39. Isobel
The perfect spell my daughter weaves around herself and her guardian angel in disguise is broken by the arrival of my brothers, parents, and Paw Paw. I can’t even blame them for shattering the exquisitely peaceful bubble, because I’d be just as anxious to meet the new arrival in their place.
Simon looks up and asks the question guaranteed to start World War III, Calhoun style.
“So, who wants to hold Arina first?”
My father’s gaze turns hungry as he stares at his first grand-cub over the heads of his sons. My brothers regress in age in an instant, turning into a pair of overgrown toddlers as the yank, shove, and wrestle with each other as they try to reach the other side of my bed before the other. Da grabs them both by the scruffs of their necks, giving them a vicious shake as Mama reaches up to clip them behind their ears.
“Don’t you two start brawling in here and disturbing all the new mommas and their babies, or I will take you out of here. After all, I brought you into this world!”
Paw Paw takes advantage of my parents baling my brothers up and skirts around their huddle. He approaches Simon like a man with a steak would approach a hungry lion.
“Your mama told me you named her after my Lenore, is that right, Izzy-bizzy? Did you somehow make my tiny little cub-cub even more precious to me than before?”
Although he’s speaking to me, Paw Paw doesn’t take his eyes from his great-granddaughter’s face. The absolute awe and devotion reflected in his own causes a lump to form in my throat, and I swallow down the tears as he stares down at the bundle in Simon’s arms.
“Yeah, Paw Paw. Her name is Arina Lenore Basset. I thought it only right to include the names of the two people who couldn’t be here to meet her on the day she was born.”
My heart twinges at the thought of Quin, wherever he may be right now. At least I know where Maw Maw is—buried beneath a weeping willow at the top of a hill at the Two Rivers Lawn Cemetery. I have no clue where Quin is, but I’m loathe to believe he no longer walks this earth.
A thrum along the silent cord of our bond reverberates though my body, and I wilt with relief. Wherever my mate is, he’s still alive and fighting to return to us both.
Broken whimpers and a soft wail break my sudden reverie. Simon is standing, empty-handed, and Paw Paw has taken his place in the armchair. Arina is becoming unsettled, and as much as I’d love to scoop her into my arms and snuggle away her worries, these moments with my family are vital to her forming the tight-knit familial bonds with them all. I have no doubt that by the time I leave the hospital in a day or two, the entirety of the Calhoun-Cattanach clan will have descended for a visit, and Arina will be bristling like an electrified porcupine, full of familial and fraternal bonds.
***
I edge down the hallway of the old house, leading the way back to my bedroom. It’s only been a day since Arina arrived in the world, and since there were no complications or concerns regarding her birth, we’re home. I know my parents have been busy preparing the house for our arrival, although there wasn’t really much for them to do besides moving the bassinet and Maw Maw’s old rocker into my bedroom. The nursery is all set up with everything else that a new mother and newborn baby could ask for.
I push open the door to my bedroom and tears clog my throat at the vista set out before me.
The entire bedroom has been rearranged.
The bed is now situated on the wall opposite its original position, facing toward the door instead of sitting beside it. The nightstands are set up on either side, with the bassinet resting on a wheeled stand at the foot of the bed. My dresser is now positioned where my bed once stood, and the open space beyond the bed and dresser has been filled with Maw Maw’s rocker resting on top of an old rag rug, and a gorgeous little rustic table with a mosaic tile top holds a vase filled with gerberas.
The soft scuff of a foot falls behind me and I move out of the doorway, stepping farther into the room. The curtains are open, letting the fall sunlight stream through the window, the beams slanting across the room to fall across the bed. It’s been made up with fresh linen and piled with enough pillows and blankets to make a nest. The bassinet has yellow and green blankets covering the mattress, and sitting in pride of place is a stuffed tiger, one that looks incredibly soft, plush, and squishy. I can’t help but want to curl up on the bed with Arina and just be. In fact, the entire room feels refreshed, warm, and welcoming.
“Where should I put Arina? Do you want to feed her and get her tucked in for a nap while I check on everything else?”
