A few minutes after I settled down, a man and a woman came in and took the spot by the door, opposite me. Pearce Bailey and Jezebel. The two renders, both from the bouda clan.
Pearce was compact, dark-skinned, with calculating eyes and a serious expression on his face. I didn’t know much about him except for the fact that Aunt B had trusted him completely.
Jezebel, on other hand, I knew very well. A few weeks before I became Curran’s Consort, Jezebel had challenged her sister Salome for her position in the bouda clan. According to Pack law, challenges were always to the death. Jezebel lost. She was clinically dead for several minutes, but somehow her body bounced back to life, and Salome couldn’t bear to kill her again. This left Jezebel outside Clan Bouda’s structure, so when I ended up in the Keep, alone, with Curran in a coma and facing challenger after challenger, Aunt B assigned Jezebel and Barabas to me to watch my back and help me navigate the murky waters of Pack politics. For almost two years Jezebel was my constant backup. As long as she was there, nobody would stab me in the back.
She was also about the only person Julie would listen to. Jezebel had watched over Julie for the duration of my time as Consort. I didn’t know about every scrape Julie got into, but occasionally things would happen and Jezebel would handle it. My kid always came home alive and Jezebel always kept Julie’s secrets.
After Curran and I separated from the Pack, I thought Jezebel would come with us, but she chose to remain with the Pack instead. She had been trained as a render before becoming my backup and Julie’s guard, and she went back to it. Last I heard she had found a nice guy and adopted his little daughter.
“Hi, Jezebel.”
“Hello, Alpha.”
“Not an alpha anymore.”
“You will always be my alpha. How’s Julie?”
“She’s doing well in school. She made friends. She had a sleepover the other night while the tech was up with two of her girlfriends. They watched a funny movie.”
“Is she still struggling with math?”
“She got an A in geometry and a C in algebra. Apparently, algebra is boring.”
“I’m glad she hasn’t changed.” Jezebel flashed her teeth in a quick smile.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I’m good. Can’t complain. I’m glad to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you too, Jezebel.”
Jezebel’s face settled back into a neutral expression. It was all business today and I was no longer in her direct chain of command.
The renders were the Pack’s elite soldiers, as close to a biological weapon of mass destruction as you could get. They were strong, fast, and precise, and if Andrea or Raphael went nuts because their baby was born loup, the two renders would do whatever they had to do to neutralize them.
Both Pearce and Jezebel were watching me carefully. They assessed me as a potential threat. They weren’t entirely wrong. If Andrea busted out of that door, carrying her child and trying to escape, I wasn’t sure what I would do. I would probably help her. It would be wrong and would make things harder on everyone, but in that moment she would be my friend running for her life and I would do what I had to do to keep her safe. The renders would present a formidable obstacle: Pearce was bad news from what little I could remember of him, and Jezebel would prove a problem. I had seen her take people down, and once she got her hands on them, they didn’t get back up.
I could see Jim’s hand all over this. Julie owed Jezebel her life for at least one incident. Jim handpicked Jezebel for this guard duty because he knew both Andrea and I would be reluctant to hurt her.
I would still fight them.
That was why I made a piss-poor Consort. Following the laws, even fair ones, was never my strongest suit.
Pearce rose and walked away. Jezebel and I kept eye contact, smiling at each other. The male render returned and sat back on the couch. Nobody said anything. I got up, took a paperback from a basket Doolittle kept by the door, and began reading.
We sat quietly for another half hour. Andrea would be fine. She would be completely fine. Her baby would be fine, too. I had gotten to the part where the diabolical serial killer had killed the heroine’s dog and burned down her apartment when the two renders sat a little straighter in their seats. I glanced at the door. Curran came in, making no sound as he moved. He sat next to me, picked up my hand, and squeezed it.
“Are you okay?”
No. “Yes.”
He kept his fingers wrapped around mine. Yeah, he wasn’t buying it. That’s the trouble with sharing your life with someone. They know when you bullshit.
The two renders relaxed.
“Called in the cavalry?” I asked them.
“Just being proactive,” Pearce said.
Jezebel gave me an apologetic look.
“Andrea and Raphael are members of the Pack,” Curran said. “The law is clear, and they know exactly what to do. You aren’t a member of the Pack and you’re the former Consort. It’s confusing, and renders don’t like confusing.”
“No, my lord,” Jezebel said. “We don’t.”
“Not your lord anymore.” Curran smiled at her.
“How did it go at the Guild?” I asked.
“It went fine. Had some minor annoying things to take care of. Anyway, Ascanio said you went to see the witches.”
My whole body tried to squeeze itself into a fist. “Later.”
Curran studied me. “Okay. Later.”
“Andrea’s been taking panacea,” I said.
“Yes.”
“She will be fine.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Her baby won’t go loup.” I was talking to myself now.
“It will be okay, baby.”
The double doors clanged open. The renders and I jumped to our feet. Curran wrapped his arms around me, pinning my back to his chest. Nasrin appeared in the doorway, her face tired.
I forgot how to breathe.
“Come on.” Nasrin stepped aside, letting us through.
We followed her through the doors. My heart was beating too fast. Andrea half lay, half sat on the bed, propped up on pillows, her blond hair damp, looking like she’d sprinted all the way to Florida and back. Raphael stood next to her with his back to us. Doolittle slumped in his wheelchair, exhausted. The rest of the people must’ve left through the side door.
Where was the baby?
Raphael turned. A small bundle of blankets rested in his arms. He moved one of the folds aside, revealing a tiny red squished face and a shock of dark hair.
“Beatrice Kate Medrano,” he said. “Named after her grandmother and you.”
“Me?”
“You. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have met,” he said.
Andrea opened her eyes and smiled. “We’re going to call her Baby B.”
“No trace of loupism,” Nasrin said behind us.
“Here.” Raphael handed me the baby.
Aaa!
“It’s okay.” Andrea chuckled. “She isn’t made of glass.”
I very carefully took the baby. She was so tiny. So light. Her little hands were curled into fists. There was nothing and now there was a life. A little tiny helpless life.
I stood perfectly still and watched her breathe. She was full of light. It seemed to stream from her little plump cheeks and her dark eyelashes, suffusing her whole body. Her fingers were so tiny.