Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
T illy sat on a bench in front of the children’s playground in the beautiful Park Westmount. Needing a moment from too much real estate talk with Marjo and the agent, she’d decided to take a stroll with Raphael and Tommy under the multihued foliage, to try imagining what it would be like to bring her little munchkin here during winter.
Right now, with the afternoon sun peeking above the tree coverage and the path lined with fallen leaves in colorful reds and orange shades, it was hard to picture the place in a blanket of snow.
Marjo had been perfect, asking about her preferences: would she be more comfortable with the stately brick house with all its history, or something more like the more modern sprawling estate where natural light poured in from the many glass walls.
Everything they’d seen had been amazingly extravagant and the whole experience was giving her a headache. How would she even function in these massive houses? With a staff?
Was she the kind of person who had a staff?
Overwhelmed, she pulled out her phone to stare wistfully at her baby’s sonogram. Cass should be here so they could discuss these things.
On a whim, she tapped the photo to send him the image. She should have done that earlier. She sat back on the bench and inhaled the crisp air. He’d text her back soon.
A pair of shrieking toddlers and the sound of a scolding mom made her smile and look more closely at her surroundings. This was indeed a beautiful park, with well-maintained paths under the trees, a lovely stream running through it, and a gorgeous old building housing the public library right at the edge. Tommy and Raphael were hovering a little farther at each side of the path to the play area.
The day was so brisk, it smelled of Halloween time. She let herself ease her agitated heart to take in the peaceful setting. This looked like the safest place ever.
She took a breath as she zipped her sweatshirt up over her and put her hood over her head. Was that to be her life now? Did she truly want to settle here in Montreal with her child? Be a mom and no longer a thriving sound engineer?
While living in Cass’s house?
When had she become so dependent that she considered living in someone else’s home? She’d sworn she’d never do that again when she’d closed the door on the Sullivans on her way to college. They weren’t bad people, just distant.
And she, who’d never known genuine familial love, had to admit that she really did yearn for it. And after fighting her way through college and a cut-throat business environment, she found it, or something close to it, in Hyannis, with her little house and her friends who had become family.
She rubbed her belly, her little one quiet for now, and allowed her emotions to take over.
Maybe this was the place for her child. Everything was safe. For sure no one was after her here. Yes, she had left her information in the cottage, but it was a crumpled bus pamphlet meant for those who knew she was coming here. Whoever had ransacked her house wouldn’t notice it. And would they really come all the way here to another country?
With conflicted thoughts, she swiped through her texts, checking for a reply from Cass. Nothing. She studied the picture of the symbols painted on her door and the fear returned.
She had no other option but to stay here. Godmother April had been right. Hyannis was no longer safe. Blast.
For the very first time, she cursed her nature. What she had welcomed at twelve—when facing the dreary life as a foster kid having to fend for herself—was now threatening the core of her deepest desire.
To have a family of her own, her child.
The air stirred next to her, and she looked up from the text Lilah had sent.
An unusually elegant older man, in his early forties and wearing a long, fitted overcoat and top hat, sat beside her.
“You do not mind, do you, miss?” The accent sounded foreign. Eastern European maybe?
“No.” She shook her head absentmindedly. “I’m leaving anyway.”
Marjo would start to worry. And it was probably time to head back to the hotel. She’d be safer indoors with Cass’s staff.
“So soon? It such a beautiful day.” His palm motioned widely to underscore the view.
“It is,” she said in a neutral voice, noticing more of him this time.
He was unusual. Deep brown eyes peeked above a set of dark round glasses resting against cut cheekbones. He wore a dusky gray cravat with a large ruby pin nestled between its shimmering folds and carried a cane topped with what looked to be the skull of a raven carved of silver.
“Those children,” he nodded at the kids playing, the little boys now taking turns on the slide while one small girl in a cute plaid peacoat and knitted ivory wool tights was being pushed on a swing by her mom. “Precious, aren’t they?”
“Yeah.” She shivered, noticing that there was something cold about him and scootched away from him on the bench. “Sorry, I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Don’t.” He slammed his hand on her forearm.
“Hey!” She turned to him and caught his bottomless gaze.
She sat both mesmerized and horrified at once.
“Do not leave yet.” His enunciation was slow, as if he’d emerged from a different era.
Fear ran cold through her. This was no eccentric neighborhood wealthy man. “Let me go,” she rasped, looking up in Tommy and Raphael’s direction.
But both bodyguards were staring into space as if in a mystically induced daze.
“Not yet,” the man said. “Your guards will be fine as soon as we are finished here.”
“Let go of me.” This time she used that banshee frequency that indicated she meant business.
