Homestead Harem 2, page 21
Silvie nodded, staring at the house like it had turned into a cloud and was floating into the sky. Finally, she averted her eyes back to us.
“We’re also building it on the off-chance some new people will be joining our farm soon,” I said, staring at her intently as I did. The little mouse-girl blinked in surprise. “Only if they wanted to, that is.”
Silvie didn’t seem to know how to react. She looked to Charlotte for confirmation, and the cat-girl nodded in agreement, smiling pleasantly.
Behind us, the other girls had just arrived from packing up our picnic in the field. Seeing Blossom and Sophia seemed to snap Silvie back into her role, remind her where she came from and who was waiting to hurt her when she came back if she didn’t do this mission right. She shook her head, as if physically throwing off any ideas that had taken root there only seconds before.
“Maven would like you to know she’s willing to negotiate for the safe return of her daughter,” she said, glancing behind me at Blossom. “She will arrive tomorrow at high noon.”
I nodded, letting this information sink in.
“That all?” I asked.
Silvie nodded, taking one more incredulous glance at Charlotte, me, John, then the house. For a brief moment, she seemed to consider saying something more. But she decided against it.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Alright. Thank you, Silvie,” I said.
The mouse-girl understood that she was being dismissed and quickly turned around and scurried back into the forest, off to tell Maven I’d taken the bait.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
“The hell was wrong with that girl?” Alexis said as soon as Silvie had gotten a safe distance from the farm. “Was she stoned or something?”
“She was shocked by the fact that Charlotte is still alive,” Blossom said flatly. “Maven has been saying you kill your women as soon as they give you a child. She assumed Charlotte would be dead by now.”
“That’s horrifying,” Charlotte said, holding John closer to her breast.
“She looked excited about the house!” Jordan added. “Jonas, why didn’t you just invite her to stay? She clearly wanted to!”
“Because,” I replied, wrapping an arm around Charlotte and guiding everyone back toward the house, “we need someone to go tell Maven’s crew about what we’re doing here. I wanted to invite her to stay too, believe me, but she’ll do a lot better at spreading the truth of our farm than we ever could. Maven’s girls will trust her a hell of a lot more than they’ll trust us.”
“You’re right,” Blossom said, furrowing her brow at me a little. “That’s smart.”
“Well, ya don’t have to sound so damn surprised, Bloss,” I joked, and the wolf-girl blushed as we all pushed into the house.
“So what do you think Maven means by negotiate?” Ellen asked, sitting down on the large armchair in the living room. The rest of the girls took their places on the couch or the floor, myself, Charlotte, and John cozying together on the love seat. In the kitchen, we could hear girls making dinner, laughing and singing as they did.
“I think she means war,” Blossom declared. “Nothing Maven ever says is what she does. There’s gotta be a trick.”
“Maybe not,” Jordan said hopefully. “Maybe losing Lara made her realize how much she really cares about you.”
Blossom and Sophia shared a look and promptly burst into laughter.
“I’m serious!” Jordan insisted.
“I know you are, that’s the sad part,” Blossom said, shaking her head. “My mother cares about me in her own way, but there’s no way in hell she’ll take a peaceful negotiation over an attack, not at this point.”
“You don’t think there’s any way I could still convince her to change?” I asked. In my head, the amazing, cinematic speech I’d been perfecting for two weeks was tumbling down like Jenga blocks.
Blossom considered for a minute, her violet eyes lost in thought.
Eventually, she shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she declared. “She’s unpredictable. Maybe. All I know is she’ll come prepared for a fight.”
“So we have to be ready for the worst,” Charlotte declared, taking my hand in hers.
“Agreed,” I said. “Now. I’ve been thinking about this a lot…Blossom and Sophia have told us that Maven capitalizes on your weaknesses, goes after what matters most. So it’s not hard to guess what her target might be.”
Charlotte realized it before I had to say it, hugging our baby tightly to her chest.
