Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Our one o’clock turned out to be a no-show. I asked Sophia to call her to make certain she was okay, and apparently the woman’s car had stalled on the freeway. We rescheduled her for the next week, when her mechanic would be able to fix her car. Until then, we gave her some basic advice to protect herself, just in case she was right.
As we readied to leave the office, Dante held the elevator for me as I activated the security alarm.
“So, did you find out anything about our octopus ghost?” I asked.
“I found a number of cases that concerned animal ghosts, but nothing quite like what Michael seems to have encountered.”
“I’m not sure it’s a ghost,” I said. “There are plenty of astral creatures who have never been human. The claw marks make me think it’s some entity rather than a spirit.”
“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” he said.
“Right, enough! I hope we can resolve it without a problem. I don’t like thinking about his family being terrorized.” I let out a long sigh. “Let’s wait till tomorrow to discuss it and focus on having a nice dinner with Tilly.”
“Just remember,” Dante said, “we need to try to find out who this guy is that she’s intending on marrying. I have a bad feeling about it all.”
Tilly lived in the Market, the most expensive neighborhood in Kirkland—across the lake from Seattle. She lived near Waverly Park, right on the water and her house was worth more than my entire life’s earnings. It was three story, with an elevator, even though most wolf shifters were strong enough even in their later years that they didn’t need accessibility aids.
The house overlooked Lake Washington, and the park was less than a two-minute walk down a trail. Waverly Park was a full-service family park, with a roped off swimming section, piers that old men fished on during fishing season, a playground for the children, and trails for walking. The parking lot was bigger than most parks around the area, and overall, it was one of the most pleasant beach fronts in the area.
By the time I arrived, Dante was already there.
I’d hurried home to dress—Tilly was one of those regal older women who had come from money, and who loved to remember the ‘old’ days when people dressed for dinner and had cocktails before the meal. She had lived through the Civil War, as well as two world wars, through the Great Depression and every other economic rollercoaster since her birth. She’d seen the birth of the automobile, the growth of technology, and still, she had met every shift in society with grace.
I straightened my dress. I’d changed into a flirty little black thigh-high dress, and had paired it with a crystal necklace and earrings, with my hair pulled back in a high ponytail. The gray and silver tones of my hair against the black dress and bolero jacket created an elegant look, though I never considered myself as elegant, per se. But it was formal enough for Aunt Tilly. She always excused my less-than-formal manners to my demon heritage. I picked up the bouquet of white roses and red carnations I’d bought and headed for the door.
Diana, the maid, opened the door. Wearing a black dress and a white apron that resembled a modern version of the maids’ outfits from Upstairs Downstairs, she’d been with Tilly for several decades. Human, Diana had grown up in Tilly’s service, and was now in her fifties.
“Good evening, Ms. Sarasan,” she said. “May I take your coat?”
I slipped out of my jacket and handed it to her. “Thank you, Diana. I hope you’re well?”
“Yes, Miss. Let me show you to the parlor. Ms. Franco and Mr. Franco are waiting for you.” She led me to the parlor and stopped outside the door, opening it to announce me.
I slipped inside, smiling at Tilly and giving Dante a little wave. Tilly was actually Dante’s great-aunt. She’d married his great-uncle, but was now widowed. But to Dante, she was always ‘Auntie.’
“Welcome, my dear,” she said, standing as I entered the room. Tilly was wearing a Chanel suit—one of those classic two-piece skirt-suits that was a requisite part of the wardrobe for elderly rich women, along with the obligatory pearls. Her long gray hair was curled into a neat chignon. She held out her arms and I leaned in for an air-kiss before she bade me sit down. “Diana, please get Kyann a drink. What would you like?” she asked.
I sat, crossing my legs. I liked dresses but I constantly had to remind myself to keep my legs together and not show off my goodies. “I’m driving, so soda, if you have one.”
I hated drunk drivers. Dante and I had lost a friend to a fucknut who had been three times the legal limit. It took everything I had not to go after the judge who gave the drunk a five-year sentence. I maintained that the best way to get away with killing someone was to knock back a few drinks, then mow your intended victim down and plead being drunk. Most only saw a slap on the wrists, a few years for wiping out a life.
“Cola or lemon-lime, Miss?” Diana asked.
“Cola, please. Cherry cola, if you have it.”
“Yes, Miss.” Diana vanished out of the room.
I turned to Tilly, not sure of how to bring up the subject of her impending marriage, but she solved that problem.
“I suppose Dante told you that I’m getting married?” She glanced at Dante, raising her eyebrows.
I nodded. “He mentioned something about it. Congratulations.” I tried to sound light-hearted. It wouldn’t help anything if I came off as concerned.
In fact, Dante and I often played good cop-bad cop when we needed to. I was usually the bad cop, but this time, Dante had that pleasure.
“Thank you. I never expected at this age to find myself in this position,” Tilly said. “But…here I am.”
