Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
Y ou’re not safe alone, child.
The words from her godmother April Davenport echoed in Tilly’s mind as she let the water from the generous rain shower in Cass’s luxurious hotel bathroom flow down along her swollen body.
There had been no time alone to tell him about her risks as he’d ushered her into his hotel suite. Marjo Ricard, his personal assistant, had joined him as soon as they all stepped into the elevator of the Grand Montreal. He’d suggested Tilly take time to freshen up from her long journey while he met with his brother at the hotel’s private club. It was as if he was scared to sit down with her and have a much-needed intimate conversation.
Marjo, a quietly efficient thirty-something with a sensible dark-haired bob and basic navy pantsuit, had ordered Tilly room service and seen her settled before leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Tilly was grateful for the reprieve to collect herself and wash away the long journey. Yet while hot water usually did the trick in bringing her peace, it didn’t help this time.
Her mind buzzed with too many random thoughts and experiences. She could smell Cass’s cologne and sense his manly presence all over the expansive bathroom of chrome and glass. His aftershave and razor with his big silver skull ring were right there on the marble counter. There was female paraphernalia as well—lipstick, nail polish, and sleek hair tools. A tiny cream-colored leather jacket lay folded over one of the wicker lounge chairs at the other end of the room.
Was he seeing anyone now?
There’d been no one with him on the bus. She already knew Maya Duguay, the fun-loving woman totally devoted to her boyfriend Kit. And Tilly had met many like the pretty young redhead drinking and smoking with their new guy—Osh, she recalled—at the back of the bus. Starstruck, too young. Likely without a passport on her, she’d probably be discarded by the band as they crossed over to the US border.
Osh would find another girl the next day. This bassist hadn’t been in Cape Cod during the recording. Tilly had worked with their regular, Leo Durant—not a bad musician, but also young and fickle. He’d apparently decided to take a leave of absence for the first half of the Resurgence Tour and Karim had found Osh at the last minute.
She could tell Cass disliked Osh. She nodded to herself with a small smile at thinking of how Cass took care of his band. Despite his laidback, charming attitude, he seemed to have little time for anyone not one hundred percent focused on the music.
Kit and Hervé had obviously earned his respect. For this lifetime, anyway. She wondered what it would be like to have to reinvent yourself every generation.
It had to be hard to watch the people you care about die off. How sad that would be for him. And worse still, how would it be for him now as a father?
A ping of longing for her pre-pregnancy, simple, single life of recording for some of the best talents, spread to her heart. She pushed the emotion down, brushing the loofa filled with frothy, expensive vanilla gel, hard against her weary lower back. She’d eventually return home with a precious little one to care for.
She had plenty of support from her friends in Cape Cod to help raise her child. Ryan, her boss at Hyannis Sound had taken over her current clients and told her to take the time she needed to settle into motherhood. But she had to get through the next few months first. And figure out exactly where Cass fit in all this. Her stomach was still knotted with anxiety at the trials of the last forty-eight hours.
She felt her little munchkin move a limb across her belly and a rush of gratefulness flooded her. Don’t worry, kiddo . We’ll figure this out . You’ll always be safe with me.
The warnings from Godmother April haunted her. She couldn’t forget what she’d learned about the kidnapping of little Elsa by cursed vampires who thought Elsa’s blood could cure them of their vampiric curse.
The revelation of the tragic death of Elsa’s mother at the hands of her human husband during a psychotic episode had shocked Tilly. Elsa had been saved, thank goodness, and adopted by Sloane, another niece of the banshee sisters. But Marlee’s death had made the godmothers hyper-vigilant, and they’d watched out for Tilly from afar ever since Sloane had discovered her existence in one of her visions.
And that was why Godmother April had been so fearful when she’d learned about Tilly’s pregnancy.
“No one can know about your condition ,” the older lady had insisted. But her warning had come too late.
Everyone at Hyannis Sound knew, along with her small group of best friends back home— Lilah, a fitness instructor who’d come to each of her doctor’s visits, the local barista Josh who was like a brother to her and had escorted her to all her birthing classes, and Allie, a private nurse who made home visits to the wealthy families summering on the Cape and made sure Tilly ate right and took all her prenatal vitamins. They’d been a huge help in setting up the baby room in Tilly’s cozy, rented cottage at the end of town.
Tilly had never revealed to anyone she was a banshee. Her friends assumed the white streak of hair that would not take any dye was a fashion choice and not something that appeared to her kind after a ritualistic ceremony where they met Death himself.
