“Ethan and I are fighting. I think.”
“That is just shocking, because you’re both so easygoing.”
“Sarcasm will get you nowhere.”
“I disagree, but I’ll skip the argument. Spill.”
I sighed. “You know about the Botanic Garden?”
“I got the earful, yeah.”
“He found out Reed was going to be there by calling my father, having him make a phone call or something, confirm Reed’s attendance.”
“Hmmm,” was all she said.
“Yeah.”
Mallory pulled up her knees, wrapped her arms around them. “The territory near your father is tricky, tricky ground. On the one hand, yeah, he’s an adult. Could have told Ethan to pound sand. And just making a phone call isn’t necessarily risky.”
“And on the other hand?”
“On the other hand, Ethan even potentially involving your father with Reed again? That’s dicey.”
“Yeah, it is. That’s exactly what I said.”
“Has he apologized?”
“In the way that he apologizes. ‘I would do anything to protect you,’” I said, in a pretty good imitation.
Mallory nodded. “He gave you an alphapology.”
“What now?”
“An alphapology. The apology made by the alpha male, which isn’t really an apology, but more a reason for insane behavior. Catcher does it all the damn time. Drives me up the wall.”
“Alphapology,” I repeated, kicking the tires. “Yeah. That’s pretty much it. What do I do about it?”
“Depends on Darth Sullivan’s particular brand of alpha. He knows you’ve got a rocky relationship with your family, but he also knows they matter to you. And frankly, Merit, at least some of his asinine behavior is because of Reed. Reed’s a crazy asshole, and crazy breeds crazy. If Ethan gets to the point where he acknowledges the phone call was a mistake, you can carry on.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then Darth Sullivan isn’t the man I thought he was.” She reached out, took my hand, squeezed it. “And he is that man, Merit. Look at it this way. If this is the testing, you know you’ll get through it. Or at least through it enough to get knocked up,” she said with a snort.
“That’s not really funny.”
“I know.”
“You know, I’m kind of surprised Gabriel didn’t mention this to you when you were tutoring with him.”
“Gabriel’s really weird about his prophecies. He doesn’t like to talk about them.” She frowned, as if considering her words. “I’m not even sure ‘prophecy’ gets to the heart of it, not really. The word makes it sound like he knows this independent piece of information—this bit of knowledge that’s separate from him. But it doesn’t work that way. Shifters are connected—to the earth, to the things living on it, to the kind of”—she waved her hands in the air—“universal timeline. The things they prophesize, that knowledge, is part of that interconnected timeline. Part of who they are.”
“That’s pretty deep.”
“It sounds like horseshit,” she said with a grin. “Like the nonsense I’d have spewed in my Grateful Dead and patchouli days.”
“Those were very colorful days.” Mallory had braided her hair, worn broomstick skirts, and stocked the fridge with Cherry Garcia. I hadn’t complained about the last.
“They were something,” she agreed. “But Gabriel’s the real deal. You’ve seen the Pack together. Hell, you saw Convocation. You know what they’re like.”
“Yeah. But I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”
“I’d say, take the middle ground. Cautiously optimistic. Or optimistically cautious.”
“My question is, how’s it actually going to happen?”
“Well, Merit, Ethan will put his—”
I held up a hand. “I didn’t mean literally. If no child of vampires has ever been carried to term, how are we going to beat those odds?”
“I don’t know,” she said, brow furrowed. “Something with magic?”
“That was my guess, but I still don’t know how the mechanics would work.”
“Tab A, slot B.”
“This conversation has taken a weird turn.”
“Yeah, but that’s kind of our thing.” She leaned forward, put a hand on my knee. “My God, do I want to see Ethan facing his first loaded diaper. And can you imagine him dealing with milk puke?”
“I think he’ll be a good dad.” A protective one, certainly. He had that gene in spades. “I mean, for a four-hundred-year-old pretentious Master vampire.”
“Well, yeah. But that’s his burden to bear, and we shouldn’t hold it against him. You know what we need?” she asked suddenly. “A beach vacation before you’re ankle-deep in poopy diapers. I mean, I know you can’t sunbathe, but we can still do manicures. Pedicures. Eat plenty of fried fish and listen to Jimmy Buffett by moonlight.”
“I’ve never listened to Jimmy Buffett in my life.”
“I haven’t, either. But I think that’s what you do on the beach. While drinking a margarita. We’ll call it a retreat! I’ll write a grimoire of good and helpful magic, or work on SWOB stuff, and you can, I don’t know, sharpen your sword.”