13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

The witches’ lair, Rodney had said, and of course, he was right. A play on the phrase, into the lion’s den.

Maltin had no worries for himself. He didn’t have one worry about Rodney, who bore most of the power in the Hilderbrand clan. No, he only worried about a very fragile Jack.

Strong, tough, yes, he was both of those things, but his need for familial love ran deep in him. He may get that with his biological family, surely, but he didn’t know them. Getting to know and feel anything for them would take time.

Maltin knew one way to cure it all, and it was something he, himself, wanted too.

Children.

Maltin knew instinctually that Jack would be the most amazing father. His own parentage would make him want to show his children every bit of love he could. That hole hanging open in his heart would fill with children’s laughter and smiles.

As Jack sipped his cognac and stared out the window at the scenery rushing by, Maltin looked pointedly at Rodney. Without saying a word, Rodney nodded, knowing everything on Maltin’s mind.

Maltin knew Rodney could have made the trip much shorter. In a blink, Rodney could have shortened their trip by hours. That wasn’t what Jack needed, however. He needed that peace of drinking a strong, warm drink in the back of a comfortable car. Two people on his side completely, making him feel safe and loved, and they were with him.

In fact, Rodney put music on for them, a soothing melody of nature sounds and musical notes. Everything they could do to calm the thrumming pulse in his veins as they grew ever nearer to the family that had cast him aside for not having their powers.

After two drinks, the lull of the tires over pavement and the music put Jack to sleep, and he lay his head over Maltin’s lap, peacefully snoring. Maltin’s fingers played with Jack’s silky hair while Rodney watched the two of them, smiling a little wistfully.

“You deserve this, Malty.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Why do you do that? You’ve lived a long time and had some heartbreak, lost loves, lost friends, but you’re lucky. You do something you love in writing, and by some miracle, your fated mate shows up on your doorstep!”

Maltin hadn’t thought of it that way. Still…

“Rodney, I buried myself behind all those pretty cars and pretended that was how I wanted to live. Now, I’ve been thrown for a loop, and I’m in love again, only this feels like the first time, and I’m…”

“You’re doing well, whether you think you are or not. He’s crazy about you, and I don’t think it’s all about fate or whatever. I think this man finally sees you. No one has except maybe for me and your mother.”

“Mother’s never seen what she didn’t want to see.”

Rodney’s eyes rolled as he moaned, “You’ve never given my sister credit. What she had with your father? That defied fate, Maltin. Who’s to say that yours doesn’t? Just because you are supposed to be with him doesn’t mean that you can’t freely love him, and you do. And he loves you. It shows in his eyes whenever he looks your way. Stop fighting that.”

It was true. Rodney saw that. “I don’t…I don’t want it to be only fate that brought us together. I want to feel like my parents felt.”

Rodney leaned forward and stared into his eyes, unwilling to allow Maltin to look away from him. “Do you?”

Maltin’s eyes moved to the beautiful face of the man on his lap. His peace as he slept, his beauty so bright, almost hurt Maltin’s eyes. The love that washed through him was real; it was special. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Rodney sat back, triumphant, and lorded his correctness over his nephew. “I really need to stop always being right!”

“Shut up,” Maltin said with a quiet laugh.

Rodney was right, and he’d never let Maltin live it down, but for once, he didn’t mind a bit. The way Jack felt lying on him, easily sleeping while in the middle of turmoil, it took away any worry that Jack only loved him because of fate.

Jack felt comfortable, trusting that Maltin would care for him. Maybe it was what they both needed most. If it was just fate, so be it. Maybe fate knew better than mere men who were stumbling through their lives, hiding behind cars or the need for money.

Throughout the drive, Jack woke and kissed him, smiling sleepily. “Are we there yet?”

“No, my darling.”

“We can be if we’re in a hurry.”

“You can do that?”

Puffing up proudly, Rodney proclaimed, “Easier than blinking one eye, my boy.”

Then Jack looked at Maltin, and again, he saw that trust all over his beautiful face. Maltin’s heart began to beat hard as he said, “A little longer, Jack. Get your mind and heart ready for the worst; that way, you can be pleasantly surprised if it’s not as bad as you thought.”

