The Beast

SEVENTY-ONE

The resilience of children was amazing, Mary thought later as she and Bitty and Rhage drove up to the front of the Brotherhood mansion.

In spite of everything she had been through, the girl was open-eyed and open-hearted at the prospect of a totally different kind of life, ready for anything, excited, happy. Then again, she was with people who loved her, even if it felt too early to speak of it.

Which wasn’t to say there hadn’t been some sadness. Especially as she and Bitty had been up in that attic room at Safe Place, retrieving the two suitcases. When the girl had asked if she could bring her mother’s things too, Mary had teared up. And then there had been the urn.

But overall, this was joyous. And Mary was focusing on that.

As she stopped the GTO right at the foot of the stone steps, it was probably overkill, given that the little girl didn’t have more than those two pieces of luggage and the urn.

But somehow, she just wanted to get Bitty in the house—and any distance seemed too far away. After Rhage had called Wrath, and Mary had called Marissa, it was decided that under a foster care situation, there was no reason Bitty couldn’t move in. Besides, it would mean that Doc Jane and Manny could check her out medically more easily, and there was really nothing to hold her at Safe Place.

The fact that there was no paperwork yet made Mary a little uneasy, but Ryhm was taking care of that. What was really worrisome? The six-month waiting period was starting tonight, and until that mutually agreed-upon clock ran out, this wasn’t a done deal.

And yes, Mary would continue to look for the hypothetical uncle, even though it gave her a frickin’ heart attack anytime she thought of that male coming out of the woodwork.

Still, she had a duty to do right by Bitty.

“Are we here?” Rhage asked. “I think we’re here. Bitty, what do you see?”

“Do the Munsters live in this house?” the girl asked. “It looks like the Munsters’ house, only . . . how big is it?”

“Hundred rooms or so. It’s tight quarters, but we manage to make it work.”

Rhage’s hand flapped around the door until he hit the handle and opened things up. As he stood up, he tightened the blanket wrapped around his waist and nearly tripped on the curb.

Mary turned the engine off, and pulled the emergency brake. When she glanced back at Bitty, the girl was just staring up at the great stone expanse. Cradled in her arms, right against her chest, were her mother’s ashes in that urn.

This was not a restart, Mary reflected.

This was not even a reset, an erase . . . or a replacement of everything that had been hard, brutal, and poor with shiny, sparkly fresh stuff. It wasn’t Christmas. It wasn’t happy-birthday, surprise-it’s-a-puppy, confetti-and-balloon-and-frosting time.

This was another chapter. One that was going to be so much more stable and emotionally supportive, but was still going to have its own ups and downs, its challenges and triumphs, frustrations and happiness.

“Bitty?” she said. “You don’t have to do this.”

The girl turned and smiled. “Which one is my room?”

Mary laughed and got out. “Rhage, I’ll get the suitcases.”

“The hell you will.” His blind eyes rolled around. “Where are they?”

“Fine, let me just get them and bring them over. And tuck that blanket in again, will you? I don’t want you flashing everyone as we make our grand entrance.”

Bitty stepped up next to Rhage and held the urn close. “Wow. It’s even bigger than it looks.”

“Wait’ll you get inside.”

Popping the trunk, Mary got out Annalye’s suitcase first, and she couldn’t help herself: She looked at the sky, trying to picture the female staring down from above, watching over all this and hopefully approving.

I’ll take good care of her, Mary vowed. I promise.

“Let’s go,” she said as Rhage shut the car door next to him.

“Suitcases?”

“Right here, big boy.” As she turned them over to his very capable hands, they kissed. “How ’bout I take your arm to help you navigate?”

“I can help, too,” Bitty said, grabbing onto Rhage’s other elbow.

Mary had to blink back tears as Rhage’s bare chest expanded to five times its natural size. His pride at having his two females with him as he walked up to the King’s residence was the stuff of legend: Even blind and no doubt a little sore, it was plain to see that he was in heaven.

And then they were in the vestibule and Mary was putting her face in the security camera.

“Get ready,” Mary murmured to Bitty. “It’s a big space—”

The door opened wide and the butler started to smile, only to freeze when he saw Bitty.

“It’s Fritz!” the girl exclaimed. “It’s Fritz! Hi! I’m Bitty!”

Okay, cue the melting. If that old butler had been any more entranced with the girl, his entire face would have dripped off his skull and landed on the marble floor.

Raiders of the Lost Ark, indeed.

The doggen bowed low. “Mistress. And sire. And . . . mistress.”

Bitty looked around Rhage’s heft. “Am I a mistress?”

Mary nodded and whispered, “You’ll get used to it. I did.”

The three of them walked into the grand foyer, and the first thing they saw was Lassiter on the couch in the billiards room. He was clicking the remote at the T.V. and swearing.

