SUSI HAWKE
Copyright © 2021 by Susi Hawke
All rights reserved.
Cover by Ana J Phoenix
Editing by MA Hinkle, LesCourt Author Services
Proofreading by Lori Parks, LesCourt Author Services
Formatting by Leslie Copeland, LesCourt Author Services
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Growing Sanctuary
1. Darcy
2. Storm
3. Darcy
4. Storm
5. Darcy
6. Storm
About the Author Also by Susi Hawke
CONTENTS
GROWING SANCTUARY
Sanctuary B & B—Our wards are strong and our door is open!
Hey, y’all. It’s me, Darcy Valentine. I’m still enjoying a fabulous, never-ending first date with my sexy vampire boyfriend Storm. Can you believe we’re coming up on ten months? Yep, we go together like toast and jam. He’s still helping me with the B&B I run inside the warded walls of the quirky, ancestral castle I call home with the rest of the special family my mama and I built with the motley group of weirdos who live here with us.
Lordy, do I ever have a story to tell you. First off, I wanna caution you to be wary if a friend shows up on your doorstep in the wee hours… that goes double if they’re shirtless, bloody, and carrying a newborn baby who’s not supposed to be alive. Watch out ‘cuz the next thing you know, there’ll be a baby living in your house while you try to find the li’l darlin’ a forever home. And if that happens, keep your eyes peeled for the child’s blood kin… especially if they’re vicious shifters with no home training.
First rule of fostering a baby—don’t get attached. Rule two, don’t name the child, no matter how much you’re tempted. It’s okay to refer to the munchkin as “the baby,” but nothing else because that’s
a fast track to breaking rule number one. Rule three, if you have a pushy mama like I do, don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself. She doesn’t get to choose when you become a parent! And if the Nanato-be gets in your head… try referring back to rule one.
This 22k novella is the fourth in the Magical Mischief at the B&B series. This book does not contain mpreg, but it does have a newbornwhoneedsafamily, shiftersthatneedkilling,andanalpha wolf named Bubba. Ifyou’re looking for serious literature, this isn't it. But ifyou want tolaugh so hardyou’ll wake theneighbors, this shouldgetyou there. There might be a few tears this time but it’s mostly full of all the fluffy, happy feels you’d expect from a Susi Hawke book. It could also be a choking hazard due to a ridiculous amount of awfuljokes, so maybe don’t eat or drink while reading, okay?</?
DARCY
After I flipped over again, punching my pillow into submission only to sigh when it still wasn't perfect, I was ready to say fuck it and get up for the day.
Blinking away the brain fog, I summoned the strength to lift my head and squint at the alarm clock. Bright red numbers read 6:19 a.m.
Fuck, much too early. The sun wasn't even up yet, so why was I? I dropped back onto my pillow with a groan, determined to give counting backwards from a hundred another try. It'd never worked for me in the past—I was too focused on getting the numbers right— but maybe today was my lucky day.
It was worth a shot, at any rate.
Closing my eyes, I wiggled my cheek against the pillow and willed my body to relax. I even remembered to focus on taking steady breaths; I was in the zone.
For about five seconds or so, long enough to reach ninety-two anyway. Before I could visualize ninety-one, a cool hand cupped my butt cheek, immediately followed by my boyfriend's sleep-roughened voice.
"Trouble sleeping, babe?"
Stiffening, I shrieked and basically jumped out of my skin. It's possible I levitated for a second because I could swear I fell back onto the mattress with a solid thump. Although the noise could have
been my heart slamming back into place after getting scared out of my ribcage.
"Mother trucker, are you trying to kill me?" Sitting up, I clutched my heaving chest, panting and gasping for air like I'd attempted to run a three-minute mile.
While the sun wasn't up yet, faint pre-dawn light filtered through the open drapes, enough to illuminate Stormy's outline, if not his expression. I didn't need to see him to hear the humor in his voice, the big jerk.
"I'm sorry, did I frighten you? My bad. Someone woke me while taking his irritation out on a defenseless pillow, so I thought I'd be polite."
I wanted to laugh, but I wasn't quite there yet, so I settled for giving his shoulder a shove. "Pardon the puny human for freaking out when a voice speaks from the darkness. If I had a human boyfriend, I'd know he was awake by his breathing. Who knows what you're doing over there without any respiratory noises to warn a guy?"
"Would you prefer it if I snored? You have to admit, there's an upside."
Grumbling under my breath, I shoved him again. He didn’t budge either time. "The upside certainly isn't your cold hands, especially grabbing my ass when I least expect it."
"Hey, now. I can't help it if my hands gravitate there, and I can't recall hearing many complaints from you over the past—what’s it been now for this first date of ours, about nine and half or ten months?" As if he didn't know how long we'd been together, probably right down to the hour. Storm wasn't known as Mr. Romance for nothing. Also, he had a point.
"Fine. So I usually like you touching my butt. You caught me off guard trying to salvage what was left of my night's sleep."
Storm hugged me, gently pulling me along as he lay back down. "Maybe snuggling with me will help you sleep, cutie. Unless you have something troubling you… was there a reason you couldn't rest tonight?"
"Not exactly… I'm not sure if I can put words to it. It's… I don't know, more of a feeling, almost too ephemeral to explain."
"Ooh, intriguing. Please try to verbalize. You know I won't judge you."
Since I was expecting it this time, his cool hand grabbing my butt, then slowly rubbing a path up the middle of my back, was comforting. Plus, my body heat was warming his palm.
Snuggling him closer, I nuzzled into the crook of his neck. "Okay. Have you ever felt like something majorly life-changing is about to happen? Like, life as you know it is about to change without any planning or say-so from you?"
