Misty fell back onto her sofa, laughing. "A demonologist? Is that even a real thing?"
"It was, but I don't do that much any more."
"No, I would imagine not," Misty said, the laughter still rich in her voice.
"But that's why I'm here now. 'Graham Mitchell, adjunct professor' wouldn't have been very useful in the explanation I'm about to give."
"Okay?"
"You're being hunted, Misty."
You don't say.
Mason's voice ran through her head, unbidden. Her defenses had been slipping lately, she realized. Or he'd been more determined to undermine them.
"What do you have to do with it?"
"Well, they're not just everyday, ordinary people, are they?"
"You know the answer to that, if you're asking the question."
"I try not to ask questions I don't know the answer to."
"Oh yeah? Wise guy, huh?"
"Just so." He pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and put it between his lips. "You need me to open a window?"
"If you insist on smoking," Misty said. Her nose crinkled at the thought of it. As he moved to open the window she took another long look at him. His body was impressive, she realized. More than impressive. He looked like he could box with a bear.
"Well, long story short, I can take care of your problem. Or at least, I can mask it long enough for the problem to go away on its own."
"Oh, I'm sure you've got some big, clever plan all lined up. Is that right?"
"I wouldn't call it a big plan. I'm just going to baptize you."
"Can you do that?"
"Why couldn't I?"
"I don't know, I just… I thought it had to be in a church."
"Well, sure, traditionally speaking. Desperate times."
Misty's lips pursed together. "And why, pray tell, will this help?"
"You've got a unique child growing inside you." He waved his hand as if to push away any questions. "Everyone who's anyone knows already. The thing is, your… unique situation, and your child's, being in the same body… Draws attention. The wrong sort."
"How will baptism help?"
"Think of it like a 'Do Not Enter' sign, more or less."
"Oh, now you tell me," Misty muttered. "Would've been good to know that twenty years ago."
"I wasn't in the country twenty years ago. In fact I was only three, so I was just about speaking my first words."
He poured a big bowl of water from the tap as they spoke, speaking more of the same foreign language. Misty changed her guess. That wasn't Spanish—it was Latin.
Then, a moment later, he turned to Misty, dipped his hand in the water, and sprinkled it on top of her head. Then he said some more words she didn't understand. Except the last one: "Amen."
The easy way it all happened seemed at odds with his promise of warding off "the wrong sort of attention." It felt a lot more like he hadn't done a thing.
But the confidence in his face was endearing, and made it harder to doubt him. Graham thumbed another cigarette out of the pack and slipped it back into his pocket and lit it, took a long drag.
"When are you going to ask me?"
"Ask you what?" Misty laughed. "If I can get a smoke?"
"If I'm available." He pulled the mostly-unsmoked cigarette out from between his lips and ground it out. "There, are you happy?"
"Very," Misty answered. "What do you mean, available? Like, for parties?"
"Very funny." He took a deep breath and looked at her sideways. "You know, I've seen the way you look at me."
"Like what?"
"Like a piece of meat, frankly," he said, turning to Misty.
"You're a priest, dude," she said softly, as he stepped up so close that she could smell his deodorant. "You're not supposed to do this stuff."
"No, I'm not. Never ordained. I washed out."
"What's that mean?"
"It means I can do whatever I want." He brought up a hand that brought her head forward, their lips together. Misty could feel the spark between them, the spark she had always felt.
"Why me? I've never even been to church, you know. I'm having a baby out of wedlock… You're—you almost were—a priest."
"Maybe I understand better than you think," he said. His breathing was hard, and Misty knew that his pulse raced just as much as hers.
Misty's breath caught in her chest. Who did this guy think he was? "You don't know anything about me."
"No, you don't know. But I'll show you," he breathed the last part like a threat, a threat that sent a shiver of arousal and fear down her spine. He pushed her back with his chest, and she found herself pressed against the arm of the sofa behind her. "You can't stand the idea that someone might know you. Might know what your life has been like."
He stepped up to her, and now she was trapped. Between a rock and a hard place, so to speak, and Misty wasn't sure whether she wanted to run away now, or to see how deep the rabbit-hole went. Graham made the decision for her, getting closer still. That scent, it drove her mad.
"I don't know what it's like to grow up seeing spirits, but I've had my fill of them a dozen times over. I know what it's like not being able to talk to people about it, because they've never seen—won't ever see—what you see."
His hands came up to her stomach and started to unbutton her blouse, button by button. The movement distracted Misty, cut off any response she might have had.
