Chapter 12 - Olivia

The trees scratch against the window, the sound filling Rosa and Bigby's guest room, and I pull the covers up over my chin, feeling like a little kid. We got in late, and Rosa gave me extra towels and clothes for the morning before retiring with Bigby.

My heart is racing, and my brain won't let me go to sleep.

I glance over at my bag containing my vintage video games, the things I wanted to save most from the fire. Everything else in my apartment was replaceable, but I'm wearing Rosa's pajamas, which don't quite reach my wrists and ankles.

Shifting, I fluff up the pillow, squeezing my eyes shut and willing sleep to come. I only get a moment of silence in my brain before it starts to whir again.

Earlier, when the first vampire slapped his hand over my mouth, I froze.

After all those training sessions with Bigby and Aris, after hours and hours of learning how to fight, and drilling how to respond to different attacks, I should have been ready to fight back. I knew what to do with the hand-to-the-mouth. I should have grabbed his wrist, twisted it, gotten the upper hand.

But I froze. And Byron was right. If he hadn't shown up, I'd be gone, in the back of a car, maybe dead. Locked up in some vampire dungeon somewhere, waiting for the moment they bit me, the poison worked its way through my body, and I writhed in pain before finally dying.

I roll over, tearing my eyes from the window and staring up at the ceiling. Why are they coming for me ? Just because I was at those events? They've blown my cover, and now they want to stop the investigation from kidnapping me?

Or do they think I have some sort of information? Do I have any information? Is there something I missed? I think through every mission, fancy event, and time I laughed, chatted, or flirted with someone.

There must be something I'm missing.

I only realize I've fallen asleep when there's a knock on the door, and Rosa comes in, smiling gently at me.

"Hey," she says, "I thought I would let you sleep, but then, I thought you might feel better if you got out. Come with me to Linnea's."

Closing my eyes, I shove a pillow over my face, attempting to block out the light from the window.

I think about how it's going to feel to go to the Cadell house. It's always so full of life there, with the kids and Bits, the pig, and the whole family probably wearing matching sweaters, and it's going to make me so sick with jealousy that I might have a heart attack right there.

"Just the girls," Rosa says, as though she can read my mind.

"Fine," I say, removing the pillow. "But I need a shower and breakfast."

"You got it," Rosa says, "Bigby is already on breakfast duty."

I feel mildly better after showering, but still feel like I smell of burning vampire. I ask Rosa to smell my hair and tell me the truth. She says I smell fine, but offers me more perfume, and I growl in frustration.

When we get to the Cadell house, Linnea is rolling out cookie dough, Veronica is peeling garlic unironically, and Maisie has her laptop open, looking up the statistical likelihood of getting salmonella from raw cookie dough.

"Does salmonella even affect shifters?" Rosa asks, immediately looking over her shoulder.

"I've seen cases before," Veronica says, throwing a bare clove of garlic into a bowl and dropping the scraps into the garbage, "but only in humans. At least, as far as I know."

"Oh, shifters don't usually use human hospitals," Linnea says.

"Except Percy," Veronica laughs, tossing her head to get a piece of hair out of her eyes.

"Hey!" Maisie says, glancing at me. "We said no guy talk."

"Percy isn't a guy," I say, leaning over and taking a grape from the spread of snacks. Even when asking for help to put together the Thanksgiving meal, Linnea still plays hostess. "He's a clown."

"Fair," Veronica says, a little smile on her face, and it makes me want to smash the grape in my hand. Instead, I pop it into my mouth, focusing on the burst of juice and how the skin breaks between my teeth.

"Mom!" Rosa says, turning when an older woman walks into the room, holding a bottle of wine. When I turn, I see Bernice Justine, the woman who kept us safe for all those years, staring back at me. She looks older than she is, but there's a light in her eyes again for the first time in a long time.

"I didn't know you'd be here this early!" Rosa says, her voice shrill as she looks her mom over again, then hugs her.

"My flight got in early," Bernice says, "Bigby and Kaila picked me up, brought me here. I'm—I figured I would bring wine. And nonalcoholic wine, for the mothers-to-be."

"Please, Mrs. Justine," Linnea says, "feel free to rest. You must be tired from your flight."

"Actually," she says, clearing her throat and glancing around the room. Then, quickly, she holds up her hand, which has a diamond ring on it.

" Mom ?" Rosa says, her eyes going wide, her hands rising to her mouth. "What—"

"I was tired of being Mrs. Justine," Bernice says, smiling down at her ring, then glancing up at Rosa. "You're not the only one who thinks a name change would be a good idea."

"Congratulations!" Maisie cries, leaping into Bernice's arms. Bernice looks surprised but hugs her back.