“Okay, Maltin. Thanks for coming with me,” he said then looked over to Rodney. “Both of you.”

“Oh, this will be fun. I’ve never liked the Pengroves. Awful snobs.”

“And you’re not?” Maltin teased.

“I have a right to be!”

“Lord.”

Jack giggled at the two of them. “Did you always bicker this way?”

“Surely. He’s the little brother I never wanted,” Maltin told Jack.

“You adore me and look up to me, Malty. I got those bullies to leave you alone in fifth grade.”

Jack’s head spun so he could stare wide-eyed at Maltin. “He did?”

“He made them all start kicking each other until my mother came along and made him stop.”

Jack giggled and clapped his hands. “Love it. Well, I officially thank you for helping with my bullies.”

“Isn’t that the worst? Seeing your own kin as your bullies? Pengroves. Pish, posh.”

Maltin’s phone began ringing, and he laughed when he saw the caller ID. “Mother.”

“Oh, my dear Trudy. Answer.”

“I was going to!” Maltin hit the green circle and said, “Hello, Mother.”

“Where are you? I was scrying and saw you far from the city where you insist on residing.”

“You are stalking me? Mother!”

“I have every right. Where are you going?”

Roland answered, but Maltin wanted to smack him. “We’re off to see the Pengroves, Trudy. I’m here, so have no fear.”

“The Pengroves? Are you insane? On their own turf?”

Maltin stared at the phone, dumbfounded. “Their own turf? Is this a revival of West Side Story?”

“Maltin Theodore Graves, why on earth?”

Roland soothed, “As you know, Trudy, they are the family that raised your son’s mate. We’re going to inform them that he isn’t their biological child. That’s all.”

“That’s all? I’ll repeat myself, which you know I hate doing, Maltin Theodore Graves are you insane?”

Maltin watched Rodney laughing and promptly flipped him the bird. “Mother, I’m likely insane, but it’s hereditary.”

Silence was never good with Trudy Hilderbrand Graves.

“Sis? Are you there?”

“Mother, I’m kidding.”

“I’ll meet you idiots at the Pengroves. This boy of yours better be worth all this. I had a massage appointment!”

With that, the line went silent, and Maltin stuck his phone back in the pocket of his suit coat.

“Well, now you’ve done it,” Rodney teased.

“Is she going to hate me?” Jack asked in a small voice.

Maltin gathered him into his arms. “Not a chance. She may threaten to take a few years off my life, but she’s going to adore you.”

“She’s a lot of bluster, my sister, but she’ll bring you into the fold and spoil you rotten. She always wanted another child.”

“She had you,” Maltin told Rodney. “You were at our house more than your parents’.”

“True. But my folks were old and stodgy, and I love my sister. She’s the best companion I could hope for, and Jack, she will love you. I promise that.”

Jack nodded and Maltin kissed his head. “No more worrying. Rodney, take us there now, or Mother might level all of them before we can even speak to them.”

“True. Okay, hold onto your stomachs. This never feels good for first-timers.”

Maltin was familiar with the act, but he hated it. The feeling started at the base of his balls and felt as if something were inside of him, pulling from there.

Stretching, stretching until it felt as if his balls were in his throat, choking the life from him, and then, in an instant, it was over, and they were parking in front of a hedgerow, the sky dark with storm clouds.

As soon as they landed, Jack opened the back door and hurried outside to vomit, and Maltin followed him to make sure he was okay. “Jack?”

Jack was too busy upchucking to answer, but Rodney got out with them and stretched his back. “Long ride, huh?”

Jack stood straight, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What the hell was that?”

“That, Jack, was us teleporting. Not everyone can do it, but my mother and uncle are proficient.”

“Don’t ever do that again. I thought my balls were being torn off.”

“Okay, we don’t have to, but your birth family lives much farther than this.”

Jack pondered and mumbled, “Maybe. If I’m still alive after this.”

“There you are,” a woman’s voice called. “What took you so long?”