“I don’t care about football! ESPN my ass! Whatever—where the hell’s Who’s the Boss?”

“Lassiter!”

At the sound of his name, the angel looked out over the pool tables to where they all stood. And oh, how he smiled, that gentle, kind expression more associated with angels than the stuff he usually put out to the world. Rising to his feet, he came over, and, yes, Mary was really glad he was dressed in something normal, just jeans and a black Hanes T-shirt, his blond-and-black hair all over his shoulders.

With him, you never knew.

Getting down on his haunches, he extended his hand. “How did you know who I am, Bitty?”

The girl shook what was offered to her and pointed up at Rhage. “He told me all about you. All about everyone—wait, how did you know my name? Did he tell you about me?”

Lassiter looked up at the three of them and brushed the little girl’s cheek. “My little one, I have seen this moment since I first met your new mahmen and father—”

“No,” Mary cut in. “Don’t call me mahmen. That’s Annalye’s title. I’m not mahmen, just Mary. I’m not looking to take anyone’s place.”

“You have the strangest eyes,” Bitty whispered. “They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” The angel inclined his head. “I’m always here, Bitty. You need something, you come find me, and it’s yours. I think you’ll find that true about a lot of the folks here.”

The girl nodded as Lassiter rose up. And then Rhage put down one of the suitcases and the males clapped each other’s shoulders, Lassiter with better coordination because he could see.

“Listen, Bitty,” Mary said as the angel went back to the remote, “I have an idea for rooms for all of us, but we didn’t know you were coming tonight. So if it’s okay, you’ll stay in the guest suite right next to ours? If you need us, we’ll be—”

Cue the water fight.

Up on the second-floor balcony, behind the gold-leaf balustrade, John Matthew and Qhuinn came racing out of the hall of statues, Qhuinn in the lead, John Matthew pumping off rounds of Poland Spring. Without warning, Qhuinn hopped over the balcony into a free fall of twenty or thirty feet, dematerializing at just the right moment before he went fried-egg all over the mosaic floor.

John was right behind him, sliding down the balustrade on one butt cheek, laughing mutely.

The two stopped as soon as they saw Bitty.

“Qhuinn!” she exclaimed. “With the blue and the green eyes!”

The Brother looked gob-smacked at the little girl, even as he came over and towered above her. “Yeah, that’s my name, who—oh, my God! Rhage and Mary! Your little girl! It worked out!”

Mary got a bear hug. A huge bear hug. A gigantic, bone-crushing bear hug from the new father. And then John Matthew was signing.

“You’re John Matthew!” Bitty stared at his fingers. “What is he saying—wait, what?” Then she looked up at the humongous fighter and said, “You need to teach me that. If I’m going to live here, you need to teach me that.”

Well, that puddled John Matthew. Yup. To the point where his fingers didn’t seem to work—the ASL equivalent to someone stuttering.

And jeez, Bitty was amazing, so outgoing and friendly—and courageous considering all she had been through.

Mary rubbed the center of her chest. Yes, she thought, she was getting a real live dose of maternal pride here—and it was better than a million glasses of wine. No hangover, either.

“Are you blind again?” Qhuinn asked his Brother.

“Yeah, I tried to eat some humans.”

“Tried? That beast of yours on a diet?”

They were all laughing when someone came out from under the staircase. Instantly, the chatter stopped, as if people were worried about who it was.

Zsadist was dressed in his fighting gear, black leather coating his body in a second skin, weapons strapped on his chest, his thighs, under his arms—

In spite of the way he looked, Bitty broke away and went right over to the scarred male, her well-washed, handmade dress frothing under that ugly black coat of hers.

Z did a stop-short just as everyone else had—kind of like he’d seen a ghost. And then he looked around in what seemed to be confusion.

“You’re Zsadist,” Bitty piped up. “You have a young—may I meet her? I should like very much to meet her, please.”

In response, Zsadist moved extra slowly, lowering himself down to her level. And then he just stared at her for a time, as if she were some wild creature that had unexpectedly proven to be tame.

“Her name is Nalla,” he said roughly. “My daughter is much younger than you. She would like to have a big sister, if you’d like to teach her things.”

“Oh, yes. I would.”

“What’s that in your arms, little one?”

Bitty looked down, and Mary held her breath. “This is my mahmen. She passed. That’s why Mary and Rhage are fostering me. I hope I get to stay here, though. I like them a lot.”

Just like that. The explanation was simple, and heartbreaking . . . and had all the adults blinking back tears.

Zsadist inclined his head low, his yellow eyes glowing. “My condolences for your loss. And welcome to our home—which you should now call yours, too.”

Bitty leaned her head to the side and regarded the Brother. “I like you. You’re nice.”

Hours later, after they got Bitty settled next door, Rhage and Mary headed into their room.