Simon’s voice is a low rumble in my ear as he hovers at my shoulder. Arina is nestled happily in his arms, one of the few places she seems to prefer. In fact, unless she’s hungry and wanting a feed, she refuses to settle unless she’s in his arms or within his reach.
“Yeah, I’ll take her for a little while, give you a chance to have something to eat or drink or whatever. Who knew that giving birth to this little beastie would actually give me less work to do? I thought new moms were supposed to be worn ragged with their baby’s demands.”
Simon’s laughter rolls through the room like thunder, and I feel it down to my very toes. Having him there beside me during the labor and birth has changed something between us. He’s become more protective, if that’s possible, but it’s more than that. It’s as though we share a bond unlike one I’ve ever experienced, even with Quin. Don’t get me wrong, I love and miss my mate. I wish he was here beside me. But the emotional strength and support that both Simon and Tálstrom have offered me since they arrived all battered and broken has evolved into a friendship so close and solid that I sometimes wonder if I’ve dreamed it all.
As a human, I get the skepticism. It’s been ingrained in us to be cautious around others, to wait and watch, to search out those potential red flags. The number of times someone will scoff at the thought of “love at first sight,” or how you can find your platonic—or even your eventual romantic—soulmate and just know within moments that they’re supposed to be a major and trusted part of your life is beyond calculation.
But growing up around shifters, I also understand just how instantaneously relationships can occur with them. They’re using all their senses, including those of their animal counterpart. Are they always right? No, not always, but the risk of being wrong because they’ve ignored the demands and opinions of their other half is as foreign to a shifter as trying to breathe underwater without gills or other apparatus would be for a human.
So even though it’s only been weeks of having Simon and Tálstrom in my life, I cannot imagine it without them by my side and helping me to raise my daughter. I can only hope that Quin feels the same.
I turn and accept my daughter, who instantly begins to fuss the moment she feels Simon’s arms slip away. He heads back down the hall toward the kitchen as I rock her gently, humming a soothing tone, and walk over to the rocker to take a seat. I rearrange my shirt and nursing bra so that Arina can latch on, and she does so with alacrity. Her greedy sucks and satisfied little grunts as she feeds make me smile, as it’s something that only I can provide her at the moment. We tried offering her formula at the hospital so that the others could feed her, but she flatly refused. I’ll have to wait for my milk to properly come in and then start pumping if anyone else wants a chance to feed her.
Something tells me that the number of people she’ll accept a bottle from will be small, though. She’s a determined little terror, and I adore the strength of her will.
I listen absentmindedly to the sounds of the sanctuary outside. Paw Paw is running Dane and Dillon ragged with all the tasks he’s dropped on their shoulders, and I know Da is gearing up to take some time away from the construction site where he’s currently working so he and Mama can spend some time with Arina and me.
Soon enough, my tiny terror’s tummy is full and she’s milk-drunk. Creamy bubbles emerge from her lips, and she fusses slightly as I drape her over my shoulder and rub circles over her back to help her get rid of any trapped air. She burps, the volume at a level you’d expect from an adult, not an itty-bitty baby.
It takes me a little maneuvering to get back on my feet without disturbing my now-slumbering child, and I head through to the nursery to change her diaper before taking her back to the bedroom and laying her inside the bassinet.
She sleeps through the entire process.
I carry the stuffed tiger over to the dresser and set it down next to the baby monitor, which I switch on. The other receiver isn’t around, and my guess is that it will be in the kitchen or lounge, so I make my way through the house, noticing all the little jobs that have been completed for me while I was in the hospital.
Some cats are extremely nosy and love to interfere, even if it’s with the best of intentions. Despite most of them lacking the ability to shift, that description fits the Cattanach clan to a tee.
The noise of clattering dishes emerges from the kitchen, and I duck my head around the doorway. Simon is there, cooking of all things.
I didn’t know he could cook?
Resting on the bench-top beside him is the receiver for the baby monitor, already switched on and doing its job of keeping an eye on Arina.
“She went down easy, then?”
I enter the kitchen fully, my arms crossed over my chest. I didn’t really buy many maternity or nursing outfits, but my parents had insisted on a few pieces for when I take Arina out in public, as well as my return from the hospital. I’d changed out of the top before leaving my bedroom, encasing my torso in an old tank top and flannel of Quin’s instead.
