Cold Hard Secret (Secret McQueen) (31 page)

“Amelia.” I nodded to the woman. “Ben and Fairfax are being unloaded right now. I’m assuming Callum told you about their condition.”

“Yes. A fine mess you’ve made again…Your Highness.”

I didn’t like Amelia. Amelia didn’t like me. Normally I’d let it slide, but she should know better than to address me inappropriately, and I couldn’t help but think she was using it as a means to belittle me.

“I believe you were present during my marriage ceremony. I would appreciate it, for as long as I remain bound to Lucas, if you would use my proper title.” I stared at her, practically daring her to challenge me.

“Apologies, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you. And I think you’d also do well not to pin the blame for this
fine mess
on me. I’m not the one who did this to them.” Try telling that to my guilty conscience though. “Once they’re back with Callum, they will be returned to normal.”

She sneered.

I glowered.

The drive back to St. Francisville was going to be an exciting one.

Holden and Desmond came to flank me. “This is Desmond Alvarez, Lieutenant of the Eastern pack king.” I indicated Desmond, who hadn’t joined our group during our previous trip here. Amelia bowed her head slightly, but since the two were relative equals in importance, she did not address him by a title. He mirrored her gesture. “And this is Holden Chancery.”

Magnolia gasped, though it wasn’t because she knew his name. She must have only then really paid any attention to him and realized what he was.

“Secret, he’s a—”

“I’m aware.”

“But we can’t—”

I stopped her mid-argument. “If Callum wants to see me and wants what I’ve brought for him, he will accept all the members of my party as equals, and no harm will come to any of them. Is that understood?” This statement was meant more for Amelia than Mags, since the elder werewolf was the one with all the real power.

“Understood,” Amelia replied.

Magnolia looked as if she wanted to argue some more, so I placed my hand on her shoulder and gave it a tender squeeze. “Let me deal with Callum. If he’s going to yell at anyone, it’s going to be me. I promise.”

And boy-howdy would there be yelling, I had no doubt whatsoever. Callum was likely to flip his shit when he realized I’d brought a vampire among his pack. But if the worst thing that happened to me while I was here was getting chastised by my uncle, I was pretty sure I could handle it.

We loaded the two kennels into the back of the van, and I buckled the box with Mercy’s head in it in the passenger seat next to Amelia. All parties were probably better off with this seating arrangement.

Holden was obviously aware of how uncomfortable he made Magnolia and agreed to ride in the backseat of the SUV.
Grandmere
took shotgun, leaving no way for Desmond and me to share a seat comfortably. I could have wedged in between him and Holden in the SUV, but I didn’t think I could handle the awkwardness for the whole trip.

Which meant either leaving the boys to ride together, or forcing Desmond to sit alone in the back of the van. I couldn’t ask Holden to switch cars because the two wolves wouldn’t respond well to being in such close quarters with a vampire.

Rather than banishing either of them from the SUV, I decided to sit in the van with Ben and Fairfax. It wasn’t the best solution, leaving Holden and Desmond alone together, but they’d been behaving themselves for several months now, and I suspected they could survive another hour.

This, of course, meant I got to spend some quality time alone with Amelia during the drive.

I’d have rather traded small talk with the head in the box.

After twenty minutes it became evident neither of us were going to be the first to speak, and I think we were both relieved to let the whole trip pass in silence.

It left too much time alone with my thoughts, but sometimes it was necessary to listen to yourself for a little while.

When we finally turned onto the long driveway leading up to my uncle’s old plantation house, I was ready to be out of the enclosed space. Between plane to rental car to plane to van, I was itching for some fresh air in my lungs and the freedom of a solitary run. The werewolf in me was none too fond of being caged up, so I knew Ben and Fairfax must be twice as antsy.

Callum was waiting for us on the front porch, looking as regal and impressive as I remembered him. In spite of what a pain in the butt it was to be brought here, and in spite of all the things he’d done to drive Lucas and me apart, something in me still warmed to the sight of Callum McQueen. He felt like family. Not in the same way
Grandmere
or Eugenia did, but he had his own special claim on me.

I didn’t want to like him, but I did.

He waved a group of pack members towards us, and they converged on the van, opening the back doors and helping unload the two kennels as if it were a task they’d performed a hundred times before.

“Take them to the dovecote, please.”

I nearly smiled, remembering the crumbling medieval pigeon coop where Holden had hid the first time we came here. I’d assumed it was never used otherwise, but apparently Callum found ways to keep it occupied from time to time.

After getting out of the van, I reclaimed the cardboard box from the front seat. The plastic garbage bag we’d used to line the inside of the box crinkled loudly as Mercy’s head wobbled inside. I moved towards Callum, with Desmond following close behind. Holden stayed back near the car, not needing to be told he didn’t belong in this particular interaction.

The vampire didn’t go unnoticed, though. Callum’s gaze fixated on Holden for a moment before returning to me. Amelia brushed past me, going to her place next to Callum. She made sure to stand one step below him so he had the top riser all to himself.

Technically the only person here who could stand as tall as him was me.

I chose to stay on the grass.

This meant Amelia needed to move off the stairs entirely or find another way to make herself shorter than me. She opted to move to the side and take a seat on the nearby porch swing.

If the Southern wolves wanted to play the whole
werewolf tradition
card with me, I was going to prove to them I could handle it as well as they could. And if they happened to realize how stupid those rules were in the process, then it was a double win.

