“They didn’t mean for you to starve then.” Wesley stared moodily into his cup. He hadn’t been granted the same favor, but then he was only an idiot picked up for goodness knows what reason. The kids were meant to be groomed so the dark ones could ‘rule the world’. “What about other disposable things like diapers, soap, shampoo and things like that?”
“It all just appears.” Frankie pushed away his half-eaten toast. “The triplets were fascinated when it first happened. Sat in front of the cupboard, pulling out piles of sweets, just to watch it reappear again. They were so sick that day. Ugh.” He rested his head on the table.
Wes’s heart lurched as he watched the young boy close his eyes. I should let him sleep, he thought, but he had a ton of questions that needed answers. “Frankie,” he said softly but Frankie jumped as though he’d been shot.
“I’m up. I’m up. What?”
“I’m sorry, Frankie, I should let you get some sleep in a bed, and not just leaning on a table.” Now Wesley felt like a shit. “I just… do you have any idea how long you’ve been here?”
Frankie stared at him a long moment, blinking slowly, then just as slowly he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tattered notebook. Opening it to the first page, he showed Wesley the line of marks he’d made. “There’s a clock in the living room,” Frankie said quietly. “It chimes at ten o’clock each night. I figure it’s the dark ones’ way of making sure we all go to sleep by then, although they didn’t figure on the littlies. Every time I hear that noise, I make a mark. I think I’ve got them all, but sometimes I get so tired...”
He held out the notebook, and Wesley took it. Three pages were full, and Frankie was well on his way down the fourth page. There had to be a minimum of fifty marks on each page, maybe more. “Oh shit, Frankie, I’m so sorry,” he said, shaking his head in wonder at the small cub who’d done so much to hold everything together.
“You do what you have to do to get by.” Frankie straightened his shoulders and stuck out his chin as if he dared Wesley to contradict him. “Things aren’t as clean as they should be. It took me ages to work out the washing machine and dryer, but the kids get fed regular, by the clock, or when they yell. Not every kid has that.”
“You’re right, Frankie.” Wesley nodded. “I’ve seen some things, well, in my life before all this…” He waved his hand, waving off the conversation. Frankie didn’t need to hear what he was before Cloverleah, or how his idiocy cost him his freedom. “What can I do to help? Do you want me to take over the laundry duties? Cooking maybe?”
“Help?” Frankie’s frown was almost comical. “Aren’t you here to take over and run the place?”
“Frankie, I’m a captive here just like you are.” Wesley dared to reach across the table, laying his hand over Frankie’s. “All I want is to go home and take you all with me. But I’ve walked more miles than I can count around this place trying to find a way out, and I haven’t seen anything but rocks and fu… sand,” he corrected himself quickly.
“Where I was being held was nothing like this,” Wesley continued. “The place was heavily warded for one thing and I couldn’t get out. But then, one day I woke up, and the wards were gone, so I started walking. You found me. You saved me. I want to help, but the kids trust you more than they trust me.”
A ghost of a grin flittered across Frankie’s face. “Baby Em throws up on everybody, and as for Zeke, he shifts because he doesn’t like talking. Donny didn’t mean nothing when he pooped in your boots. It’s just, he gets excited in his cheetah form and forgets to use the toilet.”
Wesley chuckled. “Those boots were trashed anyway. To think, they were so expensive when I bought them.” He sighed and then swigged the rest of his coffee and stood up. The dishes weren’t going to wash themselves. “Okay, well how about we do this. You go and have a bath and get some sleep. I’ll take care of the babies tonight, and then you can do breakfast seeing as I’m sure you have some sort of routine for then. I’ll catch a few hours sleep where I can, after I know you’ve had yours.”
Frankie looked as though he was going to argue. Wesley arched an eyebrow at him. “You need your sleep, Frankie.”
Huffing, Frankie stood up. “I still don’t see how you’re going to feed and change three babies with one pair of hands,” was his parting shot as he walked out of the kitchen and headed down the hall.
“I don’t know how I’m going to feed and change one baby with one pair of hands,” Wesley muttered as he started running the water for the dishes. The hot water supply seemed to be consistent at least. He wished he knew what on earth powered the place, but then he wasn’t on earth anymore, so a question like that was pointless. Finding some dish detergent, he ran a sink full of water, and piled every plate and cup he could find into it, swirling the water with his hands.
Doing something so normal relaxed him although that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Wesley could feel his weariness bone deep and he knew he’d have to sleep soon. He also stunk, so bad he offended himself, although the kids didn’t seem to notice. Eleven kids! Wesley was still coming to terms with the number. And they were aged between nine, which was apparently how old Frankie was, down to the six-month-old baby Emily, who had to have been only a few days old when she was taken. Or she could’ve been born in the lab, he thought feeling sad at the idea. Wesley’s own brush with mad scientists had been a while ago, but the men concerned then had no concern for life if it wasn’t pure human.
The shifting was another concern. Most shifters didn’t take on their animal form until they were in their teenage years. Baby Ollie was the only child Wesley had ever heard of shifting before then, and he’d been rescued from scientists too, thanks to Adair’s mate, Vassago. Gods, I miss my pack. Yes, Wesley knew he’d been silly, not appreciating what he had when he had it. He squeezed his eyes tight as a single tear rolled down his face, followed by another and then another.
Wesley had no idea how long he stood there, crying into the dishwater, but strangely he felt lighter when he was done. “I can do right by these kids,” he told himself firmly as he searched for a drying towel. “I can make a difference here even if the pack aren’t looking for me. These kids have been through a lot worse than me, and they still play and smile, and give amazing hugs.”
He smiled as he remembered Carrie kissing him on the cheek when he put her to bed. “If they can do it, I can do it, too,” and then he sighed as he heard a faint wail. “I hope,” he added as he dropped the cloth he’d found and reached for the refrigerator door.
Chapter Four
Cloverleah Pack House
“We need a demon,” Vassago said, ignoring his mate’s glare. “Thanatos can’t sense where Wesley’s been taken and can only confirm he’s not dead. He’s not on the Fae, Djinn, or Elven realms. The only place left is the Underworld, and I’m not silly enough to disturb Hades on his honeymoon. Don’t let your prejudices against a species cloud your judgment.”