Chapter 22

Rubbing me in everyone else's face gave Bryce a perverse sort of pleasure. Rubbing me in his Grandfather's face was the whole point of the night. I had to say, I was eager to help him. Anything that made the old man's life a little less pleasant was fine by me. If he hadn't thought he was the king of the world, then maybe my sister would still be alive. That did not mean, however, that I wasn't just a little scared that he would have me killed in the middle of the ballroom.

People like him expected to get their own way. And whatever patience he had with Bryce was sure to snap tonight. But I was okay, as long as I survived it.

Bryce led me to one of the tables in the center of the room, the one filled with blonde men and their well-dressed partners. Sean stared as his brother in horror as we approached. Most of the table followed suit. This was a bad idea. But there was no going back now. I couldn't exactly leave now that they had seen me. Paige would never forgive me if I made witches look pathetic. I was not trying to think of Paige, or the rest of the room, for matter, staring at me at that moment.

To my relief, Sean quickly indicated the seat beside him. Bryce did the gentlemanly thing with the chair. And there I sat, flanked by the sons of Kristof Nast, at a table full of sorcerers. Dana was turning in her grave.

No insults followed. I guess the rest of the family hadn't thought he'd dare to it. I think I was going a little bit hysterical. I kept having to fight down the urge to burst into laughter—though in my defence, their looks of horror were priceless.

Bryce leaned over and quickly named off his family. It was easy to see who he was talking about, as their faces turned stony whenever my attention turned towards them. A few of them had brought dates—wives, with one fiancée—but for the most part they had come alone, like Sean. It was easier to mingle, I suppose. Sorcerers tended to be the ultimate cigar club. They didn't feel witches to be their equals, and humans really weren't, so no woman was as good as the boys. At the opposite end of the table, there was an empty space. I almost wondered if Sean had purposely arranged it so that I was across from his grandfather. I doubted it. He didn't seem that inherently evil.

The table was quiet as we waited for Thomas to show up. Bryce quietly pointed Grant out along the wall and when that didn't stop the shaking asked me if I wanted to leave. I shook my head and he gave me a grateful smile. He kissed the back of my hand, and then we were silent.

Finally, the old man came into view. He was dressed in a black suit and a crisp white shirt, with an old fashioned bowtie and a black band around his arm. He was losing his snow white hair but no one had yet to see him stoop. Though he was frailer than was desirable for a Cabal CEO, Thomas Nast was still going strong.

I didn't understand why he hadn't stepped down yet. Most CEOs—if they lasted that long—retired around sixty and had heart attacks two years later, due to the stress of their jobs. Thomas was eighty-five and everyone in the supernatural world knew he had no plans to retire. If the Nasts knew why no one thought to inform me. But I was beginning to suspect as Sean's eyes stayed firmly on my face.

The old sorcerer took one look around the table and locked eyes with me. And then the almighty Thomas Nast was struck dumb.

He just sort of stood there, gaping, as we waited for him to sit. I didn't dare look at Bryce, but I just knew he was smirking.

"Grandpa," Bryce said, more cheerfully than I had ever heard him. "How are you?"

"What is that?"

Bryce turned and looked at me, expression puzzled. "A necklace? A dress? You don't know what a woman looks like anymore, Grandpa? I thought they put you on Viagra to avoid forgetting about that."

Nobody else spoke. Cabal CEOs had killed their relatives before. Not that I cared. Thomas Nast deserved a whole lot worse than having a witch breathe the same air as him.

"You insult me on my birthday?"

"It's a birthday surprise. You're always telling me to start settling down, so I wanted to show you that I am trying."

It was such bullshit I was sort of impressed. All he had to do was compose a sonnet to our love and it would be perfect. But in the meantime, I was trying not to stare at the pulsating vein in Thomas's neck.

"Not with that!" It wasn't possible to be anymore condescending. "Pray, boy, you're father is not watching this."

I didn't know much about Bryce Nast. I didn't know his favourite colour, his birthday...I wasn't even too clear on what he did for a living, besides destroy people's lives. However, I did know that his father was a very, very, very sore subject. I knew a little bit about father's you continually disappointed. I grabbed his hand—hitting his grandfather wouldn't solve anything—and prayed he would just let it go.

I could be really naïve sometimes.

"He's probably too busy wondering why Sean hasn't taken over yet."

That was the wrong thing to say. Thomas's red face turned purple. I thought he was going to have a stroke. The others seemed to realize it too.