So, while she was aware of possible threats, she didn’t believe that anyone from that crowd, or even Cass’s entourage, posed a real danger. She was more worried about a stranger supernatural or sorcerer learning of her existence and coming after her and her baby because she walked with the Grim Reaper. She was one of the chosen who, not only could foretell the death of others, but apparently harnessed other powers, although hers hadn’t manifested yet.
She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a thick, plush towel around her curves. Her breath stopped and she jerked back when, as if on cue, she caught the ominous presence of her prophetic constant companion waiting for her on the heated marble floor.
Death was here. He had a message for her.
The tall, hooded form with a tarnished bronze sickle in his hand came into focus as the warm condensation of the air dissipated. His face was hidden by the plain black cloak, his skeletal hands visible below the wide tattered sleeves.
She knew him too well by now.
“Have you told him?” the cavernous voice inquired.
She eyed the gloomy vision that had been an endless presence in her life since she was twelve years old, when he’d appeared in her bedroom in the dead of night to tell her it was time she learned of her heritage.
She’d always known something was different about her—her dreams were much too vivid—those involving tragedy always seeming to come true. And Death had explained that since she had no family, he’d be the one to teach her of what she was.
It was only two years ago that the Davenport godmothers had contacted her when their great-niece Sloane told them she’d learned of the existence of Tilly—a distant Davenport cousin abandoned at birth—through one of her visions.
And so Tilly had found herself a family after bouncing between foster homes her entire life until she got that college scholarship to UMass Lowell and managed to get into the Sound Recording Tech program.
But the godmothers were all the way on the West Coast, and she’d met them only three times since then. They did call often though—at least once a week—and now that they knew about the baby, had planned to come down for the birth as soon as she knew where she’d be settled with Cass. That was if Cass would help her with this.
The Reaper, unlike her own parents, birth and foster alike, had always been there for her.
“He knows about the baby,” she told the apparition, focusing on her current problem as she slipped her feet into plush velour hotel slippers.
“He doesn’t know you’re at risk?” A ripple spread across the dark cloth of the vision.
“Is that why you’re here?” Death mostly appeared to her when danger or someone’s imminent death was near.
She had known of every single passing in Hyannis. Natural or not.
“Someone beside him knows what you are,” Death intoned. “The news may have, or will, follow you here.”
Blast. She wrapped another towel around her hair. “You think someone here wants my child?”
“Or you,” Death’s deep voice offered. “The sacrifice of a pregnant banshee can release incredible mystical energy that can be used for all kinds of magic.”
“A sacrifice?” She shuddered with a sudden rush of fear and swaddled her stomach with both arms. Godmother April’s words hadn’t quite sunk in until uttered so ominously by Death himself.
The being’s face was completely hidden by the flowy hood, but his slightly stooped posture told her that he wasn’t comfortable with the news he was sharing. Did he perhaps care a little about her fate?
“Yes, sacrificed,” he continued, his voice hoarse. “Cut open like a butchered animal, while the right words are spoken. Mother, then child.”
She swallowed hard. “So, the myth is true.”
“Mostly, yes. While the blood of that Davenport baby wouldn’t have cured cursed vampires, many rumors running among humans are true. Tremendous power can be accessed through your sacrifice. And some of these rituals could wreak havoc on your world’s natural order.”
She pursed her lips, forcing herself to push down the rising panic closing her throat and instead quickly assessed the situation. “What do you know about what’s threatening me specifically here?”
“I have some information,” the Reaper offered. “But I am bound by my duties to the underworld to remain silent and cannot tell you much more. I do care for our connection, little one. I do not wish to guide your journey to the beyond just yet.”
So, the threat to her and her baby’s life was real. And if the Reaper could not tell her, it meant his premonition was truly directed toward her. She was in real trouble.
She leaned back, both hands steadying her balance on the long alabaster marble counter behind her.
“St-Amand is surrounded by bodyguards,” her dark companion continued. “He is the son of Ambrus the Exiled and Lilith of the Celtic Isles. He has strength. And abilities. Your godmother was right, you need to stay with him at all costs.”
“But I can’t just follow him along until the birth,” she protested. Her rational side took full hold of her. She had acted in a panic by coming here, but what did she expect would happen for the next few weeks? “He’s on tour. He’ll be leaving Montreal soon. And I need to check in with my doctor. Get ready for the birth. I’ll have to go back to Hyannis.”
