Chapter Thirty-Eight

Jak's grandfather lived in a castle. Though Agent Gallagher had called it an "estate." Estate was another word for castle , he figured. It had to be. There couldn't be a house bigger than the one he was standing in.

He squeezed Harper's hand, and she looked at him, her eyes both sleepy and bright. His blood got hot, and he wanted to mate with—no, make love to—her again, even though they'd done it four times, once just before Agent Gallagher had picked them up. Harper had asked if he wanted to go alone to meet the grandfather, but he wanted her there. Wherever he was, that's where he wanted her to be.

Clicking sounded on the floor, and a second later, a man came into the room. He was almost as tall as Jak with gray hair and clothes that looked like a uniform, only…not. His gaze turned to Jak immediately, the look in his eyes sharp like an eagle. He walked to him and held out his hand. Jak shook, gripping firmly like Agent Gallagher did. The shaking thing, it was becoming familiar. It was what people did when they met or saw each other again.

"My God," the man murmured, his eyes traveling all over Jak's face. His voice sounded surprised and sad and happy all together. "It's uncanny. Come." He turned and made a hand movement that Jak thought meant he should follow him. Jak glanced once at Harper, and she gave him a nod before he followed the older man. He walked to a desk and picked up a photograph, handing it to Jak. The picture was of a man about his age, he thought, standing in front of a car and smiling.

Jak looked at it, trying to figure out what the older man was showing him. "That's Halston Junior. Your father." Jak's eyes widened, and he brought the picture closer, looking at the face of the man who had fathered him. "You look like him," the older man said. "Just like him. There are more family albums in the drawer if you want to look through them later." Jak stared at the photograph again, bringing his hand to his bearded jaw, his eyes moving back to the man in the picture, curious. Jak wasn't sure if he looked like his father. He still pictured his own face looking back at him from the wavy water. He couldn't remember what he'd looked like in the pictures he'd found at Driscoll's house, and he didn't like to think about that anyway. He'd only glanced at himself in the mirror in Harper's bathroom. He hadn't taken the time to study himself—he'd wanted to, but he wanted to get back to bed more. To her. He handed the photograph back.

"I'm your grandfather, son. Call me Hal. Welcome. Welcome to the family." His voice made a weird crack, and then he stepped forward, surprising Jak by wrapping his arms around him. Jak remained stiff for a second but then let the man hug him quickly before he stepped back again. "Well, I'm sure you have hundreds of questions, and we can sit down and talk after I've shown you around your new home. How's that?" He thought of his real home—his old home, he kept having to remind himself. Right now, the forest would be filled with the noise of the hunters and gatherers going about their work. The sun would be at its warmest. If he closed his eyes, he could feel it, smell it, remember the times of peace when his mind was quiet and his heart was calm. There, he felt connected to all living things, when the whispers weaved through him, wrapped around him, and he became part of it all. No end. No beginning. He'd drawn the feeling on Harper's mother's notes. He wondered if he'd ever have that feeling again. This new place felt like the opposite of that.

The grandfather—Hal—smiled at Agent Gallagher and Harper, who was standing next to him with her hands together in front of her. "Thank you for everything," he said. "Nigel will show you to the door." The man named Nigel in the black-and-white uniform stepped forward from the doorway like he was a shadow who had just come to life.

"Thank you. Jak, give me a call if you need anything," Agent Gallagher said, giving him a nod and starting to turn away.

Jak's heart leaped, and he stepped toward Harper. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked softly, leaning in to him.

Yes. He did. But he remembered she had gifts for the kids at the group home. Gifts in shiny green paper with red-and-white bows. She'd put them behind the seat in her truck and said she'd been away from them too long. He wanted those kids with no parents—like him and Harper—to have those gifts. To know she hadn't forgotten about them.

But he didn't want to be alone with these strangers in this big castle that felt cold and lifeless. He felt…stuck. He stared at Harper. It'd only be for a little while… "Will you come back?"

Harper smiled, but it looked like she was making herself do it. "Yes, of course I will. I'll call you."