"Father," one of the men—Uncle Josef, I think—"sit down. People are beginning to stare. It's just a phase. He'll grow out of it."

The older man seemed disinclined to agree, but people were staring and causing a scene (when he did not want to) was not something that he did easily. He sat and waiters immediately filled the hall. Dinner was served.

"Grow out of it?" I whispered to Bryce while everyone else pretended I didn't exist. "Aren't you almost thirty? Isn't it a little late to grow out of it?"

"I'm twenty-six." Oops. That was a relief to know and he didn't have to glare at me quite so hard. It was an honest mistake. "And they used that excuse about Great-Uncle Friedrich until he keeled over at a hundred and two. He had a thing for drag queens."

"I don't even beat a drag queen?" Weren't the Cabals progressive?

"He was already married. Unfortunately, I think you might beat something. Oh well, it was worth a shot."

I spent most of the dinner trying to keep the smirk off my face—I had ruined Thomas's birthday, completely. The old man couldn't have a conversation without it ending in nonsensical muttering as he shot death glares at me like a prepubescent girl. He tried to recapture some control by continuously insulting my race, but I had been Gillian before I had been a witch, and I really could have cared less. When he started to get really ugly, Bryce managed to shut him up, usually by saying something so outrageously insulting that everyone held their breath and wondered if Thomas would just kill his grandson and be done with it.

I loved it.

Maybe I was a little too mean. Sometime just before desert, Bryce turned to me and asked, "You doing all right?"

Thomas was scowling at me again, but I couldn't help notice that his expression deepened when Bryce brushed my hand. Thomas had killed my sister and I couldn't touch him. Squirming looked good on him.

I brought my lips to Bryce's ear and kept my voice low. "It's not your grandfather I'm thinking about."

"Really now?"

"Nope. I was just wondering what we could do with this marvellous table."

Bryce chuckled and I felt fingertips brush against the inside of me knee. I didn't bother hiding my shiver. I really did forget Thomas as I began to whisper all the interesting ideas that had come into my mind.

By the time I hand finished his fingers were tracing the edge of my panties and his eyes were dark as I pulled back and gave him the sweetest smile I could. He swallowed and then said thickly, "Where did you learn to talk like that?"

"All witches can."

Thomas knew exactly what we were up to if his immediate demand that Bryce pass him the bread was any indication. When Bryce managed that one handed, Thomas insisted he pass the salt. Considering there was a shaker right in front of Thomas, I don't think it was a sodium fetish. Locking eyes with him, I deftly passed the salt to Sean and then arched a little in my seat while biting my lip, just for show.

Thomas stood up slamming down on the table. I tried to look innocent as Bryce brought up both hands to calm his grandfather down. "You're making a scene, Grandpa," he stated.

The whole table looked between Bryce and his grandfather. With the eyes of every sorcerer in the room on him, Thomas had no choice to sit back down. But he wasn't going to sit down quietly.

"Why should I spend my birthday with your whore?"

It was one thing for Bryce to call me that, since he was paying for everything and let me get away with acting like a complete bitch all the time. It was quite another...when Thomas said it, it brought me back, back to Georgia where it was flung around so much I could have been forgiven for thinking it was an endearment.

"I don't pay for sex, Grandpa. You're getting your descendents confused in your old age."

The table went quiet and I could see one of the uncle's had turned a pasty white colour. I guess it was only to be expected that someone would have that particular dirty little secret. But that Uncle—not Josef, but Theo-something? I couldn't remember—wasn't going to stay silent.

"Do you know her name this time, Bryce? No wonder you expect congratulations."

Bryce ignored his uncle and spoke while holding his grandfather's eye. "You said I had to stop screwing around. So I did. You should be thanking Gillian."

I thought Thomas had looked angry before—I was wrong. Now he was angry, so angry I started mentally preparing to be executed as the Cabal CEO started muttering under his breath. It was German and so I sort of understood—but translating swearing is pretty difficult. And disgusting.

"What's he saying?" Bryce asked. I didn't see how he wouldn't know. If you grew up with that type of language, you picked up on the meaning over time. But I got to work translating, because I liked doing it.

"Standard insults about your mother. Bitch, whore, pig. There's a lot more...bathroom type terms than I would expect. And I think he's told you to kiss his ass a few different ways. There was also something about a tail, but I think that was a reference to..." My eyes dropped to his lap and I gave him a weak smile. "So yeah. He called you small. And a male prostitute. I think."