“No!” The cloth of Death’s black robe shook with foreboding as he sternly planted his sickle on the bathroom floor. “Hyannis is not safe. You live alone in that tiny house in the middle of nowhere. You must stay here with him.”
She stewed over Death’s words. Her house was isolated, away from the town proper, with practically no neighbors to speak of. But stay with Cass? How would that work?
She hadn’t thought of any of this when she had rushed to Boston to catch her bus to see him.
She looked down at her belly, the expanse of her predicament obvious.
Sure, Cass had resources. It’d be easy for him to find her a new clinic, a private doctor even. As an immortal, he could convince anyone to take care of her with a few hypnotic commands. She had crossed the border as a tourist and was allowed to stay here in Canada for at least a few months. And he had his homes in the States. They could go anywhere.
But she had everything ready for the birth in Hyannis. Her baby room was set, her birth plan with the hospital ready, her friends all on call for her. And blast it, they had her baby shower all planned for next week.
She also couldn’t ignore that a huge part of her hated the idea of counting on anyone for her survival. And certainly not on him. He wasn’t about to cancel his tour to stay with her.
“You two will have to be careful,” the Reaper added. “Not everyone in his family can be trusted.”
“What, why?” She frowned.
“His father is a hell demon,” her dark companion huffed. “Sure, Ambrus escaped the underworld a millennial ago. But we cannot trust him. I can’t imagine what he could do with that kind of power in the human world.”
“Hell demon?” As far as she knew, Cass’s mother was a centuries-old witch, and his birth father was an unknown immortal. Cass had never told her the mysterious being was anything other than a natural-born vampire like he was.
“The less his family and entourage know, the safer for you,” Death continued, his voice just a little softer.
“But how can I convince him to protect me until our child is born?” She couldn’t forget his impulsive marriage proposal on the bus or the shock on his face right after the words had come out of his mouth. He was not ready to be a father.
“It is his child. Appeal to his sense of honor.”
Honor? She scoffed inwardly. The Reaper had some antiquated notions. Did Cass possess any sense of honor?
She pondered, suddenly questioning the thought more seriously. What did she know about Cass, really? He was joyful, hot. Generous in his affections—a real charmer. He had made their two days of passion fun, playful. She recalled his boyish smile as he’d peeled off her sleep shirt right in the middle of the kitchen while they’d cooked breakfast together on that first morning. He’d managed to easily thaw any inhibitions she’d had and had taken her right there on one of the counter stools. God, how she had held tight onto him while straddling him, her bright laughter soon turning into needy moans for more.
He had a serious side, too, when it came to his music, his band. But the rest? She had no idea.
He’d first chuckled at the news the child was his, deeply hurting her feelings. But he’d then quickly recovered and mentioned buying them a house, so he was definitely not a total jerk. A part of him seemed to want to take care of his responsibility. But he would still need proof that he was the father.
“A DNA test,” she said out loud.
“Pardon?” Death shook a skeletal hand.
“We’ll get a paternity test.”
And then the test would come back positive, and Cass would want to stay by her side to protect their baby. In fact, he might want to be around them forever.
But she was not prepared to accept that either.
She stared at the half-drunk cocktail next to the make-up collection left on the pink marble counter. Raising a child in this environment was not something she wanted.
It was fine for Maya to follow her boyfriend on tour, she was childless and had a job with the band. But Tilly didn’t want the life of Hervé’s wife. Staying behind with her kids like she was some second-rate castoff, while dad partied his way across the continents.
She looked up and saw that her foretelling confidant had vanished. He’d done his thing—warned her. And now it was all up to her to stay safe.
She’d have to tell Cass as soon as possible that she and the baby were in danger.
He said he’d be back in an hour or so.
Her towel still secure around her, she stepped into the suite to get her backpack where she’d stored a change of clothes.
“Who the hell are you?” A crisp female voice stopped her mid-step.
Oh god, this is it.
Tilly’s heart somersaulted at the intrusion. The threat to her life made real. She clasped her towel tighter and looked up at the newcomer.
This was no groupie wandering into Cass’s room by mistake. The woman facing her with an indignant expression on her gorgeous features was tall and perfectly shaped. Her glossy blonde hair fell in waves to her shoulders and down a classy creamy-white blouse that she wore tucked into flowy, ivory silk pants. She accessorized with carefully chosen thin gold jewelry, and held a beaded gold evening clutch in her well-manicured hand.
This woman had to be a model, actress, or someone related to entertainment. Tilly had seen many like her, coming to the studio with their wealthy boyfriends, polished to perfection, with everything money could buy.