Call him? He felt panicked. He didn't even know how phones worked, didn't know what phone or where…

"Agent Gallagher gave me the number here," she said, as if she could read his mind. "I'll call you."

"Okay, then, it's all settled," the grandfather said. "Nigel."

He held out his hand to Harper, feeling unsure, wanting to kiss her. She looked unsure too, but she moved forward, hugging him quickly, squeezing, and then she was turning. Walking away. Gone. Harper. I should have asked her to stay.

"Follow me," the grandfather said. "I'll give you a short tour, and then we can sit down and talk before my one o'clock appointment." Tour. Appointment. So many words he didn't know. His head hurt. Jak followed the grandfather out of the room with all the couches and chairs and blue and gold colors into a huge, open area that was so tall, Jak had to bend his neck to see the ceiling. Everywhere there was shiny stone, white and gray with streaks and rivers inside it. Jak wanted to reach out and touch it, to feel it under his fingertips—how did rock get that smooth?—but he didn't, instead holding his hands behind his back the way the grandfather was doing.

There were carpets with whole forests under his feet—birds and trees and flowers in reds, blues, yellows, and starless black.

The grandfather showed him another room with sitting furniture, this time in green and white colors, and then he walked him into a room with shelves so high they reached the ceiling. They were filled with…books. Jak's eyes widened, and his heart jumped. So many, many books. More books than he knew were written in the world. "Agent Gallagher said you're able to read."

"Yes," Jak murmured, his eyes unable to move from the shelves to the man speaking to him.

"Well, help yourself to any of these. Lord knows no one around here reads them."

Jak felt his eyebrows shoot up. "No one reads these?" He couldn't understand. His heart was jumping and speeding at the news that so many books even existed. He was still in the middle of The Count of Monte Cristo , but he wanted to start looking through these. He wanted to pick his next book and the one after that. He wanted to stack them into a big pile and start reading right away.

"All too busy, I guess. The young people are always on their phones. Lord only knows what they're doing. Social media, I guess."

Jak didn't know what that was, so he made his face look understanding and nodded. The grandfather led him out of there, but Jak looked around the big hall so he'd make sure he could find his way back.

The grandfather took him to a kitchen so big that Jak stood in the doorway staring. It was bigger than two of his cabins, bigger than five of his baka's kitchens. It had more of the shiny stone, a bright silver stove, and a refrigerator that looked like a small house. Jak swallowed. There was so much food. Right there, for the taking. He turned away, something about it making sadness pinch his chest. He pretended he didn't feel the way he did. He didn't even know what he felt anyway.

"Jak, this is Marie. She's our chef, and anything you'd like to eat, you just let her know." A chef?

The round woman with red cheeks smiled and held her hand out. Jak shook it. "I make the food here," she said, winking her eye. "Any favorites I should know about, Jak?"

"Uh." He searched his mind. He knew he'd done the wrong thing when he'd eaten the raw meat at the Gallagher's. He'd be expected to eat cooked meat from now on; he understood that. Understood that it was uncivilized not to. Except sushi, Harper had told him. He didn't know what that was, but if it was raw, he figured he would like it. "Sushi."

Marie's eyebrows did a funny thing, but she smiled again. "I'll be sure to add it to the menu then."

"Very good," the grandfather said, and then he led Jak out of the kitchen, down another hall. Jak didn't know how he'd find his way out if he decided he wanted to leave. The grandfather opened a big set of doors with glass at the top, and Jak smelled the birds before he heard them. He stopped, confused. The grandfather laughed. "Hear the singing? Lovely, isn't it? It's coming from the aviary," he said. "It's where my wife, Loni, will be. Come with me."

Aviary? The bird cries got louder, and Jak's heart stumbled. They weren't like any bird language he'd ever heard before, and the birds he was listening to weren't singing…they were…crying. What's happening?

He followed the grandfather into another large room with big trees that didn't grow in the ground but instead in…pots all around the sides. He wondered how they whispered to each other that way when they had no deep-down place to meet. In the middle of the room were three giant cages that almost reached the ceiling. Bird castles made of bars. Inside were hundreds of birds in colors Jak had never seen birds in before. "Flower birds," Jak murmured, his eyes wide, their cries twisting his heart.

