I rolled my head back and forth on the cushions. It was a lovely feeling after hours of sitting alone on hard wooden chairs.
Bran had disappeared into the depths of the hospital as soon as we’d arrived, a classic case of splitting us up so we couldn’t chitchat and get our stories to match. It’d taken a few hours to get stitched up and cleared medically—afterward I’d stayed silent the entire way to the police station as per Jess’s instructions.
My lawyer had been waiting for me, clutching a stack of paperwork to his chest under a plaid bow tie. The elderly man was a classic image of the country lawyer, patting my good shoulder and murmuring reassurances in my ear that it’d be okay, it’d be all fine.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him it’d never be okay. Never again.
“Bill Watts says hello and thanks for the work,” I told Jess.
He’d been a godsend, cutting through the police red tape with ease and efficiency. It didn’t hurt that he knew most of the prosecutors in a nonprofessional capacity and argued my side with enthusiasm. The Felis even had a packet of beef jerky in his pocket he slipped to me, knowing I’d be ravenous after the long day.
Watts had made a good enough argument with the result of a lot of the more serious charges being dropped. I might end up with a fine and probation for not reporting Shaw’s death but even that was a long shot due to what they called the “extenuating circumstances,” meaning my concern for the baby.
The family had enough connections to win me the lowest possible punishment since I had no previous convictions or even a hint of a run-in with the law before now. Watts was a lawyer but I knew we had friends and family at higher levels who would work deals to keep me on the outside.
Jess’s voice came through the thin walls. “He’s a good fellow. Dated him a thousand years ago. He’ll make it right.”
I tried not to think about Jess dating. It was like imagining your parents having sex and I’d had enough trauma for a day.
The kettle screamed for attention. I stayed on the couch. Jazz hopped up and head-butted my hip, demanding attention.
“Aren’t you a fickle one?” I stroked her automatically, relishing the cool, sleek fur under my fingers. It was a constant in the sandstorm I’d been riding recently.
Jess came out of the kitchen carrying my Brown Betty teapot on a tray along with two mugs. She placed it down on the table between us and sat in the chair.
I rubbed my eyes with the palm of my good hand.
Jess cleared her throat.
I waited.
She licked her lips, watching the teapot. Her one good eye didn’t waver from the fat brown ceramic pot.
“Family is difficult. Our family is difficult.”
“Our family is insane.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “At times, yes. But don’t forget you only see a slice of the entire pie, a wedge of our reality.” She swept a hand around. “There are Prides around the world, Felis in almost every occupation you can think of, all family interconnected by our shifting ability.”
My stomach growled.
Jess chuckled and got up. “I believe you’ve got a package of scones in the breadbox.”
I took advantage of her departure to pour out the tea before it got too strong. There was already a splash of milk in each mug, enough to take the edge off.
She returned with a pyramid of blueberry scones, the tiny triangles covered with a thin sugar glaze. I grabbed three of them and gobbled them down before she could reach her mug.
“Napkin.” She handed over a paper towel. “Let’s pretend you know your manners.”
I swiped at my mouth. “Yeahsureyoubetcha.” The hot tea burned my throat but it felt so good, so regular, so comforting after the last twenty-four hours.
“Family,” Jess started again. She shook her head. “Fuck.”
I chuckled.
“You’re worried about how Bran’s going to deal with this.” She cradled the mug in both hands, leaning forward.
“Yes,” I confessed. “I’m partially responsible for his mother going to jail and his father, ah...”
“Being an adulterous idiot?”
I scowled. “That, not so much.”
Jess looked down into her mug. “He’s a good man. His parents, however, are a piece of work. The father blackmails you into doing errands for him and the mother holds further investigation over your head to try and buy your silence.”
I flinched at the truth. It sounded even worse when she put it like that. “How did you know?”
“I heard Bernadette shrieking before I came in. I knew there was trouble inside and I wasn’t going to walk in without doing a bit of recon first.” She reached out and broke off the edge of one scone. “Am I wrong?”
“No.” I sat back and sighed, my initial burst of hunger sated for the moment. “She threatened to let the investigators loose, let them go wild digging up my family tree.”
Jess sipped her tea. “She’d have found a handful and a half. And you know how we’d have reacted.”
“Which is why I agreed to all this in the first place.” I let out a weary grunt. “And why I’m worried about Bran. I didn’t kill his parents physically but I sure as hell gave them some mortal wounds emotionally.”
“They did this to themselves.” She snapped another edge off. “You just got caught in the final mutual murder-suicide.”
I studied the little glazed crumbs in my palm. “When I was finished at the station I went looking for him. The cops told me Bran was gone with his father—trying to figure out what to do about Bernadette and how to handle it. Watts told me they’re not charging Bran with anything at this point and he’s got a high-powered Hanover-authorized lawyer watching his back.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know how he’s going to handle this. His father’s adultery, his mother’s insanity, the little half brother.”
“He’s a strong man. He’ll survive.” Jess popped the last bit of the scone into her mouth. “Don’t underestimate the mettle of that one.”
“His mother’s going to jail for some time. His father’s got a new baby to deal with and his reputation is trashed. The family name is tarnished.” I shook my head. “They had everything. How did it all go so bad?”
Jess took a deep breath before speaking. “I can understand where Bernadette’s coming from.”
My heart began to hammer in my chest.
Jess kept talking. “Sometimes we do what’s right for the family, not what’s right for us as an individual. That thing about needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few.”
I felt nauseated. The scone and tea curdled in my belly.
Her fingers tangled and untangled in her lap. “I think it’s time for me to talk to you about something.”
“Oh God.” I clutched at my chest, half-serious. “You’re not my mother, are you?”
“No.” Jess chuckled. “Isn’t that a relief, eh?”
I didn’t say anything.
She chewed on her lower lip before continuing. “Did you ever wonder how I got this?” She gestured at the deep scarlet scar marring the left side of her face.
“Figured it was a challenge. Some kit taking you on.”
Jess shook her head. “Not exactly. It was a woman, believe it or not.”
I wasn’t surprised. Challenges in the Pride could come at any time. We’d been brawling with each other almost from birth, rolling in the dirt with our crib brothers and sisters in mock battles. True challenges were heavy-duty, with both fighters usually ending up bloody and marked—not something to be entered into lightly.
Jess tapped her lips. “I was dating a young man. I loved him and I thought he loved me.”