She paused as Diana brought in a tray with our drinks, along with a dish of assorted nuts and small finger sandwiches that hearkened back to the days of scones, watercress and cucumber sandwiches, and tiny cakes with high tea.
Aunt Tilly had an excellent cook, so I knew whatever we were having for dinner would be fantastic. I accepted a small hors d’oeuvre plate and selected two of the sandwiches.
I leaned back in my chair. “So, tell me all about him! What’s his name? Where does he live? Have you decided on a date yet?”
Tilly let out a satisfied sigh. “Jet Shy. He’s a coyote shifter. He’s originally from Singapore, but he’s been in the states for ten years. We haven’t decided on a date yet, though we want it to be as soon as possible.”
“So, where does he live?”
“He moves from city to city, but he’s ready to settle down. He says he’s never felt the need to put down roots before, but now that he’s met me…” She blushed, and I saw the look in her eye. She was truly in love. It was written all over her face.
“That’s so romantic!” I said. I gave her a wistful look. “What did he say? My love life is in the drink right now, and I could use a dose of romance”
Dante stayed silent, letting me lead the conversation.
“He said that he couldn’t imagine leaving the US, not now that he’s met me, that he’s never been in love before like this. He’s a bit younger than I am, but that doesn’t matter to him. Or to me, I have to say. He’s living in a hotel right now.” A hint of worry crept into her voice. “There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Jet’s rich, but he had to get out of Singapore because he angered one of the leaders of the local mob there, who has strings to the government. When he left, they froze his bank accounts. So, I’m helping him until he can settle things from here.”
The spiel sounded rehearsed, as though she’d been fed the lines on a cue card. Red flags went off in my mind. Frozen bank accounts? The mob? It sounded all too convenient.
“So, you’re helping him with living expenses right now?” I asked. Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I’d jumped too soon.
Immediately, Tilly’s smile faded. She recovered it quickly, but rang the bell instead of answering. As the maid returned, she said, “I think we’ll have dinner now.” She turned to us. “Shall we go to the table?” She rose and led the way.
I gave Dante a helpless shrug, and followed her. As we took our places, I thought that at least we had the man’s name.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Tilly said, as Diana brought in the serving dishes and set them on the table.
“Starved,” I said, staring at the spread. We were having lamb chops with a port wine sauce, string beans with bacon bits, dinner rolls, and mashed potatoes. A trifle sat on the end of the table, ready for dessert.
“Good. I like it when my guests are ready to eat,” she said.
Diana handed the platter of lamb chops to me, then carried it around. As she set it on the sideboard, Dante spooned potatoes and gravy onto his plate and we began to fill our plates. As soon as we were ready, Tilly dismissed Diana and motioned for us to begin.
The food was exquisitely prepared. Even the lamb melted in my mouth. I ate the first few bites in haste, my stomach rumbling. Then I slowed down and settled in to enjoy the meal. I decided to table the whole Jet-discussion for a bit, and try to win her trust back.
“This is delish,” I said.
“Thank you. Charlotte’s such a brilliant cook that I’m afraid I’m going to lose her to a restaurant.” She paused, then added, “So, how are you doing? Dante told me you found out which demon clan you come from.”
Tilly knew about my background—she’d helped Dante when he took care of me. She kept out of our business, but I knew—even then—that she had helped fund my care. She never asked for anything, she never even owned up to helping him. But I knew that she had always kept watch over him and made sure he always had a roof over his head and food on the table.
“Yes, actually. My father comes from the Arosien Clan.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of them,” she said.
“They’re a strong clan. My powers are coming to the surface and I’m working with an expert in demonology who’s helping me learn how to use and control them.” I sighed. “So far, I don’t have a lot of information on the Arosiens. My trainers want me to take things slow. It’s hard, but I suspect that the nature of my father’s people may be more than I can handle, if I find out everything at once.”
My frustration must have shone through my words, because Dante reached across the table to pat my hand.
“I know you want to know everything, now that you’ve found out the truth, but Seton is right,” he said. “You might not be able to handle the truth about your heritage all at once. Remember what happened…”
Dante paused, but I knew what he was referring to. Deep inside, a low rumble reminded me of two times my inner demon had broken through. The fear over what I’d become—even for a short time—was always there. If I learned about everything I might be capable of without being prepared, it might trigger off a bad episode.
I held his hand for a moment, then went back to my dinner.
Tilly watched us, then smiled. “Sometimes, your family may not be the one you hoped for.” She flickered her gaze toward Dante. “I’m afraid Dante knows that all too well.”
A wash of sadness filled his eyes. “I know all too well how disappointed my parents are in me.”
We’d had these discussions before, but never when anybody else was around. Especially Tilly, the one member of Dante’s family who accepted him. Even though she’d married into the Franco clan, nobody dared cross the matriarch’s will.