“Yeah, she’s down and out for the count. I figure we’ve got an hour, maybe two, before she’s awake and hungry again.” I edge around the island bench and peer around Simon’s arm at the ingredients in front of him. “What are you making?”
“Nothing fancy. Just something my mom used to make when us kids wanted comfort food. Macaroni and cheese with lil smokies and cornbread. I’d normally just slice up hot dogs and stir them in, but there’s some decent bacon in the fridge. You have to keep up your calories now that Arina’s here, because you’re still providing her with everything she needs.”
This man.
I honestly don’t know if he’s always been like this, but I suspect he’s always had a nurturing side to him that had been hidden behind the arrogance of his youth. However, the consequences of his rejection of his fated mate, followed by the hatred and snubbing he’s had inflicted on him since that monumental mistake have also changed him. He’s both rougher, edgier, and more brutal while also being softer, gentler, and more protective than a normal shifter.
And I should know. I’ve been surrounded by them my entire life.
“Well, it sounds delicious, so thank you. You know you don’t have to do that, though, right?”
The slight blush that flushes his cheeks and shy smile Simon gives me tugs at my heartstrings. It makes him look almost boyish, if you can ignore the bushy beard, bulging muscles, and copious tattoos decorating his body.
“The acceptance you’ve all given me, without any hint of acrimony… Isobel, you have no idea just how precious it is to me. I love my bond mates, they’re the brothers and sisters that Tálstrom chose to make part of his family, but there’s so much guilt and pain built up there, too. The way I hurt Sila, derailing her life like that. Sure, she’s happy now, with her mates and the life they’ve built together. I can’t even regret not being part of it, because that would mean taking away that happiness for her. Even I’m not that selfish, and I was one of the most selfish, entitled, egotistical fuckwits to walk the earth.”
Simon stirs the pot simmering on the hub, and the fragrant aroma of cheese and paprika wafts through the air. My stomach growls at the prospect of such delicious fare.
“There’s a part of me that will always be riddled with guilt. Sila may have forgiven me, but there are those around her that haven’t, and probably never will. Her parents can barely stand to be in the same room with me, which is understandable. They’re never cruel or nasty, but I can tell that they struggle to remain civil. For their sake, I try not to be around when they visit her. Then there’s Granny Loretta. She’s Sila’s mate’s—Kane—great-grandmother. She’s outright refused to step foot in the same room as me. The one and only time she did, she made her disgust and hatred of me crystal clear.”
Simon sets the wooden spoon to one side on a plate, put there to catch any errant drips. How many guys would consider doing that? I know my brothers wouldn’t, and they were both raised by my mother, who is fastidious about these things.
“Granny Loretta is from Tennessee. Being a good host is something that goes down to her very bones, and you could say it’s even ingrained in her soul. She cooked this enormous meal for us all—Sila, her three mates, my other two bond mates, and all their surviving parents. My parents were there as well. When she handed me my serving, she poured salt all over it and then handed me a glass of unsweetened tea. I swallowed every gods-damned mouthful, because it was nothing less than I deserved. She’s never going to let it go, she’ll never forgive me. She’s told me that.”
I look at Simon in horror. This Granny Loretta, this supposed bastion of hospitality, treated him like that?! And in front of hisparents? Her actions were the worst kind of insult, so calculated and cutting. By treating Simon so differently, there was no hiding her brutal intentions and exclusionary attitude.
“Simon, if Sila forgave you as you claimed, then there was absolutely no excuse for this Granny person to have treated you like that. Sila was the injured party. What this woman did was essentially spit on all the grace and mercy Sila has extended to you and has showed herself to be a bitter old hag. What right does she have to demand you suffer a penance you’ve already paid? Sounds like she needs a refresher on proper Southern hospitality.”
Simon’s smile is wry.
“Shetold me the tea would help wash down the bitterness inside my heart and soul. To be fair, it did help with the plateful of salt she served up, and it allowed me to hide my grimace as she told me point-blank that the only way I’ll ever earn her forgiveness is over one of our dead bodies.”
