Samuel and I trained until it was morning, and I took a long shower and changed into my black dress. My purse over one shoulder, my black eye patch worn, the older werewolf drove me towards our destination. First stopping to get me breakfast at a shitty fast food restaurant he forced me to eat and then bringing me back to The Lady’s manor.

  Stopping the car, Samuel sighed and started the first explanation of this I’d recieved, “The Lady’s luncheons are rather light on the food compared to anything else, and no one ever ends up eating. Your invitation was for 11:30, which means your dad’s was probably 11 so you’d get here second, or he’ll be here at noon.”

  “Do I need to give her anything?” I asked, almost immediately realizing that made no sense.

  “A servant will answer you at the door, you’ll introduce yourself. You’re her worker so you weren’t given an invitation, but you’ll be searched for weapons,” the man informed me, frowning as he seemed to be listing off genuine formalities, “you’ll get led to a dining room where the servant will stop at the door and knock. You’ll hear The Lady say something about you coming in, but you don’t touch the door or walk in immediately when opened. A servant inside will open the door, announce your arrival, and then you will come in. The Lady will have a place set for you, it’ll have your name on it all fancy like, a servant will pull out your seat, you’ll sit down, and then they’ll remove your name. If you want to thank them, don’t thank them until they ask if you need anything else. Understood?”

  “I think so?” I asked, frowning as I tried to take it all in, “is this actually important? Why is it so complicated?”

  “The Lady likes to keep things formal,” the man explained, patting me slowly on the shoulder, “I’ll wait out here, in case you need a ride home. Who knows how things will go, right?”

  I thanked him, climbing out of the car as I went to the door and knocked a few short times. As he said, a servant opened the door and walked me in, wearing an outfit that looked too revealing for a maid uniform and waving a wand around my body for several seconds before taking my purse for my stay.

  She led me down the hall, knocked at the door, and The Lady’s voice declared, “enter.”

  A few seconds later the door opened, and another woman wearing the same uniform announced, “Mary Diana Jameson, Werewolf of the Richmond Covenant, founded by Duncan. Honored right hand of The Lady of Richmond, Vampire of the Corieltauvi tribe; blood blessed by Horatius the Conqueror, vampire of the Sabini tribe; blood blessed by-”

  “Horatius the Conqueror,” The Lady interrupted, still out of my view, “his…name is enough to defile these halls with today.”

  “As you wish, My Lady,” the servant agreed, bowing as she led me into the dining room.

  A table that was at least twenty feet long was laid out with a large white sheet, even as only two seats were prepared. At the head of the table The Lady sat, wearing a bright blue gown, with a loose fitting red one over that and white hair covering that might have been medieval, and to her left my dad sat wearing a flannel shirt with a thick canvas jacket over it. He looked exhausted, and even still managed to stare at me with a hate that made me want to throw up.

  The servant pulled out my seat, and I sat down as she pushed me in, took up the name card, and asked, “can I get you anything else, Mrs. Jameson?”

  “I’m good, um, thank you,” I muttered, shifting in place as I held my head low.

  The servant left, the doors closed, and my dad did hesitate to snap as he asked, “what’s the point of the theater, I-”

  “What’s the point,” The Lady interrupted, sighing as she settled back into her seat, “no business until Luncheon is served, you… know the rules.”

  With that we fell back into an awkward silence, my eyes boring down into the table as I tried to not look at the man across from me. Afraid the hate was maintained, afraid he was trying to kill me with eyes, I struggled not to look.

  Eventually a door opened and plates were sat in front of us, containing a single tiny crustless sandwich. I glanced at The Lady just long enough to see her choose between two boxes a pair of servants held. The box chosen, the servant sat it on the table, opening it to reveal tea leaves, while another sat out a steaming tea pot, and yet another went about setting three cups to steep and set a timer for us.

  Most of the servants cleared out, and a remaining one announced, “today’s luncheon will begin with cucumber and watercress sandwiches, all ingredients sourced from local suppliers. This will be followed by a second course of blueberry scones, finished with lemon tea cakes, both of which have been supplied by a local vendor. Tea will be a medium roast oolong sourced from Guangdong. May I get anyone anything before it begins?”