"And he's supposed to be mature," Bryce said, shaking his head sadly. Thomas glanced at us and Bryce smiled. "She can speak it too. You want to converse with her? Show him, Gillian."

I rolled my eyes, but Thomas was watching me. He had called me a whore. There was something I could do—I had looked it up the day after Bryce told me and I remembered it fairly well. It was actually a surprising bit of writing. "Wir können durch Liebe und Wohlwollen leicht bestochen warden...aber durch Drohungen ganz gewiß nicht. Wir Deutsche fürchten Gott, aber sonst nichts in der Welt und die Gottesfurcht ist es schon, die uns den Frieden lieben und pflegen läßt."

We are easily influenced...by love and kindness, but quite surely never by threats. We Germans fear God, and naught else in the world. It is this fear of God which makes us love and cherish peace.

I wouldn't have thought a Cabal CEO would be all that interested in that sort of statement, one that was long before his time, but it was the only reference to 'wir fürchten Gott' that I had been able to find.

"No," Thomas announced when I stopped. Like it made some sort of sense. He wasn't angry anymore. In fact, he seemed almost sad. We had obviously gone too far. "No. Bryce. Stop."

"I—" Bryce swallowed. I think he understood what his grandfather meant even if I didn't. Even if everyone else didn't. Because I don't think the uncles and the cousins understood why Thomas was directing the command at Bryce, especially since I was silent now, any more than I did. Bryce looked almost sincerely apologetic. "I'm sorry."

Thomas dropped his head to his hand, massaging his forehead. "Austin, go visit your children."

Austin Nast—cousin, I was pretty sure—stood up. Beckoning to his wife (daughter of a half-demon, so she was powerless, not that I needed her genealogy to know that) he announced they were going to check on their newborn son. "The boys have been asking about you, Bryce. I'm sure they would like a visit."

With more tact than I thought he possessed, Bryce bemoaned not seeing the kids enough and then the two of us were being excused and following Mr. and Mrs. Austin Nast from the crowded ballroom.

"What was that about?" I demanded.

His arm around my waist tightened. "Forget it."

"Bryce...did I say something taboo? Because I think I did more than piss him off."

"It wasn't you. Don't worry about it. Just be glad you got to leave."

"You're not going to get in trouble for it?"

"The whole point of bringing you was to get in trouble. Don't worry about it, Gillian. I can handle my grandfather. Hopefully." Calling out to his cousin, he said: "I do want to see the guys."

The look Austin shot us said very clearly he didn't mind if Bryce went to see the younger generation of Nasts. I rolled my eyes. "I can wait at the door."

"That's no way to treat your potential future cousin-in-law." Bryce thought it over. "Or whatever she would be."

Austin dismissed his wife with a glance. The woman walked ahead as if obeying her husband's every whim was the great purpose of her life. Then again, who was I to judge? At least she had a wedding ring. I was listening to Bryce because...I had promised? I was an idiot.

"You can stop the charade. We've all figured out the stunt you're pulling. Grandpa will figure it out when he stops being so angry."

Bryce stiffened, but I could tell only because I was pressed right against him. His demeanour showed no visual change. He turned to me. "I think my family is doubting our great love."

"We're not giving them a demonstration of any sort of love," I informed him and he laughed, before turning back to Austin.

"I don't care what you think you know. I'm not leaving her alone in this crowd. No one else seems to share my forward thinking views on witches."

"Not only can you ignore, insult and look down on them, but now you can screw them too?" I whispered in his ear.

"Now, Gillian, I never ignore you."

That was the truth, I realized. It may even have been the reason I was there.

Austin looked between us suspiciously but realized that whatever bullshit Bryce had said, he wasn't leaving me. I was kindly allowed to accompany them to the billiard room—were we in the eighteenth century or what?—where the Nast children had been deposited in a sort of chaotic get together.

The adults had clearly locked them away, and on such an important occasion, it was easy to see why. There were about ten of them—they kept moving so I couldn't really count properly—of various ages, belonging to various parents, and the destruction they had created was terrifying. They were all seated around a makeshift round table in a nicely furnished room with three pool tables and a cupboard full of wine. Almost all of the children were some variations of blonde. And the eldest, a snarling fourteen-ish year old who wanted to be out on a Friday night, was taller than me. It made it easier to look down his nose.

