“Your bird farted.” He paused. “Can they do that?”
“Just how much yarn did he eat?”
“He’s a warthog,” Lethe yelled in the background. “Tapumba? Pumon? I can’t remember.”
“Gassy warthogs are better than homicidal lions,” I decided. “But I’m really going now. We can’t afford to be late.”
Pressing the end button, I drew in a breath and nearly jumped out of my skin when Linus touched my shoulder.
Searching my face, he must have read my exhaustion, which was only partially to blame on lack of sleep. “Did Lethe offer any insight?”
“Not so much. But she did let Keet eat an undetermined amount of yarn, and she’s apparently taught him to fart like a cartoon warthog. Those two things do not mix well, and I worry about the state of the house when we return. Woolly may need to be decontaminated after this.”
“The appeal of the needles I could understand,” he said, his eyebrows winging higher, “but yarn? Lethe attempted to knit?”
“We need to introduce her to Etsy,” I decided. “Let her buy what she wants from qualified crafters able to do the job with minimum casualties.”
“Just make sure you set her up an account first. Don’t give her access to yours.”
Unable to resist, I leaned over and planted a smacking kiss on his forehead, right where his frown lines gathered. “I like you.”
“I first suspected when you asked me to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Backing away, I shook my head. “That was your first clue?”
“That was the first time it felt…” he said softly, “…real.”
Staring at the simple metal strand circling his finger, I felt ashamed all over again for not doing better by him. The man had bought a building for me, had taken steps to give me back some of what I had lost by urging me to start my own ghost tour company, and I had given him…a bread tie. “Linus?”
There was a slight hesitation I hoped to one day erase. “Yes?”
“You’re not getting rid of me.”
The earnestness of his expression when he glanced over at me tore at my heart. “I hope not.”
“Hope has nothing to do with it. I proposed, you accepted. You’re stuck with me. For life.”
“Mine.” The wonder of it flavored his tone. “For life.”
“Yep.” I brought his hand to my mouth and kissed his ring finger. “All mine. For-basically-ever.”
Five
The den of the Atlanta gwyllgi pack was and wasn’t what I expected. Lethe and Hood were happy to shift and sleep out in the woods in Savannah. That seeded the expectation they were used to roughing it. Though I’m not sure you could call it that when their primal souls were most at peace in the outdoors. And, being from the city, they were taking full advantage of having acreage to run and hunt at their leisure.
But the Atlanta pack paid homage to both sides of their dual natures. A modern glass and metal sculpture some might call a house rose from a lawn that would have made this address the pride and joy of any homeowners’ association. Its ruthless uniformity must have required gardeners to get down on their hands and knees to measure the individual blades. Beyond the house, an overgrown meadow sprawled, its wild carpet leading into a forest thick with trees and heavy with undergrowth.
For the first time, I understood why Atlanta was sometimes called a city in the forest.
Given the dress code, I assumed Linus meant for us to conduct our business inside the sculpture, and he did park at the side of the house. But after he got the van door for me, we took a flagstone path cutting through the tame front property to brave the encroaching wilderness.
Unnerved by the sensation of so many unseen eyes on me, I struck up a conversation. “Do you often conduct business out here?”
“Tisdale prefers to meet downtown. Gwyllgi aren’t tolerant of outsiders in their personal space. I’ve only been invited to join her at the den once, the day after I assumed the position of potentate.”
“A power play.” Invite him out, show him the house that meant they had money and taste, the land that indulged their primal needs, and the somewhat isolated location that meant no one was getting through her sentries to offer help without her permission. “I assume it went well?”
“As well as can be expected, given the present circumstances.” The mask of Scion Lawson blanketed his features, and he looked at me through eyes gone distant. “Prepare yourself.”
Taking my cue from him, I donned my Dame Woolworth persona with more ease than I would like to admit. After working the ghost tour circuit, I had gotten entirely too comfortable with showing customers the face they wanted to see, even when they were shouting about refunds or the lack of ghosts.
The trek to our rendezvous point lent our procession the air of marching into battle, and I regretted the only weapon I had on me was the pocket knife I was never without. But power ran in my veins, and I was never defenseless as long as I had means to call it forth.
