The Accords Triptych (Book 3): Heartlines

by Ian Thomas

  “I will tonight,” Eddie said.

  “Are you sure?” Matteo asked. “Full moon and all.”

  “I can handle it. I’ve taken care of my…I’m good.” Mouth didn’t understand what that meant but he figured he’d find out in time.

  “Show him the video,” Jason called out between mouthfuls.

  “The what?” Matteo asked.

  “A video of Jason’s transformation.”

  “Online?!” Eddie demanded.

  “It’s okay. It’s private.”

  “Show me,” Eddie said firmly. Mouth did as told, handing the phone over. But Eddie didn’t watch the video, instead he looked at the video’s settings. “Fuck! It’s public.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yes, it is. Three hundred views. Plus comments.”

  “Get Mic– Shit!” Matteo said. “Max. Get Max to take it down.”

  With Mouth’s phone in hand, Eddie ran up the stairs.

  “If Blackthorne or the War Wolves find out,” Matteo said, pushing Mouth out of the room toward the stairs. “Colton will be the least of our problems.”

  Worried, Mouth soon found himself amid a flurry of activity. No one spoke to him but he was central to their urgency. He replayed the uploading in his mind. There was no way he’d it public. Unless… When Kara arrived, he’d clicked the wrong option accidentally.

  XI

  Rebecca felt blindsided.

  She did not sign up for this. Not the vampires, not the werewolves, not the demon-stained boyfriend, and certainly not the dead bodies. Keeping count seemed ghoulish. Sorry, more ghoulish than everything else. But someone had to speak for the dead.

  Especially now that it was someone she knew. Someone close.

  Considering herself almost blessed, Rebecca hadn’t known death like this before. Not in this…volume. Sure, it was horrible, yes it was devastating, but more so for those left behind. She learned it from Matteo at John’s funeral. Those left behind were the truly afflicted. The devastated.

  And if she was blindsided how they feeling? Michael’s friends, his brothers, his…Rowan.

  Ever since Jason turned and Michael was killed, she’d worried about them. What further toll could this take? What could she do? Navigating their pain had been a feat of Herculean proportions to say the least.

  And the worst labor was yet to come.

  But one she knew how to handle.

  Hopefully

  “Are you sure?” McLachlan had asked.

  “Damn sure,” came her reply. “Rowan’s not gonna want you guys there. Both of you will remind her too much of Michael. Hayley and I will look after her.”

  “But–”

  “No buts,” she’d said, cutting Matteo off. “We’ll let you know when she’s settled and up to seeing you. For now, this is how we’re doing this.”

  “I can respect that,” Matteo said.

  “Cool, can we borrow a car?”

  While Mills was parking the truck, Rebecca and Hayley waited in the arrival hall at JFK. The happy shrieks and cheers of warm reunions grated on her nerves. Earlier the two women had discussed how to handle their friend. Fake smiles and balloons to lift her spirits? Neither of them would have made it across the Brooklyn Bridge with the balloons intact, let alone smiles on their faces. Dress in funereal blacks and pre-empt the mourning? Ghoulish, and a little self-indulgent.

  Suitably, they’d gone with awkward shuffling feet, restless hands, and silence. Along with a strong desire to head to the nearest bar.

  Over the heads of the crowd, Rebecca saw Arizona Chase first. His handsome face warming when he saw her. Soon they saw Rowan. Rebecca felt the tears hot on her cheeks. When her friend rushed to her crying, she felt her stomach drop.

  “He-hey,” Rebecca said, her voice ragged as she tried to form words. But Rowan was already sobbing into her shoulder, arms wrapped around both her and Hayley.

  The weight of the past few days – hell, the past few weeks – broke loose and the tears fell. No warning, just a force crashing, swamping, drowning them. Then it would draw back. Allowing breath and thought to happen. Then another wave. Grief had the pull of an ocean. Vast and powerful, yet a calm surface belies the churn of thoughts and feelings. In that moment Rebecca felt the ebb worse than the wave breaking. The joy was being swept away leaving the pain.

  Wordlessly, they parted. Faces red and blotched with tears. For the moment, the sea had calmed enough to remember they were in the terminal.