She wished she could just scream and knock him unconscious like her distant cousin Sloane could do, but no matter how she’d tried, she had never been able to reach that range.
“Mathilda Davenport.” He smiled, his hand still on her arm, but lessened his grip.
She found herself rooted on the spot. How did he know her name?
“No need to use your banshee scream. I don’t plan to harm you.”
“What did you do to my bodyguards?” She frowned at him with emerging anger.
“They’re fine.” He was trying to appease her, but her heart hammered like crazy against her ribcage. “Just a little hypnosis.”
Hypnosis. Oh god, he had to be one of those dark sorcerers after her and the baby. She jerked her arm away from him to wrap her hoody tighter around her stomach. Everything in her wanted to bolt but she just couldn’t move.
“Who…who are you?”
“But, oh my… Don’t you know me?” His smile was chilling. “I am the grandfather of your child.”
Grandfather? Wait, was this some kind of a joke? She racked her brain. “You’re a male banshee? Is there such a thing?” If she recalled, Sloane’s father had been human.
“I am not from your side, dear. Although that would be an honor. I am Cassiodore’s father.”
“Cass?” Her brows furrowed with utter confusion and dread. No, he couldn’t be.
“In this world, my name is Ambrus El Berith.”
In this world… She slapped her palm over her mouth, her other seizing her pregnant belly tighter. The gaze upon her was both chilling and mesmerizing.
“Some call me Ambrus the Exiled,” he added, as if she hadn’t already recognized who he was by now. His tone was a purr that could have been tantalizing if not for sounding void of any emotion. “I have been cast away from the demon realm. From my home.”
No. This could not be the demon that had seduced Cass’s mother. She started to tremble. The woman was a powerful witch, so what chance did Tilly have?
“Please don’t hurt my baby,” she pleaded, dizzy with penetrating fear. This was it, what she had dreaded. What Death had predicted would happen. Her body cut open. Her child offered in sacrifice.
“Oh, by Belzebuth, no.” He frowned as if offended. “I have no intention of hurting you.”
“But…” She swallowed, not sure what to think.
“I am a demon, yes.” He leaned in closer and laid a hand adorned with a large bloodstone signet ring upon her forearm. “But I care deeply for this child. And for you, the mother.”
The Reaper had warned her about Ambrus. She couldn’t trust this man—this demon .
“May I?” He looked down at her belly and she felt she had no choice but let him touch her. He closed his eyes, and a sense of peace fell over his features. “I have many, many children. Sons and daughters all over the world. But never a grandchild.”
“You won’t hurt me?”
“No. Why would I?” He seemed taken aback.
Because he was an actual pure demon. A spawn straight from the depth of hell.
“I heard things,” she told him. “Things one could do to a pregnant banshee.”
“Oh, and where did you hear such things?”
“Death,” she whispered.
“Death,” he scoffed. “My old friend Charon is turning soft with eternal time. He shouldn’t have scared you with such tales.”
“So, it is not true?” Hope rose inside her. Maybe this whole thing was just a myth.
“No, sadly, it is true. The nature of your condition yields tremendous power. And especially as you carry my essence through Cassiodore. I could, in fact, use it to return to my home and fight those who have cast me out.”
She reared back. This man—or being—could truly hurt her if he wanted to.
“I wouldn’t do that.” He removed his hand from her belly. “I see I have frightened you. That was not my intention. I never wanted to intervene in my children’s lives, but talking to you was too tempting not to try. My first grandchild.”
He planted his cane in the dying grass and stood majestically above her. His long overcoat flapped behind him in a gust of autumn wind that suddenly swept the park.
“Do not mention this to Cassiodore, will you?” His eyes were dark, impenetrable, and she had no idea whether he meant to harm or protect her. There were no emotions there whatsoever.
The hell she was not telling Cass! She’d be on the phone as soon as this being left her.
“Don’t,” he repeated as if he could read her thoughts.
And on that word, he dispersed. Just like that. His entire body disintegrated and went unnoticed by anyone in the park. She was left with a small coalescing ball of fog on the ground.
The bodyguards seemed to shake themselves from a trance, Tommy giving her a nod as if nothing had happened. The kids were still playing, and two nannies were in animated conversation at the edge of the play area.
What had just occurred? Still tensed, she reviewed the encounter. With bewilderment buzzing in her mind, she rubbed her lower back a few times and swept her palms on her belly to feel for her baby. She relaxed as she sensed a flutter within her. Her little munchkin was alive. They were safe.
But for how long?
She had to talk to Cass. This news was too big to text. He had never met his birth dad. How would he react?
No, for this news, she would need to find him alone and pin him down.
And that , might be easier said than done.