A wave of sorrow washes over me, so deep that I feel like I’m drowning. On one hand, I can understand the bitterness and caution displayed by Sila’s parents and other loved ones. Simon’s rejection of her cut so deeply that it was a miracle she survived.
My mind goes back to a conversation I had with Paw Paw a couple of weeks ago, not long after Simon had finally shifted into his human form.
***
“Izzy-bizzy, I know you heard a little about what Simon went through, but has he shared with you the dark and dirty secrets that not even hisfamily have been told?”
I shake my head and open my mouth to tell Paw Paw to keep Simon’s secrets to himself. If the lion wishes to tell me, he will.
“No, Izzy. I know what you’re about to tell me, but youwillsit and listen to me. Simon will never reveal to others the extent of his own injuries, because he truly believes he deserves no less than the hell he’s already endured.”
I stay quiet.
Paw Paw leads me out to the old bench swing on the front porch. I know Dane and Dillon are keeping Simon busy with the chores around the sanctuary, and he’s running interference with Deedee. The hussy of a cougar is going into heat, no thanks to the old man sitting next to me.
“This story begins some years ago, back when I was a young man just returned from serving my country to newly married.”
Paw Paw settles in to tell me one of his tales, but this isn’t one full of youthful antics or rambunctious cubs.
“War is hard on a person, Izzy. It’s even harder on a shifter. The bonds of brotherhood that you form with your squad go even deeper as a shifter. They’re tangible, and when those bonds are broken or damaged, it hurts more than just those directly involved in the squad. The damage causes ripples that can be felt through an entire platoon, and even further into a company or battalion.”
Paw Paw’s revelation brings me in on a secret not many shifters are aware of. Constant threats of death and the continual damage done to bonds during times of conflict can turn a shifter feral. Their animal half becomes wild and uncontrollable, constantly pushing their human side to shift and set them loose. When in their bestial form, the shifter loses control of themselves, tearing through friend and foe alike.
Too many shifters would turn feral and run headlong into danger and death to escape, only to have their demise send the rest of their fellow comrades spiraling into the same dark cycle.
“A feral shifter is always on the cusp of oblivion. It takes a lot to bring them back from that edge, to give them another reason to endure, to take that next breath and keep them moving forward. For me, it was this place and my beautiful Lenore. We opened this place in the hopes it would help me heal, and by doing so, we found a way to bring a lot of feral shifters back to life. This place isn’t just a sanctuary for wild animals, Isobel. It’s also our salvation.”
I shift on the bench seat, the cub in my belly doing somersaults at my agitation.
“Some years after we opened this place, a shifter unlike any I’d ever encountered turned up. He smelled strange, like a snake but not. He was definitely a reptile. Your Da was off courting your Mama, and your Maw Maw was inside the house, doing whatever witchcraft she felt like when she wasn’t trying to provoke me.”
Paw Paw sets one foot to the porch floorboards and pushes, causing the swing to move. The rocking motion soothes the acrobat taking up space in my womb, and I smooth my hand over the shirt stretching across my taut skin.
“Turns out, this snake-that-wasn’t was a young Mythic shifter. His story, while tragic, wasn’t the reason he’d turned up on our doorstep. No sirree.”
I wait as Paw Paw pauses, either to gather his thoughts before continuing, or more likely for dramatic effect.
“He was a young basilisk and was working on finding resources and locations to help shifters in distress. He’d attended a newly opened school dedicated to helping shifters who had problems with their animals, and wanted to find other avenues for those who might find it difficult to be placed in that kind of setting. He’d heard about me, about this place, and knew that I could help him in his quest. His name was Rhys Brenin.”
My jaw drops. Paw Paw knows the President of the Shifter Council?
“I told this young basilisk about my own experiences in the military. I told him how not every shifter would respond well to being sent to a place like this, but it was a start. We corresponded back and forth a bit, and not long after he arose to his lofty position as President, he started putting his plans into full effect. For a number of years, our primary bread-and-butter was the rehabilitation of feral shifters. It’s why we’re kitted out like we are. Even though nowadays our rescues are primarily wildlife, Rhys knows that he can count on us in a pinch, if needs be.”
