Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
“ S o, you’ll be a dad, eh?” His brother Griffon, clad in classic blue jeans and his usual rugged, brown military coat, was eying him with sympathy while leaning back in a dark leather club chair in the lavish Grand Montreal hotel’s private lounge. “Sacréfice , Cass. That’s a hell of a news.”
“I’m not going to be a father.” Cass sat across his sibling beside the full-length window overlooking the bright cityscape. “It just can’t be.”
“You sure?” Griff signaled the waiter who was hanging by the bar chatting with the barman, a grizzled middle-aged man in a white button-down shirt under black suspenders.
The place was quiet, sounds muffled by the plush seats and heavy damask drapes. A lone businessman was reading a newspaper by the smooth glow of a stained-glass lamp at the far corner of the lounge.
This was not a place where fans would hunt him down, the lounge being a perk only to the executive suites of the hotel.
“Remember Mag?” Cass slid his Celtic cross along its silver chain at his neck. “He tried everything to have a child of his own. Even with a banshee.”
“A banshee, really?” Griff frowned. “Oh right. Yes, I remember now. That was at the turn of the century, during the prohibition. When Mag decided to transport rum across to New England. Alcohol was legal here, so he thought it’d be easy money. I was there when he met her. She was one of those Davenport banshees, probably ancestor to your gal. Didn’t pan out though. She didn’t want him.”
“For real?” So, Mag had not in fact tried everything to become a father.
Griff didn’t answer and instead turned to the waiter.
The man was standing at attention above them in a sleek black vest over a white shirt and black bow tie, waiting for their order.
“I’ll just have a beer. Whatever you have on tap.”
“Whiskey for me.” Cass would need something strong to get him through this possible fatherhood thing. “Single Malt. Talisker if you have it. If not, Laphroaig will do.”
“Always the best for you, bro?” Griff raised an amused brow at him as the discreet waiter left with a brief nod.
“Yeah, why not. Life’s for the best.” Cass shrugged. “So, Mag didn’t try to get a banshee pregnant?”
“No. She turned him down. But you know him,” Griff chuckled, “he wouldn’t want everyone to know that a woman said no to him.”
“True.”
“After that, and his many failures, he was just so dejected, he assumed it would never work.”
“I’ll be damned.” Cass leaned back as the news sank in. “Tilly might actually be telling the truth. Maybe it’s that whole dead-undead thing. She walks so close to Death, could be what made her able to conceive with someone like us.”
“You didn’t believe her?” Griff seemed surprised that he didn’t.
“Well, no.” Cass stretched his legs out on the smooth claret-colored carpet. “I mean, not that I don’t trust her. But we’ve always believed we can’t procreate. Hells, have you ever been careful?”
“No. I haven’t. Ask Justin or one of the Disciples of Nostredame,” he countered, mentioning the order of humans tasked with providing them with human blood during the yearly Rituel du Sang ceremony. “Every piece of literature had claimed immortals can’t have kids. And we don’t get sick, so there’s no need for protection.”
“Well, then.” Cass gave his brother a brief, co-conspiring smile. “You, too, might be a father.”
“I didn’t sleep with a banshee,” Griff refuted.
“Never?”
Griff narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t sleep around, bro.”
“Neither do I.” Despite his easy access to all kinds of women, he was careful with his associations. The media had linked him to many women but in truth he only had a handful in this century. Sure, his bed was rarely lonely during his touring theater years in the late eighteenth century, but he became more selective after that. After Augusta. And he knew that whoever he’d choose for a long-term relationship would eventually die and break his heart. “It has to be right.”
“And it was right with your banshee, apparently.”
“Tilly. Her name’s Tilly,” Cass insisted. “Mathilda Davenport.”
He paused for a moment. Reflecting on the very last time he felt her in his arms. As he embraced her on the cold winter beach before saying goodbye. Her body all wrapped in her black puffer coat. Her cheek covered by a thick red wool scarf. His heart beating too hard, filled with ache at having to leave her behind.
