Page 90 of Chaos
“I didn’t mean to touch a nerve. Sorry, we can start whenever you’re ready.”
“I’ve been ready.”
She beamed at me. “Great. Come at me, bro.” Then she squared her shoulders and shut her eyes.
Just as I sent the first tendril of my consciousness toward her, something yellowed with age sat on the shelf just behind her pulled my focus.
It was the little poppet I’d made for Pan. The one I’d never been able to get rid of.
Maybe it was because I’d already been thinking about my estranged child, or maybe it was all this talk of breeding that I’d been forced to participate in recently, but I couldn’t seem to look away from the toy. Nor could I let go of everything it represented.
“Well, if you aren’t going to play by the rules, why should I?”
It took more energy than it should have to tear my gaze away and look at Merri. “Wha?—”
The little poppet in my hands seemed to weigh so much more than it possibly could as I agonized over the meaning behind it. I’d nearly finished making it for him. Him. My child. I still couldn’t believe Odette tried to keep him from me. I knew she’d been up to something, but she always had been a sneaky bitch, so I hadn’t thought too much of it. Not until I’d been told about the baby.
She’d successfully hidden her pregnancy and the birth until a week ago when Chaos spotted her wandering through the streets of London with a bouncing aubergine baby on her hip as she spread yet another plague. Subtlety never had been her strong suit. Which was part of the reason I was still so fucking shocked she’d managed to keep a secret of this magnitude.
Chaos was certain of the child’s parentage. He’d said he could sense my aura tangled with hers. Not to mention, the baby had my eyes, and the last time I’d been with Odette lined up with the child’s arrival.
My fingers clutched at the silky fabric in my hands, and I sat back in my seat.
A child. I’d sired a child.
How?
I was supposed to be a means of destruction, and yet somehow I’d helped create life. It was unbelievable. I’d never considered myself father material. My existence was for one sole purpose: to bring about the end of the world through pestilence. But knowing I’d created a being who would live on and continue my line until such time came that the apocalypse ended it all was... thrilling. I could show him how to do so many things. We could create and spread disease together. He’d be a chip off the old block. The greatest and most fearsome gift I could give to humanity. Maybe one day he could even take up my mantle.
But first, I had to meet him. Which meant, unfortunately, I’d need to see Odette.
I stood, pocketing the toy as I turned to check my appearance in the mirror. Some unpleasantness could be tolerated in exchange for getting to hold my son for the first time. Realizing that a three-month-old would neither remember nor care what I looked like, I turned away from the mirror and took the step that would lead me out of my house and bring me to Odette’sdoorstep. I could arrive directly in her room, but it seemed rude, and I needed her in good spirits. She so rarely was.
My hand shook as I rapped my knuckles on the door, the other shoved in my pocket and clutching my gift for the baby.
Then she was there, her demonic form hidden under the guise of a beautiful woman.
“Malice. So you’ve heard, then?” She looked me over and sneered. “I don’t know what you expect from me.”
“My son, Odette. I expect to see my son.”
“Your son?” She cocked a brow. “I don’t recall you carrying him in your womb and then shoving him out nine months later. All you did was donate a little sperm. Hardly worth giving you any credit.”
“It would be a much different story if you’d informed me we were expecting him.”
Surprise widened her eyes. “Oh, would it? You would have, what? Made me your bride and created a happy little family?” A disbelieving laugh escaped her. “Doubtful.”
“You didn’t give me the chance.”
“I would never give you the chance to chain me to you. I have plans for this little one. They do not involve you.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. “But he’s my son.”
“No, Malice. He’smyson. As far as he will ever be concerned, you do not exist.”
I snorted in disbelief. “A son needs his father. He’ll come looking for me.”
“Why would he? He’s never going to know who you are. And when he asks, I’ll tell him you’re dead. War, perhaps,” she added in a musing fashion. Then she tossed me a grin that was all teeth. “Or maybe the plague. How poetic.”