A woman wearing all white glided from behind one of the cages and held her hand out to Jak. Her eyes moved all over him, and he got that same feeling he used to get when he thought someone was watching him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "Hello," she purred like a fox when it was eating its kill. "Look at you. You're just everything I thought you'd be."

"Spitting image of Hal Junior, isn't he?"

The woman glanced at the grandfather. "Mmm," she purred again. "I'm Loni."

"She's your step-grandmother," Hal said, and she gave him a look like she was mad because what he said wasn't true. She did look a lot younger than the grandfather. She reached her hand out, and Jak took it in his, noticing her nails were long and sharp and bright pink. She used one of them to tickle his palm as he was pulling his hand away. Maybe she was trying to make him laugh, to tell him it was all a joke. He hoped so, but… "Her son, Brett, and daughter, Gabi, live here with us as well. You'll meet them later tonight."

"You must be an animal lover, Jak," Loni said. "We have that in common." She waved her hand around at the crying birds. "I can't wait to find out what else we have in common."

Jak had no idea what to say to the bird woman with the claws, so he simply stared.

"You let me know if you need anything settling in, you hear?" Loni winked at him, but it was different than the wink Marie had given him, and he wasn't sure how, but it was.

He nodded, wanting to get far away from the woman who enjoyed making beautiful things cry.

He hurried after the grandfather, finally taking a full breath once the bird cries faded. They went into a smaller room with two couches and two chairs. This room was yellow, all different shades. Jak sat in the chair the grandfather pointed to. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Not eggnog, please."

The grandfather laughed. "Not a fan, eh? Me neither." He handed him a glass of water, and Jak took a grateful sip.

"I'm sure you have questions, Jak. What can I answer for you?"

"I'd like to hear about my father," he said. "Agent Gallagher told me what happened with him and my…mother, but…what was he like? Who was he?"

The grandfather had a sad expression on his face, and Jak wondered if it had been wrong of him to ask, but then the grandfather's lips tipped upward, and he leaned back in his chair. "Smart as a whip," he said. "Everyone said so from the minute he was born. He picked up everything quickly, was good at whatever he put his mind to. He had so much…" His voice faded away, and then he sat up straighter and his voice sounded strong again. "Potential."

Potential. His father was smart. He picked things up. He had…potential. Hope. Hope for…a good life. Jak stored the word away. He liked that one. And he wondered if he had potential too. Maybe he'd gotten that from his father, along with the look of his face. He ran his hand along his jaw.

"You'll want to shave, I imagine, once you get settled in your room."

Jak nodded slowly, unsure. He kept his beard short with his pocketknife, but he hadn't shaved his face since he'd grown face hair. It kept him warm in the winter. It told others he was a man who could mate and have his own offspring.

But the men he'd seen in civilization so far all had shaved faces. He guessed females in civilization thought other things were more important than mating and offspring. Jak ran his fingers along his jaw again, wondering what Harper would like.

"Anyway," the grandfather sighed, "your father was a good man. He would have led a good life if that woman…" He seemed to grind his teeth together for a moment, and then he brought his own hand to his jaw, rubbing it before going on. "Well, suffice it to say, I wish things had been different, but here we are."

Here we are.

The grandfather didn't look happy about that, and Jak suddenly felt even more out of place. Be still, don't move. Don't become prey. He knew that wasn't the right word, but it was the best one he had. Animals smelled confusion and fear, and they took advantage of them. Humans did the same, he knew, but they couldn't smell it. They used their eyes and their brains instead.

Jak didn't yet know if the grandfather was good or bad, and he hoped he was good, but until he knew for sure, he would watch him. This house made him feel funny with its big, cold walls and its beautiful caged birds and the people who made strange looks and said things that made him think they were saying other things underneath if he knew how to listen right.

"Speaking of your father, Jak, his downfall began because of a woman." He seemed angry. "I would hate to see the same thing happen to you."

Jak sat back, staring at the old man. Harper. He was talking about Harper. A sharp prick of anger made his chest tight. "The woman you brought here today, she's obviously not of our ilk."

