Chapter 32
Lyubava went into labor early the next morning, the last day of their assigned break, on train day. They woke to Zhadan banging on their front door, and they didn’t have time for anything awkward as they packed up medical supplies and food and headed out to the chuchuna’s den.
Audrey barely looked at him.
By noon, everyone was ready to strangle Zhadan, and when Gunnar tried to coax him outside, all hells broke loose.
And that was how they ended up outside, Gunnar panting and holding the sweaty chuchuna face first in a snowdrift about a hundred yards from the den. He twisted the oaf’s arm harder, which got him a muffled, frustrated roar.
“You fucking done yet?>>”
Wet snarling, something in broken Russian about feeding Gunnar’s entrails to his cubs.
“Not yet then,” Gunnar grunted and settled in to wait, grinding the chuchuna into the fresh snow.
About an hour and a few dozen creative threats later, Zhadan went completely slack, the chuchuna’s scent washing with defeat, exhaustion, and a burst of fresh worry for his mate. Gunnar let his arm go and rolled off the bastard, lying next to him and trying to catch his breath.
“You’re a pain in the ass.>>” Gunnar grumbled, closing his eyes as the falling snow cooled his skin.
Zhadan didn’t argue. A few minutes later, he asked, “Little okay?>>”
“Doing better. Still has nightmares.>>”
Zhadan sat up, brushing snow from his fur. “Take care good care of mate.>>”
“She’s not my mate.>>”
Zhadan snorted.
Audrey emerged from the den, waving her hands and yelling, her smile miles wide. “Zhadan, you’re a dad! Father, father!>>”
The chuchuna sprang up, snow flying every direction as he half crawled before making it to his feet and rushing to the den. When he got to Audrey, he scooped her up in his arms, spinning her in a few circles while she laughed. He deposited her on wobbly legs, then ducked inside. Gunnar dusted himself off with a chuckle, figuring they were done here, but Audrey waved him over. Together, they peered inside.
It was a sight, Lyubava nursing two wrinkly, hairy newborns, the third cradled in Zhadan’s enormous hands as he snorted and cooed and chirped at his cub.
“Two girls and a boy,” Audrey whispered. “Everyone is healthy.”
Zhadan crawled up onto the furs with Lyubava, nuzzling her, praising her, the mother of his new cubs snuggling back. Felt like intruding, watching such a tender, private moment, so Gunnar nudged Audrey with his elbow, and she smiled up at him—warm and bright. She didn’t bother to gather her things for now. They snuck out, leaving the new family to bond.
Audrey walked with her hands tucked in her pockets, humming softly as she smiled at the brief break in the falling snow, dark clouds already blowing back in on the horizon. Her cheeks were bright pink, her eyes shining in that way she got when she was truly happy, a little wrinkle in her nose.
She smelled like sunshine, but she was sad underneath.
He nudged her shoulder. “Nice work.”
“Thanks,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear, shy almost. “I told Lyubava we’d let Rina know about the cubs so no one comes near the den for a few days.”
“It’s train day, so better get on that. We rarely get wanderers, but she should make it clear. It’s early yet,” Gunnar said, nodding south. “Still got time to set up a stall.”
Audrey kicked at the snow as she walked, shrugged. “No, not today. I think . . .” She worried her bottom lip, shrugged again. “I’m just not feeling up for it. Do you mind running down to tell Rina about the cubs?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” Gunnar reminded himself it had only been a week since someone had kidnapped her in her own home. She’d been doing better, but new people might put her off for a bit still. Probably had nothing to do with how she shouldn’t have kissed him. “I’ll head down now.”
“Okay.”
“You good walking back?”
She smirked, half-hearted. “I can literally see our house.”
“Yeah, so?”
Audrey’s smirk faded into a soft smile. “Yes, I’m good.”
“Alright. You . . .” He hesitated, not liking the idea of her alone in the cabin, but she might want time away from him after yesterday. Gunnar frowned, not wanting to be away from her, not when he was supposed to protect her.
