 | ShatterStorm Productions
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| ShatterStorm Productions
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Primary Character(s): Archangel Michael
Disclaimers: See Index page for full disclaimer info
++ Michael ++
It isn't often that I find myself falling back into that seething rage when encountering members of my blood family. In fact, it's been many years since I last had to deal with any of them face to face. Of course, I've received a few letters filled with vague threats from the eldest of my cousins, the one whose manhood and sense of self was so severely wounded when he tried to force me back to France to marry him after I'd declared my legal citizenship in the U.S. And I've always responded in the exact same way when receiving them: I toss them in the recycling bin. Oh, in the beginning, I tried to be reasonable. Okay, that's a lie. I wasn't reasonable in the slightest, other than the threats made polite by the legalese and rhetoric I'd sharpened to a honed edge between college and being a JAG officer.
It wasn't until I found out he'd been targeting Grand Dame that I really saw red. Not that she can't take care of herself very nicely, I've seen her in action. No, that's not the point. The point is that they don't need to be bothering the curly branch of the family tree that they've completely abandoned. Outside of their re-inclusion into the damned and cursed La Magne family, thanks to the generosity of my mother, Grand Dame's family means nothing to Grandfather and the cousins. Well, that and the fact that it was due to Grand Dame that I became an American citizen and told my highly insane and incestuous French heritage family to fuck off.
I've worked so damned hard all these years to let go of the insanity I grew up in. I'm only Grace La Magne by birthright. It was never really me. Little Grace La Magne was who I had to be as a child. I had no choice in the matter. But now? Grace La Magne is a dimly lit, deeply hidden, highly classified part of me that doesn't see the light of day if I can help it. And as far as I'm concerned, she can stay there. I don't care if any of the family I have now ever knows about her. Yes, Jo knows. KC and Gabe know. Ben knows, and not only because he's a sneaky bastard and one of my best for ferreting out information that is supposed to remain hidden. Thankfully, he's never once commented on it in public. There have been one or two sly hints when it was only the two of us, but that's it. I've been blessed to be surrounded by people like him.
In fact, it's people like Ben and Gabe who have kept me from doing something very dangerous, very stupid. In the years since I became an American citizen, I've amassed even more of a fortune based on what I'd squirreled away from my familial dues. And with it, particularly since I came into KC's sway and the House of Spades, has come an equally tremendous amount of power and acumen. I can't count the number of times I've wanted to fly to France and actually do something to those incestuous bastards, and that's not including the handful of times I actually did purchase the ticket and was met at the airport, usually by Ben, who would then proceed to take me to one of the clubs and get me either drunk or laid, sometimes with a side of punching the shit out of a bag…or a willing person. Ben's always made it up to Ian when I've used him as a punching bag. The big man has been more than supportive, and receptive, of my psychotic rages, particularly where the La Magne family is concerned.
"Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for landing."
I blink at the announcement. The time has certainly scurried by while I've been woolgathering. Shifting in my seat, I slip the forgotten laptop and files into my briefcase and stow it under my seat. It takes everything in me to stay in my seat when we finally taxi to the terminal. I force myself to wait until all of the other passengers have disembarked, despite the fact that I'm flying first class. While I sit and wait, I carefully modulate my breathing. If I give away my mood too easily, too quickly, this will have all been for naught. And I've worked too damned hard for that to be the case. Damn, but I wish Jo was here with me. It would make the nerves less overwhelming. When I no longer have a choice, I exit the plane. Shouldering my bags, I treat it as a shield of sorts. I can't let my guard down; I must remain strong.
"Grace, ma chere! Allez-y! (My dear! Come here!)!"
I stiffen at that voice, but only momentarily to shore up my defenses. Before I can move another step, I am suddenly accosted by the very visceral smells of jambalaya and escargot. Combine with that the sensations of a body so damned similar to my own, and my nerves are electrified. God, I wish Jo was here with me!
"Grand Dame, ça va? (How are you)" It never ceases to amaze me just how easily I can slip back into the accent I've fought so hard to get rid of. Then again, the Cajun flair to Grand Dame's accent has always fascinated me. Before she can chastise me for my bad manners, I quickly return her warm embrace.
"Ça va bien, et toi?(I'm good, and you?)"
"I"ve been decent," I reply as we head toward the driver awaiting us. "I wasn't expecting you to meet me at the airport, Grand Dame. I would have been perfectly content with the driver."
"Oh pish tosh, Grace," she replies with a slap to my arm. "Like I wouldn't meet my favorite granddaughter when she's coming to visit me. You visit so seldom."
I can't help but wince at the reproach in her voice. She's not wrong, of course, and any reason I give her will be seen as a poor excuse. And she won't be incorrect in that reaction either. "I can't give you a good enough reason, so I won't. But I will apologize and promise that I'll try to visit more often."
She fixes me a stern look, one eyebrow raised and her lips pursed. "Somehow I don't expect to be seeing you any more often than I do now, young Grace of my heart." I shrug sheepishly and duck into the car after her. Grand Dame doesn't speak to me until a few moments after we've been moving for a few minutes. "So tell me, cherie, what's so important that it finally brought you to New Orleans to see your old Grand Dame?"
I hesitate, trying to determine the best way to phrase this. "I need some advice, Grand Dame," I finally reply. "And I can't think of anyone else who could possibly give me the information I need."
"Are you saying you've no one in your extensive little cadre of informants?" When I nod, she clucks her tongue and shakes her head at me. "And so you leave your lush little life up there in New York to return to your home of the heart, even for a short time, is that it?"