"Aha. You feel like fate is knocking on your door. I get it. When I was heading to college, I got a letter in the mail announcing a scholarship I'd been awarded. I hadn’t applied—it came from a special program the alumni sponsored for English majors. The essay on my application caught their eye, apparently. That scholarship made a huge difference, enabling me to afford it through some hard times. And the night before I got the notice, I had the strangest feeling."
"Yes! Exactly. I've had this feeling twice before. Once on the day I got my first job in high school. I hadn't even thought about working yet, but then I went out for pizza with some friends, and the owner offered me a part-time gig. It was my initial taste of independence from Mama."
Stormy chuckled knowingly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Let me guess, the second was the same as mine—"
We spoke in stereo, finishing his thought. "Right before the supes came out." We shared a laugh. After the fateful press conference, our entire world changed so drastically.
During the big, mind-blowing reveal, a man shifted into a wolf, a vampire showed his fangs with a smarmy smirk while levitating several feet off the ground—sadly not a trick Stormy could do—and a tiny fairy emerged from a flower, flying around the vamp in a grand finale. Over the top, but completely effective.
Tickling Stormy’s ribs, I smiled into his neck as he squirmed. "So, how's the whole supernatural thing working out for you?"
"Not bad, actually. My mortality took a dip, but I came out the other side all right, I'd say. Didn't get the T-shirt, but who needs a consolation prize when I won the love of my life?"
"Such flattery. Wait, should I be more respectful now you're the vampire king of Austin?" After our enemies ceded him this territory four and a half months back, teasing him about it was practically a requirement. At least, so Muriel said, and, as his sister, she would know.
Snorting, Storm removed my fingers from his ribs by taking my hand and pressing it to his chest, the sneaky jerk. "Funny you should mention my title. I’ve been giving it some thought. While I'm clearly not cut out to be a king, I’ve decided I can settle for governor."
He said it in a horrible British accent, like guv'ner. I snickered, trying to pull my hand free to smack him, but he held fast, having seen the move coming before speaking.
"Gawd, Stormy. Your idea’s so awful I think I might actually want it to stick and become a thing. But didn't Google tell us it was archaic slang when we looked to see if it was an acceptable Scrabble word?"
Shrugging, he kissed the top of my head again. "Maybe. It'll drive Muriel nuts, considering it cost her the game. At the end of the day, isn't making my sister crazy what really matters?"
"Still can't believe she tried using it to get a triple word score from ‘quiver.’ Even if the word had been real, she's out of her mind to think we'd let her mix British and American."
We were possibly too competitive, so we were currently taking a break from game nights. After the Monopoly incident, my mama put her foot down. All I can say is, for creatures who supposedly don't care about money and claim to not even know the word capitalism, the fae twins sure amassed an awful lot of hotels. And what properties they didn't own by the end of the game went to Muriel. As for me, I was the proud owner of the whole set of four railroads.
I'm still not entirely sure who threw the board, but we keep finding red hotels in the most unlikely places.
Stormy scooted down, rolling onto his side to put us nose to nose, along with more interesting body parts. "We need to stop talking, babe, or you'll never get any more shut-eye. Luckily, I know the perfect trick."
The room was growing lighter. His eyes sparkled back at me. "Do you now? Sounds promising. What exactly did you have in mind?"
Gasping as if delighted, he brightened. "Why, I'm so glad you asked! Let me give you a hint… it's a form of exercise, sometimes sweaty, always sticky, and it usually leaves you feeling boneless and ready to rest. The smile it puts on your face goes without saying.”
Frowning thoughtfully, I looked off to the side. "A form of exercise, you say? I'm sorry, but have you met me? If I’m running, I'm obviously being chased by something I can't shoot. If I'm jumping, there's probably a big spider or snake. If I’m boneless, I clearly collapsed from too much exertion. And then I wouldn't be sleepy so much as oxygen-deprived."
Storm waited until I was done rambling, his poker face fully engaged. "Are you quite finished, or are you ready for my suggestion?"
"Hmm." Pursing my lips, I made a show of giving it more thought. "Oh, I know what I forgot to say, and this one's important. If you ever see me smiling after exercise, you'll need to call an ambulance because I'm having a stroke."
I leaned back, quite proud of myself.
Typical Stormy—he zigged when I expected him to zag. Instead of laughing or teasing me back, he merely tilted his head to adjust the angle and shut me up with a kiss.
A toe-curling, tooth-clacking, full-tongue passionate kiss, leaving me shivering and covered with goosebumps. While holding my gaze, Storm reached between us, gripping our dicks together with one hand. His seductive tone made me whimper. "Noware you ready to hear my idea?"
Hnngh. "I'm hanging on your every word."
The left corner of Storm’s mouth curved up. "All you need is an orgasm, my love. As your guv'ner, administering the old rub and tug
to get you there would be my pleasure. Never let it be said I'm not a giving guv'ner who puts the needs of my people first."
Laughter bubbled from my gut, full-body mirth leaving me tearing up. "The old rub and tug? No. You are never allowed to say those words again. Guv'ner either. You just killed it."
Storm released us, stretching backward to pump lotion into his palm. When he took us in hand again, I jolted from the cold, creamy sensation. The lotion warmed quickly from the friction, though.
Within a few seconds, I was thrusting into his fist, loving our dicks rubbing against each other. Leaning in, I hungrily sought his lips, desperate for another kiss. Stormy didn't let me down, returning my passion with his velvety tongue.
My breath hitched as I pulled back, moaning his name, hugging his head against my neck with one hand and clutching his back with the other.
If I was hoping for the euphoria of his bite, I might've been disappointed. I wasn't, though—I was simply lost in a flood of emotions and sensation. I never felt more alive than in his arms or more filled with joy. And love.