Two of the littlest ones screamed in delight at seeing Bryce and rushed to greet him. He let go of me and scooped them both up, walking over to the table that had been converted into some kind of fort. They were telling him about the terribly exciting monster truck rally Daddy had promised to take them too, if they were very good.

I stayed by the door, because I clearly didn't belong. Austin's wife disappeared into another room, where her young son was probably sleeping. The boys in this room were listening in rapt attention to Bryce's retelling of a rather dangerous trip. He was clearly the fun uncle who spoiled everyone's children rotten while mom and dad looked on helplessly and tried to clean up afterwards.

One of the younger boys grew distracted, looking around the room for something of interest. That's when he locked eyes with me. He threw up his tiny little hands and dove under the table, screaming: "Witch!"

The ones in Bryce's lap also disappeared, while another boy, about eight, pulled out a water gun. I quickly put my hands in the air. The older boys just looked at me in disgust. Bryce burst out laughing, because he would find this funny.

"Guys it's safe to come up," he called under the table. "She won't hurt you, I promise." He glanced at me and smirked, "Bet that's the first time in your life you've been considered scary."

"I could have done without the experience."

Bryce scowled at the older nephews, who looked embarrassed. "Be nice," he told them. "Guys, this is Gillian, and yes, she is a witch. But she's a good friend of mine so we're going to show her those manners I know your dads have taught you."

"Why is the witch here, Uncle Bryce? They're good for nothing." The young boy seemed so proud of himself for reciting that crap I wanted to cry. It was the matter-of-fact tone that broke my heart a little. Because these chubby little blonde boys were going to grow up and become just like all the grown-ups in the other room who couldn't bear to look at me. Austin, who hadn't bothered to follow his wife, just watched with a remote curiosity.

"Dallas," Bryce admonished gently, "Your father would never say such a thing. Everyone knows witches are good for two things."

I raised my eyebrow. Two things? That was more credit than we usually got but I wasn't about to hand Bryce a medal anytime soon. He gestured for me to come over. I shook my head. He gestured again, with less patience. Again, I refused. With a sigh, he commanded: "Guys."

And with that one word a horde of Nasts descended on me, pulling and pushing me along. I had one on each leg and for such tiny people, they were strong. You can't fight children, so I eventually found myself on Bryce's lap, just like his nephews had been. His hand snaked higher up my leg but I kept his gaze. I didn't have the luxury of backing down.

"Let's hear what witches are good for," I said with a sigh.

Attacking someone had put the boys in a much better humour and they gazed at me curiously as Bryce began to lecture his rapt audience.

"First of all, well, I hope one you can tell me this. You're smart boys. What are witches good for?"

"Witch spells!" cried the one with the plastic gun.

"Very good, 'Lex. Very good. Maybe Gillian could give us a demonstration?"

He gazed up at me and gave me a wink. I sighed, not eager to be a performing monkey but sensing the room would turn ugly if I failed to do as the beloved Uncle Bryce decreed.

I caught Austin's eye. "I supposed I can't use the spell where I incinerate someone from the inside out?"

Bryce's hand went even further up. I always suspected violence got him hot. His body shook under me as he chuckled. "How about something less angry?"

"Fine." I quickly cast the spell on Austin. It was a simple level two spell, one that Paige only made me learn so I could use the more deadly tertiary spell. But personally, I preferred this one.

Austin hiccupped. And then hiccupped. He blushed, hiccupping all the while. The boys stared in silence and then one by one they began to giggle. Bryce laughed the loudest of all as his cousin glared. When the joke began to get old, I cured Austin's raging case of the hiccups.

"See guys, witches know interesting witch magic."

"But what else are they possibly good for?" the eldest one snarled. He hadn't appreciated Austin being shown-up by a witch. Not at all.

Bryce's eyes narrowed. "I'll tell you when you become a man, George. Right now, I'm afraid it's a little much for your virgin ears."

The eyes of the older boys—the ones who weren't the blushing George—suddenly looked at me with new interest while the younger ones tried to puzzle out Bryce's meaning. I rather hoped they never did.

"You can't tell us, Uncle Bryce?" Dallas looked so sad that I had to smile.

Bryce's face was dead serious as he bent forward to look the little guy in the eye. I put an arm around his neck to steady myself. "Are you sure you're old enough to know?"

The room clambered with cries of yes. I was a little afraid he would tell them exactly what kind of use he had found for me, though clearly the older ones were excited for that very reason. When the shouting had gone on long enough to satisfy him Bryce hushed them.

