Devil's Desire [h.s.]

Chapter 21

a/n: small double update. other one coming in a seccccc ily

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Chapter 21

Before either of these strange children in front of me could open their mouths and introduce themselves, I was whirling around and bounding away. Intercepting Harry as he crested the hill. He was still grinning, and I halted him in place with my hands firm on his shoulders.

His smile faltered and he glanced behind me, suddenly on high alert, hand drifting to my waist in case he needed to yank me backwards. "What's—"

"My mom's back," I said quickly. "And she brought her kids. I need you to go and tell Zayn and them."

The last thing I needed was for the first impression my mother's second family had of me be a swarm of tattooed militia—which they would essentially fit the part of—hauling up a duffel bag full of firearms and gunshot ridden cans. I was no expert on children, but I could say with at least some confidence that it was normally advised to keep them away from dangerous weapons.

Harry seemed reluctant to let go of me, but he gave my waist a squeeze and nodded, jogging back down the hill moments later toward our company that had just emerged from the forest. Even from here, I could make out the gun Louis was twirling around his pointer finger.

My mother and Austin were standing with the kids when I came bounding back up. I gave them a clipped grin and ducked between the two of them into the house, not so much as uttering a word.

As if on cue, my mother followed right in behind me. The shrill cadence of her voice, no doubt an apology on my part, came muffled through the door before she slammed it open and came stalking to my side. I hardly paid her any attention, too busy trying to gather all the loose paperwork up from the kitchen table and counter. Plans, diagrams, information that we'd hastily left scattered around this morning. Not anything I needed a child getting their hands on.

"River," my mother hissed. "River. That was very rude."

"Well, sorry," I shrugged, bundling the files into a stray folder. "You kinda—" I glanced over my shoulder at her, "—sprung this on me, mum."

"Sprung my own children in my house on you?"

"I'm your child too," I said flatly, tucking away the papers between two cookbooks on the kitchen shelf.

"Yes, my grown child," she hissed back. "Who just embarrassed me out there."

This had me spinning around. Her eyes flicked to my cheek, and I huffed, reaching up to no doubt wipe away at whatever dirt was left there that she hadn't been able to smudge off herself. "How did I embarrass you?"

"You could have introduced yourself."

"Yeah, and I will," my voice came out more sharply than intended. "I just—you said yourself that I look like a mess. Can't I get cleaned up first? And warn the others?"

"Warn the others?" my mother mocked. "You act like me bringing my children here is some sort of sentence."

The two of us stared at one another for a beat. The bags under my mother's eyes had lightened since I'd last seen her, but the disdain in which she looked at me had somehow only deepened. Distance makes the heart grow fonder or whatever they say.

What did this mean now that the kids were here? Now that I could no longer pretend, no longer play to that selfish, hopeful part inside of myself who'd banked that maybe they weren't real? How was this going to work going forward? It was one thing thinking about where to settle my mother once we'd moved onto the next phase of our plan, something I'd yet to discuss with her for obvious reasons, but were her children to be factored in now as well? My hand drifted to fiddle with my bracelet.