Chapter 27 Crackerjack
Chapter Twenty Seven
Crackerjack
— Sunday —
It’s a tight fit—all five of us crammed into the Judge. Not that she lacks the generous legroom and headroom of a ’60s muscle car, but my mates are very large people. Ben and Grayson especially.
I end up letting Gray drive. Ben calls shotgun and I’m tucked in the back, pressed between Tomas and Shadow.
I try to lose myself in the guttural groan of the engine—the way it builds and falls, a steady crescendo like a storm gathering strength with each smooth shift of gear. I imagine the air and fuel mixing, the pistons firing in perfect rhythm. It’s been my meditation for as long as I can remember.
More than a few nights, I’ve just driven, feeling her rise and fall under my hands, chasing that elusive sense of clarity Daddy always said was just a long drive away.
Shadow’s arm tightens around me, their jaguar stretching across the bond, tail flicking as they search for the source of my agitation. The steady warmth of their presence is a comfort, their touch grounding me—but even that doesn’t unravel the unease coiling tighter with every mile.
Home.
The word should feel simpler, but the thought of seeing Colt is a strange, tangled thing. Joy and dread wrapped together, like an uninvited passenger lurking in the trunk.
Gray’s presence, however, is another story entirely.
He hasn’t blinked since we left the townhouse, his grip a vise on the wheel, eyes locked straight ahead as though sheer willpower can get us to the farm faster.
He turned down breakfast, claiming there wasn’t time. And while it’s not unusual for him to retreat into himself when he’s focused, there’s something different this time. His vampire side is creeping in, peeling away the human mannerisms he’s spent centuries perfecting. Even the bond between us feels sharper—like the raw edge of metal—as if he’s preparing for battle, not a family reunion.
Tension radiates off him like heat, sharp enough that everyone in the car can feel it, bonded or not.
Shadow notices too, their jaguar prowling the edges of my mind, bristling at Gray’s intensity. They might not fully understand a Maker’s bond with their chyld, but they sense the shift—the irritation and impatience surfacing in Gray’s silence.
The air between us crackles with it, a silent reminder that things are still far from smoothed over after the townhouse debacle. Shadow’s irritation lingers, an unspoken dare to do something—to intervene, to reach over and snap Gray out of this iron-willed silence.
But I don’t. Because this grand misadventure might have started with Colt, but it doesn’t feel like it’s ending just because he’s finally coming home.
I want to see him, to wrap my arms around him and hear about his time in that alternate realm, fomenting rebellion alongside a gorgeous vampire. His journey sounds surreal—maybe even more so than mine.
And yet… a heavy dread settles in my stomach.
I’ve changed. Has he?
Change shouldn’t be scary. Growth shouldn’t feel like a threat.
But somehow, it is.
There are bigger things to worry about—Vivien’s return and the havoc it could wreak on our House and Gray’s fragile relationships with all of us. Texas, scheming to drag Gray and Shadow back under his disgusting thumb. Roxana and the Council, lurking in the shadows like Chekhov’s gun, just waiting to go off.
And then there’s that fucking dragon.
But if I’m being truthful? My main concern is my brother. That he’s going to take one look at my new polycule and give me hell. No one—and I mean no one—can wind me up or cut me to the quick faster than Colt.
The Judge rumbles down the narrow road, and the pecan trees stretch overhead, their branches forming a shifting lattice of shadows in the headlights. Moonlight filters through the leaves, glinting off the Judge’s hood.
The air carries the smell of earth and pecan wood, layered with a subtle note of anticipation—like the farm itself has been waiting, just as long as we have, for its people to find their way home.
It feels strange coming back here at night. The farm is so quiet it seems to hold its breath.
When the house finally comes into view, its white-painted siding gleams under the weak spill of floodlights from the parking area. The red barn looms behind it, doors shut tight, a dark promise. Beside that, Shadow’s oak stands like a sentinel, its branches etched against the night sky.
It’s exactly as we left it. Yet somehow, it feels foreign. Like a dream half-remembered.
Figures move in the shadows around the barn—Daddy with one of the twins perched on his shoulders. Beneath the oak, I spot three silhouettes, their shapes backlit against the gnarled trunk. Sue’s blonde hair stands out, and the other two must be Cady and Val. I crane my neck, scanning for any hint of blood. No crimson stains yet, so it seems like Cady is mindin’ her manners.
The Judge’s engine cuts off, leaving an uncanny quiet. The low rumble of distant conversation mingles with the croak of frogs from the field pond. Tomas nudges me gently, his golden eyes assessing. “Ready, Trouble?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
I’m already reaching out with my gift, mapping the minds around us. I find two in the barn—both familiar. Lily and Mishka. Lily’s mind buzzes with industrious energy, while Mishka feels… unsure, but not unhappy. They’re all here, waiting, expectant. That familiar pang hits—the pressure to be something for each of them.