“John,” she whispered. Her green eyes were already filling with tears.
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “But that’s why we’re going to figure out right here and right now how to stop her. If she’s two steps ahead, we’ve gotta be four. Do y’all understand me?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Alexis said drily, sitting back on the couch and crossing her arms over her chest. We all settled in for a long evening of strategy. “Let’s fuck shit up.”
A few hours later, I found myself crouched in the grass outside the main house, lining the perimeter with chicken wire. My mind was in ten places at once, trying to anticipate any other surprises Maven might throw at us after we’d come up with our plan this evening. That was the problem with preparing for the expected, however—the possibilities were endless.
“How’s it going, daddy?” Charlotte said. I saw her bare feet before I saw her, walking across the lawn in a thin white nightgown. It was dusk, the deep blues and violets of the sunset bleeding across the horizon.
She was holding John, as per usual, his pleasant little face spitting bubbles down his chin.
“I figured I could expand our trick wiring before tomorrow,” I said, standing up to wipe John’s face with the corner of my sleeve. “Couldn’t hurt to have an extra layer of protection around the house.”
“Good idea,” Charlotte replied. Her nightgown floated softly in the breeze. I could tell her mind was elsewhere.
“What’s eatin’ ya, darlin’?” I asked, hugging her and John close to me.
She shook her head, shrugging.
“I just…everything has been so perfect.” She choked back a sob. “I’m so terrified of losing you.”
Tears flowed down her face, dripping onto little John’s soft head. I began kissing them as they fell down her cheeks, drying her eyes.
“Oh, Char,” I said, forcing her to look at me. “That’ll never happen. Ever. Do you hear me? I’m gonna get us all out of this safely, and, at the end of the day, we’re gonna eat waffles, alright?”
Charlotte smiled a little.
“What if I prefer pancakes?”
“Then pancakes it is, baby,” I replied, hugging her tightly around the waist. “No one can tear us apart, alright? No one.”
Charlotte nodded, brushing the moisture from the top of John’s head. He stared up at us with his big blue eyes, completely unaware of his parents’ worries.
That’s how it should be, I thought. My mother and father did everything not to show me any hardships the farm was going through when I was a kid. If we couldn’t afford to hire hands at the harvest, my father would use it as an opportunity to teach me, slowing down his work to pass all his wisdom down to his son. If I had less presents at Christmas one year, my mother would make up for it by baking extra cookies, singing extra songs, showering me in extra love. They protected me, kept me safe from the harsh realities of this world for as long as it was possible to do so. And I would do the same for John.
“Tomorrow’s gonna go just like we planned,” I assured Charlotte, kissing her on the forehead.
She glared at me.
“I’m sorry, but when has anything ever gone exactly as we planned it?”
I had to admit she had a point. A beat passed before we both started laughing.
“Alright, I’m sure all hell will break loose in some way or another,” I admitted, “but we’ve got a good crew. Blossom is basically a cage fighter ready to be let loose. We’ve got a good plan, we’ve thought through Maven’s every potential move. And we’ve got one thing Maven don’t.”
“And what is that?” Charlotte asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Love,” I replied, shrugging past the cliche. “We love each other, it’s as plain as day. Which means we’ll fight to protect each other that much harder. I’m sure of it.”
Charlotte smiled, looking down at John with the devotion only a mother can feel.
“I promise you, Charlotte, I will fight the laws of nature if I have to to keep you and John safe.”
“I know,” she replied firmly, looking up at me. “I know.”
“Good,” I replied, moving us back toward the house. My work was done for the day, and it was time to lie in bed and fight a losing battle with sleep, my brain refusing to slow down. With my girls surrounding me in bed, my son sleeping peacefully in his cradle somehow wedged in an open space in the corner of our room, I knew the reality would set in—as it always did—that there was no way for me to go on existing without these girls. No way for me to keep living if I let one of them die.
So, come dawn, I would have to keep them safe. I would have to win.