“It’s a pleasure to see you, my dear.” Callum offered me a warm smile, which soon faltered into a half-grimace. “I do wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Don’t we all.” I tucked the box under my arm, waiting for the appropriate moment to deliver it to him.

A commotion behind him put a damper on the whole exchange. The double entrance doors to the house burst open, and a small woman with dark curly hair stomped out.

My breath caught in my throat, and I almost dropped the box to go for one of my weapons. The new arrival was the spitting image of Mercy. Everything from her hair down to the unhappy glare she was giving Callum absolutely embodied my mother.

I wanted to check the box to be sure.

Desmond shot me a nervous look.

It was
Grandmere
who stepped between us and diffused the whole situation.

“Savannah,” she cooed, approaching the steps with her arms held wide.

The woman froze, staring at my
grandmere
as if the old woman might bite her. “You didn’t tell me she was coming,” she said to Callum.

“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she would.”

Callum and Savannah McQueen, Mercy’s only siblings and
Grandmere
’s two surviving children.

I’d had no idea Savannah looked so much like Mercy. They weren’t twins, and upon scrutinizing my aunt’s face more closely, I could see key differences in their features, but all the same it was like seeing a ghost.

“You were supposed to tell me when they arrived,” Savannah snapped.

She seemed to share her sister’s sunny disposition.

“Savannah,” Callum replied coolly. “Our guests have arrived.”

She socked him in the arm. A bold move for anyone to try on a werewolf king, but it seemed she got carte blanche to torment her younger brother however she chose because he did nothing to stop the behavior.

Savannah gave
Grandmere
another uncertain look, then came down the steps and approached the older woman. For a moment they simply stared at each other, and I could read every changing emotion on my aunt’s face as clearly as though she were speaking them aloud. Anger, resentment, betrayal, sadness. They were all there. And after the flurry of feelings left her, she reached out and wrapped her arms around her mother, pulling
Grandmere
in for a tight, nearly crushing hug.

My heart skipped a beat.

Savannah turned towards Callum. “Well, come on, you big lummox.”

I wondered how this might play out. Callum was the reason
Grandmere
had fled in the first place. She’d been terrified of what he might do when he learned what I was. Now, though, things were different. Callum had told me in no uncertain terms the pack protected its own. I wasn’t sure if he understood entirely what that meant, but he knew there was something different about me.

And he’d sent members of his own pack to protect
Grandmere
when she’d needed it.

I watched as he stared at her, his face imploring her for some sort of sign.

At long last she smiled, her eyes brimming over with tears, and she crooked her fingers towards him. I struggled not to cry as
Grandmere
hugged her two children for the first time in twenty-four years, knowing I was what had kept this moment at bay for such a long time.

When they finally broke apart, Savannah’s attention was all for me.

“So this is Mercy’s
other
daughter.”

“Don’t hold it against me,” I replied. The joke missed its target by a mile, not making Savannah so much as crack a smile.

“You’ve married a wolf king,” she said.

I wanted to tell her not to hold
that
against me either, but this time thought better of it. “I am.” Though who knew for how long? I glanced towards Desmond and gave him an apologetic smile. He had to know this would come up amongst the wolves. As soon as it felt appropriate I would talk to Callum and try to establish whatever the werewolf version of an annulment or divorce was.

There was more pressing business at hand, however.

“I’ve brought you something,” I said to Callum, feeling overwhelmingly uncomfortable about Savannah’s intense stare. What was I expecting though, a hug? She and I were complete strangers. The only history we shared was in the box I was holding.

No wonder she wasn’t feeling terribly cuddly towards me.

“Bring it forward,” Callum commanded.

I adjusted my grip on the box and became vaguely embarrassed when I realized it was a carton for biodegradable toilet paper. Was there really any better option for transporting the head of my dead mother though? Might a box for eggs or shampoo have been less offensive?

After setting the box down in front of Callum, I took a step back. Was I supposed to open it and present him the head? Fat chance.

I crossed my arms, and we both stared at each other then simultaneously looked at the box.

Was it just that he didn’t want to bend down to open it?

Werewolves,
I thought with an inward sigh.

My
grandmere
stepped away, turning her back to the scene, and Savannah was in no hurry to offer us any assistance.

Rather than give my own directions to Callum’s pack, I suggested, “Perhaps Magnolia would be gracious enough to open it.”

I felt bad subjecting the poor girl to the contents of the parcel, but we were otherwise at an impasse, and she was the most subservient wolf present. When I glanced over at her, she appeared uneasy about the suggestion, but if Callum asked, she wouldn’t hesitate.

“She wouldn’t have to look inside,” I added.

The queasy greenish pallor that had colored her complexion faded, and she relaxed visibly.

“Very well,” Callum agreed. “Magnolia, would you be so kind as to open the box for us?” He and Savannah moved out of the way to give the girl some extra space.

Mags approached us carefully, evidently hoping someone might change their mind at the last minute and let her back down. In spite of the fact she didn’t have to look into the box, everyone who’d gathered around understood what I’d brought with me. There was something deeply unpleasant about knowing we’d have to acknowledge it eventually.

The young woman, her hands trembling, stooped down and pulled apart the top flaps of the box which I’d folded over the top of each other. The plastic bag crinkled, and she gasped.

Guess she peeked.

“That will be quite enough, Magnolia, thank you.”

She’d gone green again, and I was pretty sure she might vomit at any moment. For a girl who ran with a werewolf pack—one who routinely hunted down and ate wild animals—it was remarkable how unsettled she was by death. That sort of squeamishness could spell trouble for her in the future. Wolves sensed weakness, and Mags reeked of it.