Chapter Three

Arthur Wessex, former four-star general of the United States Army, and adoptive father of four Wyvern Shifters, frowned as he looked at his watch. The boys were late, and he had things to discuss.

“Hello, General Wessex.” Jennifer Dylluan, his trusted friend, and the boys’ handler, smiled gently as she entered the room.

Her hair was in a professional bun, glasses perched on the end of her nose, and her slate grey suit hugged her curves. She was a pretty woman. Downplay it as she might try, it was still obvious to anyone with eyes.

“Ms. Dylluan,” he returned and nodded once.

"You know, I insist you call me Jennifer,” she replied, her grin widening.

“Well, then, Jennifer, shall we?”

He was a man of few words, for he always believed actions spoke loudest of all. He held out Jennifer’s chair and sat down at the long table in the formal dining room.

A military man seldom made the kind of money Arthur Wessex had in the bank, but he had his late wife to thank for that. Money did not matter, he’d found out once the diagnosis had been made.

You really can’t take it with you, he mused with a snort of self-derision.

He was not ready to leave yet. Though he missed his wife, his sons were still finding their feet, er, wings. He had to stay strong as long as he could.

“Where are the guys?” Jennifer asked.

“They will be here,” he said. “But I am glad we will have the chance to talk first. You’re a Shifter Jennifer, you know the drill.”

“Is there something specific you wish to discuss, Arthur?” she asked with that quietly authoritative air that was so like her.

No wonder his youngest could not help but admire the woman. Though God knew, Conny had some growing up to do if he wanted to impress her. But back to the task at hand.

“As their Wyverns continue to grow in strength and dominance, my boys show signs of restlessness. I believe they need to find their mates, Jennifer. I won’t be here forever, and they will need a source of love, support, and a reason for staying the course.”

“I see,” she said, and he noted the small change in her posture with some interest.

“They are anxious, Jennifer. Finding mates will give them better control of their powers and their beasts.”

“That has been theorized,” she agreed.

“Hmph,” he grunted. “I know your kind are secretive, but I raised them, Jennifer. I have none of the prejudices that other humans in the know have against Shifters.”

“I know,” she replied, and smiled sadly. “I just wonder if it is as dire as you seem to think?”

“Did you know Jasper’s fire can be channeled into a single, slender beam stronger than any laser the government has produced, and with more accuracy than any sharpshooter I have ever heard of?” he began, expecting her argument, and having prepared for it.

“Did you know Heliodore can channel frost, as well as fire, freezing his enemies with a mere snort? Larimar has communicated with wild animals, and maybe even the dead—and I have seen Zircon call lightning to his aid. I tell you these four are more powerful than I’d ever hoped they would be when I worked for the DPCA.”

“Yes. Little is known about Wyverns as a species; and before we found their eggs, they were thought extinct, General,” Jennifer replied. “But they are working for the right people. I have no fears they will go rogue⁠—”

“No, no, they are loyal, I would never question that. As a general, it would be enough, but as their father, well, I want them to be happy too.”

She smiled at him then. A real, genuine smile stretching her lips from ear to ear. He knew he would have to tell her then. A truth he’d wanted to avoid, but he knew he could not any longer.

“I want you to promise me something,” he began.

“If I can,” she returned.

“Promise me you will give up this foolish idea of retirement. My boys will need you, Jennifer. You are the only one they relate to,” he said and took her hand.

“General? You are scaring me,” she said.

“I’m sorry, dear. I hate to burden you, but you see, I am dying.” After a moment, he continued, “I suppose I should be the one who’s afraid.”

Arthur stopped speaking as his four sons entered the room, making enough noise so they could not have heard his private conversation with Jennifer. His heart constricted with pride, swelled with love, and ached with sorrow as he looked at each of them.

They had given him so much, had made him a father, and his beloved wife a mother, when science and nature could not. Sadness enveloped him, but he pushed it away, the soldier in him unwilling to give in to anguish.

“Dad?” Jasper asked, head cocked to the side.

It had been days since they’d all been together and, seeing as how they had just returned from a workout, their senses would be particularly acute. He inhaled, stricken eyes flashing to Arthur’s.

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Please, boys, sit,” he ordered his sons, taking a moment to look at the four powerful and handsome males.

They were older than they looked, but so young in terms of their kind. Supernaturals could live several lifetimes for any normal. The General had worked with enough paranormals to never underestimate their age, strength, speed, or intelligence.

“The best way to give bad news is a lot like ripping off a band aid. You have to do it quickly,” he told them. “Well, here it goes. Boys, I’ve been diagnosed with cancer. It’s terminal and inoperable. I have a little time left⁠—”

“No!”

“There must be something we can do!” Zircon interrupted, but one look quieted his youngest.