Paw Paw isn’t wrong in that respect. Quin and Simon are proof of that.
“Almost five years ago, a young female snow leopard shifter was callously and ignorantly rejected by her fated mate. It almost destroyed her sanity, and it left her permanently Altered in a way the Council had never seen before. They couldn’t reverse the effects, and they were concerned for her, as her animal refused to relinquish control. They had a choice at the time, to either send her here, or out to Wyoming to the school Rhys had once attended himself. She ended up in Wyoming.”
Being one half of a fated mate pairing has given me an insight not all shifters have the privilege of experiencing. I can appreciate on a more cellular level just how essential that bond is to not only yourself, but your fated mate. Such a rejection had to have consequences.
“In a way, that young snow leopard was lucky. Their bond was barely there, a shadow of what it could have been had they gone through with the mating and allowed it to solidify. But the agony of it being torn asunder is something that should never be experienced. However, you can’t heal suffering with further pain.”
I already know some of the next part because Simon told me. He had come so close to death himself, only avoiding that punishment through the compassion of Sila. She hadn’t wished for his blood on her hands and had shown maturity and wisdom beyond her years. Simon had been forced to learn the hard way just why fated mates were so cherished, and apart from a single instance early on, had worked hard to prove himself a changed man.
The girl who’d also done harm to Sila, though? She had done nothing but complain and cause problems, for which her own lioness had been stripped from her. That punishment, doled out by Sila herself, had been brutal but fitting. But Simon’s punishment hadn’t ended with him making amends. No, he’d had to endure so much more.
“I’ll let you in on another little secret, Izzy. Sila never knew what the true physical impacts having all his bonds stripped away like they were did to Simon. She was never told how he was hospitalized for months as the doctors desperately tried to stem the constant rupturing of his organs and internal bleeding caused by his Altered lion shredding him to pieces. To this day, she has no idea that he has died and come back multiple times, with each time his lion turning more and more feral.”
My gorge rises. What did Paw Paw just say?
“Hang on a minute there, old man! Simon died? Not just once, but multiple times? And he’s still being treated worse than dog poop on the bottom of a shoe? How can she not know? How is this possible?”
Paw Paw pats my hand as though I’m dense.
“No, Izzy, she doesn’t. That girl suffered from his carelessness, make no mistake. But if she was to learn that death would have been a mercy for the man she now considers a brother, and that it was her hand that prevented that mercy from being given? How do you think she’d react to that? She can bring down a dragon, Izzy-bizzy. There have been rumors circling lately about a shifter that may be even more powerful than her, but at the moment, that’s all they are—rumors.”
His words mollify me a little, but my hair isn’t the only fiery thing about me.
“So, in essence, Sila experienced an excruciating and traumatic event, one that changed her on a cellular level, and took her some time to recover from. But shedid recover. She even had the decency to wholly forgive one of the people who had caused her harm.”
Paw Paw just looks at me.
“Simon, on the other hand, was rightfully punished for his actions. While he may not have appreciated the clemency he was granted in the beginning, he soon came around and worked hard to become a person worthy of that forgiveness and clemency. Yet others decided he needed further punishment. So they put him through what he’d done to Sila, but on a whole new level, and did so a hundred fold?” My voice rises in pitch over the last few words.
“Technically, it was one hundred and five, although eight of those bonds survived.” Paw Paw confirms.
“How long did Simon spend in hospital, Paw Paw? How many times did they resuscitate him?”
Paw Paw sighs.
“Technically, it wasn’t a hospital. The school in Wyoming that Rhys Brenin went to, the one he had Sila sent to, that’s where Simon ended up. They have a medical wing on site, due to the various needs of their students. Some of those shifters can’t be left in the hands of humans, it’s not safe. So, they have a small, on-site medical center that operates like an independent hospital.”
It’s my turn to simply stare at Paw Paw until he answers my question.