I turned to Tilly. “If I’m not overstepping my place, what made you take Dante’s side?”
She paused, then asked, “Dante, do you mind if I answer that question?”
“Of course not,” he said. “You know Kyann’s like my sister.”
“Yes, I know,” Tilly said, regarding me quietly. “When Dante decided to walk away from the expectations his parents set on him, I understood why. Since we didn’t have children, my husband passed part of his fortune down to Philip, Dante’s father. Philip and his wife expect to take my place when I die. They live a lifestyle that the Pack views as traditional and proper.”
“A social standing thing?” I asked.
“Definitely. The Francos might as well belong to nobility, for what matters. My husband and his brother, Kelson—Dante’s grandfather and my brother-in-law—chose to accept their places on the Council of Elders. Kelson wanted Dante to follow in his footsteps. But that requires conforming to North Seattle Wolf Pack standards and that means being married to a person of proper standing. So, Philip and his wife chose to arrange a marriage for Dante, as per Kelson’s decree. Things fell apart.”
I blinked. Arranged marriages were still a thing among some shifter communities, but I had no idea that Dante had been in line for the altar.
“What happened?”
“I didn’t love her. It was that simple,” Dante said. “And I’m not interested in getting married. I’m not responsible enough for a family?—”
“I beg to differ,” I said, laughing. “You took me in. I’d probably be dead if you hadn’t taken me home that night in the park. You gave me a home, you provided safety. I wouldn’t say you were a father figure, given your age. But you provided a foundation for me. I grew into an adult with your help. And I never had to walk on eggshells. I wasn’t afraid of you.”
“That was my choice . I wasn’t your father, and I didn’t try to be. But to be paired off with someone I never met, to marry a woman solely for politics? Nope. Not my jam. I’d resent her and I’d resent any children we had,” Dante countered.
“And that’s what made me support Dante.” Tilly said. “Gino—my husband—and I were an arranged marriage. I met him at the altar. I lucked out in the fact that Gino was, at heart, a good man. But the truth is, we never fell in love. He respected me, treated me well, and I reciprocated. But we lived separate lives under the same roof. I fulfilled my duties as a society wife and rose to power because I played by the rules.”
“You always were good at that,” Dante said. “I never could manage. I tried, but I couldn’t be the son my father wanted.”
“Gino and I agreed to terms on our wedding night,” Tilly said. “A year later, we decided we got along well enough, so we renewed our vows with a blood oath. We had already found out I couldn’t have children. Gino had the right to nullify the marriage and take another wife, but he refused. He stood by his oath, and so, we carried on. After all, it’s better to have a kind husband who you don’t fully love, than a volatile man you’re passionate about. Especially when you have to live a lifetime with them.”
I personally thought it was better to have nobody if you had to choose between the two extremes, but Tilly was from a different generation, and a different culture.
“Uncle Gino was a wonderful man,” Dante said. “He died way too soon.”
“I agree,” Tilly said. “He was always good to me. He never made me feel inadequate. I was surprised that when Kelson died, that he left us the mantle of family elders. By then, Dante’s grandmother had died. When Gino died, the mantle fell on my shoulders, and I became the matriarch.”
“So, why did you support Dante, if you uphold the traditions?”
“As I said, I married into the family, and I know how hard it is to make an arranged marriage work. Gino and I were lucky—we had similar visions and temperaments. But that doesn’t happen often. Also, times have changed since we married. I’m slowly but surely trying to move our clan into the present.”
Now I understood. Tilly was a quiet revolutionary, making change from within. She might believe in tradition, but she knew when it was time to progress.
Sounding tired, she continued. “Backing Dante’s choice to say no seemed important. While his parents have disowned him, I outrank them And while they can do as they like, I’m the one whose opinion counts.”
“Are we wearing you out?” I said, suddenly aware that she looked exhausted.
Dante noticed the lack of energy, too. “Auntie, are you all right?”
Tilly let out a long sigh. “I’ve had a long day. And eventually, age takes the lead, and no matter how hard you try, the body grows weary.” She glanced at our plates. “Are you ready for dessert?”
I wanted to ask more about Jet, but it was obvious that Tilly was tired and needed to rest. “Yes, thank you,” I said.
Dante kicked me under the table, but I gave him a warning shake of the head.
“Trifle sounds lovely,” was all he said.
As we ended the evening and I kissed Tilly on the cheek, she leaned in to whisper, “I know my nephew is worried about me. But he shouldn’t be concerned. Jet’s in love with me. Gino was a wonderful man, but he and I…we weren’t truly in love.”
And right there, I understood why such a sharp lady was overlooking red flags. Love—the strongest of desires and emotions—had come to call, and Tilly had answered. She had never known what it was like to be loved, not in that all-consuming way, and now it was blurring out every warning sign.
I kissed her cheek, slid my arm through Dante’s, and we said goodnight.