She closed the gap between them, squeezed his forearm. “I’ll meet you at the tavern for a late lunch?” She sounded hopeful.
“Whatever you want.”
She nodded, hesitating, but then she gave him another half-smile, the kind that didn’t reach those beautiful eyes, and walked away from him.
It was early still, the train just in, stalls up and the pop-up market crowded with unfamiliar scents. Gunnar ignored it, pushing his way into the station proper with his hood up, then climbing the stairs to Rina’s office. All she had time for was a quick update on the chuchuna cubs, ass deep in imports and exports paperwork.
He found himself idle, time to kill before a late lunch, as Audrey said, not sure exactly when to expect her. Gunnar ended up at the bar, talking with Aster for a few minutes before travelers came in for a meal.
Innocence plopped down beside him, drink in hand, and the duster smelled tired. “Gunnar.”
“Innocence.”
Silence for a few minutes, and Innocence leaned into his field of view, lips pouted. “I’m not very good at,” he waved a hand around, “gratitude.” Then the incubus chuckled. “Well, at least ways that don’t involve my kind of favors.”
“Still a no.”
“I know, I’m not . . .” Innocence trialed off, his scent frustrated. Annoyed. “I wanted to thank you. For sparing Tomas.” He tapped a nail on the bar top, restless in his seat. “I’m sure it would have been easier to kill him.”
Gunnar grunted. “Not a big deal.”
Innocence turned on him fully, and Gunnar faced him, because the full attention of a predator wasn’t something good instincts could ignore. His sea-green eyes gleamed, but not from hunger. “But it is. I find myself . . . charmed by the boy, inconveniently so.” Another, very put-upon sigh. “He’s a good man, but young and hopeful.” He swirled his glass, then frowned, setting it unfinished on the bar. “Certainly, too good for the likes of me, yet I find my affections returned. Not being able to help him through this . . .”
An odd thing, sitting at the bar sharing feelings with the one person in this town he was certain he’d never find commonality with, yet here Gunnar was, relating. Maybe even feeling bad for the asshole, at least enough to continue the conversation.
“Been out of the loop for a few days. The blood mage come in this morning?”
“Yes, a highly regarded talent from the Dominion’s fancy clinic. They’re reading his lineage now, then it will just be a matter of finding the right formula.” Innocence rested his elbow on the bar, chin on his hand. “Until then, Virtue’s feedings can hold him at bay. Worst case, the mage can put him in stasis.”
“Tomas’ll be fine,” Gunnar offered. “Mateo was full of shit, using him, convincing him he was worse off.”
Even thinking of the dead man made Gunnar’s blood churn, wishing he could kill the fucker all over again. He didn’t realize how long he’d been glowering at his empty glass until Innocence cleared his throat.
“Is Audrey well?”
“She’s doing okay, I think.”
“And you? Manticore venom is nasty business.”
“Fine.” Gunnar sighed when Innocence just stared at him. “You want something else?”
“Besides world peace and the hope diamond all for myself? If it still exists, of course. No, nothing really. Just feeling a disquieting urge to forward some of the well-being passed unexpectedly in my direction as of late.”
Gunnar chuckled. “I’m that obvious?”
“Only to those with eyes.” Innocence smiled, the expression remarkably free of his normal sass. “No secrets between my sister and I, you know. Your girl will come around, be back to her chipper self soon enough. Humans are more resistant than monsters, I’ve found, at least with mental health matters.” When Gunnar didn’t respond, Innocence frowned. “Virtue might help. She’s worked with victims before. Feeding can sometimes ease the memories.”
“No, it didn’t get that far.” Gunnar cleared his throat, worked his jaw. Not sure why he felt the urge to talk about it, to Innocence of all people. “Mateo had her in our house. Her bedroom. He convinced her I was dead, and it didn’t help the way I came in on him.” Gunnar tapped the empty mug, spun it, then pushed it away. “I butchered him right in front of her.”
“Hmm.”
“She went into shock over the whole thing, crying about me leaving her. Worried about me after all that, I just . . .” Gunnar swallowed. “She can’t go in her room, even though it’s clean. Can’t sleep alone. Nightmares about it.”