The only trouble was, I could never truly be sure what game Maven was playing. Which is why, starting tomorrow, I was determined to make the rules.
Chapter
Thirty-Four
High noon struck down on us like lightning. The sun burst forth from a cloud directly overhead, lighting the forest up electric green. I checked the barrel of my shotgun for the tenth time.
One shell. One shot to use only as a last resort. Plan Z.
I tucked the sawed-off shotgun back into its holster on my leg. I’d asked Sophia last night if she could make me one from the old leather saddles we kept in the barn—but I regretted that when I saw the bags under her eyes this morning, knowing she’d probably stayed up half the night finishing it. Still, having the gun more easily accessible could make a huge difference today. I’d wasted too much time reaching around my back for my gun—time that animalistic, instinctual fighters like Maven’s girls capitalized on to strike. No, I needed to be able to grab my gun and fire it within milliseconds.
Our little silver pistol had one bullet left in it (thanks to Charlotte’s pregnancy-induced killing spree), and myself and his mother insisted it be kept near John for protection. The Glock with the one-bullet magazine, I’d tried to give to Blossom for her protection, but the wolf-girl had stared at me like I’d offered her a pool noodle before a sword fight.
So, just before the fight, I pulled Leaf aside and offered it to him.
“Do not waste this bullet, kid,” I declared, pressing the coveted Glock into his palm. The goat-boy stared in awe down at the weapon. He’d never been much of a fighter, but he was smart and responsible—two qualities I looked for in the nearest person I’d like to hand a gun to. “You’ve been doing good on the new building. Keep it up.”
Leaf beamed up at me, nodding importantly and then checking the safety like I’d taught him. I noticed his scraggly nineteen-year-old beard, realizing I would probably have to be the one to teach him how to shave.
“Listen to me,” I said. “Only use that weapon as a last resort. The difference between life and death for one of our people. Do you understand?”
Leaf nodded. “I understand, sir.”
I blanched.
“Damn, you’re gonna sir me? Right before the fight?” I punched him in the arm. “Just ’cause I’m a father now doesn’t mean I’m that old.”
Leaf chuckled, tucking the gun into his back pocket.
“Alright, I understand…bro.”
We both cracked up the second he said it.
“Okay, nevermind,” I declared. “Let’s stick with sir.”
Now, I stood before the front porch of the house, waiting beneath the hot, overhead sun for Maven’s arrival. Sophia and Blossom flanked me on either side, Jordan and Ellen behind them in a V formation. The bat-girl held a small length of chain—a new weapon for her, but I chose not to question it. Ellen clutched two small daggers—for when Ellen was forced to fight, she fought like a rabbit with rabies: fast and mean.
The rest of the battle-ready mutant girls on the farm, plus Benny, Leaf, and Kyle, lined up behind the five of us, creating a barrier in front of the house. Everyone was in position, armed with whatever they could find—kitchen knives, baseball bats, lead pipes. All the players were ready. And everyone was itching for a fight.
Entering right on cue, Maven emerged from the shadows of the forest like a wraith.
She was alone.
The older wolf-woman wore cowboy boots and faded jeans just like I’d seen her in at the encampment, a long, patchy, silver wolf-tail flowing out of a hand-sewn hole in the back. Her hair was the same dirty blond as her daughters’, but pouring out from under a faded brown cowboy hat in a nest of tight, uncontrollable curls. She had on a leather biker’s jacket, and when she turned to look back at the forest, I noticed she’d ripped all the patches off the back, leaving tattered black ribbons of leather in their stead. Her face was worn—weathered by age and tragedy, gone leathery from too many days in the sun. Between her lips hung a hand-rolled cigarette. Where in the hell she found tobacco out here, I couldn’t say.
Oh, yeah, and: she must have been about six and a half feet tall.
I should have guessed that—what with Lara and Blossom so giant. But still, I hadn’t been picturing the woman taller than me. I rarely met anyone taller than me these days at six four, in fact.
