Chapter Seven. #2
“Look, we’ll get the key, and that’s all we have to do with Magic unless you want to meet him.
Magic is your sperm donor,” I said. It was something Vulcan, and I had never hidden from the children.
Lars and Laila understood they weren’t biologically Vulcans, but they knew Vulcan had claimed and treated them as his own.
As far as they were concerned, Vulcan was their dad.
“Why would we?” Laila asked curiously.
“Magic is your donor; you might want to know something about him.”
“Magic’s an asshole who didn’t want you or us!” Lars exclaimed.
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, shocked.
“We heard you and Far one night. You were discussing the past and how happy you were together. Far asked if you had regrets, and you replied, ‘None.’ Far wondered how Magic could have turned his back on us, but you didn’t seem bothered,” Lars explained.
“I’m not. Your dad and I had a wonderful life, and I’d not ever change a thing. Never. I’m a better person for knowing Vulcan and your grandparents,” I stated and meant every word.
“You miss them,” Laila murmured, grief on her face.
“Damn right I do. And Aunt Aster and Uncle Kanon.”
“We went from a big family to nobody. Just us, did we do something wrong?” Laila asked.
“Oh no, sweetheart, definitely not. Life is a bitch, like karma. When people enjoy life too much, life fucks them over. We’ve got each other. And whatever else is thrown at us, we’ll beat,” I promised.
“Okay. Are Oskar and I still grounded?” Lars inquired innocently.
“Nice try, kid,” I praised Lar’s effort. “Yeah, you are!”
“Damn it!” Lars exclaimed and laughed as I hugged him.
Magic
This was for a safety security box, I guessed, as I held the key.
Why had Shirley sent this to me? It made no sense.
I could go to the bank and ask if they’d let me open it, but whatever was in it wasn’t mine.
Plus, I needed to see my sons with a burning passion, and this gave me an excuse.
That’s why, before I even realised it, I was on the back of my Hog and riding out.
There was one place Jody might go, and it wouldn’t be her parents, brother, or sister.
Crook House. The old Gothic-style house that sat alone on acres of land.
It had belonged to Jody’s ancestors for three hundred years and was certainly a work of art, in a very stalker-knife-happy-killer fashion.
Shirley had always planned to bequeath it to Jody.
The original builder, a woman named Noami, had tied the property up so only a daughter of the family line could inherit.
Noami had been tired of womenfolk getting nothing and the men sitting pretty.
The deed was left open for the owner to leave the estate to whomever they wanted.
But with those two conditions. One, they had to share the family bloodline, and two, it had to be inherited by a female.
It was their choice who it passed to, other than that.
Shirley had received Crook House from her mother, and I knew that Jody’s dad had tried to break the trust. He’d failed spectacularly.
It made sense for Jody to be in that rambling mansion.
With its odd little turrets and wings, and in some cases, staircases leading to nowhere.
It was like a miniature Winchester House—but spooky as fuck and with a heavily gothic presence.
From what I remembered, it was three stories high and had at least thirty rooms at the last count.
The pointed witch tower came into view as I rode up a hill, and then Crook House appeared below.
There were definite signs of life. Even as I headed towards it, I could see a figure cleaning Shirley’s beloved Thunderbird at the front.
From this angle, some of the fenced-in backyard was visible, and clothes fluttered in the wind as two other figures hung them out.
One was Jody; I’d recognise her anywhere.
The other was a smaller boy. So, Jody had other kids.
Made sense; she’d been married. But the thought of Jody carrying another man’s baby kicked me in the gut. I hated the idea.
Jody headed inside without seeing me or hearing the Hog. I slowed down and prepared myself. As I’d drawn closer, it was obvious the kid outside was a teenager, and he appeared to be the right age for one of my sons. My heart was thumping, and my hands were sweaty on my handles.
After seventeen years, I was about to meet my children. Fuck what Jody wanted. These kids were mine.
I parked up, and the teen straightened. He looked my Hog over and seemed unimpressed. I was slightly put off. What type of teenager didn’t get excited at a Harley?
“What do you want?” the kid demanded. There was a strong accent, and I didn’t recognise it.
“I’m looking for your mom.” He flinched, and I wondered what I’d said wrong. “Look, I don’t wish to cause trouble, but for seventeen years, you’ve haunted me. I just wanted to meet you.”
Anger radiated from the boy. “Lars!” he bellowed.
“That makes you Oskar. My son,” I whispered.
Sheer disgust and hate crossed Oskar’s face. “Asshole, I’m not related to you.”
“I’m aware you had another dad, but…”
“What’s up?” Lars asked, and I was shocked stupid. This kid was definitely mine. Height, build, looks, holy crap, it was like looking at a younger me. Oskar must take care of Jody’s family.