“Time helps with trauma. It’s only been a week,” Innocence murmured, gentle. Sad, but firm. “The girl’s too bright not to shine, Gunnar. She’ll heal.”
“She said she’s in love with me.”
Just like that, it left his mouth, out in the air. Gunnar winced.
“Oh, so this is the true worry then, hmm?” Innocence chuckled. “And now you’re here at the bar, with an empty drink, struggling to understand this most unexpected of revelations?” Gunnar scowled at him, but Innocence didn’t flinch back. “Genuine love is a gift, my friend, and we don’t get to decide if we deserve it or not, because we already have it. Believe me, I’ve been struggling to accept it myself.”
“She shouldn’t,” was all he managed.
“And yet she does.”
Innocence stiffened beside him, sudden absolute fury roiling off his scent, entirely at odds with his demeanor a second before, just as a new scent rolled over him, carried on the breeze of the opened station door.
Brimstone and feathers, expensive fabric. Heavy, powerful Aperien magic.
Gunnar turned on the stool, Innocence scoffing beside him. “And here I believed myself free from such beautiful righteousness.”
Warden Kushiel stood in the doorway, filling it with his folded wings, his perfectly tailored suit, the air warming as he brushed fresh snowfall off his shoulder.
“You know him?” Gunnar asked.
“Oh, yes. We are very familiar.”
“Yeah, same.”
“How interesting.”
The angel’s stark blue eyes scanned the room, but any attempt to hide was pointless; the bar was directly across from the doorway, and when Kushiel’s gaze found Gunnar’s, a perfect brow lifted, followed closely by a dangerous smile.
“Virtue and I had the pleasure of that one’s company in the Velvet Emporium, oh, a century or so ago, and not in a fun way.” Innocence tsked. “Imagine coming there of all places, hellsbent on starting a new war over demons and their feeding habits, just a few years after such triumph in the Vilestars War.”
“Real funny,” Gunnar drawled, “considering how he likes to go on and on about the Vilestars War and how bad it was for everyone. Bad enough he fought changing the Vilestars Accord a few years back. It really pissed him off when I got let out on parole.”
Innocence hoisted himself up on the bar, crossing his legs. “You or me then, do you think?”
The angel wove his way through the tables, more than a few gaping at his passage, likely wondering what the hells an Aperien like him was doing in the ass end of nowhere. The Clan in the tavern watched him with open suspicion, the rest a mix of merchants and other guests in town until tomorrow’s morning train.
No one knew the full story behind why he and Audrey showed up here six months ago besides Rina, unless she’d had reasons to share he didn’t know about. Right now, Gunnar didn’t see a reason not to quietly say, “Or Audrey, if he has some reason to stop believing she’s dead.”
Innocence’s scent spiked with alarm and surprise, but he remained calm and collected on the exterior. “Sounds like you and I have some stories to swap over tea sometime, then. I promise not to proposition you.”
“You’re a shit liar.”
Innocence laughed, really laughed, and by then Kushiel had almost reached them, adjusting the buttons on the front of his three-piece suit, gold pinstripes against ivory cloth
“Get to Rina before this gets messy, yes?” Innocence said as he hopped off the bar, stretching like a cat as a pair of leathered bat wings uncurled from his shoulders and his silk kimono braided away into black leather pants and a half-open poet’s blouse. A devil tail, exactly out of all the pictures in Audrey’s books, swayed lazily. Loudly, he called, “Well, well, if it isn’t my holy lord and savior, come from across the sea, to deliver sinners into the immaculate, effervescent grace of the saints.”
Kushiel sneered, otherwise composed, his scent laced with hatred and calculated control. Innocence was all flourish, the attention of the entire tavern on the pair, including Aster, her expression alarmed. Gunnar strode toward the stairs, his skin prickling at the idea of running from a fight.
If Audrey was at stake, Gunnar could shelve his pride, and he took the stairs two at a time, feeling eyes boring into his spine as he went.