Page 82 of Jackal's Pride
“What’s wrong?” August stepped in front of me, scrutinizing me in a way that would normally make me lash out.
“I’m scared,” I finally slipped out.
“What?” Barron staggered. He wasn’t the only one surprised by my breakdown.
“Today was a failure and more will happen, but we’ll save the world in the end.” Sebastian said in the mist of flames.
“It’s not the world that has her in tears, but her heart,” August muttered uneasily. “Spit it out.”
“He’s not here!” I yelled, swinging my arms out like they’d understand what I meant.
“And?” August frowned, scratching his forehead.
“He’d be here right now if Newt’s words had been a lie!”
“Would you please make sense?” Barron tried not to sound like an ass but he did, anyway.
“Jack became Jackal again. I might have killed Newt, but he took away Jack’s memories of me.” My voice was calm, but my hands shook at my sides.
“Are you sure?” Sebastian asked finally.
“He would have come for me, killed Newt before I’d even awakened, and then he would have came back here with me and helped any way that—”
“She’s right,” Barron interrupted. “I don’t feel his presence. I didn’t even feel it after I regenerated enough to walk. He seemed resilient in his will to help us, and then he vanishes while we’re all blown up?”
“Yeah.” August wiped his jaw. “Anti-Isabella did something to him right before her big kaboom. Besides, he’d be here. He had that same pussy-whipped expression about him that Sebastian’s got.”
“Don’t call her anti-Izzie,” Sebastian warned, completely overlooking or not caring that August used old human slang to call him wrapped around Isabella’s finger.
“I’m not sure why this matters. Jack carries your peacock on his stomach. He’s your lover or whatever—” August shrugged his shoulders in a tired gesture.
I stiffened. “He what?”
“It’s true.” Sebastian nodded. “We all saw it when he lifted his arms earlier peeking beneath his shirt. You haven’t seen it? It must have just happened since he hadn’t noticed it either.”
“Jack is my soulmate?” I croaked, on the verge of passing out I was so delirious. So deliriously happy.
“Go and see for yourself.” Barron faced Sebastian. “Can you get your witch to work on a spell or potion of some sort in case he really doesn’t remember shit?”
Sebastian nodded. “I’m sure her coven knows one… Go on, Maureen. Your pride’s temporarily stripped and you know it. Jack’s forgotten memories has brought out a side of you we’ve hardly gotten to know and even still, it’s not ours to see.”
“I’m not—”
“Do you find Mom weak because of her love for Dad? How about Dad? Do you find him weak?” I shook my head slowly as Sebastian probed me with his hard stare. “Love is not weakness, and there’s no way that peacock would have shown up if one or both of you hadn’t realized that love. So go to him instead of expecting him to come to you when you know he can’t. Not because he wouldn’t since it sounds to me you know that he would. Go because it’s your turn. Go because there’s no pride when it comes to love. Go to him when he doesn’t even know what he’s waiting for.”
“There’s nothing wrong with not going,” August told me. Sebastian was about to start yelling, but August continued, “I don’t want a love like our parents—I don’t even understand it, but it looks like you do.”
“Go kiss him and make him remember!” Joy squealed.
I cringed at her delight while Prudence’s usual blank expression actually showed a hint of annoyance.
“Let us be happy for you.” Mom came up and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I know which of my children view love like it’s foreign unless it’s between family.” She tipped her head to the side and gave August, Prudence, then finally me a slight glare before she softened her expression. “You understand it. I know all my children do. It’s simply something you can’t really have or know until it smacks you in the face. Sometimes it’s instant. Other times it builds up like a storm. It’s different for everyone, but the beauty is the same. It’s all real. Honest and true and for us, it’s everlasting. That’s why it only happens once.” August muttered something under his breath. Mom scowled. “Shut up, August, before I bend you over my knee.”
I wiped my eyes and slowly stepped out of Mom’s embrace. For the first time since I was a child, I had a startling realization that maybe Iwaslike my mom—not only in my dreams or in the wishes of my childhood. She was resilient. Jackal was resilient. And I was stubborn. Couldn’t that be one and the same?
I was persistent in my pride, but now I’d be for love. For simply me.
I materialized a scrunchy in my hand as I pulled back my dark hair and tied it in a ponytail, tightening it before I smiled. “How soon can your witch get that memory potion?”