6. No matter what we do, it’s just not the same. #4
Both whelps sniffled, and I crouched in front of them, taking the time to stroke their cheeks and pay attention to their serpents, who nuzzled my hand in a heartbreaking bid for attention. “You can tell me when you’re ready.”
Their reactions cemented my new plan, one that involved taking them out for something nicer to eat and a change of environment.
“Did your daddy teach you how to make an evacuation bag?” The wise hives did. War between hives happened, and when angered, gorgons acted. Even I, who straddled several races, was guilty of a gorgon’s base inclination for violence. It defined us all. It spoke of our history, heritage, and origin.
We’d learned, as a race, to temper our instincts with the necessities of modern times, but we remembered—even those of us born long after the first age of mythology and magic.
The children nodded.
“Go fetch your bags. Take a few minutes to gather a few things you feel are important. I can’t promise when we’ll return here, but I’ll have my grandfather’s hive handle tidying.”
They ran, and I stared at the kitchen disaster.
If their father had died, the children would inherit the place, and it would ultimately go to Sylvester for his future hive.
Beauty would become the center of a chaotic bid war to have her.
Every sane hive around the world would want her as its queen.
If she carried the Right to Rule as I suspected, hives would wage literal war for her.
Ironically, Beauty’s father had been right to want Bailey.
There was no one better suited to protect the pair of young gorgons.
Sunny collided with my legs and sat on my feet, slapping her tail on the floor. “Thanks, Perkins.”
“Your grandfathers will be here soon.”
I sighed. “Which ones?”
“All of them. I snitched about Bailey. Any news?”
“It’s bad. It looks like disease killed all but the children and the male, and to save the kids, I fear he had them put into glass coffins.”
Perkins’s brows shot up. “He put gorgon whelps into glass coffins?”
“Do or die. The girl is Beauty, the boy is Sylvester. We need to figure out who treated them and what they were sick with. I’ll have my grandfather see about vaccinations for the uninfected hives.”
“Rabies again?”
As I could see someone making a desperate gamble to cure late-stage rabies with a glass coffin, I shrugged. “It’s possible. If he tried to treat late-stage rabies, I could see him paying out for the treatment. But it would have to be late-stage. Neither child seems mentally impaired.”
“Unless he paid for a miracle. An angel could repair rabies damage.”
A high medical bill to save his children would explain a lot. “Call the CDC and inquire if the Dover hive requested any glass coffins. If so, call—”
My grandfathers, all three of them, appeared in a flash of golden light.
“—my father to get more information. Hello, Grandfathers.”
For a being without a head, my angelic grandfather was unfortunately good at staring down his nose at me. “What have you done now?”
“Didn’t peek?” I challenged.
“Not today.”
“The little girl might have the Right to Rule, the females of the hive were wiped out by disease, and their father is missing.”
My gorgon grandfather sighed. “Let me guess. You’re giving Bailey two gorgon whelps for Christmas.”
“I’m pitching it as temporary fostering until their father is found with the possibility of permanency.”
“That’s an upgrade from his original plan,” Perkins muttered.
My grandfathers glared at me.
Damn it. “I was going for a peaceful resolution first.”
“Also an upgrade from his original plan,” Perkins announced.
All of my gorgon grandfather’s serpents hissed at me.
“Thanks, Perkins.”
“Glad to help. He’s told the whelps to get their bags, so we should only have to be here for a few more minutes.”
I shrugged. “They can’t stay here alone, and I’m not going to let Beauty be thrown into the middle of a gorgon bid war. Forget it. Bailey’s winning any fostering battles, and I’ll pull out every stop to make sure it happens. They’ll be safest with me for now.”
My angelic grandfather sighed. “What was his original plan, Perky?”
“It involved legal violence and fostering.”
“No,” my grandfathers chorused.
Why couldn’t I ever get a break? “It was only a little violence.”
Perkins shot a glare my way. “And now it’s no violence.”
I gave up. “Fine. No violence, but he can’t have Bailey. She’s mine. The kids can come over and visit Bailey whenever they want after their father is found, and I won’t even complain if he’s in my territory, but Bailey is mine.”
“We know, Sam. We know. After we find their father, you can scold him before helping him establish a new hive. That way, he’s no longer a threat to Bailey.” Perkins got in my face and prodded me in the chest. “But don’t you even think of orphaning those kids because of jealousy.”
I wouldn’t, not without damned good cause. Sometimes, I wondered if Perkins had angelic genetics, too. Without fail, he never fucked up on the truly important decisions in life. Releasing my anger on a sigh, I nodded. “The whelps come first, always.”