Damn, how he wanted to touch her again. Feel her bare skin against him. Cup her breasts in his palms, trace the curves of her backside, the swell of her hips. Feel her hot, slick center as he slid inside her. And more, he wanted to see that easy smile return on her perfectly shaped lips. See her serious features ease into happiness as he lightened the mood for her. She had let go with him. He knew it. She had melted under his touch and had trusted him fully. They had connected.
“It started on the last day on the album,” he added, a bout of melancholia taking hold of him. “Just the two of us for a full weekend after the guys left. It was intense .”
“You get that close during recording sessions?”
“Not always. But it can be deep. You don’t know… when I’m in that creating mode, I get so absorbed.”
“And she was right there with you.”
“Yeah. It’s hard to explain. We just bonded.” He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. On why it was right. But everything about those days, those nights, had been bliss and perfection.
She was a supernatural being, just like he was. But there was more. She spoke her mind. No manipulation. And a fierce ambition to get ahead.
He’d learned that she was so dedicated that she’d finished her music degree early, then hustled to get the job at Hyannis. Since then, she had launched the career of quite a few new upcoming artists. That Punjabi hip hop artist from Seattle, and that world music band from Mexico. And the kid Jay Carpenter from Nashville. The young pop-country performer had come up north just for her and she’d made him a rising star.
When Karim had initially suggested working with her after Cass complained that he needed a new sound, he’d been skeptic. But ten minutes mixing with her, and he’d been sold.
She obsessed about finding the right sound, just as he did.
“You got serious feelings for Tilly,” Griff stated, catching on quick. “I never heard you speak so passionately about someone.”
“I did. Still do, I guess…maybe.” He raked his hair back. “She’s the mother of my child, baptême !”
“So now you believe her.” Griff considered him before looking up to the bar where the barman was pouring their drinks. “Shouldn’t you be with her right now?”
“I will, soon.” Cass shook his head. “I gave her some time to freshen up. She must be exhausted. Can you believe, she took a goddamn bus all the way up here, just to see me. I would have sent a car.”
“She cares for you.”
“Nah. I think she wants money.” Cass couldn’t hide his disappointment that she hadn’t come to him right away.
“Damn, bro.”
“Yeah.” And that fact right there truly gnawed at him. He wasn’t sure he was ready for a child, but half wished she wanted him for more than just his large financial resources.
“You’ll do the right thing, though,” Griff pressed.
“Of course, man.” Did Griff actually think he’d turn into a deadbeat dad? “Papa Antoine didn’t raise us to run away from responsibilities.”
Griff waved his hand in the air and the candle on the table between them danced along with his motion. He turned the flame into a small and much too realistic image of their father carving a piece of oak in front of the hearth of their childhood home on St-Laurent Street.
“Stop that.” Cass glanced sideways at the waiter coming back their way with his tray. “It’ll get you killed.”
Griff snapped his fingers, and the image dissipated at once. He gave Cass a doubtful look. “No one has killed witches in these parts since they tried with Ren.”
Their brother had been burned at the stake by a mob of humans in the late eighteenth century and left for dead until he’d been found and rescued by the alpha of the Domaine-Lasalle wolf pack.
“It’s not like you to be so cranky,” Griff reflected. “This fatherhood thing is really doing you in.”
“No shit.” It was hard not to feel distressed by the news. “Speaking of witches, I wonder how Mom will react at learning she’s about to be a grandma.”
Griff chortled. “That’ll be an interesting talk.”
“I meant to reach out and ask her about the chances of me being a father. But from what you told me, it seems it’s not impossible. Now I need to figure out what to do.”
“Obviously start by canceling the tour. Aren’t you off to Germany in October? Isn’t that when she’s due?”
“Damn, you’re right.” Shock at Griff’s suggestion made him gulp. Did he have to cancel the tour? His fans had waited six years for something this big. And he had all these contracts to fulfill. Venues booked and production companies hired.
