wolf Trap. An apt name for Willa and Callum’s production company.

  The office was much more bohemian than Nisa would’ve imagined. Willa had a penchant for modern furnishings, and in that regard, the office fit the bill, but there were also a lot of framed pictures on the walls and soft, vintage touches. That made the space feel, in Nisa’s opinion, dangerously inviting.

  She thought about texting Arlo the update on her doctor’s appointment. But then he might ask where she was, and she didn’t want to lie. Better to get this over with, then go see him after. He was working at The Joyce Building in downtown LA. The wall mural in the lobby had sustained water damage from a faulty pipe, and the building’s owners were paying him to restore it. It felt silly, but part of Nisa couldn’t wait to see her man at work. To see him in his element other than in the forest, being a wolf.

  “Nisa!” Callum boomed from across the lobby. “How lovely to see you.” He stopped to let a skittish intern cross his path then approached Nisa and Blake with open arms. He was tall and stout with white hair and a big smile. To most he looked like a friendly grandpa, but Nisa knew better. Callum was subtler about it, but he was just as ruthless as Willa.

  Nisa stood and Callum wrapped her in a hug. His demeanor was affecting, and in spite of herself she was happy to see him. He turned to Blake. “You must be Nisa’s sister.” Blake held out her hand but Callum hugged her too. Blake shot Nisa a look—she’d been ready for combat, not a man-sized teddy bear. “You’re just as lovely as Nisa.” Then he let go before things got creepy. “Any more family beauties we need to beware of?”

  “Not yet,” Blake said.

  Nisa gave Blake the “shut up” face. “It’s just me and Blake. No other siblings.”

  “Too bad,” Callum said. “Well, let me show you to Willa’s office.”

  They walked down the hall to find an open workspace bustling with people. The bohemian vibe continued with colorful lounge areas and eclectic art pieces. Private offices with glass windows lined the outer edges of the space while clusters of cubicles were spread throughout the middle.

  It was just about lunch time, and the smell of something cheesy was wafting through the office. There was an open kitchen along one wall and tables where people could meet for projects or meals. Nisa’s eyes met Lucinda’s—the woman who’d hawked her when she was questioning Willa’s grandson, Toby, in Mill Valley. She was also the woman who’d filled the Malibu Colony refrigerator for Arlo. She and an assistant were busy preparing food, but she afforded Nisa a nod as though instructed not to be rude.

  “So,” Callum said, “I hear congratulations are in order.” He was guiding them toward wide metal steps that led to an office encased in
glass. Nisa looked up to see Willa sitting on the edge of her desk, talking on the phone.

  “I suppose they are. Thank you.”

  Nisa started up the stairs but Blake paused, her eyes glued on the kitchen. “You know what? I think I better go check out that smell.”

  “Please do.” Callum chuckled. “Lunch will be ready any minute.”

  Nisa’s mouth fell open as Blake backed away from the steps. Blake raised her hands, palms up as she registered Nisa’s disapproval. “I’ll be right over there. The office has glass walls. I’ll be able to see everything.” Then she patted the bulge in her bag, as if that were reassurance.

  Nisa looked away, shaking her head as she resumed climbing the stairs. Blake had always liked food, but this was ridiculous.

  Willa’s office door was open. She waved Nisa in as she finished her conversation. Nisa had expected Callum to follow her inside, but he’d closed the door behind her and walked back down the stairs.

  “I’m thinking one more rewrite and we’ll be good.” Willa paused to listen but was watching Nisa and nodded for her to sit on the sofa. “Uh-huh. If we’re not we’ll hire someone else.”

  Nisa did as she was bidden. A black-and-white photo of Arlo, Owen, and a girl Nisa had never seen before was sitting on an end table. Nisa picked it up for a closer look. A much younger Arlo and Owen had their shirts off, while the girl was wearing a bikini. They had their arms around one another and huge smiles on their faces.

  She replaced the picture and looked through the office windows. She could see Century City. And, if the sky hadn’t been hazy, maybe all the way to the ocean. Toward the inside, she could see out over the office. Fifteen or so employees had started to gather as Lucinda set out a big tossed salad, a casserole of what looked like mac ’n’ cheese, and a platter of roasted chicken.

  Blake, carrying a plate of hot food, looked up at Nisa and winked. Nisa continued to watch as an attractive man about four inches shorter than Blake invited her to sit. Her sister obliged the man—but not before spearing an extra serving of chicken breast.

  “Okay, Trevor. We’ll touch base next week.” Willa hung up the phone and aggressively exhaled, as though exhausted from doing business with morons. Then she reached over her desk, pressed a button, and the once-clear glass turned frosty white.

  Nisa stiffened, the Wolf Trap moniker again becoming a warning. The now-opaque walls more privacy than she’d bargained for.

  Willa looked as sleek and unruffled as she had that morning. Nisa suddenly wished she was wearing something “tougher” than a halter dress with a watercolor pattern that cinched at the waist, while Willa was wearing flexible armor. But then Nisa remembered that she was no weakling no matter how many pastels were swirling on her dress.

  Willa sat on the couch with Nisa and crossed her legs. “What can I do for you, my dear?”

  The yearning to confide in Willa—to find solace in a woman who was already a mother—took Nisa by surprise. Her own mom had passed long ago, and she didn’t have many friends she hadn’t met through Shane. There was no one else to absolve her of her fears. But that would give Willa more power. So she stayed silent for a moment, composing her thoughts.