Loving and being loved by Storm made me so damned happy. But the ball-tightening bolts of lightning shooting through my core didn't hurt.
His hand moved faster, grip so tight it was all I could do to hold on and chase the pleasure. I was already so close it was almost embarrassing. He latched onto my neck and sucked hard, sending me over the edge. I came hard, my body trembling and shaking. His answering moan was my only clue before he followed.
His hand relaxed without completely letting go while he kissed along my neck and jawline. As my brain came back online, I noticed my pounding heart and how much I was still gasping.
"Storm… I fucking love you somuch. Goddamnit, you were right. Even when I'm not as actively involved, getting off is still a workout." I paused long enough to yawn. "And I could definitely sleep now, I think."
Chuckling softly, Storm rolled me onto my back. Kissing my brow, he wiped me down with a handful of tissues. "We can shower later.
Rest now, babe."
"Not arguing. Cuddle me?" If I was whining, I'd never admit it.
"Of course. How else can I see you safely off to dreamland?" True to his word, Storm curled around me, his embrace offering the safety I needed to let go. Closing my eyes, I smiled as sleep pulled me under.
For a matter of seconds.
I wasn’t sure how long we actually dozed, but the room wasn't much brighter when the doorbell rang. The normally dignified chime sounded discordant in the early morning hour.
Alarm spiked in my chest. I was out of bed, rushing to the camera feed before I had a chance to say what I was thinking. Fortunately, Storm had it covered.
"Who the fuck is ringing our bell at this time of day? It can't be good."
"Probably someone seeking sanctua—" My voice trailed off as my eyes adjusted. In a split second, my pulse went from concerned to fully alarmed. "Shit, we need to get down there. It's Samuel. He’s shirtless and clutching something to his chest."
When I turned around, Storm was already dressed in pajama pants, slippers, and a tee, with a matching set laid out on the foot of the bed. I grabbed them in relief, jerking the shirt over my head while struggling into the pants.
For the record, this method doesn’t save time. If anything, it added more when I fell on my ass with one arm through a sleeve and both feet in the same pant leg.
Storm proved to be more coherent.
He went to the intercom, pushing the general use button so everyone would hear and not stress themselves out a common reaction among the residents when our seldom-heard doorbell went off. "We see you, Samuel. Be right there."
The moment I was decent, Stormy lifted me, pivoting toward the door before I had the second slipper completely on my foot. "Seriously, you don't always have to carry my ass. You could run ahead and let me catch up, you know." Having a normal exchange while inwardly freaking out was a relief.
"I know, but where's the fun in that? Hang tight, babe." He winked, hesitating long enough to let me get the door.
As Storm prepared to run, Mama and Muriel came out of their room. “Not so fast, you two.” Mama's hands went straight to her hips. “Wait for us. If Samuel's here alone, then something's happened to Lance. You'll need me there.”
“Samuel isn’t wearing a shirt. Uptight Samuel. No shirt. I don't know what's up, but I'm not leaving him in the cold while we wait for our ancient-ass elevator. Y’all can meet us downstairs.” I smacked Stormy on the shoulder. “Hurry, love. Get us out of here before they start throwing stuff.”
Chuckling softly, Storm took off with a surge of vampiric speed. We were gone so fast, I didn't get to hear what creative curse Muriel came up with. Before I had a chance to decide if I regretted missing out, Storm was already setting me down in front of the door.
As I turned the knob, a shiver went down my spine. There it was again—the fateful feeling of a major change coming my way. I was almost afraid to open up, but I had to know if Lance was okay.
Samuel rushed in the instant the door opened, protectively hunched over whatever he was holding. "Hurry, you’ll want to close that. It's frigid, and she's not even fifteen minutes old."
STORM
Samuel looked around desperately, clutching the mewling bundle close while he muttered under his breath. "Somewhere clean. Definitely need to find a solid surface. More light. Yes, light would be good. And water. Lots of water."
Frazzled, he started to squat right there in the foyer. Fortunately, Darcy excelled at thinking on his feet. "Let’s move to another room. Hmm… I’m thinking kitchen. I don't know what sort of creature you've brought us, but we’ll find everything you mentioned in abundance there."
Nodding quickly, Samuel was already in motion, his face lit with relief. "Of course, the kitchen is the obvious answer. Can’t believe I didn't think of it myself. Oh, and I haven’t brought a creature. Although she has one in her, I suppose."
Using my other senses, I perked an ear while flaring my nostrils. Blood and something organic I hadn't smelled before mixed with… baby? Samuel had clearly said she. And she didn't smell completely human. On my next inhale, I had my answer.
Shifter. A wolf shifter. Picking this scent from a human infant shouldn’t have been possible, but I'd swear I was clearly catching what could only be described as the essence of wet dog. Eau de damp pooch?
She was breathing, but labored, as if something was wrong with her. Such difficulty could be normal for a baby so newly born, but Samuel's agitation told me I was right. Most infants had slightly
faster heart rates, if I remembered correctly, another sign she was suffering.
Her scent was starting to change, taking on a saccharine note, both sickly sweet and slightly sour and getting tangier by the second.
This baby wasn't simply ill—she was dying. The idea of something so small and new passing away immediately after entering the world was… awful.
Death wasn't welcome here, not on my watch. Rushing around everyone, I ran ahead to the kitchen, propping the door open behind me. When Samuel and Darcy rushed into the room a few seconds later, I had the light on and the table clear and disinfected, and I was pulling a stack of clean cloths from a cabinet.
Samuel didn't hesitate to lay the bundle in the middle of the table, muttering to himself time was of the essence. The child was wrapped in a bloody sports coat, presumably Samuel's. When he opened it wide, the scent of blood was beyond overwhelming, an eye-watering, fang-dropping punch to my senses. Instead of hunger, my chest filled with a desire to protect.