“Your child is about to be born,” Griff continued. “That’s a huge event. First immortal since our birth. You can’t be across the Atlantic on that day.”
Goddammit. A rush of tension traveled through his body, starting from his fingertips, and scurrying all the way to the depth of his chest. He was about to be a father. The reality hit him full force.
Again, he swallowed with difficulty.
“Can maybe Mag and Nyssa help her out?” he suggested, mentioning his brother and his Montreal real estate magnate fiancée.
“Cassiodore!” Griff’s stern tone sounded just like Papa Antoine’s when they were kids, and he was disappointed with them. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”
“I know.” He winced. “But it’s my tour, man. Haven’t had one like this in a long time. Had a couple of shows here and there. But the Resurgence Tour, it’s international. It’s a huge deal. I can’t cancel. The fans bought tickets. Expensive ones. And we’ll have to pay hefty legal fines for all these canceled contracts.”
“You certainly can’t drag her around with you and have her pop out the kid backstage.”
Cass let out a heavy breath and crossed his arms at his chest, completely crestfallen. His long life free of responsibility was truly over. He cared for Tilly, of course he did.
He really cared. But when he’d imagined them together, it was doing more of what happened in Hyannis. Music sessions, followed by nights of passionate lovemaking. Maybe some lovers’ getaways to exciting locales between albums. He’d take her to LA for parties, and to his New York penthouse for creative retreats.
There was nothing in there about diapers and night feeding. And baptême , not annulling any of his appearances. He had worked hard for his success and could not disappoint his admirers.
“I’m not canceling my shows. What would my fans think? No. I’ll hire a full-time newborn nanny for her. Maybe ask Mom to help with the birth?”
“Mom? You’re joking.” Griff laughed out loud.
“I suppose I should start looking for a house,” Cass pondered. Could they all settle here in Montreal? Damn this was going too fast.
“Now that’s a much better reaction to the big news,” Griff commented light-heartedly, trying to ease the mood from Cass’s predicament. “Papa Antoine would approve.”
“Hey, this child could be immortal!” Forgetting the tour for a moment, Cass suddenly thought beyond the challenges.
“Yes. And it’s great,” Griff told him, now turning serious. “I, for one, would welcome a nephew, or a niece. I think that’s very cool.”
“Uncle Griff?” Cass was surprised by his brother’s response.
“Well, yes. A legacy, man. For our family. That would be great.”
“Geez, this unexpected baby makes me just like our birth dad.” No one had any respect for the mysterious immortal said to have fathered them.
“No, it doesn’t. Not if you take care of her. Ambrus left Mom before she even knew she was pregnant. She had to fend for herself.”
“Thank the Almighty for Papa Antoine.” Cass could only wish he could become half the father his own dad had been. Their father had been a brief but powerful figure in their long unending life. The principled man had instilled his simple but just rules to all the siblings.
“Exactly. Don’t you want to pass on his wisdom to a child?”
“Maybe.” Cass mulled over all the implications of his impeding paternity. There were the baby years to think about, then school and college. Hells, he was not ready for this.
Especially if this child was immortal. Their mother had done a poor job at helping them deal with their immortality. Leaving them to fend for themselves at the age of twenty when their mortal adopted father died.
They were adults then, but unlike their mother, had no idea how to face an immortal life. Cass had found solace in his music, but it had taken him over a century to adjust to the fact that he would never die.
He fingered the cross at his neck once more, the familiar silver pendant giving him peace. It was a gift Mom had given him as a child, right after seeing how crushed he’d been by the critique of that wretched music master. Who cared what the fussy man from the Old World had said, what mattered was what Cass thought of himself, she’d counseled. She had told him how the cross was an ancient artifact linked to the first witch Morag Callan and a reminder to never lose faith in oneself.
He’d never taken it off after that.