Jak had some idea what the man was saying but stayed quiet. Waiting for all the words so he could put them together in his mind. Understand. "The name Fairbanks comes with much privilege, but it also comes with its share of difficulty. Namely, others will want to use you for what you can do for them. It's why your father ended up on the path he did." The grandfather gave him a stare and then sighed. "Do you know what a gold digger is, Jak?"

Gold digger. Someone who digs for gold? But he didn't think the grandfather meant that. He shook his head.

"It's a woman who wants you for your money, son."

"I don't have any money," he said slowly.

"You didn't have any money. But you're a Fairbanks now. All of this"—he waved his hand in the air—"is at your fingertips."

"What?"

"What is at your fingertips? Why, this house, the opportunities the Fairbanks name opens up for you, perhaps the Fairbanks estate someday, Jak." He leaned forward, looking thoughtful. "I'll teach you the basics." He raised an eyebrow. "And someday maybe…you can hire good people to deal with the business specifics." He sat straighter, looking more…hopeful. "Someday you'll have a son of your own, and then all of this will go to him. It's the way estates work, Jak. It's the way a family name goes on and on."

Jak ran everything the grandfather had told him through his mind. The grandfather believed his mother had ruined his father's life. He thought Harper would ruin Jak's life too. That she was a gold digger who wanted him for his money. But Harper, she had kissed him before she knew he had anything. Before she even knew he was a Fairbanks. Before he had a last name at all.

Plus, he trusted her. She was honest and sweet, and she'd cried for Pup because Jak had loved him. And even more than that, he'd scented her. She was his mate. That was all.

The grandfather stood. "In any case, you must be tired. We can talk about this another time." He looked at the watch on his wrist. "I've got to get going. Let me show you to your room. I took the liberty of having our housekeeper, Bernadette, pick up some clothing and whatnot for you." Jak stood too. He followed him when he left the room, leading him to a staircase so big and wide, he could have lived right there.

His room was down a long hallway with carpet so soft it felt like springtime grass under his feet, even through his shoes. He hopped on it lightly as he walked, and the grandfather gave him a look that made him stop. "I hope you'll be comfortable here, Jak," the grandfather said as Jak followed him into a large room with a huge bed in the middle with not just one blanket, not just three like Harper's bed, but so many it looked like Jak would be sleeping on a cloud.

Jak stepped slowly inside. "The bathroom's behind that door. Your new clothes are in the closet. Just leave your old ones on the floor and the maid will…take care of them." Jak turned back to the grandfather, whose face looked like he'd eaten something bad, but then he changed it to a big smile that only moved his lips. "Welcome home, Jak." Then the grandfather left, closing the door behind him.

Jak took a minute to look around the room and then inside the bathroom, walking to the mirror. He stood in front of it, turning his face slowly one way and then the other. Did he look like the man in the photo? His father? He couldn't see it, but the grandfather said he did. Jak's face was dark from the sun—both winter and summer—darker than the grandfather's or Agent Gallagher's. His cheeks were chapped from the wind, and his beard was rough and…uneven. He had cut it using only the feel of his fingers.

Jak had a scar under his cheekbone from where the blond boy had cut him that terrible day.

He looked different than all of them. Strange. Wild. And that's because he was.

He thought of the things he'd done—some because he'd had no choice, others because he had wanted to live. But he could be different now. He could be like them. Harper had accepted his looks and the part of himself he'd shown her, but she never had to know about the way he'd both crawled and killed. Never had to picture him the way he'd been in his lowest times. Never had to know that part of him even existed. Here…at Thornland, he could leave all that behind. Only Driscoll knew about that part of him, and Driscoll was dead. He could be…civilized. He could be a man— all man, only man—so Harper never caught a glimpse of that beast within him.

He picked up a can of something that said shaving foam, looking at the other bottles on the shelf over the sink, swallowing thickly when he saw the things he'd lived without for so many years. Everything felt…big. Smelled big. All of it was huge, bigger than he remembered, shinier, more. Very. He stepped back into the bedroom, closing that door behind him.

Welcome home, the grandfather had said.

So why did he still feel lost?