He leaned forward and they all came closer, eager to hear the secret. Even George came, his eyes now fastened on the top of my dress. I winked at him, starting him blushing all over again. Served the boy right. He wasn't allowed to forget I was human and then jack off thinking about me, anyway.

Bryce smiled: "They're also easy to beat at video games."

"Hey!" I protested. "That was the first time, and if I remember correctly, you elbowed me in the stomach to win."

"I would never do such a thing. Guys," he asked, "Do I need to cheat to beat you all at racing?"

They laughed and Lex informed me: "Uncle Bryce is a big cheat."

"Why do I find that so easy to believe?"

"Hey!" Bryce said mock indignantly. "Hey, you guys want to do something fun?"

I think they might have destroyed the billiard room by the time they were done. They built stools out of the other furniture and the magazines lying around so they could reach the pool table. Bryce split them up and then walked me over to the table where George and the older boys were playing.

George broke and eventually claimed solids. Then he handed me the cue. I could back down in the face of prepubescent anger. With a forced smile, I shook my head. His lips curled.

"It would be too challenging for someone of your abilities."

Bryce caught my eye as he balanced someone on his shoulder. He would always take the dare. I guess it could be fun. "Fine. Though I think you're uncle should at least be able to teach me the rules."

George called his younger cousins off their uncle, quite comfortable at ordering people around. I tried very hard not to roll my eyes, though when Bryce finally came up to me, I couldn't resist muttering, "So that's what you looked like at fourteen."

"I was worse," he promised. "Now how about I help you shut him up?"

I rolled my eyes and leaned over the table. Bryce leaned over me, completely swallowing me up. He had discarded his jacket and the silk tie brushed against shoulders, tickling me. I was much more distracted by the heat emanating from him, especially on the hand he had dangerously near me rear. But I pretended to listen as he 'showed' me how to line up a shot.

"Don't be nervous," Bryce instructed, hand capturing mine. "Just line up and...you know what? I think I've imparted all my knowledge."

He stood up abruptly, kissing my bare shoulder. As he walked away to where the younger boys were struggling to play he called: "Just because you're my nephew and I love you George—and Mike—doesn't mean I won't beat the shit out of you two if you don't stop looking down her dress."

A collective gasp went around the room as Bryce swore. He spent a lot of time trying to bribe them not to tell their parents. The two boys in question just blushed and then gaped as I made the shot. I gave them as a small smile. "Wow. I guess your uncle really did teach me well."

I screwed up a couple times to let them save face, but I think they picked up on that. They weren't stupid. They weren't bad, there was potential there. But they hadn't grown up white trash and there I had an advantage.

Lex—or Alexi, as he informed me when he introduced himself—ran up and demanded I teach him. Mike reluctantly seconded that. I glanced up, but Bryce was too busy sword fighting with two of the littler ones to notice. What was the harm?

Alexi was a natural, even if he was way too short. George made fun of him, but shut up when I kissed Alexi on the cheek for being the best one there. Alexi and I were trampling his older cousins when Bryce finally decided he'd had enough of getting hit with a pool cue.

"We have to get going. We have a boring party to get to," Bryce complained. However reluctant he was, I was ten times more so. Even though the children had given me a really good idea as to why I was still not the worst case scenario.

"Five more minutes," Alexi begged. "Please, Uncle Bryce. Please."

"Yeah, Bryce. Just give me five more minutes with him and he'll be a professional pool shark before you know it."

"Five minutes?" Bryce pretended to consider the offer.

I don't know if it was the abundance of blonde, blue eyed boys or the phrase but all of a sudden I found it difficult to breath. My mind flashed back to the portal, to a Gillian MacArthur not much older than myself, crying over a child. But not a daughter.

Oh god...not a daughter...

Panic struck me and I couldn't breathe. I gasped for air, trying to calm myself. But it wasn't working. My own voice, distorted by pain, echoed in my ears... just five more minutes with him...him...my son...oh...

"Gillian," Bryce snapped. "Gillian, calm down. What the hell did you do to her?"

Witches had daughters. Witches couldn't have sons. Witches couldn't have sons unless...

Bryce reached out to grab me but I jerked away, trying to breathe. It wasn't working and I sounded like a broken record. Because witches could not have sons unless the father was a sorcerer.

Savannah was going to kill me when she found out I passed out in a roomful of sorcerers, however miniature.