The devil She-wolf

From the Journal of Frannie Tempest My earliest memory is of Feagan saying, with his heavy cockney accent, “Frannie me Tempest, come sit on me lap.” To him, I was always “Frannie me Tempest.” “Frannie me Tempest, fetch me gin.” “Frannie me Tempest, rub me aching feet.” “Frannie me Tempest, let me tell you a story.” With time it was just Frannie Tempest. And so it was that when anyone asked me my name, I would say it was Frannie Tempest. I lived in a single room with Feagan and his notorious band of children who were known for their thieving ways. I cannot remember a time when Feagan was not in my life. Sometimes I imagined he was my true father. His hair was as bright a red and as uncontrollable as mine. But he never claimed me as his daughter. I was always simply one of his kids. The one who sat on his lap and helped him count the handkerchiefs and coins that the others brought in. I was the one who carefully removed from the silk the thread that formed the monograms. I learned many of my letters from this tedious task because the intricate swirls fascinated me, and I would always ask Feagan what they meant before I began working to erase all evidence they had ever existed. Looking back on that time, I am often astonished to realize that a bit of cloth held such value. And yet it did. I think Feagan may have been a teacher in an earlier life. In a school where he taught letters and numbers and was admired by his students. Or perhaps it was simply that, if he was my father, I wanted him to be more than a criminal. He never spoke of his past, and I never asked him about mine. I simply accepted my life in the dreary rookeries as my due. Feagan’s lads always treated me as though I were special. Perhaps because instinctively I mothered the lot of them. I mended their clothes. I snuggled against them when I went to sleep at night. As I grew older, I cooked their meals and tended their hurts. And sometimes I helped them to steal. But none of this prepared me for the horror or the fear that gripped me when I was abducted and sold to a brothel at the age of twelve. Luc and Jack… the eldest of Feagan’s lads at the time… rescued me from the waking nightmare. But not soon enough. Luc killed the man who so cruelly stole my innocence. While awaiting trial, he was visited by the man’s father… the Alpha of Claybourne. In Luc, Claybourne saw his long lost grandson and our lives took a drastic turn. The Crown forgave Luc his sins and returned him to his grandfather’s keeping. The Alpha made a place for me as well. He was determined to give us advantages we had never had. When he hired tutors, I was quick to learn how to read and write and master calculations more intricate than I had ever encountered. I learned etiquette and proper comportment. But I was never comfortable in the great pack house. And as Luc began to move into the world of a future Alpha, so I began to become awkward around him. I was much more at ease with Jack. When fortune smiled on him and he opened a gentlemen’s club, he offered to pay me a very handsome salary to keep his books. I thanked the Alpha for all he had done for me. I acknowledged that my life was richer because of his efforts and interest in my welfare, but it was with a measure of relief that I walked away from the Alpha’s residence. Deep down, I knew it was far better than I deserved. I was not of the high packs and a place among them was rarely gained through effort or accomplishment. It was usually determined by bloodline, and I had no doubt that mine was tainted beyond all imagining. I was glad I no longer had to bear their stares, their gossip, or their whispered speculations. I convinced myself that my happiness was dependent upon never again associating intimately with the Alphas and Lunas of the high packs. So I banished them from my life. I worked very hard to create a safe haven where I was happy and content. I knew what I possessed was exactly what I wanted, that I desired no more than what I had. And then he strode into my safe, little world… and once again, it became a very dangerous place indeed.