chapter Twenty-One
Inside my skull, behind the intense headache that had blossomed out of nowhere, a thousand different versions of what the f*ck were bouncing against the sensitive tissue of my brain, bruising me with their sharp, jagged edges.
What came out when I opened my mouth was, “Wuhhhuuueeeezzzzeeee.”
“I guess she didn’t get around to telling you about them when she saw you in New York.”
“She was too busy trying to shred my face.”
“Yes, well. Not the best time for her to deliver such news.” He gave a half shrug.
“Them. You said plural. How many bastard pups has Mercy kicked to the curb?” My heart was hammering against my sternum. I often found that snark was a great way to mask other real emotions. I didn’t have a name for what I was feeling now. Terror… Excitement…
It was motherf*cking hope.
“Three. You were first, of course. Then about four years after she abandoned you, she came back seeking refuge. She had the twins with her then, only a few weeks old. We took her in because she was a rightful member of the pack and she was afraid for the safety of her babies. By morning, Mercy was gone, and we raised her pups as part of the pack.”
“Twins.”
“Yes. You’ve met your brother.”
I choked when I tried to swallow.
“Ben,” Callum clarified. “I sent him with Amelia as one of my emissaries in February.”
Oh my God. I’d shaken hands with my own brother and hadn’t had the faintest idea of who he was. I remembered how I’d marveled about us sharing the same last name and wondered how much family I had down here I didn’t know about.
All the while my family had been within reach.
“And your sister…”
I thought of the ages, my heart throbbing. “Magnolia?”
Callum laughed then. “No, no. Magnolia is Amelia’s daughter. Your sister is part of the reason I asked you here.”
“Why?”
“Eugenia, your sister, took on the change at the same time Ben did. Afterwards, Eugenia became difficult. Not like a normal teenager, but something different. The Awakening altered her somehow.”
“How?”
“We haven’t been able to find out. Within the year she ran away. We know where she is, but we can’t get her to come home.”
“You’re the king, she’s pack. It can’t be too hard.”
“You of all people should know nothing is that simple with high-spirited, teenaged werewolves.” He raised one brow and gave me a meaningful look. “She is with family, which is enough for me to believe she’s safe. But she is eighteen now. It’s time for her to come back, and that’s where you come in.”
“How am I going to convince an eighteen-year-old to come home if you’ve already failed?”
“How you do it isn’t my concern. I’m sure you have ways of being very persuasive.”
Sure, but they usually involved broken fingers or silver weapons of some kind. I didn’t want that to be my introduction to my sister.
My sister. I rolled the words around in my head over and over until they almost lost meaning. But they never lost their power.
“You said you know where she is. She’s with family?”
“Yes.” He ran one big hand through his curls and shook his head in a bemused and exhausted way. “She’s with Vivienne’s mother. Your great-grandmother.”
Jesus, how much had Grandmere been keeping from me? I was willing to give her a pass on the twins since I doubted there was any way for her to know about them unless Mercy herself had told Grandmere. Which was about as likely as a monkey sprouting wings out of its butt.
But her own mother was here and I didn’t know. I had a living great-grandmother and I didn’t know. My family had gone from one to a full tree in a very short span of time. Too short. I was having a hell of a time processing it all.
“So you want me to skip through the woods to great-grandmother’s house and be the Big Bad Wolf to bring Red Riding Hood home?”
“I wouldn’t have phrased it like that.”
“No doubt.”
“Your great-grandmother isn’t the kind of woman you should underestimate. I presume I won’t be blowing your mind if I tell you my mother is a witch?”
“You could tell me she’s a dragon and I wouldn’t be fazed at this point. But yes, I know she’s a witch.”
“Well, her type of magic isn’t solely learned. Vivienne is a witch by birth, which isn’t common. Her mother is well-known in these parts as a witch of impressive power. She is called La Sorcière. You must treat her magic as you would any weapon. Respect it.”
Magic was the one weapon I couldn’t turn on the wielder and use to my advantage. I had a healthy dose of respect for the stuff. But Grandmere was in her sixties, meaning La Sorcière had to be pushing eighty, or more. What could an octogenarian really do to me?
I knocked on Callum’s desk to protect myself from my own cocky thoughts.
“Bring home Eugenia, that’s it?”
“Bring her home and I will give my blessing to yours and Lucas’s marriage.”
I let out a breath. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”