Page 7 of Thunder with a Chance of Lovestruck

“What white dress?” I asked, my attention going to Henry.

Henry glanced at me and then at our uncle. “It’s not important right now.”

“What dress?” I asked again.

Nile looked me up and down slowly. “One that would look lovely on you.”

After that remark, I didn’t actually want to know any more about the dress.

“Rachael,” said Henry calmly. “Amice has been planning this for weeks. While I’m less than pleased she’s insisting on having our Hunter attend, I understand how important this is to her.”

Because I liked Amice, I refrained from protesting anymore—for now. Plus, I was stunned Nile had agreed to break bread with anyone from the Nightshade Fae Clan.

Nile only barely managed to keep from scowling. He wasn’t a fan of Henry’s wife any more than he was of me. Not a complete shock, seeing as how I’d once heard him refer to women as something one required to carry on their family legacy by way of birthing sons, but worthless beyond that. I’d been six or seven at the time and had asked my father what he’d meant by the statement. That was the first time I could remember that I realized my father hadn’t liked his brother very much. He’d tolerated Nile’s antics because it was expected of him.

He'd indulged Nile’s whims and supported whatever newest shiny object or endeavor that had caught his attention, but he didn’t like him. And he’d been nothing like Nile, aside from their speech patterns. My father had been warm and loving.

“Rachael,” said Amice from the top of the stairs. She was dressed in a gown that looked stunning on her. That wasn’t a shock. She always looked amazing and seemed to love wearing dresses all the time. She smiled down at us as she began her descent. “Look at you three, all lined up. It’s easy to tell that you’re related. I swear something is in the water with how tall all of you Frankensteins are.”

“Perhaps the child will be tall as well,” said Nile snidely. “Oh, but wait, we’re not sure who her—”

Henry cleared his throat, cutting off whatever Nile had been about to say. He then watched his wife as she came down the stairs.

I’d been so incredibly thankful when Amice had come into Henry’s life by way of a man we called Uncle Victor, and while that was true—he was our uncle—he had so many greats before his name that I’d lost count.

Amice’s appearance on the scene had caused an uprising in the Frankenstein household. Henry had been taken with her from the word go, much to the dismay of Nile, who had been vehemently against the idea of Henry having anything to do with her.

I’d liked her from the start. The fact Nile didn’t care for her only made me like Amice more. She brought out the Henry I knew and loved. Though I had noticed shades of Nile still showing through, especially when the topic of the Nightshade Fae Clan came up.

We Frankensteins had a lot of history with them. None of it was good.

The family had been required to meet monthly with an assigned Nightshade Fae Clan Hunter the whole of my life, as well as many generations before me. It was part of the sanctions handed down by the heads of the Nightshade Clan. It was punishment for the misdeeds of the very man who had brought Amice into my brother’s life—Victor Frankenstein.

Victor had been behind one of the greatest medical breakthroughs ever discovered. Which would have been amazing had said breakthrough not resulted in reanimated corpses wreaking havoc on the world.

That was frowned upon, and with good reason.

The only saving grace of the situation was that most people thought the breakthrough was nothing more than fiction. Not fact. It was far easier for people to swallow the tale as fiction, rather than the truth. That a man had taken a variety of body parts and stitched together a person before sending electricity through the creation, giving it life.

The story was infamous, so much so it had taken on a life of its own (pun intended). It didn’t matter that most had the story wrong. That the creation hadn’t been eight feet tall and green with bolts on the sides of his neck. That a combination of clever storytelling on the part of Mary Shelley and Hollywood’s desire to give moviegoers a fresh experience—since color films had been new then—had left the truth of the matter buried in history.

I had to wonder if the Nightshade Clan had been involved in the cover-up. I knew they’d been part of the cleanup effort after all had been said and done. There was no telling what they were truly capable of. That was part of the reason so many feared them.

My father would tell us cautionary tales when we were young, wanting us to understand how important it was that we never go down the dark path that had led others in our family astray.

Sanctions were really a blessing compared to what could have happened. The Fae weren’t known for leniency, and they didn’t love the fact our family had traces of Fae in it. We weren’t full-bloods. We were mutts in their eyes. A mistake that just so happened to specialize in making more mistakes. The Frankenstein family was lucky the Nightshade Clan hadn’t wiped us from existence long ago, cutting the vine at the root, rather than the rot from the vine.

“You look marvelous, my love,” said Henry, still gazing up at his wife as she continued down the stairs. He met her right before she reached the bottom and extended his hand to her.

Amice took it and Henry helped her down the rest of the stairs before drawing her into a hug and a kiss. She giggled softly and buried her face against his chest before composing herself. She patted Henry’s chest, her gaze sweeping to me. Excitement showed on her face.

Henry laughed. “Go hug her. You know you want to.”

Amice squealed and came for me.

We embraced and launched into how much we’d missed each other.

Nile groaned. “Women.”

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