  “Good to see you,” Chase said, leaning in to kiss Rebecca on the cheek. He was upset but masking it. No doubt affected by Rowan’s grief.

  “You too. This is Hayley.”

  “Hey.” Hayley wiped her eyes, producing a box of tissues from her bag and handing them around. “Dylan okay?”

  “Yeah, he pulled his stitches a couple of times trying to hit Freddie but he’s pretty much healed now.”

  “Freddie sounds like a dick.”

  Rebecca noticed an older woman standing nearby, her eyes glassy. Some kind of grief-monger, feeding off their sorrow for her own ends no doubt.

  “Do you mind?” Rebecca asked sharply. “This is private.”

  “And this,” Chase said suddenly, “is McLachlan’s mom. Connie.”

  “No shit.”

  “Yes shit,” the woman said with a faint smile. Rebecca should’ve known by the mane of auburn hair. There’d been photos but really she should have paid more attention. “Ya fine. This is a hard time for y’all. Can see how some random stranger popping up might seem a mite odd.”

  “But you’re not some random stranger,” Rebecca babbled. “You’re McLachlan’s mother. And we really shoulda known that. I’m so sorry for before. That was rude.”

  “Y’all must be Rebecca,” Connie said, extending her hand.

  “Me? Yes, me. Yup. Hi. How was the flight? No idea you were coming.”

  “Ah thought Rowan here needed some company. ‘Sides I know McLachlan and Michael were close.”

  “Th-they w-were,” Rowan said.

  “They’re not here?” Connie asked, looking around.

  “No,” Rebecca replied, feeling she’d made an epic blunder. She gestured to herself and Hayley. “We thought maybe a little less testosterone would be good right now.” Rowan rubbed her back as a thank you.

  “Ah think that was an outstanding idea,” Connie smiled. “Perhaps we should get out of here.”

  “Gonna be a squeeze,” Rebecca said, as they walked to the carpark.

  “You don’t mind if I sit on your lap, do you?” Hayley turned to Arizona.

  “I’m sure it won’t come to that,” he replied blushing.

  “Oh it might,” Connie said.

  While Mills and Chase tried to organize the luggage and seating arrangement, only to be ordered around by Connie, Rebecca and Hayley stood to one side with Rowan.

  “How’re you doing?” Hayley asked.

  “Well, my tolerance for clichés is at an all-time low.”

  “Noted.”

  “I’m sorry. Just…thoughts, anger, everything.”

  “Understood. Completely hear you,” Rebecca said. “Just tell us what you need.”

  “This. You two,” Rowan said, taking their hands. “I couldn’t deal with Mac or Matteo right now. So much posturing.”

  “Oh god, Dylan would’ve been unbearable.”

  Rowan paused, then smiled softly. “Actually…no. He was pretty great. Freddie, on the other hand. Him I took a swing at…and may have hexed him a little.”

  “Rowan?!” Rebecca said shocked.

  “Just a little one. Nothing sinister.”

  “Some friend he is,” Hayley sneered.

  “Actually no,” Rowan repeated. “He’s pretty great too. Heart in the right place but he doesn’t have all the information.”

  “Can we not talk about the guys for one minute?” Rebecca asked.

  “Bechdel test?”

  “No,” she said angrily. “A terrible thing happened. Real
ly fucking terrible. And right now I don’t want to think about them and their egos. We’re here for you. For this. We’re gonna head back to our place and just stay there. No phones. No guys. No bullshit.” She saw a pensive look on Rowan’s face. “Only if that’s what you want of course?”

  “It is. It really is. Though Matteo and McLachlan are my friends too. So eventually…”

  “Then,” Hayley said, “we’ll take down the ‘No Boys Allowed’ sign and hang out one that says ‘No Egos Allowed’.”

  “I’d really like that.”

  With the seating and luggage sorted, they got into the car and rode back to the city. Chase ended up in the rear with the bags by his own choice, leaving Hayley, Rowan and Rebecca in the back seat. Stroking Rowan’s hair, Rebecca wasn’t surprised when her friend fell asleep on her shoulder.

  XII

  “This is demeaning,” Hale said.

  Hayley was in her element.