The baby was covered with gunk, a gory sight even for me. But she was also tiny, incredibly so. Her fragility staggered me. I wanted to simultaneously protect her and provide whatever she needed, but also drop to my knees in despair because I surely wasn't worthy. Or capable.
How could I possibly have anything to offer this precious creature?
With her lying on the table, fully exposed to the room, Samuel didn't seem to know how to proceed any more than I did. His hands fluttered as he started to lift her, then thought better of it, hovering his wriggling fingers over her as if waiting for direction.
Darcy snapped me out of my frozen stupor, elbowing me aside while calmly taking charge in his matter-of-fact way. "What's going on, Samuel? Why are you here with a fresh-from-the-oven baby, covered in birth funk and barely breathing? I'll save the rest of the questions for later, except this one—is Lance okay?"
Like a light switch flipped on, Samuel startled, his fluttering hands dropping to his sides. His mission wasn't forgotten, so much as clarified because now he was able to state his case. Or attempt to, in any case.
Taking a deep breath, Samuel spoke in a burst, sounding less polished than I’d ever heard. "Lance isn’t here because he can't officially be involved. The Fates said her life thread had yet to be unspooled. Whether she survives is unclear because the future is constantly fluctuating, but she can’t receive assistance from any god or demigod. As a demigod’s mate, I’m in a different subcategory, which leaves me immune from their laws."
Rolling his hand, Darcy gestured impatiently. "Let's circle back to the technical details later. What does she need right now in this moment? If her life is at risk, then I think treating her is more imperative than understanding why it needs to happen. If you brought her to our door because we can save her, I'm guessing she needs either Storm's blood or fae magic."
Samuel seemed more himself with every passing second. "Yes, thank you, Darcy. You’ve stated precisely why I brought her to your door. She needs the kind of help nothing but Storm's blood can give."
In an instant, I stood across from him, looking down at the baby. "I can't tell what's wrong, aside from the smell of death surrounding her. If my blood will cure her, let's do it."
A tied-up pouch lay next to her. I started to lift it to set aside, only to put it back down when blood leaked out. Samuel flinched, pulling it farther from the baby.
I didn't bother asking and simply picked the baby up instead, cradling her in the crook of my arm like a football. Dropping my fangs, I pricked my index finger to get the blood flowing, hesitating long enough to ask Samuel the all-important question.
"Do you know how much I need to give her, Samuel? A few drops? Let her suckle? Tell me what to do and it's done."
To his credit, the reserved academic merely blinked a couple times. "Aha. You’ve hit upon the question, yes? Hmm, I believe when Clotho said she didn't know how much string to unspool, it
was meant to be a hint. If only the babe had a vampire to suckle from, she would know the child would live—or so she said."
"Gotcha." Without hesitation, I tickled the impossibly delicate rosebud lips, encouraging them to open. As soon as they parted, I slid my finger over her tongue, giving my healing blood an entrance. Her mouth closed, and she began nursing, weakly at first until the blood did its work. In a matter of moments really, she was completely latched on and getting the help she needed.
Slowly, I lowered myself onto the bench seat, completely transfixed as I studied the tiny face. I wasn't aware anyone else had come into the room until her eyes opened and loud gasps sounded around me.
Understandably so. The whites of her eyes were so yellow, they were practically orange. Her pupils weren't dilated, so much as her eyes were completely black, with a milky sheen—a sure sign of silver poisoning in a shifter.
I didn't look away until her eyes closed again. Not only was her gaze too compelling, but it seemed rude. When I finally glanced up, Muriel and Prudence had caught up with us, as well as the fae sisters. They stood in a semicircle behind Darcy, either peering over his shoulder or craning their necks to see around, depending on their height.
Darcy was the staunch protector at the end of the table in a wide-legged stance with his hands on his hips. With Samuel positioned across from me and a wall to my left, none of the ladies could get through. I probably shouldn't have found the idea so comforting, but I needed a moment. Everyone seemed to understand, though, a miracle in itself.
She wasn't getting much blood. The hole wasn’t big enough to allow more than a slow drip, so I patiently fed her until she'd had her fill. When her jaw relaxed, her breathing and heart rate were finally strong. More importantly, her scent had changed—no hint of impending death remained any longer.
Carefully removing my finger, feeling like the king of the world, I proudly looked to my family. "My job's done. Anyone interested in cleaning a filthy baby?"
Prudence and Muriel shoved around Darcy. Shaking his head with a snort, he took a step to the right, his eyes on mine. "Do you think your blood did it? Gave her a chance of survival?"
"Absolutely. Her scent has changed, and her heart is beating strong." I paused long enough to pass the baby into Prudence's hands. "I think when she opens her eyes again, we won't see a trace of silver poisoning. But if we do, there's more of my blood where that came from, right? I would gladly hold her while she feeds again.”
Prudence gave orders while carrying her to the sink, Hope and Muriel a step behind her. "One of you grab a scale and the tape measure. We need to make note of her length and weight. Oh, good, someone got out the wash rags. Hope, can you grab some of the soap y'all make from the goat's milk? Should be gentle enough on her skin, I'd say."
Scurrying around Prudence, Hope blocked the faucet. "Wait, milady. The vernix is good for her skin. We need to rub it in and save any excess."
Recoiling, Prudence took a step back, hugging the baby to her chest. "I've heard of rubbing it in, but I draw the line at saving the excess to use later. I'm sorry, hon, but the thought sounds nasty and completely unhygienic."
Hope shrugged, apparently choosing her battles. "It's fine. We don’t need to use it on her again. With your permission, I would like to save what I can, though. The excess is useful for other things. It contains the essence of birthing magic, and it's a wonderful binder as well."