  “May you get anyone anything,” The Lady muttered slowly, clicking her tongue in thought, “no…I do believe we are rather well, thank you. Please leave us be.”

  The last servant left, and my dad went to speak once more before The Lady raised her hand. Another minute or two of silence, the tea timer rang, and The Lady had us stop steeping our teas and set the balls containing the leaves on a plate.

  Clapping her hands softly, something that might have been a smile came across her, and she announced, “begin.”

  I didn’t even have time to look up before my dad spoke, snapping as he asked, “why the fuck did you call me here? Because I’m not believing she’s telling the truth for a moment, no matter what you have your little harem of maids call her.”

  “Don’t believe she’s telling the truth,” The Lady muttered, sipping her tea slowly, “while I’d ask you to respect the help, would I be right this is about…Mary being your daughter?”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “She’s not my daughter,” my dad snapped, rising to his feet as he gestured to me, “you know what, I’ll buy she’s Eva’s daughter, but she’s not my Hawk. I know that much.”

  The name used caught my attention, more than Samuel had given me since I knew him and strangely familiar. All the same, I couldn’t bring myself to focus on it just yet.

  “You know that much,” The lady muttered, genuinely sounding annoyed by it even as she took a bite from one of her sandwiches. A long chew later, and she finally asked, “what would your…theory be then as to why we’re doing this?”

  “Look, I don’t know, but I know this: my son didn’t fake his death, join a death cult, and end up working for an evil lesbian vampire who couldn’t stop from standing out as a vampire if she tried.”

  “This was fashionable until recently we’ve…been over this,” The Lady countered as though that were the major issue.

  “I saw her tattoos, you don’t get those tattoos unless you’re a member of the Purists, you don’t go by Bloodhound unless you’re forsaking a name,” my dad continued, his breathing uneven, his voice shaking. “You expect me to believe my son joined the Purists?”

  There was a silence while I stayed frozen, unable to do anything as I waited for The Lady to answer. She didn’t staring me down with bored eyes as she sipped her tea, a moment later my dad did the same, and I realized what they wanted.

  They expected me to answer.

  Clearing my throat I shook my head, shifting in place before I told the truth, “I…I joined the Purists, they found me after I had my first transformation, gave me their training.” Not wanting to leave it there, I lied, “I wasn’t with them long, a year or two really. I got found by a werewolf and brought back to the Covenant, The Lady pardoned me for my crimes.”

  The Lady raised an eyebrow at my answer though didn’t call it out, obviously picking up on the lie I’d told. Seeming to want to let me live with it, she confirmed, “Pardoned for her crimes. Mary…has served faithfully to me for some time. Her original mentor under her previous position was Misha Lyon, you will remember him from your…past associations. He will confirm the story as well. I assume you still hold means of contact, though otherwise I may provide such information.”

  My dad shook his head, furrowing his brow, looking disgusted as he answered, “you’re lying. The Purists are monsters, my son wasn’t a monster, I didn’t raise a monster!”

  I flinched at the words, feeling small in my chair as tears formed in my eyes and I tried to process the words.

  In a small act of mercy, The Lady saved me as she answered, “you didn’t raise a monster, The Purists turned her into one.”

  My dad pushed himself away from the table, looking like he wanted to say a half hundred things before he finally made a face I couldn’t describe. He flinched, let out a noise, and quickly left the room.

  I went limp, felt defeated as I sat back in the seat and wondered what had happened, if this had been for nothing. Feeling like I wanted to curl up and sob, I refused to move even as The Lady rose to her feet and rested a hand on my shoulder.

  “I’ve only reached the third course once,” The Lady complained, letting that sit for a moment before she told me, “we were successful.”

  “He ran off,” I answered, the nicest way I could think of to ask what the fuck she meant.

