Page 7 of When Embers Become Ashes

“Did you say she smelt of wolf blood? Is it hers? What has that son of yours done now!” The last part is a statement, and I hear the man grumble,

“Why’s he my son when he’s done something wrong but ours when he’s good?” I flick the shower on and turn to take Ren’s hoodie off when there is a knock on the door. I open it and come face to face with a plump woman who instantly makes me think of a grandmother baking cookies in the kitchen. She even smells like warm cookies.

“Hello sweetie, I bought you some clothes. They might be a little big, though. My dolt of a mate didn’t ask your name!” She waits, holding out the clothes, with a kind smile on her face

“Ember, my name is Ember.” My voice is croaky from the need for a drink. She smiles.

“Is any of that blood yours? Are you hurt?” she asks as I place the clothes by the sink.

“No, I’m not hurt. If you wash my hoody, will it lose its scent? It’s my friends!” I don’t give her any more information than I need to, even though she seems safe. I don’t want to give too much away yet.

“I can use a special soap that leaves traces of scent on them but gets rid of dirt. Don’t worry about that. You get clean and then come get some food.” She pulls the door closed and leaves me alone, I can hear talking but not the words.

I quickly shower, not wanting to use too much hot water. I had to wash my hair three times to remove all the blood, and I still don’t think I got all of it. When I return to the kitchen, the sandwiches Lay made are waiting for me, along with a hot cocoa.

The grown-ups introduce themselves. Nonna is called Natalie, but as everyone else calls her Nonna, I’m to follow suit. Pops, her mate, is really named Reginald, but he hates it and don’t even think of calling him Reggy, so Pops it is – they are Grandmother and Grandfather to all, even those not theirs by blood.

Their son is the President of the motorcycle club. Pops used to be but retired when his son turned 21, just like his father before him, but he wanted to spend more time with Nonna and working on his bikes. Nonna and Pops look after most of the club kids, most being products of one-night stands with club bunnies (the girls I saw when I arrived). They try to get pregnant, hoping one of the guys will make them their old lady/wife, but none of the men are interested. They like the stream of new girls to play with on the regular.

Layton and Decon are the eldest at eleven years old; their mom ran off after she realized she wasn’t getting a ring on her finger; they are twins but not identical.

Then there’s Bear and Rachet, who are nine – different dads. Bear is the vice president's son, Rachet is the Master at Arm’s kid, Silas is eight, and he’s the Priest’s son, Link is seven years old and the tech guy’s son, and then there is Ryland, who is the Pres’s son, Ajax is the master at arm’s son too, and Cin who is also the V.P’s son, they are all five years old, born a few days apart. Even though all but the Twins have different moms who are no longer around, Pops and Nonna have raised them all. Oh, and they are all Hell Hounds! Yeah, I didn’t realize that was a thing.

While I’m eating, Ryland appears at the door with a fluffy pink teddy bear under his arm. As soon as I’m finished, he says something to Pops, who shrugs. Ryland grabs my hand.

“She sleeps in our room.” I’m then dragged upstairs, where I end up plopped in the middle of a queen-sized bed and become part of a three-hound puppy pile, Ryland curled around his teddy. Right before I zonk out, I hear Lay chuckle. “She’s been snagged by the litter already, then.” Then I fall asleep. I don’t feel as safe as I did with Ren and Jenson, but it’s a close second.

Aged 7 years old

Time moved fast here. It turns out I’m the litters Mater Aeterna, who knew Hell Hounds spoke Latin. The translation is Eternal Mother, and I’m destined to give birth to their fated mate; I was a little like, Yuck!?! To start but then I learned that Hell Hounds live a lot longer than humans, and some shifter packs still run by the old ways, no matter your age, once you find your mate, you start a family, Pops and Nonna have told me they are not like that and my child will be eighteen years old before they ‘mate’ with the litter.

I was with the Hounds—and yes, that is their last name—for just over a year, and I had a great time. Nonna taught me how to cook, and Pops taught me how to fix cars, trucks, and Bikes. He called me his sparkplug, small but essential.

I thought of Ren, Jenson, and Xander a lot, but other than the basics, I kept the details private.

In January, a social worker I didn’t know turned up. Giovanni Michaels, he was all smiles and jokes, nothing like Jameson. He had a long talk with Nonna and Pops and promised to come to get me and the boys in two days. I don’t think I was meant to hear, and I panic.

I run to the pond at the back of the compound, grab one of the rusty beer cans, and cut a gash up my left forearm. I didn’t want to go someplace bad again! I hear a whimper and turn to see Cin step from the trees.

Cin is a hybrid half-hound, half nightmare. He doesn’t use his Shadow magic often, but he does now; shadow travelling us right to Nonna, he plonks me on the chair and storms out, uttering only two words,

“Ember naughty.” Nonna uses butterfly bandages to seal up my cut and then makes hot cocoa and asks me why. My reply was simple.

“I’m scared Jameson will take me somewhere bad.” Nonna gives me one of her special hugs.

“I can't promise he won’t take you, but I will try with everything I am to keep you with us.” She gives me another squeeze.

“Want to know how to make my special Gumbo?” I smile and start pulling out the ingredients. Some movements hurt because of my arm, but I push through, and it was my fault it hurt.

That night, we have Nonna’s special Gumbo with homemade cornbread muffins. She even told me her special ingredient. We laughed and were a family.

At 2 am on January 12th, the police storm the compound and arrest every adult but Nonna; even Pops ended up in cuffs.

When the yelling at gunfire starts, the older boys help Pops, the rest of us head to Nonna, who starts to wrap us in our coats, ushering us into our shoes, and trying to get us to the bus, as it’s the only thing big enough for all of us.

Once the Cops have more control Nonna explains she is putting those under 18 in a Bus and taking us to the home they arranged with Giovanni, but she needs Pops to drive it for her, or one of the kind Officers, no one sees Jameson arrive and sneak me away.

I found out much later that a stoned club bunny had shot Nonna. Pops had been released with no charges and took the boys to a friend who lived nowhere close. They took Nonna’s body to be buried at the new home. I will never forget Nonna’s recipes. Her special ingredient was two bottles of Pops beer, as she claimed it tasted better when he didn’t know who stole it.

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