Tilly relaxed a little—the beauty was not likely a threat to her child.
“And who are you ?” She raised her chin to the woman, her posture radiating confidence despite her minimal covering.
“I’m Zara,” the woman smirked, the grimace disturbing the polish of her image. “Don’t you recognize me?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Then you don’t go out much. My face is everywhere. Perfume Jean-Claude? The Boudreaux Collection?”
“Still no.”
“I model. Billboards, magazines, runways…” She looked down at Tilly’s round body under the towel. “I’m Cass St-Amand’s girlfriend. What are you doing here?
“Girlfriend?” Tilly stared at her with a jolt. She grabbed her backpack and took an involuntary step back. Of course, Cass would have a girlfriend in his life. Women basically threw themselves at him. Why had she believed otherwise?
“Well, yeah.” She nodded at the bathroom. “Didn’t you see my stuff in there? I came to get my leather jacket. Forgot it this evening.”
Tilly frowned, her usual poise still shaken. Rivulets of water dripped down her neck. “He never mentioned…”
“Again, who are you ?” Zara took a decisive step toward her on spindly patent nude heels.
Tilly pulled her backpack in front of her and straightened her spine. Her hand shook on the top handle. This Zara could be a real threat after all.
“I’m Mathilda Davenport,” she stated. “Of Hyannis Sound. I’m a music producer. I worked on Cass’s last album.”
“Huh.” The model tilted her head for a second before asking, a little less belligerent this time. “And what are you doing in his shower?”
“I just arrived in town from Cape Cod. It’s a long bus ride. Cass let me freshen up. We’re… friends.” Tilly just didn’t know how to explain their relationship.
“Friends, huh.” Zara narrowed suspicious green eyes at her. “I talked to him before the show. He never mentioned you.”
“Surprise visit.” Tilly shrugged casually. It didn’t look like the news of Cass’s unexpected fatherhood had reached the woman yet.
“I see. Well, don’t take too long in his room.” Zara jutted her chin at Tilly. “I’m sure he’ll want to kick back after the concert. I could see he was straining himself tonight.”
“I wasn’t there.” Tilly leaned her hip on the armrest of the white leather couch beside her, her back suddenly aching from standing too long. “I didn’t see the show.”
“It was good, but I could tell he was drained.” Zara seemed to know a lot more about Cass than would a passing fancy.
The revelation brought a twinge of sorrow to Tilly’s heart. He had definitely moved on from her.
“He should be resting so he can be in good shape for the gala tomorrow.” The beautiful woman sat down on the plush armchair in front of the gas fireplace and casually opened her clutch to get a glittery vape pen out of the tiny purse. “I’m surprised he’s not here. I told him I’d drop by for a quick drink tonight.”
“You don’t stay here with him?” Tilly looked around the suite, searching for signs that this was also Zara’s room and found none. A little hope rose in her. Maybe the relationship was not so serious after all.
“Nah. Not yet. I have my own place in town.” She clicked her vape a few times and took a long inhale, the sweet smell rising in the air making Tilly gag.
“So you haven’t been together long?” Tilly tried to sound casual as she waved the smoke away from her.
“To be honest, we are not technically together. The media have put us together ever since he participated in a Vlahos charity event sponsored by my agency, so it’s just a matter of time.” Zara had relaxed her tone, obviously no longer considering Tilly a rival. “But you know what it’s like. Men. They take a while to understand what’s going on.”
Zara didn’t appear to realize that Cass was not quite a man, but a centuries-old vampire who knew exactly what was going on.
“Look, girl,” Zara added, snapping her clutch shut and jumping to her feet, “sounds like your trip took a toll on you. You look like hell, no offense. If you want the name of a good stylist, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll let you get dressed and come pickup my things later. Tell Cass I dropped by, and I’ll call him tomorrow.”
The model might not be his girlfriend yet, but she was definitely planning on it.
And the blonde was totally right. Tilly looked down at her swollen ankles. She did look like hell.
She’d never been into fashion, preferring sneakers, comfy yoga pants, hoodies, and band T-shirts. But right now, she was nothing more than a bloated beached whale left by the surf.
What chance did she have in convincing Cass to protect her when glamourous Zara was right there, ready to steal his heart? The idea that he could be in love with the model just didn’t sit right with Tilly. She was not ready to let this woman chase her away. She had to stick around Cass for protection.
Tilly suddenly realized that it was not just her and her baby’s safety that were in the balance. But her heart as well.