  Shirtless and silent, the War Wolves stood in a line the length of Matteo’s dining room. Well, mostly silent. Hale – or rather Two as he’d been designated – was bridling at the objectification. Hayley had dispensed with their names all together, instead numbering them one through seven. Surprisingly, the other wolves were all in. Including Isaac, who’d enjoyed Hayley drawing the number ‘4’ on his chest.

  Seated at the table across from them were Hayley, Rebecca, and Waseme. Even Connie had gotten in on the action.

  “Think we can safely say number two’s out,” Rebecca said. The rest of the women muttered their agreement.

  “Thank fuck,” Hale spat, relaxing.

  “Doesn’t mean we’re done with you,” Hayley snapped.

  “You get this is offensive, right?” he continued. “I’m all for gender equality as much as the next guy.” When he looked at the hulking African in the third space, the man answered by making his large pecs bounce. “But where’s the feminism in setting the bar this low?”

  “And here was me thinking you might have argued that we have more important things to worry about at a time like this than who has the best six-pack,” Hayley said, sitting forward. Behind her, Rebecca held up three fingers to Connie and Waseme. Both women nodded their agreement.

  “Well…”

  “Oh that wasn’t me asking for your opinion.” Hayley stood up. “See, this here’s damage control. You boys’re looking at a crisis. Not quite end of days, we’ll leave that to McLachlan and his buddies, shall we?”

  “I heard that!” McLachlan yelled from the kitchen.

  “Let’s just call this a prelude to war and move on. Two of the three major communities have an axe to grind with the wolves. And rightly so if you ask me. So we’re going to tap into what you boys do best and use it as a force for good.”

  “Stripping?”

  “I was gonna go with macho posturing but if the thong fits…”

  “This is bullsh–”

  “Hale,” Proctor growled. And flexed. Of all the War Wolves, Proctor had been the biggest surprise. Not because he was apparently older than Jesus, but supernaturals had a weird thing about age. Age equated to stateliness which to Hayley equated to being a prude. Especially when age was measured in millennia. But when it came to disrobing…well he’d been the first, preening ever so slightly and setting a fine example for his men. If only Hale and Isaac could’ve followed suit. “You’ll keep a gentlemanly tongue in such company. And you’ll do as you are directed. By me or by Ms Walsh. Understood?”

  “Yes sir.” He looked at Hayley, a blush burning his cheeks. “But I’m out right?”

  “Only because you don’t seem approachable and non-threatening enough to include on this little wiccan PR junket.”

  “We’re the War Wolves,” he replied as if it were the most obvious fact, “we’re supposed to be unapproachable and threatening.”

  The women looked at each and burst out laughing.

  “If he was being ironic, I’d say he’s in,” Rebecca said.

  “He’s not,” Waseme replied.

  “Okay, gentlemen, can you please smile?” Hayley asked, scrutinizing the row of men. “With teeth.”

  “Four’s out,” Connie said. “Five’s in.”

  “I know right,” Rebecca replied. “He’s got that real puppy dog look.” Quickly she turned back to the line-up. “No offense.”

  “It’s true,” Five admitted, giving his best sad puppy dog look.

  “Are we done?” Hale groaned, his patience wearing even thinner.

  Silently, Hayley eyed Hale. Practically plucked out of her workaday life and asked to run a PR campaign to ease tensions between the supernatural communities. Though damage control was her strength, she wasn’t entirely sure where to start. Endearing werewolves to the wiccan community was a helluva lot more daunting than some pop star’s casual homophobia or a member of the extended royal family’s boob shots going viral. For starters, this involved people she liked.

  Except for Hale.

  “Can’t tell if that’s privilege talking,” Hayley said, “or prejudice.” She got up from her seat and walked to the line-up. “See people forget about the optics. Think it’s shallow, demeaning, uncouth. But you really do catch more flies with honey,” Hayley paused before Hale, “than vinegar. So I’m gonna take Five and Six on this little road trip.”

  “Them?” Proctor asked, hurt.

  “Fine. You can come too. Can’t hurt having someone important in the mix.”

  “And almost all of that was insulting,” Hale said.

  “Almost?” She turned on him, sizing him up and down. “Must be losing my touch.”