Maltin saw his mother, the beautiful woman she was, walking toward them in her sky-blue suit and matching lizard mules. She looked even better then when he’d last seen her, not a wrinkle on her face, and her hair was blond this time. “Mother.”

Jack stiffened beside him, but Maltin whispered, “Don’t get nervous, baby.”

“Can’t help it.”

She walked over to them and Rodney pecked both her cheeks in greeting. “Trudy.”

“Rodney, how are you, darling?”

“Having a time, dear. May I introduce Jack Pengrove. Jack, this is your future mother-in-law, Gertrude Hilderbrand Graves.”

“Trudy, please,” she said, reaching out her white-gloved hand to Jack.

“Kiss the back of her hand,” Maltin coached.

He did and then said, “Nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

“Pish, posh,” she said with a sweet smile. “No ma’ams, and if you call me Gertrude, like my annoying brother, I’ll turn you into a fly.”

Jack paled, but Rodney laughed at her. “Sorry, dearest, but he is family now.”

“Of course, he is. Now, are we going to meet these people and let them down easily that their son is not really their son?”

“The fobs,” Rodney spat.

“Rodney, dear, they’re about to discover their son, their real son, perished twenty years ago. For a mother, that is terrible news. We will be gentle until they give us reason to be harsh.”

She led them, walking with her chin held high, her ten-thousand-dollar bag hefted on the crook of her arm while the other passed over her clothes to assure she was looking her best. Maltin teased his family a lot, but he loved them fiercely and suddenly felt terrible that he hadn’t visited his mother in three long years.

He took Jack’s hand, and they followed Trudy, all set on their quest. Rodney was almost skipping, ready for a fight, as always. The man loved showing off his powers.

The four of them walked up the gravel road as Trudy complained, “You couldn’t have aimed closer, Rodney? These shoes are Jimmy Choos!”

“Sorry, my dear. I’ll find you a new pair once we’re finished here.”

“And a pair of the snakeskin?”

“Of course, my dear.”

Maltin watched Jack, watching them. Maltin could tell he wasn’t used to a family like his, one where the love was evident in the bickering they did with one another. “You’ll soon be razzing them like we all do to each other.”

“Not soon, but I’d like that. Really I would.”

“Good. Now, head high, Jack. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You never have. They only made you believe that.”

“What’s this?” Trudy asked as she turned. “Were they cruel to you, dear?”

“Not cruel, exactly. More like…”

“Dismissive, Mother. Once he didn’t show that he had their powers, they…”

“Why, that’s intolerable! For all they knew, you were their son!”

There was a new fire in their eyes, and she started up the drive again, uncaring any longer about her shoes.

When the house came into view, Maltin nearly laughed. It was trite and predictable if ever he’d seen a house. Even Trudy was laughing. “My goddess, is this some old movie set? What the hell?” She seemed to think she’d hurt Jack’s feelings, but when she turned to apologize, Jack just laughed.

“I always thought it was stupid.”

The huge estate was made of black brick with blacker trim, towering gables, turrets, and spires, holding shining silver points on each. There were gargoyles and stained-glass windows out of a storybook castle that would house the wickedest of witches.

The front lawn was half a mile long, and two winged horses sat on either side of the wrought iron gate. “Trite,” Trudy said, then smoothed a hand down her suit again before arriving at the callbox.

Jack went to it and pushed the button. A male voice came over the speaker, “We don’t allow salespeople or solicitors of any kind. State your business.”

“It’s me, Jackson Pengrove. I’ve come to see Mother and Father.”

“Mr. Pengrove, you weren’t expected. You know your parents like you to call ahead.”

“Call ahead from their son?” Trudy was burning with anger, but Rodney hushed her with a look.

“I’ve come to speak to them about something important. I’ve brought guests. Perhaps they’ve heard of the Hilderbrand and Graves families?”

Silence in response for at least a full minute before the man came back on and said, “Come to the front, Jackson.”

The gate motor whirred, and soon, they were all four walking through, up the long drive. Maltin was close to Jack, knowing how hard this was going to be on him. It didn’t help, or perhaps it did, that Trudy was so taken back by their reception of their son.

