Chapter 21

Atlas

I'm holding Ivy's hand as we walk from my parked bike into the yard of my family home, Hazel and Tate just a few steps behind us. Grams' white farmhouse with its wrap-around porch is alive with people. There are big trees dotting the yard around it, tables and blankets laid out across the big yard occupied by serephs—family, the rescued women, and other groups from Murrus—there for a day of planning celebration. Someone is playing music, and kids dart like bees from flower to flower through the open spaces.

My heart is full.

Ivy has agreed to stay, and it has been clearer every day since how content she is in that choice. She's talking about getting a job in town.

I glance at her and that ever-clinging warmth inside me tightens like a hug around my heart. It isn't sexual—though that's been constant—but rather more like peace. She's said she loves me… repeatedly now. Those words hold a ton of meaning, because I know how hard it was for her to say them, to believe in them.

She squeezes my hand, pulling me a touch closer.

I wrap an arm around her shoulders, so fucking grateful, and lean to whisper in her ear. "I don't know how long we can stay. I need to be inside you."

She slaps playfully at my stomach, then says, "Maybe we can find a quiet place for a quickie."

I smile but fight the urge to pick her up and fly for the barn.

Grams yells a greeting at us with a wave. "You're late! We already blessed the food."

I look over my shoulder at Tate, who's got Hazel's hand in his. He pulls her closer, and I wonder if there's something there. Tate hasn't said, but considering the trauma Hazel has experienced, I'm not sure it's any more than Tate being Tate: kind and compassionate.

When we get to Grams to exchange hugs, she looks at Ivy's and my joined hands, our faces, then at Ivy. "Are you staying?" she asks. The woman is a menace. She's got a one-track mind, the mouth as dirty as a pig in muck, and loves her family fiercely.

"Grams–" I warn her.

"Yes, ma'am," Ivy says at the same time and turns her face up to smile at me.

Grams grins. "A ceremony?"

"Maybe we can hold off on that for a bit? Let Ivy get used to?—"

"Ceremony? Like a wedding?" She looks from Grams back to me, a little panicked. "Was that…"

"Ivy. Take a breath," I say. "One step at a time." I draw her in for a hug against my side.

Grams looks disappointed—she's wanted to plan a concordia for one of us for so long; Samson was the only one she got to, and we know how that turned out—but she smiles at Ivy anyway. "All in good time, dear. So glad you're staying. And Hazel too."

"Yes." Ivy nods.

Grams nods back. "Good. Good." Her eyes bounce to Tate and Hazel behind us, studying them a moment before drawing away and indicating with the toss of her gray, spiked head. "Food's set up on all these tables. Help yourselves."

We follow her directions and make plates before finding seats at a table where Rome is sitting with Brooks Gray.

I sit down between him and Ivy, irrationally jealous even though I know she's chosen me.

Rome chuckles. "Gratus."

Brooks answers with his own chuckle. "Got it. I didn't remember Atlas looking like he ever wanted to tear my head off. Congrats," he says with a slap to my back.

"Ivy," I introduce her. "This is Brooks Gray."

"Not a Black then?"

"Nope. My family lives in Norwood Falls in the next county over. Rome suggested we bring the women out." He glances at Rome, a frown pulling at his face. "I'm glad we did."

"Yeah," Rome replies, answering with his own frown. "I don't like that they got away."

Brooks nods.

It makes my heart seize with rage, knowing that those assholes are still out there, probably setting up shop somewhere else to do the same thing. We've all got some work to do, and it isn't only about demons anymore.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone move a table away, aware that it's one of my other brothers. I look up and notice Samson, standing and staring off over my head. He's rigid and angry, his face a boiling cauldron of rage.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asks, the words bitten off nearly before they are voiced.

I turn my head and my breath stops up in my chest.

What's happening? Ivy asks through our link, her head turning to follow my gaze. What's wrong with Samson?

Standing several feet away, Ophelia, the calix who broke my brother's heart, waits, quiet and stoic as usual. The din around us has died and all eyes are bouncing between her and my brother. It isn't a secret that she ran away, and we were left to pick up the pieces.

"What are you doing here?" Samson asks, though knowing what I know about incitare and gratus, I can't imagine it is easy for him to say.

"I need…" she starts quietly, her eyes imploring Samson and him alone… "your help."