“Mom,” Titus whined, “she won’t follow the rules.”
“Rules be tools.” Thia repeated something she’d obviously learned from someone else.Probably Jen.
Titus rolled his eyes. “It’s ‘rules are for tools,’ you little scandalmonger.”
Sally’s head tilted as she looked at her son. “Scandalmonger?”
Titus shrugged. “Troublemaker is too tame a word for what that female is.” He pointed at Thia, and though he was definitely annoyed, there was still love for her in his eyes.
“Tia, TieTie!” another little voice squealed, and in came Slate. He was much younger than Titus, but only months younger than Thia. He was big for his age, though.
Rachel came in behind him, Hope—Bethany and Drake’s baby—in her arms. She looked irked. “I’m going to kill Gavril.” She joined the large group, eyeing the children like a mother hen.
Jacque walked over to Slate and picked him up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Have you been giving Aunt Rachel a hard time?”
“No.” He shook his head, his eyes taking on a look of innocence that almost made Dalton laugh, despite the emotions roiling inside him. Children had a way of easing the spirit. And it was a reminder why he and Jewel would get through this. He wanted this with her. Dalton wanted their own child to be part of the next generation. He just had to find his mate and work through things with her.
“Sate is good.” Thia nodded her head. “He not helling.”
“Hellion,” Titus corrected her. “He’s not a hellion.”
“We’re trying to curb her language.” Costin looked at Titus. “Remember?”
“Dad, you spend all day with her trying not to curse.” Titus folded his arms across his chest. “Torion is in for it. And since I’m the one here chasing his future mate around, I don’t even feel sorry for him.”
There were snorts of laughter. The kid was not wrong.
Rachel started to speak, but the loud sound of ringing interrupted her. It was Jewel’s ringtone on Dalton’s phone. He pulled the phone from his pocket and hit the green button on the screen. “Jewel?” His voice sounded as desperate as he felt.
“Please don’t hate me.”
Sixteen
“There are no do-overs in life. No amount of magic, power, money, wishing, or praying can change what has already happened. Once you’ve acted, it’s done. You have to live with the consequences or hope you die quickly if those consequences are too much.” ~Jewel
Five minutes prior…
“Mom?” Jewel gasped as she watched a woman step out of the portal. Shadows danced around her. The woman tilted her head, her eyes glowing an eerie green. Jewel thought the woman resembled her mother, but at the same time, she didn’t. Her skin was too pale, her hair thin and lacking luster, and she moved as if her limbs didn’t quite understand their purpose. “What is this?” Jewel turned to look at Celise, her heart feeling like it was going to leap out of her throat.
“Your mom.” Celise pointed back to the portal as four more women emerged. These certainly didn’t look like Jewel’s mom. They wore black dresses and appeared to float as they movedcloser to Celise. Their hair was long, blowing back from their faces—two had light blonde hair, another had brown, and the last had hair of pitch-black. “Sisters,” the sprite crooned.
The four sprite women looked around. The one with black hair turned to Celise. “What have you done?”
Celise frowned. “I brought you back. Perizada killed you before it was your time, and I brought you back.” She pointed to herself.
The four women seemed to consider this, and then the brown-haired one smiled. “Nice. You’ve grown powerful while we’ve been gone.” The others nodded.
“I’ve got theNushtonia,” Celise said. “It has so much more than any of us ever realized. And now, I’m going to use it to take care of those who deserve our wrath.”
“Are you going to kill them?” one of the blondes asked.
Celise tapped her chin. “I haven’t yet decided. The first step is to get them all here, or at least the most powerful ones.”
“How are you planning to do that?” Black Hair asked.
Celise pointed at Jewel. “I have incentive for them to cooperate.”
Jewel nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a rough hand on her arm. She turned and saw that her mom—or the thing that looked sort of like her mom—had walked up to her and was touching her. “Who are you?” the woman’s voice rasped, rough from lack of use. She smelled of ash and dirt.