Eventually, a small seating area came into view. Pavers laid out a design a dozen feet in either direction of the slender woman swinging from an egg chair suspended from a gnarled limb over her head. I would have recognized her as Lethe’s mother, even without expecting to see her. Only a smattering of lines and freckles distinguished them from one another. That and the silver hair spilling around her shoulders. She wore a sleeveless top cut to fit her narrow build and capris I had no doubt had been tailored to her petite frame as well. Her feet were bare and dirty, but her nails matched her outfit. The only piece of jewelry she wore was a battered locket strung from a chain thick enough to be a collar.
“Ah.” She rose in a languid stretch of muscle designed to draw the eye, and it worked. I saw at once she was fit, trim, and in fighting shape. The color of her hair might date her, but age was only a number. This woman was in her prime. “You must be Grier.” Her gaze slid past my shoulder. “Linus, always a pleasure.”
“It’s good to see you, Tisdale. Thank you for welcoming us to your home.” Tone light, he smiled his Scion Lawson smile. Polite. Empty. Bored. “The grounds are even lovelier than I recalled from my last visit.”
“We have five students enrolled in Auburn University’s College of Agriculture. Thanks to their education, we have a farm, gardens, and a landscaping business.” Pride widened her smile. “The teens even started a lawn care service to earn money during the summer months.”
Appearing mildly interested, he nonetheless made a sound of approval. “You’re diversifying.”
“We’re only carnivores half our lives. The rest of the time, we enjoy our fried green tomatoes like every other Southerner.” She indicated a stone bench for us to sit on while she reclaimed her much comfier chair. “But you’re not here to talk about our adventures in agriculture. You want to ask me for a favor.” Her assessing gaze swept over me. “And I wanted an opportunity to meet the woman my heir is so enamored with that she refused a summons home to remain by her side. I’m curious what about you inspires her loyalty when she has never given it to anyone else.”
Unhappy to find myself the center of her attention, I held firm and resisted the urge to fidget.
“I didn’t request for Lethe to remain in Savannah. I would never presume, given her status as your heir. But her mate insists he owes me a debt of honor, and I accepted their offer rather than insult the pack.”
A snarl churned up her throat, and her upper lip quivered with annoyance that dumped adrenaline in my veins.
“This isn’t you.” She pushed off the pavers with her toes to keep up the rocking motion. “Lethe wouldn’t align herself with a High Society mannequin. There’s more to you than glossy manners and a vacant smile, there must be. My daughter is a dominant, and she would only respect the same. Not this simpering façade of the Society ideal.”
Determined to be civil in the face of insult, I bit the inside of my cheek.
“Be yourself with me, as you are with her, and I’ll return the favor.” Tisdale forced eye contact. “Keep up the charade, and you’ll have to hope you can see through mine as easily as I saw through yours.”
Checking my intentions with Linus would give the appearance that he held sway over me, and a woman like Tisdale, an alpha, wouldn’t respect that. Holding her stare, I peeled off the mask and breathed a sigh of relief. And then I told her the truth.
“Your daughter is my friend because I feed her as much as she wants, whenever she wants.” Basically, a lot and often was the magic combination. “She’s memorized my debit card number and security code, so she mostly feeds herself and charges it to me. Sometimes she remembers to thank me. Sometimes I just find greasy receipts on the kitchen table as a heads-up so I won’t faint if I check my bank balance.”
Laughter rumbling through her chest, she smiled. “Now that sounds like my little girl.”
“I didn’t ask her to stay in Savannah, but I’m grateful she did. We need her. I need her.”
Expression unreadable, she pressed, “And my son-in-law?”
“Hood treats Lethe like a princess, and me like family. He’s one of the best men I know.”
“And the baby?” Leaning forward, she planted both feet on the ground. “Do you think I don’t know what you did?”
Unused to being frank about my gifts, I kept my mouth shut and let her tell me what she thought she knew.
“You saved my granddaughter’s life.” A liquid sheen covered her eyes. “You saved my daughter’s life too.”
“I made a mess of things.” Hit fast-forward on gestation in my fumbling attempt to save them both. “But I would do it again. In a heartbeat.”
A dominance fight could last until submission or death. It was left to the combatants to decide.
Ernst Weber, the gwyllgi who challenged Lethe for second in the pack, lost the fight after submitting, and then committed suicide by going for her gently swollen belly afterward. A move that had cost him his life, at my hands.