“In total, Simon spent about eight months out of his first twelve in the hospital. He’d appear to recover somewhat, and they’d release him so he could attend classes, but he was lucky to make it to one every week. His teachers actually adapted his curriculum to allow him to connect with them via video. The second year was better, with only about four months out of twelve being spent inside the medical center. I believe it’s been over two years since he last died and was revived. Outside of a select few which consists of me, the President, a half-dozen teachers at his school, and the medical team, nobody in his life is aware of the extent of his damage. You’ve joined a very elite club, not that it’s one to boast about.”
“How did you learn about Simon, Paw Paw? I don’t imagine anyone would have just called you up to spill the tea, not if it was being kept all hush-hush like that. So why you? Why now?”
Paw Paw pats my hand again. The old coot is gonna lose it if he isn’t careful, because I’m heavily pregnant, hormonal, and infuriated to learn the lion who has become so dear to me so quickly has been suffering unnecessarily.
“Rhys wanted my advice on how to contain and control an out-of-control lion, and how they could save him from turning completely wild. Simon could barely keep Tálstrom in check, and even his bond mates struggled to reach him. There were only two that could regularly get him to shift and keep him grounded, but Rhys wanted to have other options for Simon, just in case. A few months back, he called me to let me know that Simon seemed to have turned a corner. For the first time since he’d come to being, Tálstrom was able to shift and play with other shifters, instead of stalking and trying to attack them. This all happened just before the sentencing, and then he disappeared. Nobody had laid eyes on him until he shifted to protect you from that fall the other day. They’ve been terrified that the execution affected him so badly that he turned feral and fled into the wilderness.”
I have no words. What would I say even if I could find them?
“Izzy-bizzy, I’m telling you all this because I know you, and I can see the writing on the wall. You’ve adopted him as part of your inner circle, just like you did with Quin when he first showed up. Only difference is, Simon ain’t your fated mate. But you’ve accepted him as family, and girl, that man needs love and acceptance like yours. He’s so starved for it. I’m worried about what he’ll do if something were to ever happen to you.”
Paw Paw pats my hand one last time. He shifts his body and sends the bench rocking violently as he stands to leave me with my thoughts.
“I also believe that he’s been in contact with Quin. I don’t know if Quin sent him, or Simon just knew to come here, but those boys both reek of the unnatural, and of men in white coats who have no morals or ethics. I wouldn’t be surprised if Simon’s arrival was set up to prepare you for Quin’s return. I’ve been speaking on this with Rhys, and he agrees. There are things we can’t tell you, but if your boys decide to fill you in, then that’s on them. Just be prepared to listen with your whole heart, okay?”
He leaves me to the tangled mess that are my thoughts as I do my best to adjust to my new reality.
***
“Hey, where’d you go? The mac and cheese is ready, and you’re just standing there staring into space. Sit, sit.”
Simon’s voice draws me from my memories, and a gentle touch to the small of my back has me moving in the direction he wishes. I sit on the chair he pulls out from the table, and my stomach riots at the amalgamation of scents rising from the steaming plates he sets in front of me.
Creamy, gooey mac and cheese, sprinkled with paprika and chives forms a delicious mound in a bowl. A plate overflowing with freshly baked cornbread. Another piled high with bacon-wrapped lil smokies. Last of all, a tall glass of sweet tea. I don’t even pretend to be dignified as I dig in, shoveling the delicious food into my mouth without caring a fig if I look like the Cookie Monster or a ravenous fiend. Honestly, I feel like I personify those two descriptions right now.
A moan slips from between my lips at the flavors exploding across my tongue. I’ve had plenty of ordinary, bland mac and cheese in the past, the type that’s hot and filling, but tastes almost like powdered cheese-flavored cardboard. This, though? This version of Simon’s blends the sharp, nutty, and creamy flavors of the cheeses with the sweet and smoky spiciness of the paprika. There’s so much flavor that my tastebuds are suffering paroxysms of delight.
It doesn’t take me long to devour everything in front of me, washing it all down with long pulls of sweet tea. I’m blissed out in a food coma, just like my little tigress asleep in my bedroom, and if I had the sense to laugh at the comparison, I would. Instead, I let Simon help me from my seat in the kitchen back to my bedroom, where he helps me up onto the bed for a nap.
He’ll make someone a good husband one day. He just needs to let them in.