While I tried not to think too hard about why Hope wanted the birth gunk, Faith quietly tapped Samuel on the shoulder. "Pardon me, did you have plans for the placenta, or may I take it?"
Placenta? I wasn't sure what she meant. Then she reached for the bloody bundle. Oh, yes. I'd forgotten about the mess. Wait. Wasn't the placenta part of the… ew. She wanted the afterbirth?
Samuel took a step back, gesturing toward the bloody mess in the center of the table. "Help yourself. It's wrapped in my shirt. I only have it because I had to remove all evidence of the child. I
thought perhaps Darcy wouldn't mind if we threw it in the incinerator."
No matter how sweet the infant, when considering handling the afterbirth, it was difficult not to gag. When Faith scooped up the entire bundle of funk, hugging it to her chest, I nearly lost the battle.
She was already backing out of the room as she shook her head. “Throw this in the incinerator? I would never do such a thing. There is much life to be curated from this bounty. My thanks to both you and the young one. My sister and I will make use of this priceless gift.”
I felt marginally better when I noticed Darcy and Samuel's equally disturbed expressions. I was aware of different cultural and natural uses involving the placenta, but her reaction was slightly offputting. Not the reverence. But the wild look in her eyes…
Samuel summed it up for me with a simple shrug. "Fae. They're so delightfully odd. I'm never quite certain what to think."
Eyes bugged out, Darcy glanced toward the now empty doorway, shaking his head with a barely restrained shudder. "You and me both, buddy. So… is this a good time to start asking questions? I have so many."
"I'd be concerned if you didn't." Samuel pulled a chair out, finally taking a seat. He sat there for a few moments, as if gathering himself. Dropping his head, he braced his hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths.
After grabbing them each a bottle of water and setting one in front of Samuel, Darcy came around to sit on the bench beside me, giving Samuel the time he needed. Samuel seemed much calmer when he looked up again, reaching gratefully for the bottle of water.
Samuel guzzled so hard the cheap plastic crinkled loudly, draining half the bottle before he set it aside. "I'm guessing you're curious about why I showed up on your doorstep at such an early hour, halfnaked with a newborn, silver-poisoned, little white girl in my arms, huh?" His deadpan delivery somehow lightened the serious situation, making all three of us chuckle.
Grinning, Darcy gestured toward Samuel's bare chest, spreading his hand out to include the rest of the room, where the baby was still being cleaned. "Yes. I'm definitely wondering. Let’s start there."
Samuel gazed down at his chest, oddly muscular for an academic yet normalized by a small, soft belly pooch. A wide vee of tight whorled curls in the center of his chest glistened, matted with blood. His small, flat nipples were also surrounded by blood splatter. He seemed like he’d just finished butchering something.
His current appearance would've been out of place on anyone, but for Samuel to be bloody and shirtless like this was mindboggling. He finally looked back up, blinking a few times as he gave his head a shake. "The absence of my shirt is no mystery. You saw it. Faith has it now, along with its contents. Like I mentioned before, I had to take the baby and everything connected to her birth. It was the only way to protect her."
"Protect her from who, Samuel?" Darcy sat up straight, already on alert and ready to battle if necessary. "Should we be expecting unwanted guests? It's not a problem if something’s coming our way you know we can handle anything—but advance warning is always helpful."
"Wolf shifters." Shivering, Samuel glanced toward the windows. "Had they found her, they would've killed her instantly. They believe termination is the kindest response to silver sickness. I didn't dare leave anything they could use for tracking. Lance zapped the mother's body away for a private burial while I came here."
Blame it on being an author, but curiosity made me interrupt. "How were you able to travel without him? I thought Lance had to be there, or does mating him give you gifts of your own?" Darcy grumbled under his breath, not happy about the conversation going off-track when he needed information.
"Aside from immortality with my true love? No, I didn't receive any extra gifts." Winking, Samuel reached in his pocket for a copper disc. "But Lance did give me this token. As long as I have it on my person, I'm able to borrow his ability to transport. Which was a rather helpful necessity, or I wouldn't have had a chance of arriving here in time to save the baby."
Seeing Samuel getting involved in the real world, rather than burying his head in academia, was good. I wasn’t sure I’d thought he could go above and beyond like this. He was a decent guy, just… he wouldn’t have thought of it, before Lance.
As I nodded at the disc, my imagination went wild, thinking of all the places he could’ve been. "Were you really far? Where did you travel from? I mean, you could've been anywhere if you were tapping into Lance's powers." When I asked yet another question not involving the elephant in the room, Darcy grunted impatiently.
Samuel didn't seem to notice Darcy’s nervous tension. "New Mexico. The mother went into labor on a bus about an hour outside of Santa Fe. When they stopped to pick up additional passengers, she got off the bus to use the restroom. The child was born in a handicapped stall inside a Greyhound station, in a town whose name I've already forgotten. And I haven’t told you the most tragic part of the story."
Darcy's brows shot up. "No, I'm guessing the tragedy would be the mother dying and silver poisoning nearly killing the baby. The mom couldn't be saved too?"
"No, unfortunately not. Clotho was firm. Kelsey Springer's thread had already been cut—Kelsey was the mother, in case I’m unclear."
Waving my hands in front of me, I shook my head. "I feel like you're jumping into the middle of the story. How exactly did you and Lance get involved with this child, Samuel?"
Samuel jerked back, doing a double take. "Oh, my. I did skip the beginning, didn't I? Forgive me. Kelsey and her mate were starcrossed lovers from warring families. A modern day shifter version of Romeo and Juliet, if you will. Lance didn't know the history. He's only recently been cleared to do paranormal pairings, and they were his first couple. When he saw how they fit, he was so thrilled. My sweet pooka never could’ve foreseen what followed. I'm sure you can imagine how devastated he's been."