“I don’t want trouble. It seemed important your mom got this key, and I wanted to meet you,” I said, and Lars turned to me. Unlike Oskar, who was regarding me with sheer hate and anger, Lars didn’t seem bothered.
“Oskar, har du det godt?” (Oskar, are you okay?) Lars asked as he approached his twin.
What damn language was that?
Oskar shook his head and spewed a load of what I assumed were insults, judging by the venom in his voice. Lars replied and reached out, gripping his shoulder.
“What’s up?” another teen demanded as he arrived. Well, that settled it. Oskar definitely took after Jody’s side. This kid was the spitting image of Oskar.
“Viggo, hold Mor og Laila indenfor,” (Viggo, keep Mom and Laila inside), Lars ordered, and it was certainly an order.
It was infuriating that I couldn’t understand them.
“What’s the drama?” two further kids asked, appearing. Holy crap, Jody had been busy. Five children?
“Jerrit, Henrik, go in now,” Oskar directed.
“But I want to—”
“Do as you’re told,” Lars snapped, keeping a close eye on me.
The kids lined up and eyed me with degrees of suspicion, dislike, and anger.
To my surprise, another boy came around the corner. “Who’s that?” he insisted.
“Jesper! You little shit, I’ll kill you!” a girl screamed from somewhere in the house.
“What did you do to Laila?” Oskar demanded.
“Nothing,” Jesper replied and stubbed his toe in the grass.
“Make that slowly!” the girl, I assumed to be Laila, screeched. “I’m going to gut you alive, boil your innards, and then feed them to your brothers!”
“Wow. You really pissed her off!” Lars commented, ignoring me.
“Sounds like she has Jody’s temper,” I joked, trying to break the ice and find a way to communicate. Oskar continued to stare in hate while Lars—quite simply—didn’t care.
“What would you know, loser?” Oskar retorted.
“Laila! What the hell?” Jody shrieked.
“Jesper did it! I caught that little shit running from my room!” Laila shouted.
A teenage girl emerged, and my heart skipped a beat. Her hair was lime-green, no doubt because of Jesper. She was the image of a younger Jody, thinner possibly, but it was as if rolling back the years. Jody appeared behind her, looking furious.
“Jesper!” Jody yelled.
“Laila wouldn’t let me watch my programmes yesterday!” Jesper screamed.
“So you dyed her hair? Jesper, Laila’s got to go to school!”
“If Laila wants to act like en heks (a witch), then she should have the matching hair colour. Laila’s lucky I couldn’t find her face cream!” Jesper retorted.
“You’re so in trouble!” Jody threatened.
“I don’t care; it was worth it. Who’s that?” Jesper pointed at me. Without a word, Jody pushed Laila behind her, and Lars crossed over to her. One by one, the kids surrounded Jody and Laila as I tried to work shit out. Oskar and Lars were twins, but Laila looked the same age as them.
“I found the key,” I muttered lamely.
Jody’s eyes narrowed as Laila shoved a couple of the younger boys and stood, arms folded next to Lars. The look on Laila’s face would be frightening if she weren’t a teenage girl with green hair. Definitely Jody’s daughter.
“Asshole brought the key, Mor,” Lars said, amused.
“Manners,” Jody snapped.
“More like he wanted to meet us,” Laila replied. “Do we pass your standards?”
“Huh?” Well, that was damn eloquent.
“Lars and I? Do we have your approval?” Laila demanded.
“I thought Oskar and Lars were twins,” I muttered stupidly.
“Nope. Lars and I are. Oskar is younger.”
“Holy shit. I’ve a daughter.” I turned to Jody, feeling betrayed. “A girl? You had my daughter? Boys—I always figured it would be boys. I don’t know how to handle a girl-child!” I yelled.
Jody blinked. “Why do you think you’re handling Laila?”
“That sounds pervy,” Oskar commented.
“Dirty…” Jesper broke off into a tirade, and I couldn’t understand him. Jody answered back in the same language, and then they all began shouting. Holy crap, I shook my head in shock.
“What language are you speaking?” I finally managed to bellow over the argument between the eight of them.
“Danish. Do you know anything?” Viggo broke off fighting to inform me and then waggled a finger in Jody’s face.
Jody snapped as if she were going to bite it, and Viggo yelped.
“You went to Denmark?” I asked.
“Magic, give me the key. This is a bad time.” Jody finally pulled herself out of the brawl. Before she could approach the kids, all of them stood in front of her and Laila protectively.
“Remember what I said,” Laila threatened Lars. “Mom’s only thirty-eight!”
I had no idea what that meant, but Lars turned to present me with the dirtiest look in his arsenal, and it was a doozy.
“Dirty bastard,” Oskar hissed, and they began speaking over each other again. I was completely lost as to what was happening. Except I had a son and daughter, and I was fucked because no one was dating Laila. Nobody!