  “Nisa,” Willa spoke again. “I know you’re distrustful of me. I know you think I don’t have your best interest at heart . . .” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “What I did to you in Mill Valley was, to say the least, unfair. I threw you a bone in the interest of the pack, but now that I know you and Arlo . . . That it’s serious, I truly want to be there for you. Lycans can be overbearing. I can be overbearing. But you don’t have to do this alone. Whether or not the baby is Arlo’s—”

  Nisa interrupted. “I came here to ask your advice.” Willa opened her mouth and then closed it again. “I want this baby to be Arlo’s. I’m hoping beyond hope that it is. But if it is, then that means it’s half Lycan, and I don’t know what to expect.”

  Willa held her hands open and apart, not unlike Blake when she’d gone in search of food. “Ask away.”

  “I’m thirty-eight, which means a higher risk of complications. My OB is recommending an amniocentesis to ferret out fetal abnormalities, but it can also be used to establish paternity. So you can see why I’m inclined to have the test done.”

  Willa was nodding her head, already understanding. “And you want to know if one of those abnormalities would reveal the baby’s Lycanthropy.”

  “Yes.” Nisa’s heart sped a little. “Exactly.”

  “The answer is yes. The test could very likely reveal genetic markers that would be flagged by your doctors. They probably wouldn’t know exactly what they were looking at, but they’d know they were looking at something.”

  “So your recommendation is that I don’t have the test.”

  “Lycan babies are strong. We heal quickly and the gene does much to eliminate any other genetic or chromosomal anomalies. Even those who never express the Lycan gene still tend to be more robust and healthy. But as of now, we have no way of determining whether this baby is part Lycan or not. It would still behoove you to have the test.”

  “How do I do that and not put my baby in danger if it’s Lycan?”

  Willa stood back up and walked to her desk. “You go to a Lycan-friendly doctor.” She picked up her smartphone and began scrolling through. “Someone who is either Lycan, or who knows about us, and is paid very well to keep their mouth shut.” She looked up at Nisa. “I’m sending you the contact.”

  Nisa heard the phone buzz in her bag. “How much will this doctor cost me?”

  “Nothing. Like I said, he’s paid very well to keep his mouth shut. Part of that pay involves seeing Lycan patients. He can’t bill your insurance because then they’d want access to your medical records and that could potentially become a security breach. I also know that not every Lycan can afford to pay doctors out-of-pocket, so for things like this, we keep doctors on the payroll who understand our physiology.”

  “If this guy is on your payroll, does that mean you’ll have access to my medical records.”

  Willa genuinely stopped to consider. “I suppose if I asked him he might feel inclined to tell me, but it’s honestly never come up.”

  Nisa and Willa stared at one another. “Can you promise me that you won’t ask to see them?”

  Willa tossed her phone of the desk, then leaned against the edge and crossed her arms. “It is my grandniece or nephew, Nisa. You can’t really expect me not to be interested in the baby’s health.”

  “What I expect is that you respect my privacy. There will to be times in this pregnancy when I’ll need your counsel. You’ve been through this before and if this baby is Lycan, it would be nice to know what’s normal and what’s not. But I won’t do that if you’re telling me you can’t be trusted. You held out an olive branch to me this morning, and now I’m taking it. Please don’t ruin it by trying to control me or my baby.”

  Willa pursed her lips. Nisa could tell she wasn’t used to being called on her shit. “Okay. I won’t pry. But Arlo is like a son to me. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to want to be updated.”

  Arlo was Mexican, while Willa looked Eastern European. Nisa was curious how exactly they were related but now didn’t seem like the right time for that question. “I can do that, but updates will be given by me or Arlo at our discretion.”

  “Fair enough,” Willa said.

  Nisa stood up and walked toward the door. The glass became clear again as Willa pressed the control button. Blake was still down on the main floor—only now there was a crowd standing around rooting her and Callum on as they arm-wrestled.

  “You know, this went a lot better than I thought it would. My sister had me convinced you’d try to take the baby and raise it as your own.”

  “Oh no.” Willa walked her to the door. “Lycan babies need to be with their mothers to thrive. If I wanted the baby that badly I’d have to take you both.”

  Nisa laughed but the look on Willa’s face was serious. Nisa wasted
no time hurrying down the stairs and collecting her sister.

  #

  On the way out, Willa invited Nisa, Arlo, and Blake to Saturday night dinner. Nisa cautiously accepted. Today had been a positive step forward, but she and Willa were still feeling each other out.

  Blake had asked Lucinda to pack a doggy bag for Nisa, and Nisa happily ate the contents while Blake drove.

  Lucinda was a stunning cook. The mac ’n’ cheese Nisa had smelled did not disappoint. The pasta was mixed with cheddar, Gruyère, and a hint of white truffle. The chicken breast had been roasted with rosemary and, even after being sliced, was still succulent and moist. The salad was simple—kale, green onions, and basil with a lemon-honey dressing. But together the flavors were incredible.

  Blake glanced over at Nisa as she tore down the 10 FWY. “Good, right?”

  Nisa didn’t answer, just took another gooey bite.

  “Now you see why I skipped the heart-to-heart.”

  “No,” Nisa said. “I really don’t.”

  Blake was taking her downtown to The Joyce. It was an older, historical building that once accessed the original Los Angeles subway. Nisa remembered reading about it in the Los Angeles Times. For many years it was derelict, then developers purchased it during the downtown revival. They’d gutted the building and poured a lot of money into modernizing the space. Now it was a “must see” for both locals and visitors.

  “You didn’t even want me to come in!” Blake protested. “What happened to, ‘Give me your gun and wait in the car?’”

  “My expectations changed once I thought I had a wing-woman.”

  “Well, it must have gone well. Or else we wouldn’t be going to their house for dinner, right?”

  “Yeah, actually it did. But we’ll see. She gave me the name of a doctor who can do the amnio. A doctor who’s on the pack payroll.”