Darcy and I shared a look. Naturally, Darcy was the one to say it. "Oh, crap. If their families were at war, and Lance got sad about it, I bet things got really ugly if he stuck around long enough for his
emotions to fan the flames of their anger. I can't see that ending well."
"Precisely." Samuel lowered his head again, puffing out his cheeks as he released a deep breath. "Neither of us realized what had been set in motion until we went to have dinner with the Fates yesterday evening. They teased him about screwing the pooch with his first paranormal coupling, and… the story came out. Clotho told us the father had died, the mother would be dying, and the baby’s future was unclear. It all hinged on her being found in time to be safely delivered and then whether she could be given a cure. Naturally, we thought of you immediately, but when we rose to leave, they told Lance he wasn't allowed to get involved."
I found the concept particularly disgusting. "Why wasn't Lance permitted to fix his own mistake? That hardly seems fair."
Samuel's spine stiffened, his instant reaction to protect Lance, making the romantic in me quite happy. "Julian and Kelsey weren't a mistake—they were personally matched by a Cupid. No, those poor kids were victims of their own families."
"Forgive me, Samuel. I misspoke. I meant to ask why couldn't he fix whatever went wrong? And when you say victims, you don't mean their own families were responsible for—" I couldn't finish the thought.
The tension was so thick around the table, even the cooing baby in the background wasn't helping. Sighing heavily, Samuel blinked away the wetness in his eyes. "Each family hired an assassin to kill their child's mate, not really caring whether or not their own survived. They felt it was more important for them to be punished for who they loved."
Was it bad I wanted to take notes? Definitely. Seriously, though, this was like a book or movie plot, and I was there for it as long as the bad guys ate a bag of dicks. The couple's families committing something so vile was unimaginable. And yet… Samuel and the baby were proof they had indeed done it.
Ahem. Faking a cough, Darcy cleared his throat. "And both parents perished? What happens to the baby now, Samuel? Was Lance not allowed to be involved in saving her life?"
"He can't help at all. Lance is pleading his case with corporate as we speak. But the rules are clear. There is a zero-tolerance policy for interference in the lives of people he brought together. I doublechecked it myself before we embarked on our rescue mission. He's only allowed to bring people together and maybe peek in on them over the years. Sprinkle some happiness on anniversaries, that sort of thing."
Horrified, Darcy sucked in a breath. "Do I dare ask what would happen if he did?"
"He would be suspended for a century, sequestered in a room on Cupid's estate and not allowed any outside contact. Including mine." Samuel reached for his water with a trembling hand. "I wouldn't fare well with being apart for a hundred years, but it would be untenable for Lance. He spent too long alone—he wouldn't survive it now. He still might've tried saving the couple anyway, but like I said, we didn't find out until it was too late."
Darcy whimpered, his big heart making itself known. Needing his touch as much as I wanted to comfort, I put my arm around his shoulders. I was pretty sure I knew the answer, but I reiterated Darcy's unanswered question. "What happens to the baby now, Samuel?"
Setting his water down, Samuel straightened and looked me in the eye. "I'm hoping Darcy will give her sanctuary, and you will provide her with your protection. Not as a vampire, but as the King of Austin."
If I were still human, I'd be blushing. "Darcy is the one you need to ask. I think we know I'm not really a king."
Samuel's eyes twinkled as he wagged his finger. "Unh-unh. You are mistaken, Your Highness. Or whatever royal descriptor you care to use. Have you really no knowledge of paranormal laws? The contract signed ceding Austin to you is a magical document. Like it or not, you are a paranormal leader of the city. While you technically only have rule over any vampires within your territory, offering protection to any supernatural creature in need is within your rights."
My brain spun out in so many directions. Thankfully, Darcy took over. "Fascinating, Samuel. Are there other paranormal leaders here in Austin we should be aware of? Or is territory usually statewide, and this is a unique situation pertaining to Storm and no one else?"
"It depends on the supe in question, to be honest. When I get home, I'll email you the laws securing Storm's territorial rights. Before the war, it was all based on tradition. After the armistice was signed and enforceable laws had to be written, everything was put in black and white. Which means Storm is the indisputable leader."
Darcy mumbled something under his breath but maintained a smile while gently nudging Samuel back on track. "I appreciate the reassurance, thank you. And for the record, Storm prefers to be known as guv'ner." When I poked him, Darcy grinned but kept his focus on Samuel. "Sorry to be a nag, but I didn't catch your answer about Austin city leaders."
Humming thoughtfully, Samuel glanced up at the ceiling before shrugging. "Aside from the shifters, I can't think of anyone else."
"For the love of…" Darcy muttered, then smiled and tried again. "Yes, the shifters. Now we're getting somewhere. I know most of this is obvious to you, Samuel, but Storm and I really don't know beans about the supernatural world. I feel like it might be bad protocol, should Storm neglect to acknowledge something or who knows what-all involving another local leader simply because we don't know better. Hell, Storm doesn't know everything about being a vampire."
Samuel winced with a rueful smile. "A thousand pardons. I forget everybody isn't as fascinated with the minutiae as I am. I'll send you a list of protocols and things to keep in mind going forward. There are three shifter communities here in Austin. Shifters need a lot of space for their own packs, so you'll only find one per territory of each type. Meaning you might have a bear den and a wolf pack in the same territory, but no more than one of each. Any bears coming to town would either have to join the local den or keep moving."
I actually knew some of those facts, but hadn't wanted to interrupt. "Gotcha. I’m aware there's a wolf pack here in the city,
and I believe there are feline shifters of some sort. What else do we have—bears?"