  Connie laughed, heading into the kitchen and called back. “Sounds like we need more wine.”

  “You heard the lady,” Proctor said.

  “Ahem.” Waseme cleared her throat.

  “You heard the boss, we have a mission. Hale, you hold the fort here. You two, we roll out in ten.”

  The War Wolves dispersed. It was going to be a long few days, she thought, taking a slug of her wine. But she felt solid about her decision. Eddie had been her first pick. Right hand to Matteo and a War Wolf, he was a great choice. Plus his looks, charm, and wit made him ideal for her strategy. Problem was he wouldn’t leave Jason. Not now. Not during the full moon.

  “Good choices,” Waseme said, putting a hand on Hayley’s shoulder. There’d been a spark between Waseme and Three but she didn’t want to navigate a romantic or sexual liaison while trying to maintain peace.

  A very good reason Eddie wasn’t accompanying them.

  Sure she’d staked her claim, but really her timing could have been better. Hey, a lot of shit is going down, people are dying, others’ lives are being changed irrevocably, and war is about to break out, but wanna go out? Not some of her finest work.

  “Not a fan of this,” Rebecca said. “With everything going on…”

  “This is one way I can do something to stop it getting worse,” Hayley replied. “Besides Matteo’s covered our rent for the next year.”

  “What?!”

  “If you make this political and I have to take back these shoes, I’m gonna be pissed.”

  “Just unexpected is all,” Rebecca replied.

  “Not gonna argue,” Hayley said as they walked into the kitchen. Connie was looking at the wine rack. Much like Rebecca and Hayley, the woman seemed shocked at the expense and vintage of the collection.

  _ _ _

  Eyeing the wine label carefully, she slid it back into the rack. “Probably shouldn’t open something older than my marriage.”

  Rebecca laughed. She completely understood the feeling. Once he’d offered her a bottle of wine that was older than she was – possibly the same one – and she’d had to turn him down politely.

  “Good luck with that,” Hayley said. “Matteo’s all about the old.”

  “Then why do ah feel about as welcome as a wet shoe?” Connie asked.

  When both women went to protest, Connie gave them a maternal, not-about-to-take-bull
shit face and they stopped.

  “I’m gonna say you weren’t expected?” Rebecca didn’t mean for her intonation to rise quite so steeply.

  “Neither was some manufactured feud between my sons, but d’ya see me harping on about that?”

  “Ms Walsh?!” one of the chosen numbers called out from the other room.

  “Shit, that’s me,” Hayley said, hugging Rebecca. “I gotta go.” She quickly hugged Connie. “Hope you’re still here when I get back.”

  “Oh I will be. Tail up an’ all.”

  When Hayley left Rebecca took a breath and asked, “so you didn’t know? About the fake feud?”

  “I mean we should have,” Connie said. “Those two were tight growing up. Very little ever came between them. And then there was Julie.” When Rebecca went to speak, Connie held up her hands. “I know, I know. Should’ve known something was wrong then and there. Girl like that wasn’t worth spit, but here she was. Back again. Then with them at college, I guess their feud got easier to accept.”

  “Can’t have been easy.”

  “Oh it wasn’t. Worse now we know what it was all about.”

  “Hence you’re here.”

  “No slack in your rope,” Connie said. “But then you’ve stuck around this long, figure you’re crazy or a good one.”

  “Maybe a little from column A, little from column B.”

  “But y’all seem to be coping with this supernatural malarkey pretty well.”

  “Are we allowed to call it that?” Rebecca asked quietly.

  “Called it worse.”

  And she probably had, Rebecca thought. While she’d only known the woman a few hours, Connie had made quite an impression. Not dissimilar to her own mother in raising boys six years apart, Connie was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

  “Or aren’t you? Coping that is.”

  Rebecca thought about her reply. “I am. Well at least I think I am. It’s just…I’ve stopped seeing it as scary or frightening or strange. I guess that’s down to McLachlan. He makes it normal. Sure some crazy happens and I’m like here we go again, the world lurches left, shifts right, but he’s always there. A ready joke, a smile, ah…I don’t know. Just right in the center of this whole thing, he’s there and he’s so…human about it. Does that make sense?”