I noticed, looking down, that her cowboy boots were a different color from the ones she’d been wearing the other day. These ones were a dark red, and they had heels.
She wouldn’t, I thought, wondering if Maven would stoop so low as to give herself an extra inch on me just to get in my head. I glanced from Maven’s feet to Blossom at my right.
Yes, she would, the wolf-girl replied with her eyes.
Fuck.
Maven took her time to reach us, as if recognizing we all needed time to take her in. She planted herself right in front of me, placing her tanned, leathery hands on her hips.
Her cigarette puffed along in her mouth. She took it one hand and smiled cunningly, revealing an almost-complete set of deep yellow teeth. I watched as her purple eyes—the same as Blossom’s but milkier, more haunted—roved up and down my body, finally landing on my face.
She sneered in disgust.
“So, this is the mighty, mighty Jonas,” she declared, her husky voice commanding, despite the rasping I’m sure was bred by decades of sucking down cigarettes—wherever the hell she found them. “I’m honored.”
She held out her hand for me to shake. Despite wanting to break off all her fingers and feed them to our horses, I took her hand and shook it firmly, looking her in the eye.
“And you must be Maven,” I declared. “It’s lovely to meet you, ma’am. And, I have to admit, I’m surprised you showed up alone.”
“Oh,” Maven said, chuckling drily. “Honey. I didn’t show up alone.”
The wolf mother snapped, and, all at once, mutant girls began dropping down from the trees in the forest, crawling out from the shadows, emerging in a wave of thirty-some rail-thin women, their clothes tattered, their eyes wild, half their feet dirty and bare. Some I recognized, but most I’d never seen before, Maven’s bench deeper than I’d realized—even after all the casualties they’d suffered lately.
Some of the girls stared at me with their teeth bared, pure, unadulterated hatred for me piercing through their eyes. Those were the ones who surely believed every single one of Maven’s lies about me—and they snarled ruthlessly as they looked me up and down, their faces settling in disgust.
But some, I noticed, merely stood in the crowd. Not leaving the group, but not quite sure if they still wanted to be a part of it.
Finding Silvie in the back, I wondered if I had her to thank for that.
“So,” I declared, holding my arms out jovially. “You wanted to negotiate, I’m ready to negotiate. What are your terms?”
“My terms?” Maven said, puffing on her foul-smelling cigarette a few times and blowing the smoke directly in my face.
“Do you make those with your own tar and owl droppings?” I asked. “Because they smell delicious.”
Behind me, Jordan failed to hold in a snort of laughter.
Maven flicked off the ash of her cigarette, eyeing me like a steaming cow turd.
“My terms are that you give me my daughter back or I kill you and every one of these poor women you’ve brainwashed beyond repair,” she declared, dropping her cigarette. She ground it into my nice aerated soil with the high heel of her boot, and I gritted my teeth as I watched. “End of negotiation.”
I stared at Maven, her violet eyes reminding me of cold, far-off galaxies, of suffocating in the vacuum of space. Both of us refused to look away first.
“Blossom deserves better than you,” I declared, making sure I was speaking loud enough for Maven’s girls to hear me. “She deserves better than your lies and your manipulation. She deserves better than being forced to fight her own family for a decent meal or a bed to sleep on. She deserves better than a life of begging for scraps, of stealing and pillaging for food and supplies. She came to our farm because she saw what you’re blind to—that we actually care for one another here. We keep each other safe, we feed each other, we protect our home. Anyone is free to say whatever they wish, suggest whatever they want, come and go as they so please. We’re free here—more free than Blossom has ever been under your care. So pardon me if I don’t feel so good about sending her back, against her will I might add, to a life that’s far less than what she deserves. Than what anyone deserves.”
At this, I looked out at the crowd of girls behind Maven. Some had clearly ignored everything I’d said, growling impatiently as they geared up for a fight. But some, miraculously enough, seemed to really be listening. Beyond listening—believing.