"Exactly, a good-sized den, in fact. There's also a mixed pride of cats—they aren't as picky as the wolves. As long as you are feline, you're welcome to join the pride. The wolf pack here is less traditional than Kelsey’s or Julian's. They might be able to help you find an adoptive family for the baby."
Wait. What? "I'm sorry, what do you mean? Will you and Lance not be involved at all? Surely, he can't get in trouble now. He's not helping the parents, so it shouldn't involve his job, don’t you think?"
"I said the exact same thing." Lance spoke from the doorway, startling us. Giving Samuel a once-over, Lance frowned, pursing his lips. "We need to get you cleaned up. How's the baby? Wait, I might not be allowed to ask. So stupid."
He stood behind Samuel, massaging his mate's shoulders while seeming like he really needed one of his own. Samuel tilted his head back, his eyes filled with concern. "Your meeting didn't take long. I'm guessing it didn't go well?"
Lance appeared ready to cry. "No, they said I have to stay completely out of it. And they aren't happy with the loophole we used so you could help, though they can’t do anything, so there's a bright side."
I was surprised the corporate offices were so cold when the whole Cupid thing was supposed to be about love. "I don't understand, Lance. Why wouldn't they want you to aid an innocent baby?"
"Because they're afraid the families will eventually come looking for her, which they probably will because wolves are nothing if not tenacious, and my family cannot be linked to these events. Remember, supernatural creatures came out to the world—not the ancient gods and demigods. We're still nothing but myth and legend to most people. I'm allowed a few friends like you guys, but no more. And if you ever went public, your memory would be wiped of my existence."
"So keep our mouths shut, got it." Darcy nodded, miming zipping his lips and tossing the key. Lance didn't get it, but he giggled
anyway. Darcy and I shared a long stare before nodding at each other. I guess we were going to do this.
"I'm pretty new to this whole territory leader thing, so you'll have to forgive me for not having a flowery speech prepared. Yes, I will protect the baby."
Darcy wasn't about to be left out. "And I will guarantee her sanctuary within these walls for as long as she needs it. So… any suggestions on what we do with her?"
Smiling now, Samuel's relief was palpable. "Thank you. I knew you guys would come through for her. She'll need to be fostered until an adoptive family can be found. I would start with the local wolf pack. They would know a shifter baby's needs and are probably your best bet at getting her adopted."
Face lit like a kid on Christmas morning, Lance clapped his hands. "I brought stuff! It's out in the foyer. You'll have to go see. If it's not enough, let me know, and I'll bring more. Shopping for babies is fun —did you know?"
"You boys ’bout done fleshing everything out? There's a little princess I'd like y'all to feast your eyes on." Prudence came over, the baby firmly cradled in her arms.
We were on our feet in an instant, surrounding her to smile and coo over the precious mite. While Darcy bent to kiss the top of her head, I shot my sister a puzzled frown. "Where did you get the pink blanket?"
"Seriously, bro?" Rolling her eyes, Muriel's look told me I was an idiot. "Hope is the perfect fairy godmother, literally. She magicked up a diaper, an outfit, and a soft blanket. Now we need to figure out food because Hope can't magic a bottle. You know, because plastic? Anything involving natural fibers, though, the fae are on it."
Lance started bouncing again. "Come to the foyer. There are bottles. A cradle too. All the stuffs."
Catching my hand, Darcy pulled me toward the door. "Let's go see what he brought, then make a list for anything else we might need. Can you get the cradle set up in our room?"
"Your room? Sorry, honey. Mama needs to pull rank. I've actually tended to babies." Prudence hugged the child protectively to her
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AYRES, LEONARD PORTER.[2] Index number for state school systems. 75c Russell Sage foundation 379 20–11840
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N Y Times 25:287 My 30 ’20 260w
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AYSCOUGH, JOHN, pseud. (BP. FRANCIS
BROWNING DREW BICKERSTAFFE-DREW).
Abbotscourt. $2 (2c) Kenedy
(Eng ed 20–8732)
This is preeminently a story of human kindness with enough of harshness in it to throw the kindly people and their doings into relief. The two sides of the picture are represented by two branches of the same family: the clerical, younger son side in spiritual and worldly prosperity throughout successive generations; and the baronet side in as steady degeneration. At last there is a reversion to type in Eleanor, the physically and mentally sound and beautiful daughter of the ramshackle Sir Anthony Abbot of Abbotspark, whom the Rev. Thomas Abbot of Abbotscourt heroically resolves to adopt into his family on her father’s death. The story revolves around poor Eleanor’s plight as a misfit both in the vicar’s family, surrounded by kindness, and in her dissolute brother’s house, exposed to his low designs. To escape both she flees into an unknown world and when her trials have reached their climax a veritable conspiracy of kindness and good will bring her back to life and love.
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Ath p1168 N 7 ’19 100w
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Cath World 112:258 N ’20 220w
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+ purity, and for that fragrance as of lavender and old lace which permeates its pages. ”
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AYUSAWA, IWAO FREDERICK. International labor legislation. (Columbia univ. studies in history, economics, and public law) pa *$2 Longmans 331
20–18736
“This book traces the origin and development of international labor legislation from the time of Owen (1818), with chapters on progress toward international agreements (1890–1900), labor conferences and treaties (1900–1913) and the labor development of the world war. Part 2 deals with the difficulties in international labor legislation and Part 3 with the Washington conference of 1919
including a summary of the discussion of the eight-hour day and the employment of women and children.”—Am Econ R
Am Econ R 10:839 D ’20 70w
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Am Hist R 26:361 Ja ’21 310w
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BABSON, ROGER WARD.