"Yes, ma'am," I whisper, suddenly overwhelmed by emotions. Scowling internally, I clear my throat before I continue. "There are some potential complications with the cousins, and I want to do what I can to circumvent them." As I'd expected, both of her eyebrows raise up into her hairline at my words. I close my eyes and steel myself for the onslaught of questions…that never come. Confused, I peel one eye open to glance at her sideways. Her troubled look startles me and I shift to face her more fully. "Grand Dame?"
"This will wait until we reach chez nous (our house)," she replies in a clipped tone, eyes facing dead ahead.
I know better than to push when she's in this mood. In fact, I've only ever seen this side of her a handful of times, and all of those dealt directly with the cousins or my grandfather. What have I started? Perhaps this wasn't the best idea after all.
Once we arrive at the mansion, I follow Grand Dame inside, still unsettled by her stony silence. This is so very unlike my Grand Dame. And yet, I meekly follow her and allow her to dictate how this will continue. She orders mint juleps and finger sandwiches to be delivered to the veranda, where we finally settle ourselves. Grand Dame slowly fans herself while waiting for our food to be delivered. Only when we're left to ourselves, and she's had both a couple of fingers sandwiches and a few sips of her mint julep, does she turn her steely gaze on me.
"What's happened, Grace of my heart?"
I take a deep breath. "Nothing that involves the cousins or Grandpere just yet. There is potentially good news first."
"Good news? Pray tell, cherie," she asks curiously.
"Jo and I are considering having a child," I start slowly, working out what details I can and can't share with my grandmother.
"A child? Oh, Grace of my heart, a great-grandchild? Am I to be so lucky finally?" She smiles and winks at me. "But aren't you missing something?" At my obvious confusion, she chuckles and leans over to grab at my crotch. "There are very vital bits of flesh you don't possess, cherie, and I sincerely doubt Josephine has them either."
"Joanna," I correct automatically, still stunned by the fact that I've just been goosed by my grandmother.
"Josephine, Joanna, does it matter? She's a lovely girl and why haven't you brought her, or that delightful daughter of hers? Her daughter, Jamie, isn't it, must be getting on to her teenage years now, yes? About the same age as you were when we finally met."
Running my hand through my hair self-consciously, I grin at her. "Jo has to work and Jamie's got school. But they both send their love."
"And you wait until now to give me these salutations? Really, Grace, where are your manners?"
I feel the heat rising in my cheeks and feel every bit the twelve year old I'd been when she first came into my life and saved me. "My apologies, Grand Dame," I reply penitently. "I've much on my mind, even if that's not a proper excuse."
She cups my cheek with one hand and smiles benevolently. "Understood, Grace of my heart. So, a baby? And how do you propose that?"
As I launch into the explanation of Casey, Jo's cousin and Jinny's younger brother, I feel guilty for having to lie to this woman who means so much to me. Given what I've learned of this sex-changing procedure, I've wanted nothing more than to have a child with Jo. That I'm unable to share the exact circumstances with Grand Dame truly does hurt, but I understand its necessity. Finally, my spiel is over with and I sit back to watch Grand Dame uncertainly, waiting for her reaction.
"Ah, cherie, you know I would love a great-grandchild to carry on your mother's heritage. And I suppose this is where your concerns with your cousins and grandfather come into play, yes?"
I nod slowly and let out a heavy sigh. "Do you think they would try to do anything if they ever found out? This will be my child, it's just that he or she just won't have been borne by me."
"And will this child have your name or Joanna's?"
I'm so startled that she uses Jo's real name, instead of the teasing nickname she's always used, I'm speechless for a moment. "We haven't actually discussed that yet, but I'm going to push for the baby to be a Polniaczek. The less information the cousins have to try to corrupt or take my child, the better."
"So you fear they'll take reprisals on you in the form of your child?"
"If they so much as disturb a hair on my child's head, they'll wish they were dead," I growl, fist clenching tightly enough to break the glass in my hand. The sensation startles me and I stare at the wet puddle of liquid coating the table, the floor, my lap. "I'm sorry, Grand Dame. I'll clean it up."
"Grace, cherie, you're bleeding. Leave the glass alone for now. Let me see your hand." Her voice is soft, worried, and I hold my hand out to her, belatedly noting the blood. She gently dabs at the trickles of blood, occasionally picking at a piece of glass, and eventually she wraps her napkin around my hand. "Hold that there, cherie, until the bleeding stops. It doesn't look as badly as it could be."
"I'm sorry, Grand Dame," I repeat lamely. "I don't know what came over me."
"Your sense of pride, of self-preservation, of revenge; that's what came over you, Grace of my heart. But you must listen to me, and you must remember what I tell you. No matter what your cousins or your grandfather may think they can do, they have no sway over you or any children you may choose to have. You stood up to them before, and you'll do it again. Unless you want your child to have access to his or her La Magne heritage as the rightful heir of the last true heir of Charles le Magne."
"The name, the power, the prestige, the money; they mean nothing to me, Grand Dame. Surely you must know that."
"Then you have nothing to fear, cherie," she reassures me. "Your grandfather and your cousins can do nothing to harm you or your family. Be content in that. Your grandfather won't live much longer, and none of your cousins have enough intelligence or power to truly follow in his footsteps. You've nothing to fear from them, cherie, and you've no need to exact any revenge on them on your unborn child's behalf. You've a good life, Grace of my heart, and they can't take that from you. They aren't worth ruining what you have with Jo. Tyrannical imbeciles like them never are. My greatest revenge for your mother's death was in liberating you from their clutches. And now, you must continue that liberation, not only for your mother's memory, but for your child's future."
