He cut her off with an impatient wave of his hand, glittering with rings. “Go.”
The minute the thick oak door closed behind you, your mother seized you again, weeping as she rocked back and forth. “My sweet girl … I had hoped, I’d believed you’d escaped! I am so sorry, so sorry you were not prepared.”
“I was only ten,” you protested, “I am sure you did not expect-” you leaned forward, catching her gaze with yours. “Mama? Why are you here? Why was I imprisoned in The Birdcage for ten years? Who is John Barnes? What hold does this Master have on you? I don’t-”
“My darling, just-” she squeezed your hands so tightly that you could hear your knuckles creak. Her head was down, shoulders heaving. “Master Adam Tyrrell is … he’s….” Heaving a deep breath, your Mama looked into your eyes.
“He is your father. Your true sire.”
Chapter 5: Unwelcome Relatives and Curious Saviors
In which you discover the truth about your heritage. It is not warmly received.
“He is your father. Your true sire.”
You let go, pushing away from her in horror. “No! That can’t- You’re lying!” Granted, your father never spent much time or affection on you, but … he was still your father. “How could that monster- no!” You blinked against the sudden flood of tears that made your mother look like a heartbroken watercolor.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, love but it’s true.” You’d seen your mother happy, sad, frightened. But never ashamed. Humiliated.
“H- what- how could this be possible?” you sobbed.
Her elegant hands, weighted down by beautiful rings waved helplessly. “I was your age when I married your fath- when I married Matthew. It was an arranged marriage and he … ignored me. At one of his company’s dinner parties, I met Lord Tyrrell. He was so kind to me, so interested in my ridiculous little life. He made me feel as if I mattered.”
She looked at your shocked expression and smiled sadly. “I would never have dishonored my husband, even if I was invisible to him. But I started having dreams about Lord Tyrrell. I didn’t know he was one of the Night Brethren. I didn’t even know what they were. In my dreams, he was romantic, I thought they were only dreams! I told him I loved him and he said the same.”
Squeezing her hands, your heart thumped painfully. Your poor mother, lonely, thinking her dreams were a safe refuge. Her voice dropped lower and you strained to hear her.
“They weren’t dreams. He’d drawn some sort of enchantment to make me believe so, but … when I fell pregnant, I still believed the baby - you - were Matthew’s. I didn’t know the truth until the harbor in New York where I lost you. I woke up here and Lord Tyrrell told me the truth. Matthew had sold me - the use of me, I suppose - for a higher position at work.”
“Mama, I…” you shook your head helplessly. “I could never judge you. But that creature? How is this even possible?”
“You are one of a kind, my darling. The Night Brethren have been attempting to breed with humans for decades, trying to create a child that could walk in the sun. The failures were horrific, the poor creatures were formless. Monstrous enough that even the Brethren could not bear to look at them. They have learned enough now from your birth to know that there must be an accord between the father and mother to create a … I don’t know what to say. A complete child?”
Standing clumsily, you circled the room, trying to keep breathing, air hitching in your chest. Your heart was hammering against your ribs and it made you sick. A complete child? Were you even human? Were you a monstrosity, too, just like the others? Black spots tinged your vision and the last thing you saw was your mother’s desperate face before everything went blessedly dark.
John…
That coward. That thieving bastard.
When he returned to the smoldering remains of his estate, he fell off his horse, staggering over to the burnt timbers. It took only a moment to smell the stink of Tyrrell’s son.
The shadows were swirling aimlessly through what was left of his home, wailing and screeching relentlessly until John forced himself upright and onto his horse again. Urging the beast into a gallop, he looked over his shoulder to the west. It was nearly sunrise – the clouds were thinner today - he had to find somewhere safe to….
I can’t,John thought,I can’t wait. The helscape of the Night Court moves through day and night alike in that sealed mausoleum. I can’t leave my Little Bird to….”Visions of Tyrrell’s spoiled son hurting his girl seared through him and he bent low over the neck of his horse as the first rays of the sun crept over the horizon, poking holes in the sooty clouds to touch the earth.
Little Bird…
Waking to a blaze roaring in a huge fireplace - big enough for two or three men to stand upright - you found your cheek pushed up against a velvet pillow. Wiping your sweaty forehead, you sat up, looking for your mother.
“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty.”
It was that loathsome son of Tyrrell - you weren’t going to call him Lord anything - and he was seated in a sumptuous wingback chair, legs spread and elbows planted on the armrests, index fingers together and tapping his chin.
Pushing back your long, dark hair, trying to craft some kind of braid, you eyed him warily. “Where’s my mother?”
He chuckled, smug, indulgent. “Clearly your mother couldn’t comfort you without upsetting you, so you’re in my care now.” Getting up, he sauntered over to the couch where you’d been resting. “It will give us a chance to know each other better before the wedding.”
“What?” Horrified, you stood shakily and edged around the piece of furniture, heading for the door. “That’s disgusting! You’re my brother!”