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20–4903
This is the story of the Carroll family in their travels through Central America an attempt to combine in the form of a story for children and an account of travel, certain information on our commercial relations with our southern neighbors. Its aim is to teach children that, in the process of linking nation with nation the world over, friendly trade relations contain the romance of the immediate future, that they imply human relations, fair dealing, and honorable business standards. Among the contents are: Castles in New Spain; The gateway of the world; The great waterway; On the trail of Columbus; A plantation in Costa Rica; Mules and mountain trails; The ancient land of Nicaragua; The wonders of a wilderness; The treasure of San Juancito; The small republic of Salvador. The book has an index and many illustrations.
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BABSON, ROGER WARD.[2] Fundamentals of prosperity; what
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174
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Springf’d Republican
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Evening Post p8 N 6 ’20 190w
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BACON, FRANK. Lightnin’; after the play of the same name by Winchell Smith and Frank Bacon. il
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This “handbook for scoutmasters on the theory of scout training” is the American edition of the author’s book on British scout training with a few alterations by way of adaptation. Its arguments are elaborations on the four main principles on which, according to the author, scout training is based, and which require of the scoutmaster that “(1) He must have the boy spirit in him; and must be able to place himself on a right plane with his pupils as a first step; (2) He must realize the psychology of the different ages of boy life; (3) He must deal with the individual pupil rather than with the mass; and (4) He then needs to promote a corporate spirit among his individuals to gain the best results.” After the introductory exposition
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BAFF, WILLIAM E. Inventions, their development, purchase and sale. *$2 Van Nostrand 608 20–6991
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N Y Evening Post p15 My 8 ’20 250w
BAILEY, CAROLYN SHERWIN. Broad stripes and bright stars. (For the children’s hour ser.) il $1.50 (3½c) Bradley, M. 973
19–13373
A series of stories from American history. The author says, “I have written this book because I believe that the story of the American people as it is embodied in the history of our United States supplies the most important material for character building in the entire field of elementary education, and should be offered to children in a new, humanitarian way as a means of helping them to understand the present.” (Preface) The stories are arranged chronologically and include: Pilgrims for freedom; The first fight; The freeman’s charter; Following the beaver’s trail; At the gate of old Harvard; Ringing in the fourth of July; In the wake of the first steamboat, etc. A chronology of main events referred to comes at the close.
“The stories are well told.” Springf’d Republican p6 My 25 ’20 100w
BAILEY, CAROLYN SHERWIN. Wonder stories. il $2.50 (3½c) Bradley, M. 292
20–12815
All the well-known myths are here retold for boys and girls. There is an introduction on How the myths began, followed by the stories of Prometheus, Pandora (Hawthorne’s “Paradise of children”), Vulcan, Orion, Perseus, Pegasus, Phaeton, Apollo, Mercury, Proserpine, Jason, the golden apples, the wooden horse, and others. There are six pictures in color by Clara M. Burd.
“An attractive collection.”
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Ind 104:380 D 11 ’20 30w
BAILEY, HENRY CHRISTOPHER. Barry Leroy. *$2 Dutton
20–4707
“When the story opens Barry is a spy in the service of Napoleon; the war is on between France and England. Barry had learned to believe in the people who were fighting for liberty and equality. But there comes a time when Barry’s regard for the French consul is turned to contempt and hatred. The abduction and execution of the Duc d’Enghien, whom Barry knew to be loyal to Napoleon, was the cause of his revolt. Asserting that he would never forgive the Little Corsican for his cold-blooded treachery, he goes over to the other side and offers his services to the British. He forces a duel on Nelson at one moment and saves his life at the risk of his own at another.”
N Y Times
“Rather disconnected and has not quite the charm or vivacity of ‘The gamesters’ or ‘The highwaymen.’”
Booklist 16:345 Jl ’20
“In criticizing Mr Bailey’s methods in portraying his most difficult figures, I would not subtract from the extent of his accomplishment. He has, we must admit, failed in Napoleon and Nelson. ‘Barry Leroy’ is an excellent story in spite of this lack. It possesses the fine dash, the romance, the joy of adventure for itself, that we have come to associate with other times than our own. ” D. L. M.
Boston Transcript p6 Ag 4 ’20 1050w
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N Y Times 25:168 Ap 11 ’20 500w
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Sat R 129:234 Mr 6 ’20 80w
BAILEY, LIBERTY HYDE. Nursery-manual; a complete guide to the multiplication of plants. (Rural manuals) il *$2.50 Macmillan 631.5
“Rewritten and reset, L. H. Bailey’s ‘The nursery-manual’ is off the press in its 22d edition. It deals fully with seeds, layers, cuttings, buds, grafts and otherwise. To those who are acquainted with the earlier editions the first having been issued early in 1891 little introduction is needed, save to say that the material is brought up to date with addition of observations gained in further research. An extended alphabetic list of plants with full directions for each is included. The volume also includes an illustrated account of the main diseases and insects of nursery stock, valuable to the commercial grower. ”—Springf’d Republican
“The hero, a young soldier, returns from France to face changes of fortune and soon to realize that the girl he loves has lost her heart to another man. How Randy makes good, writes the romance of ‘The trumpeter swan, ’ and wins back the wandering heart of his lady, is all set down. Interwoven is the minor story of baby Fiddle Flippen.”
Boston Transcript
Booklist 17:115 D ’20
“The plot of Temple Bailey’s latest story is practically nil, but its settings are wonderfully picturesque. The hills of old Virginia and the moors of Nantucket are powerfully contrasted to furnish a background for a readable light tale.”
C. K. H.
Boston Transcript p6 N 3 ’20 500w
Cleveland p105 D ’20 50w
“Her readers will like this new book. The love passages are wholesome, strike the note of sincerity, and therefore cannot but be acceptable.”
N Y Times p25 Ja 16 ’21 430w
Reviewed by Marguerite Fellows
Pub W 98:658 S 18 ’20 190w
“A good simple natural harmless story.”