And now, what about Tilly and his immortality? Would she be immortal too since she carried his child? He knew little about banshees.
Val’s wife had turned immortal in a powerful spell done by Madame Ioshta, a local sorceress of Mohawk descent. The energy for the magic had been drawn from immortal vampire Emmeline Dubois, now his brother Justin’s wife. And Mag’s fiancée Nyssa, a mortal when they met, had received her immortality from a daemon princess summoned to this plane by Mom to help save trafficked human children. And Rosalie, a wolf-shifter alpha, had become immortal this summer when she had mated with his brother Ren.
But Tilly, was he supposed to find a way to turn her immortal, too? He couldn’t have the mother of his child die of old age while father and son stayed alive forever.
The dilemma of the situation was just too much for his brain right now.
Cass stared at Griff’s eager face. They’d all be there for him. No questions. His brothers would help him figure this out.
And they’d take care of their responsibilities as uncles. Cass had no doubt about that. They’d been there for each other through thick and thin over the centuries.
Val would teach his offspring how to always do the right thing, and Mag, how to enjoy life. Justin would be thrilled to open his vast library and fill the child with as much knowledge as he could. And Ren would share his ways of the woodlands.
But him, Cass, what did he have to offer?
No one ever took his music seriously in his family. But his fans did.
Which was why he wasn’t sure he had it in him to cancel his tour for the birth. He had nothing solid to offer a child. He was a rotten choice for Tilly.
“She deserves better than me,” he told his brother.
“Maybe,” Griff said with honesty. “But she made a choice when she slept with you.”
Cass imagined Tilly, heavy with child, cramped in that bus. Hours to come here to see him, hoping he would help. So what if all she needed was money. He had plenty. And the baby was as much his responsibility as hers.
But a small inner voice nagged at him. She should have told him about the pregnancy right away.
In fact, why hadn’t she? She hadn’t really answered him when he’d asked.
Had he actually snarked on Val’s choice to give away his freedom for the love of his life?
He didn’t know if he should be angry that Tilly had kept him in the dark or curious that she’d suspected he would hesitate to give up his freedom for a child.
But that last reason was nonsense. He might enjoy the limelight, but he was, at his core, the son of Antoine St-Amand. An honorable man who always did what was right.
And so, too, would Cass.
He would throw all his resources to support her and their baby.
“What are you going to do, then?” Griff asked.
Cass pursed his lips with certainty. “I’m gonna do what Papa would have told me to do. Get her the best doctor, the best midwife. Buy her a house in the finest area of Montreal, with trees and parks and good schools. Anything she wants.”
He grabbed his phone to text his assistant. Marjo would know what was needed.
“And you?” Griff asked. “Is she going to get a part of you?”
Cass stopped mid-text. “Dammit, Griff. Always bringing up the hard questions.”
“It’s an important one.” His brother shot him a weighty look.
Maybe. But Cass was not willing to go there just yet. A part of him wanted to do everything for her. An inexplicable pull to be near her had not left him since their night together in Hyannis. But his artistic soul needed to fulfill his fans expectations no matter the cost.
They had waited so long for this show, the extra tickets now rare and pricey. He just couldn’t disappoint them.
He finally huffed and, completely ignoring Griff’s concerns or his own conscience, he continued to text Marjo for help with his plan. His trustworthy assistant would get right at it. Karim had hired her from Montreal just six months ago and she had since never let him down.
“I’ll start with baby things,” he muttered to himself. “She has to need those. She only came here with a small bag. Tomorrow, first thing. I’ll take her shopping in Westmount. They got to have good shops there—she’ll like that. A super nice area of town. We can maybe look for a house there.”
His brother remained silent while Cass finished typing his message.
“I bet she’ll love it, right?” He looked up from his phone to beam at Griff, daring him to say anything. He had no idea how to approach this fatherhood situation, but he had money and could spend it to make everything better. “She’ll see. This child will want for nothing .”