Chapter 78 Only a Foxen
Eventine Mundelein sat next to her mate in his truck, holding hands with him while he drove, studying the street, looking for signs of anything out of order. She rolled down the window, vaguely scenting cows and various trees in the cold, fresh air.
Harlan pulled into the driveway of Rogue’s two-story house. He parked and turned the truck off. The atmosphere in the truck grew thick. Eventine looked over at him.
Harlan took her hand. “Last time I came out here, you were still… gone.”
“I’m here now,” she said, squeezing his hand.
He gazed at her for several long moments, then said, “I didn’t think we were going to have pups, Evie. I’m old. I could be… too old for a young male’s job.”
She gave him a small smile, his upset breaking her heart. “I thought you wanted pups, Har.”
He shrugged, smiling for the first time since they’d tracked Conri down. “Thirty years ago, maybe, but now? Things are different. I’m different.”
“In all good ways,” Eventine said, smiling at her male. “You’re wiser. You’ve learned restraint.” She grinned at him. He barked a surprised laugh but didn’t return her smile. He shook his head, staring out the window.
“I’m not making it up. I’m glad you didn’t kill Conri, and you’re staying away from him at the station. That’s restraint.”
Harlan nodded heavily. “Something’s wrong with him, babe. Whatever the witch did, it’s not undone.”
“I think you’re right.”
“He’s not safe,” Harlan said, pounding on the steering wheel, his expression tight. “And he never will be again as long as the witch is running around. She could get to him at any time. We can’t ever trust him again.”
Eventine kissed her male’s hand. They sat there in silence, each thinking their own thoughts.
Harlan raised his chin at the house. “Ready?”
She nodded and he opened his door, pulling his hand away.
“Harlan?”
He stopped and looked at her. She locked eyes with him.
“You’ve carried me enough today. I’m walking into this house on my own.”
His expression battled with itself, then he nodded. He got out quickly and came around to help her down and hold her hand.
They walked to the door together. It was unlocked.
Inside, three big males in uniform stood near the foyer—Trevor, Trent, and Wade.
Past them, in the living room, Trent’s mate, Rowan, was looking through a stack of books.
Eventine took a moment to study her. She stood 5’8’’ or so, wearing blue slacks and shirt with a tan blazer and tan flats.
Her blond hair was carefully styled, and she wore a silver ribbon around her neck with a tiny silver bottle suspended from it.
She noticed Eventine and smiled, putting the book down and crossing the room.
“Hey, Eventine,” Rowan said.
Eventine smiled. “Have you been in to see him yet?”
Rowan shook her head. “Wade said to wait for you.”
Eventine nodded. “I’m ready if you are.”
They got the attention of the males and the group of them walked up the steps to the second floor. Trevor pointed them down the hall to a door that hung ajar. Eventine was in front and she went in the room first.
The room featured a bed on one side and a desk with surrounding bookshelves on the other, and two windows set in the far wall.
Boeson, the foxen who’d escaped the Pravus, lay on the bed covered with a blanket, looking withered and thin, his eyes closed.
Near him on the bed were several stacks of books.
Remington sat in a chair near the head of the bed, wearing reading glasses, his face in a thick textbook.
He saw Eventine and put the book down. He stood, took off his glasses, and nodded at her.
He had a neat goatee, wore dark slacks and a blue button-up jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and a stethoscope around his shoulders, a vintage watch on his left arm.
His short reddish hair was neatly styled, and he had a tiny earring in his right ear.
He folded his hands and watched as they all filed into the room, Trent and Rowan going around to stand on one side of the bed, while Eventine stayed near the door, and Trevor and Wade moved near the side wall.
On the bed, Boeson murmured like he was talking in his sleep. His head turned on the pillow forward and back.
Remington spoke to Eventine in ruhi. The end is close for him. It could be a day, a week, or a month, I have no way of knowing. It won’t be more than a month.
Eventine nodded. “Boeson,” she said, addressing the male on the bed.
No response.
She took his hand. It was slack and cold. “Boeson, I’m Eventine Mundelein.”
He didn’t open his eyes or acknowledge her, but his grip strengthened the smallest bit.
Remington shook his head. “He hasn’t responded to me in a while.
Eventine pulled over a chair and sat, still holding Boeson’s hand. She looked up at Remington. “Can he?”
“Sure, he’s lucid when he’s awake.” He looked around at all the males, then Eventine and Rowan standing at the bedside. “What’s going on?”
“This is about the power he’s holding.”
Remington nodded. “Ah yes, when he dies, no one quite knows what will happen, do they?”
“Right.”
Remington stroked his chin. “Maybe someone else can hold it.”
Eventine nodded. “That’s why we’re here. Does he have a renqua?”
“Of course not.” Wade snapped.
Remington looked sharply at Wade, his face lined with disapproval, then spoke to Eventine. “He’s got a scar where one would be.”
On the bed, Boeson’s eyes opened, focused on Eventine. “Only a foxen can hold this power, mistress.” His eyes closed.
“Is there some other way?” Eventine asked, cupping his hand with both of hers, rubbing them, hoping to keep him awake.
“My sister,” he said, his voice frail and breaking, not opening his eyes. “She fashioned a vessel that could carry the power… she hid it for a time…”
He didn’t speak for several moments. Eventine didn’t prompt him.
Remington put his stethoscope in his ears, moving Boeson’s blanket to touch it to his chest. For the first time, Eventine saw his mark, the cruel claw marks cutting through fragile flesh, as if the wound had been delivered today. Eventine winced, shaking her head.
Boe stirred. “… but the vessel is in the Pravus.”
“I was afraid of that.” Eventine motioned to Rowan that she should try to see if she could take the power.
Rowan nodded. She took her pendant out of her pocket and held, then took Boeson’s hand with her free hand.
Boe opened his eyes and struggled up on one elbow, saying, “Mistress Rogue?” but then he collapsed back to the pillow when he saw it wasn’t Rogue.
“I’m Rowan,” she whispered. “Rogue’s sister.”
Boeson’s eyes dropped closed. He stilled.
Rowan looked up at Eventine and shook her head. She took her pendant and put it between her palm and Boeson’s.
Nothing.
She put the pendant on Boeson’s chest. Nothing appeared to happen. Rowan picked her pendant back up and looked at Eventine, disappointed.
Eventine placed Boeson’s hand gently back on the bed, then she turned to Trevor and Wade. “Maybe if all the One True Mates were together…”
She trailed off, looking at Boeson, replaying what he’d said.
Only a foxen can hold this power.