"I thought we said no guy talk," I muttered, crossing the room and taking the bottles of wine from Bernice. I check the labels to make sure I get the one with alcohol, before pouring myself a large glass.

I can feel Rosa's eyes on me, but I ignore her. Everyone is getting their happy ending except me. Even Bernice.

"Let me pour you some wine,"

"Hmm," Linnea says, "I'm excited to try it."

"I can't tell you how much I miss wine," Veronica whines, her hand on her stomach, which has just started to show. "Percy keeps telling me grape juice is exactly the same."

"Like I said," I laugh, taking another sip of my wine, "clown."

"Olivia," Bernice says, "it is so good to see you."

"You, too," I say, accepting her side hug.

Bernice pours out glasses of wine and passes them to each person, alcoholic content respective to pregnancy status. She's pouring another glass when the door opens, and Triste walks in, reaching up and propping her sunglasses on her head.

"Triste," Linnea breathes, "you came."

"I thought you could use another hand," Triste says, smiling. "Is there wine for me?"

I pour myself another glass, then pour her one as well.

"Now," Bernice says, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. "I have not had a holiday with my daughter in years. I am so excited to get started."

"Great!" Linnea says, taking a deep breath and stepping back, "Will you do this while I sit down?"

Bernice laughs and takes over the cookie dough, rolling seamlessly while Linnea doles out jobs for each of us. I accept my potatoes and peeler readily, glad to have something else to focus on, at least for a while.

***

"No, I'm just saying," Bernice says, leaning over with laughter, "If I didn't already know you, Olivia, I might think the two of you were sisters!"

"The resemblance is not that close," I say, rolling my eyes and taking a sip of my wine.

"I'm not sure if I should be offended," Veronica says, laughing. Her glass of nonalcoholic wine is still practically full, and I laugh every time I look over at it. We're all laughing, actually, because we're all—except Veronica and Linnea—drunk.

"Don't be," I say, laughing and slinging an arm around her. "I love you!"

"Good," she says, looking down into her glass. "I'm not sure I could handle another member of the pack not liking me."

It sounds like she's trying to joke from her tone, but there's something real underneath. I pull back and look at her face as Linnea speaks.

"What? Veronica—nobody in the pack dislikes you."

"Tell that to Byron."

At just the sound of his name, shivers run over my skin, and I fight to maintain a neutral expression. Of course, I've noticed the weird look Byron gets whenever Veronica's around, but I'd attributed that to her being an outsider, or just Byron's lack of social skills.

"Honey," Linnea says, clearing her throat and looking around the group. "It's not you . You know, it's just—what he's been through."

"What has he been through?" Rosa asks, crossing her legs and taking another sip of her wine. Linnea has our rapt attention now, and I get a sinking feeling in my chest at the fact that Linnea knows more about Byron than I do.

Of course, she's the pack luna, and has known Byron for longer. But I'm his mate.

Rejected, mate, I remind myself. Of course, he's told Linnea more about his history—they're friends, while Byron doesn't want anything to do with me.

"He—well, I'm not going to give you all the details, but Byron's parents were murdered by vampires when he was young."

I stare at her, mouth open. How could I not know something like that? I'd always assumed Byron's parents were something like Bigby's—just off, enjoying their retirement, sure to visit at some point down the line.

The realization hits me—Byron and I have more in common than I thought. Of course, I became an orphan as an adult, not a kid, which would have been much more tragic, but there's a certain aimlessness to not having parents.

Sometimes, you just want to go to someone with more experience than you. Someone who knows you, and has known you forever, who can look inside you and help you figure out what it is that you want.

And when you don't have parents, that option is gone. Even as an adult, it can be isolating to be without them. You get to watch everyone else celebrate their big moments with their mothers and fathers at their sides, while you settle for family, friends, and people your own age to celebrate yours.

"Oh, I—" Veronica says, clearing her throat. "I didn't know that. I mean, my mother was also, technically, killed by vampires, even if it did take a few months for the attack to finally get her. Maybe there's some way that I could—"

"Oh," Linnea says, choking down a gulp of her drink and shaking her head. "I'd appreciate it if you don't bring it up. He really doesn't like talking about it, and I'm not sure it would solve anything, anyway. I feel like Bryon is just one of those people who needs some time to come to terms with things. He's always felt like a bit of a lone wolf to me."

"Ha," Triste says, drily, and when we all look at her, she moves her glass, saying, "Was that not a shifter pun?"

"Oh!" Linnea says, laughing. "I guess so."

"I have a suggestion," Triste says, leaning forward and placing her glass on the coffee table. "We should order a pizza, and I'll use some magic to finish this food prep. That way, when it gets here, we can all relax."

"Use magic?" Maisie says, while Linnea says, "Triste, girl, this is something you lead with!"