“Call ahead, well, I never! Call ahead? I’d be overjoyed if my son dropped in on me. Ever. Even once.”

Maltin heard the accusation mixed in with her disdain. “Yes, Mother, but when are you ever in one place for long?”

“I’ve been in France, in the same chateau I’m in every January, for nearing two months now, Maltin Graves.”

“No Theodore? You must be losing your perturbance at me.”

“Don’t press my temper, Maltin. I’m in no mood. Suddenly, I’m very upset.”

Maltin didn’t take that lightly. Being upset for his mother could mean the entire estate would be leveled with the snap of her fingers. “Sorry, Mother.”

At the doors, finally, Jackson rang the doorbell, and one of the double doors opened to show a tall, menacing butler in a full tux with tails. “Mr. Pengrove, welcome home. Misters Hilderbrand, Mrs. Hilderbrand,” he said, unmoving from the doorway.

“That’s Mrs. Graves, and my son is Mr. Graves. My brother is the only one still Hilderbrand, or are you implying I had my son out of wedlock?” Trudy asked, pushing past him, and the other three followed her through.

Stammering, the butler objected, “I must announce all guests!”

“Then you’d better hurry, hadn’t you?”

Trudy was tapping her expensive shoe on the black marble floors as Maltin gazed around the foyer. Like Jack mentioned, it was beautiful but cold. There were no flowers or paintings to warm the stone walls, just statues of witches and a cold black and gray world.

When the butler returned, asking with much more respect for them to follow, they left the foyer and traveled through a hallway with impossibly tall ceilings and more marble floors.

Maltin held Jack’s hand tightly, hoping to give him strength as they walked through to a parlor where two people stood tall and forbidding in the middle of a room filled with black and red furniture, right out of some silly amusement park haunted house.

They were both beautiful. Both had pale skin and black hair to match their black clothing. Suddenly, Maltin appreciated his mother’s style and her mothering more than he ever had.

“Mr. and Mrs. Pengrove, allow me to present Mr. Hilderbrand, Mrs. Graves, and Mr. Graves, and you remember Jackson, of course.”

“Jackson, welcome home. You know we like you to call first, especially if you’re bringing guests,” the mother said.

Jack went to her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Sorry, Mother.”

“Please, sit,” the man said, and Jack only nodded to him. What a strange exchange from people that were supposed to be family.

As they sat on the hard couches and chairs, facing the Pengroves, Jack began. “Mother, Father, it’s come to my attention that you were lied to on the day of my birth.”

“Oh?” The mother said, with no real interest. “How so?”

“I’m…I was born to other parents. Your…your real son, he was born…he was…”

Maltin laid his hand on Jack’s to stop him and finished, “He was stillborn. I’m very sorry to you both. I’m sure this must be a shock. It was to Jack.”

They sat together stiffly, but Jack’s father did lay his hand over his wife’s. “How can you know this?”

“Because, Father, I, uh, I’m not a witch, as we’ve known for some time now. I’m actually a…a…”

“Spit it out, Jackson,” the mother snapped.

“I’m a hellhound shapeshifter, Mother.”

Both gasped and paled further if that were possible, and Mrs. Pengrove threw off her husband’s hand. “It can’t be!”

“Oh, it can,” Trudy broke in. “In fact, he and my son are fated mates.”

More gasping and Mrs. Pengrove started to fan herself with her handkerchief.

“This cannot be,” the father whispered. “But it makes sense.”

“Is this why you brought…them?”

The way she said it, like the Hilderbrands were beneath her, Maltin knew at that moment his mother’s mouth was going to start writing checks that she and Rodney would be only too happy to cash.

Trudy stood, and she was stone-cold angry, her face not hiding her utter disdain for the two people across from her. “Yes. He’s told my son how he was treated by you. All because he didn’t inherit your power. How could you? You thought him to be your son, and yet he’s to call before visiting? He’s treated like so much trash on his arrival? You should be ashamed!”

Jack ducked when his mother raised her hand, pulling Maltin down to the black and grey Persian rug with him. “Duck!”

Maltin knew then that the war was about to begin.