Their End

Chapter 12 | Flying Pups

REMI

I entered the twins’ room as Cerys launched herself from Callum’s bed to hers. She crashed onto her mattress with a giggle while Callum watched her with disdain. When he noticed me, he perked up. “I tolds her not to, Mommy! I tolds her!” He scrambled off his bed and stomped over to me.

“You told her, huh?” I asked. Callum nodded his head before turning to scowl at his twin again.

“I fly like Fifi!” Cerys giggled, not at all concerned with the consequences coming her way.

“You not dagon!” Callum shouted back, adding a foot stomp in for emphasis. It was clear that I had missed plenty in this battle of wills when I sent them from the bathroom, freshly bathed and pajama’d, not twenty minutes ago. They were supposed to each pick out a book to read before bed while I cleaned up the bathroom and found their fathers.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. While there were distinct differences in their features, my little twins very much looked alike while possessing very, very different personalities. According to Cassius, Cerys was fearless like a true Carlisle Alpha (even more than her dads, but I never brought that comment up). Everyone was confident Callum just needed to grow into it, but I disagreed. He was a very literal rule follower and got agitated when his sister pushed the boundaries.

“Why are we talking about dragons?” Calder’s voice came from behind me. I felt his body crowd mine as he wrapped an arm around my considerable middle. I relaxed slightly as his face came to my neck where he left a soft kiss before turning his attention back to our children.

“Cerys jumpeds on my bed!” Callum reported indignantly.

“Daddy! I fly like Fifi!” Cerys squealed, popping up.

“Cerys, no!” I snapped as her little legs bent.

I was, of course, too late. Or, more likely, she didn’t care that I was telling her no. She launched herself into the air towards Callum’s bed.

And thank goodness for Alpha mates.

Her small body wasn’t properly primed to hit Callum’s bed with adequate trajectory this time. Calder managed to cross the room and catch her before her face caught the wooden side of the bed. As if she hadn’t almost knocked out her few teeth, she laughed even harder as Calder hefted her into his arms.

I watched as he righted her and then pulled her pajama top back over her belly. “Now, what did we say about flying inside?” he asked her in a stern voice.

“No allowed!” Callum answered matter of factly. He turned around and looked up at me for confirmation.

“That’s right,” I nodded, holding my arms out for him.

He smiled at the validation and practically jumped into my grip.

“Oof,” I groaned as I tried to lift them. I swore they gained another five pounds every day.

“I’ve got him,” Cullen said, joining us. He scooped up Callum to prevent me from lifting him. I frowned at my mate.

Callum hugged his father around the neck. “Cerys jumpeds on my bed,” he pouted.

“Did she?” Cullen asked, raising a brow. Cerys nodded confidently.

“You aren’t a dragonborn, fierce one,” Calder shook his head. “You can’t be jumping off the beds like that.”

“But Daddy,” she started to pout. Her face fell into that cute little expression that usually got her her way.

“No buts,” Calder said. “Callum is right. It was bad. You could get hurt.”

Cerys’s little shoulders fell, and she gave us a sniffle. “Fifi flies dough.”

“Fifi has wings,” I reasoned, coming over to tuck a dark lock of hair behind her ear. “And she still can’t fly inside the packhouse. Only outside. We just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Cerys continued to pout.

“You don’t need wings,” Cullen admonished. “You are a wolf.”

“A proud Carlisle wolf,” Calder agreed.

“A strong, fierce wolf,” I added softly.

“One day, it’ll be time to shift, and you won’t ever want wings again,” Calder finished.

Cerys looked critically at Calder, tilting her little head. I could practically see her mind working through what we were telling her. “Okay,” she finally concluded. “No flying.”

I relaxed slightly as I smiled. Cadler tapped her on the nose, and she smiled back at him. “You just made your mama very happy. Now, let’s get you two ready for bed.”

———

“What’s this thing do?” I asked, turning the rock-like object around in my hand.

“It allows you to take the voice of the last person who touched it and mimic it,” Samy said, her head bowed over the large book she used to catalog all the objects she found. The wall behind her was filling up faster than I expected. We had her office renovated and added these shelves at her request. They were outfitted with clear boxes that she had begun storing the objects inside, all with their own magical and mechanical locks.

“Steals your voice?” I asked as I continued to study the rock. It was smooth but oddly shaped. Something a child would easily pick up and carry around.

“Mmmhmmm,” she hummed distractedly.

I weighed the rock back and forth in my hands. Sammy made me put gloves on before she allowed me to touch it. I passed it back and forth, thinking it would be so easy to innocuously carry in your pocket. I’m sure with a touch of creativity, it could also be turned into some sort of jewelry piece.

While she hadn’t made much progress on any of the more dangerous or powerful objects because those fell into the category of ‘legends’ with no confirmed records she could find, Sammy had brought a fair number of weird magical objects back to the packhouse.

“It’s rude not to answer the question!” one of the shriveled heads in the corner shouted at her. Without looking up, Sammy chucked her pen at him, hitting him square in the forehead. “What was that for?” he asked indignantly as his companion snickered.

“Shut up, or I will bind your lips,” she warned him. She brought home those things a few weeks ago, certain they could reveal some secrets from the coven they came from. She had nothing but a headache so far.

“Why aren’t they in one of your little boxes?” I asked her again.

She held out her hand to me with a frown. I realized I had the rock in my lap. I placed it back in her gloved hand, and she transferred it to the scale beside her. “As annoying as they are, I don’t know how long they will last without airflow. The magic sealing I put on the boxes will be compromised if we drill holes in them,” she explained.

“Right,” I nodded. As usual, when I came down to her office, I couldn’t help but gaze at the neat little boxes that were starting to fill with all manner of magic. Only a few of them were actually dangerous, according to Sammy. One nasty-looking knife, in particular, was supposed to be capable of not only slicing through ANY living flesh, but that cut would also never heal. “So what’s next on the list?”

“Did you know there’s a coven of witches that dub themselves Shadowmancers?”