  “He ran off,” she confirmed, grabbing a strand of my hair she ran between her fingers, “and I’m sure he’s at most outside the…front door, not even to his truck. People need silence when confronted by such things, moments to gather their thoughts. If he didn’t believe us, he would have continued yelling, but…he refuses to say what might end the conversation too finally.”

  I nodded, frowning as I slowly rose to my feet, not sure what else I could do. I stood still for a long time, trying to work up the energy to do anything until I sought the permission, “may I leave?”

  “You may leave,” The Lady confirmed, sipping her tea before she told me, “you will take your two weeks vacation starting now, and you will begin work again the Monday after next. However I ask that you…indulge me Wednesday at noon at your office. I will be updating you on some…changes of expectation.”

  I nodded, leaving the room once more and not needing to walk far at all before I found my dad again. Standing in the hall he paced a small line, his hand covering his mouth as he seemed deep in his own head. For a moment I froze, and he looked up to me with a concern I hadn’t seen from those eyes in a long time.

  In our silence we waited, neither of us moving until he asked in a weak voice, “it’s really you, Hawk?”

  “I go by Mary now,” I admitted hesitantly, shifting as I looked to the floor, “Mary Diana Jameson’s my full name I guess.”

  “Mary Diana,” he said, letting out a noise that might have been a chuckle, “where’d you get that one from?”

  “Chaser was my…well, second mentor, a werewolf named Tracker did it for a few weeks after my training,” I explained, seeing my father’s face turn up in disgust. I couldn’t blame him if he’s apparently worked with Chaser in the past, it must have been a weird time all around. “She went by Marianne when we were in public, I think it was her human name. It just…well, was almost Marianne but that felt old fashioned, Misha helped me come up with something similar… think I know why he protested now, honestly.”

  My dad nodded, seeming torn about it before he finally told me, “you know, if you’d been a girl we were going to name you Diana. Your mother wanted to use some werewolf naming convention, so I let her.”

  “She did?” I asked, frowning as I watched him curiously, surprised how open he was about it.

  “Name your kid after a predator or famous werewolf,” my dad said, quickly explaining the fact, “Diana was apparently a Roman werewolf, named after the god. She apparently killed a bunch of other werewolves in some big challenge.”

  “That’s…kinda cool,” I admitted, shifting in place for a moment, not sure what else to say. Reaching for anything, I admitted, “I heard you, um, got married. You and Leila?

  “Oh, yeah, I…that happened,” my dad admitted, suddenly furrowing his brow as he asked, “how did you hear about that?”

  Right, fuck, he didn’t know about me and Percy.

  Well, there wasn’t much harm in admitting it now, and I half-looked away as I admitted, “Percy believed me pretty fast. He helped me with some stuff the last couple days, and mentioned it.”

  My dad nodded, almost being wounded by the words as he said, “and I couldn’t believe you.”

  I nodded, not sure what else to say until the man held his arms out a moment in what I realized was an offered hug. Taking it, I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around him as he held tight to me and rested a hand on the back of my head.

  We held each other like that for a long time, and when he finally pushed away he asked, “how are you a werewolf?” the words stinging a moment before he added on, “that one’s probably my fault isn’t it?”

  “It is,” I agreed, not even attempting to save him from that one.

  He chuckled, his hands resting on my shoulders as he said, “not…not right now right now, but you should come over for dinner, tonight at six? I think I have some stuff I need to explain to Leila first. It might be best if she has a few hours to get used to this.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” I agreed, a boiling fear in my stomach at the idea of going, “will Percy be there?”

  “He stays at the dorms on the weekdays,” my dad answered, quickly changing his answer to, “I’ll invite him.. It’d be nice to, you know, have everyone there.”

  “Agreed,” I answered, before hesitantly asking, “can I have my coat back?”

  “We’ll see about it,” my dad said, and somehow that was it as he started to walk away.

  Trying to be comfortable with it resting there I waited a few minutes, not wanting to run into him again before I left. Going outside, I took the short walk to find Samuel’s car and climbed into the passenger seat wordlessly, staring blankly forward as he asked, “how’d it go?”

  I took a moment, and slowly I told the truth:

  “I don’t know.”