We pile out of the car, and it doesn’t take long before Gemma’s giggles shatter the stillness. She barrels toward us, launching herself at Shadow, who scoops her up with practiced ease. She clings to them, chattering excitedly. From the barn, Mishka—appearing as a capybara tonight—waddles out, Lily trotting alongside, her grin wide enough to split her face.
Daddy shakes his head. “Lily, we went over this… twice.”
“But, Daddy, Mishka wants to be a capybara!” she protests, dropping to one knee and clutching Mishka’s head to her, pinky lodged deep in his ear. He just keeps chewing whatever she’s been feeding him.
Ben chuckles and gives the aquatic rodent housing his son’s soul a quick scratch behind the ears before greeting the girls.
Tomas, meanwhile, scans the yard like he’s sizing up a battlefield, muttering instructions and snapping at our heels, herding everyone closer to the house. His eyes dart, calculating distances, clearly wary of where the magic might flare to life.
Grayson’s patience frays. “Tomas, let them be.”
“You didn’t see where they opened it last time…”
I leave the men to their territorial standoff and turn to my favorite emo-vamp. Val lingers on the outskirts, looking a bit lost in the swirl of chaos. I catch her gaze and soften my voice.
“Val, I feel like I haven’t seen you since we got off the plane.” I pause, my tone gentle. “Are you doing all right? There’s a room for you at the townhouse. And did you… eat?” The last word is barely a whisper, but she hears it.
Her lips curl into a small, grateful smile. “I’m well, Sunday. And yes, Sue has been… a most accommodating host.”
She glances toward the house, where Sue stands with her arms folded, bemusement in her eyes.
“Oh… oh. ”
“There was a cooler of blood waiting when I rose, thanks to Rurik.”
Relief loosens the tightness in my chest. I nod. “Well, that was mighty nice of him.”
Valentine’s eyes flash with a glint of humor. “Yes, my uncle has been uncharacteristically thoughtful of late. Your influence, I think.”
Cady shifts, clearly listening in. Her gaze catches mine for just a moment before darting back to Grayson and Val, her mouth tightening almost imperceptibly. A flash of memory hits me—Arcadia’s face, intent as she offered me that apple to save Tomas.
Sue steps in with a light laugh, a note of diplomacy smoothing over the tension. “Cady’s still… adjusting to our houseguests,” she says, her gaze flitting between Cady and Val. “Not the biggest fan of our vamps, I’m afraid. But she’s agreed to be civil, haven’t ya’, Shug ?”
“Cady.” My voice carries a growing edge of wariness, the memory of Gray’s travel pod—smoking and mangled—fresh in my mind. “I will not be happy if you make anyone in my family uncomfortable. And that includes the vampires.”
Her lip curls slightly, the word “family” escaping on a derisive sniff.
“Yes. Family,” I reply, holding my ground. “My fully bonded mate, his chyld, and my dear friend.”
I glance at Val as I say it. She meets my eyes with a flash of gratitude, a small nod that softens her usual reserve.
Cady’s arms remain stubbornly crossed, her gaze drifting into the dark distance. I realize this might be the closest thing to reassurance I’ll get. But for now, it’ll have to do.
Tomas throws his hands up, exasperation sharp in his movements. “See! Right here!”
He gestures toward the center of the yard. I squint, trying to see what he’s pointing at. There’s a subtle shimmer—a patch of space just a shade brighter than the rest.
“They’re made of plasma,” he mutters. “Keep the kids back.”
As if on cue, a faint hum fills the air, low and vibrating through the ground. It builds, the pressure swelling until it feels like a physical force. A swirling column of orange light coalesces right where Tomas pointed, sending jagged shadows dancing across the yard.
The glow intensifies—pulsing orange veined with red, its edges twisting and writhing as if barely holding itself together. The air crackles with electric energy, thick and charged, raising the hairs on my arms.
Grayson shifts forward, every muscle drawn taut. His hand flexes—a minor tell, but enough for me to pin it to the surge of raw, unfiltered relief through the bond. He feels her approach. His eyes find mine for the briefest moment before snapping back to the swirling orange light. His focus sharpens to a lethal point.
Then, with a final surge, the cross-realm portal stabilizes. The orange glow solidifies, framing two emerging shapes.
Colt steps through first, turning to offer his hand to the diminutive figure behind him.
I drink him in—the longer hair, the short beard—scanning for injuries, my heart hammering. I know Gray’s doing the same.
They’re fine. They both seem fine.
Colt’s eyes sweep the yard,. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he drawls, his grin slow and knowing. “Feels like I just strolled outta hell and right into heaven. Y’all must’ve missed me somethin’ fierce .”
Then he turns, flashing that roguish smile at Vivien. “Now, don’t be shy, Crackerjack.”