Page 35 of Cruel Alpha Beast
Leaning over with my elbows pressed into my knees, I can only contemplate everything that’s happened in the last few days. More violent fighting in the street. More blighted nature. And now, there is a new symptom of evil encroaching on our land.
Sickness.
I haven’t heard anything about Cassie since my dad took her to the infirmary. I’ve been expecting a phone call all day, but nothing. That could be good news. But it could also be awful.
“Daddy?”
I hear the word clearly, but I feel thrown off. I wonder if there’s a small family hanging out inside my house, but I’ve been too spaced out to notice that they have been here.
Then I realize that thereisa small family inside my home.
And it’s mine.
I look to the sound of the voice and find the four-year-old girl with my chestnut hair tied in a bow and my hazel eyes staring right back at me. There’s no doubt in the world that she’s mine.
“Yes?” I say, still unsure of how to talk to the girl.
She takes something out from behind her back and presents it to me. A sheet of paper with barely legible crayonscribblings on the front. Her lips stretch into a smile, and I envy her. She’s too young to understand the gravity of what’s happening in the village. She’s not expected to solve a problem that might be well out of her control.
She just has to sit around, coloring and snuggling with her mother and uncle.
“I made this for you,” she says, her voice soft and sweet.
“You did?” I reach forward and take the piece of paper from her. She comes around to lean over my shoulder, watching closely for my reaction.
As I stare down at the drawing, I realize that maybe her artwork isn’t quite as incoherent as I first thought it would be. She’s drawn a man with a yellow crown on top of his brown hair and a red cape around his wide, triangular shoulders. On the man’s left is a small girl with long brown hair and a bow. On his right is a woman with even longer black hair.
At the man’s feet are colorful circles, meant to represent the people this man with the crown rules over. They look up at him, and though I can’t see their faces, I’m sure they respect his authority. Sitting an inch above the man’s crown is a red shape, almost like a circle, but a little too pointy at the bottom. And there’s another one over the woman’s head, as well.
“Who are all of these people?” I ask, though I have a good idea of who and what they might be.
“That’s me,” she says, pointing to the girl. “That’s Mommy. And that’s you. And these are everyone else.”
“And what about these?” I ask, pointing to the red almost-circles.
Shea looks at me like it’s so obvious, and I'm a fool for questioning it. “Those are hearts, silly.”
“Oh,” I say, finally seeing what I should have seen from the jump. “What are they for?”
“They’re for Mommy and Daddy,” she tells me. “Because they’re in love.”
Her words strike me dumb. I know that Lacey and I succumbed to pleasure not too long ago, but I never would have dreamed she was in love with me again. Is that really what Shea has been seeing? Or, more likely, is that just what she wants to see?
She’s a smart girl, I’ve noticed. She must have wondered where she came from. Who her father was. She probably heard stories from the women in the coven about how love between mommies and daddies can lead to children. She must just be projecting all of this on me.
Right?
Just then, the nearby door to the bathroom opens, and Lacey steps out. Her body is wrapped in a bathrobe, her long hair tied up in a towel at the top of her head.
“Shea, sweetie,” she calls out softly.
The girl looks up from my shoulder at her mother. “What?”
“It’s time to get ready for bed. Come on, let’s brush your teeth,” Lacey tells her.
“Can Daddy tuck me in tonight?” Shea asks.
That’s me. I’m Daddy.