He’d raised the four brothers as his own sons from the time they were hatchlings at almost fifty years ago now. He had no regrets about that. His darling Anne could not bear their children, and she’d welcomed the four rambunctious Shifters into their house with open arms. She passed away almost ten years ago now, and it had been very hard on all of them.

“Listen to me because I know you all know I am neither careless, nor do I appreciate having to repeat myself.”

All four of his sons nodded, and each squirmed a little in his own seat. It amused Arthur to still have that effect on them, but he showed no sign of that emotion when he continued.

“I have been seen by the best doctors. I have anywhere from six weeks to six months left. Maybe more, maybe less,” he repeated his diagnosis, noting the pain and confusion in their eyes with an echoing sadness in his heart.

“Now, I expect you to listen, to learn, and to give Ms. Dylluan your complete attention while I submit to the meddlesome care of my doctors. She will stay on as your handler even after I am gone,” he announced, meeting her eyes where she stared back at him, her silent agreement shining in them.

The Owl Shifter was the consummate professional. He knew he could count on her. He also knew that he could always depend on his boys. They were good boys at heart, even if a little wild.

“I know you’ve expressed interest in exploring other avenues of interest, and I applaud your aptitude, but the world still needs you. Please do not give Ms. Dylluan a difficult time. Now, I have contacted my lawyers, and have handed over the estate to each of you now in equal shares before my death. That way, there will be no period of probate or waiting. After we eat, we will sign the papers,” he stated.

“Dad, I don’t care about the money—” Heliodore interrupted, but the General raised his hand to silence him.

“Money is not important until you need it. You are my sons, what is mine is yours. Now, let’s eat lunch.”

Arthur Wessex pressed the button on the intercom and called for their lunch to be brought in. His wife’s family’s mansion was old and large, nestled in the woods in northern New Jersey, on the edge of Morris County.

He had always loved the old place and the grounds, especially. The large, untouched woods were part of the deed he would gift to his sons, making himself happy because he knew they would take care of the land.

He’d been blessed with this wonderful place to raise his boys, and he did not regret a moment of it. No, he supposed lunch would not be a happy affair today, but they would behave with decorum and respect. They would use the manners he and his late wife had taught them from birth.

He hated leaving. Arthur would worry about each of them—he supposed that would never stop—and he would miss them. But the General would not dwell on that.

Not today.

After they’d eaten, Jasper excused himself and went outside to the gardens. Arthur recognized the expression on his eldest’s face. The boy, no, the man was angry with him.

He followed him outside, lighting an old Cuban that he’d been given as a gift back when he’d retired his position with the army.

“You waited a long time to smoke that,” Jasper remarked. He’d always been thoughtful and deceptively attentive.

“Yes. Seems fitting somehow, doesn’t it?”

“So, you won’t get actual treatment. Just care from the doctors.” It was a statement, not a question, and pride filled Arthur as he looked at his handsome son.

“No, I won’t get treatment. I am dying, Jasper, and I would like to do it with dignity. Hell, I should’ve died ten times alone on the battlefield.”

“I’ve heard the stories, father, but this time it’s real, isn’t it?”

Arthur saw the pain in Jasper’s golden eyes, and he wondered, as he’d done a thousand times before, at the inherent magic inside of him, inside of all four of his sons.

Would they ever learn their truths?

Arthur sure hoped so. He hoped with everything inside of him, they would find whatever it was they needed to live their lives, and that they would be happy.

“It has been my honor and my privilege to be your father, Jasper. You and your brothers are the light of my lives. I could not possibly love you any more than I do, but I am worried about you all, my son.”

Arthur puffed out a cloud of smoke and watched it rise into the cold wintry night. Snow dotted the landscape, blanketing parts of it in virgin white. The pines stood tall and proud, wearing their coats year round, while their deciduous kin appeared dead, all naked and bare. They would bloom again. They’d have their time.

Everything did.

“Worried about us, Dad? I’m worried about you. Look, we will take time off, and we will take care of you⁠—”

“No. I won’t hear of it. Besides, you have an assignment. Ms. Dylluan has a file for you. You need to leave tonight,” Arthur said, checking his watch. “You need to leave now, in fact.”

“No, I won’t go. I want to stay with you⁠—”

“Do not dishonor yourself, or me, Jasper. After everything I’ve taught you, you must do your duty,” Arthur whispered, knowing full well Jasper heard him.

He knew his son would not disobey. He was a good boy. They all were. With brave hearts and bright minds. Intelligent, witty, courageous, noble, and handsome as sin.

His sons were Wyverns, the only four of their kind, and if the rumors about Shifters and fated mates were true, they would be even more powerful when they found theirs. Arthur only mourned not being around to see them once they found them.

“I want you to promise me you will do the right thing,” Arthur said, and waited for his son’s response.

“Yes, father,” Jasper replied, though the anger coming off him was tangible.

“I’ll see you when you get back, son.”

Arthur prayed silently that he would.

If you are listening, God, watch over my boys.