He was still blind as hell, but Rhage didn’t care how many times he stubbed his toe or clipped something on a door jamb, Bitty was under the same roof as he and Mary were, so all was hella right in his world. And, man, had she blown everyone away.

Even though she was this little thing in this huge, grand mansion with all these people she’d never met in her life? She had gone up and called everyone by name, introducing herself and smiling and laughing. She had kept her mother’s urn with her the entire time, and somehow that had seemed apt, not ghoulish or morbid.

Her mahmen was very much a part of her and always would be—and, oh, his Mary was being so respectful of that.

Like his female could make him love her more? Jesus.

“I can’t believe we have a kid,” he was saying as his shellan took him into the bathroom and loaded up his brush with toothpaste. “We are parents. We have . . . a kid.”

“And I’m sorry, I may already be biased, but how fantastic is she? Did you see Wrath? He’s in love with her. I think he wants L.W. to marry her.”

“Well, she’s strong. She’s smart. Who wouldn’t want to—”

From out of nowhere, a snarl twitched his upper lip, and a growl percolated up out of his chest—while at the same time, the beast surged around his back looking for a way out.

And all that got worse as he pictured some male standing next to his Bitty with all kinds of bright fucking ideas in his—

“Rhage. Stop it. She’s going to probably want to date someone at some point—”

“Over his fucking dead body anyone is touching my daughter—”

“Rhage, okay, three-part yoga breath.” She petted his shoulder like she was soothing a lion. “It’s perfectly normal for little girls to grow up and want to get mated to—”

“Nope. She’s not dating. Ever.”

Mary started laughing. “You know, this would truly be funny if I didn’t worry that you weren’t slightly serious.”

“I’m totally fucking serious.”

“Here we go already.” Mary sighed. “I swear, Bella and I are going to have to get you and Zsadist into a support group.”

“Yes!” he announced. “My brother will know exactly how this is. Solidarity among fathers—”

Mary cut off his rant by shoving a boatload of Crest toothpaste into his piehole. “Shut up and brush, honey. We’ll talk about this after her transition. In, like, twelve to fifteen years.”

“Bdjgaehu hasdpi knjidhgil.”

“What was that?”

“Not gonna change a fucking thing.”

But he was a good boy and worked his chompers over. Then he and Mary took a shower . . . where all kinds of other things happened—

ALL OF WHICH REMINDED HIM EXACTLY WHY THERE WAS GOING TO BE NO DATING, LIKE, EVER.

When they were finally lying in their big ornate bed together, he positioned his beloved next to him and let out an exhale that lasted a century and a half.

“Are the lights off?” he asked after a moment.

“Mmm-hmmm.”

He kissed her head. “Why do all the best things happen when I’m blind? I met you when I was blind. Now . . . she’s here, and I’m blind.”

“Must be your version of a lucky horseshoe.”

Rhage stared up at the nothingness over their heads as Mary yawned so hard her jaw cracked.

Just before he was about to go to sleep, his lids popped back open.

“Mary?”

“Hmm-mmm.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?”

“For making me a father.”

Mary lifted her head up out of the crook of his arm. “What are you—I didn’t do that.”

“You most certainly gave us our family.” Damn it, he wished he could see her. Instead, he had to make do with his memory of her beautiful face—good thing he’d spent a lot of time staring at his shellan.

“You absolutely made me a father—I was dying on that battlefield, and you saved me. If you hadn’t done that, we never would have gotten Bitty, because we would have been up in the Fade, and she would have been down here, alone. You made this happen. And it isn’t just about me almost passing. You hung in with Bitty from the moment she lost her birth father, through the death of her brother and then of her mother. You worked with her in the aftermath, helping her come out of her shell. And then when we decided to try to do this, you set up the procedure and made sure it was done right. You coached me with my interview. You focused on Bitty. You . . . you made this happen, my Mary. You birthed my daughter, maybe not out of the womb, but certainly out of circumstance—you made me a father. And that is the greatest gift any female can ever give her male. So . . . thank you. For our family.”

The sweet scent of his shellan’s tears wafted, and he found her face in the darkness, bringing her mouth to his. The kiss he gave her was chaste and reverent, an expression of his gratitude.

“You have quite a way of putting things, you know that,” she said in a rough voice.

“Just being honest. That’s all I’m doing.”

When Mary resettled on his chest, Rhage closed his eyes. “I love you, my Mary Madonna.”

“And you’re always going to be my prince with shining fangs.”

“Really?”

“Mmm-hmm. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. You and Bitty.”

“That’s so sweet.” He sighed again. “Jeez, I feel sorry for Bits, though.”

Mary lifted her head again. “Why?”

“BECAUSE SHE IS NEVER DATING—”

“Rhage, seriously. You gotta give that a rest. . . .”