"But I know more than you about it, too. You've learned things, I'm sure. How to get by, how to hide yourself from prying eyes. But that's just a trick, a parlor trick. Anyone could learn it, untrained. Just want it bad enough, and you'll learn right quick."
He slipped another button out of its hole.
"No, that's nothing, when you're learning for real. You probably think you're stuck with your ghost friend, don't you?"
"Mason and I—"
"I could send him on. To the next stop on the road. You know what I mean, right?"
"Heaven?"
"Give it a name," Graham breathed, then kissed her again. Misty felt the resistance inside her ebbing. She hadn't known how badly she'd needed this, but now that Graham dangled it in front of her, she couldn't resist. The need to be with someone, to have someone not asking for your time but for your…
"I don't want this to just be another one-night thing, Graham. I'm tired of it."
"I'm not asking for that. But…" He pressed his lips into her neck, tracing a line down as he moved up to another button. "You are going to need to learn to trust me."
"Then…I trust you."
"Good. Let's try that out, shall we?"
Misty felt the last button come undone, and her shirt fall apart. Graham's hands, rough and strong, pushed them aside and cupped her breasts, her breasts that grew every day along with the child inside her. Her nipples stung with oversensitivity as he rubbed a thumb across one, but the familiar pleasure came along with it, amplified by the pain.
"What do you mean?" She was afraid to ask.
"Lay back and close your eyes." His voice was low and gruff, almost a growl. Misty moved to lay down on the sofa and laid back. She closed her eyes, and as they closed she realized the mistake she'd made.
Whatever he had planned, the reason he had her close her eyes was that she might try to stop whatever he was about to do. She knew it wouldn't be dangerous—if he wanted to hurt her, then he'd had all the opportunity in the world already. But whatever was going to happen…
Her eyes stayed closed, in spite of her doubts. This was a test, and she needed to pass it. She bit her lip unconsciously, trying to control her fears. Then, in spite of her worries, she waited.
It felt as if an eternity passed in the moments, her eyes shut, waiting for Graham to make his move. Then a feeling, down below—something pressed against her through the thick denim of her jeans. Something that moved in small circles, rubbing in just the right place, driving her wild.
"Don't stop," she whispered—and as the words left her mouth, he
stopped.
"You're not in charge, right now." His voice was right by her ear, the breath coming out of his mouth hot, making her ears burn just a bit. "But don't worry, I'm not going to leave you hanging, either."
Unseen fingers touched her at the waist, fiddling with the button of her jeans, and a hot mouth engulfed one of her large, sensitive nipples. Misty let out a long sigh and lifted her hips up, enough to help Graham pull them off.
"Are you going to fuck me?"
"I guess you're going to find out, aren't you?"
His fingers started rubbing again, the same circle. Misty rolled her hips up into the movement, trying to drown herself in the pleasure. Closing her eyes only helped to drive every feeling, every nuance home to her, and the feelings crashed on the rocks.
"Graham?" Misty was surprised at the sound of her own voice. She didn't sound like herself—not even aroused, she sounded…afraid.
He didn't stop moving, not right away, but his voice sounded concerned. "Is something wrong?"
"Why did you come to me?"
Graham frowned, and his ministrations slowed. "I'm tired of not saving people. I knew you were in danger. I watched from a distance, at first. Got to know your habits. When the danger manifested…I had to save you."
"It sounds like you care about me."
His fingers stopped moving and he pulled away. "I care about you very much."
He kissed her again, a kiss of desperation. Then he was between her legs and moving. Misty had been through a lot in the past months; it seemed like she was never going to be right again, but as he fucked her, as he held her close, she realized. With him, she could be.
When he finished, he continued to hold her, both of them trying to catch their breath, from the excitement of the past few days, from the lovemaking.
"Will you let me stay?" It was Graham this time.
"Even if it's only a few days."
"I'm not talking about a few days, Misty Reed." They kissed again, and Graham pushed her back onto her back.
"I know you're not."
The Pregnant Triplets 1
Knocked Up For Her Inheritance
Selena Savage
“Lila?” The voice on the other end of the line, obviously my aunt Jen, is wobbly and choked. Sitting in the sunshine with my two sisters, the sound of her voice is a strange juxtaposition. I lean forward, shooting a worried look to Ella and Mila, who both stop chattering and listen in.
“Yeah, Aunt Jen? What's wrong?” I ask. I can't think of a reason she would be calling me if she needed help, and considering both of my parents died when the three of us were teenagers, she couldn't be calling about them.
“Oh, honey. I'm so sorry to call you, I don't even know if you're busy, but I know you were close to her...” She chokes again, sobbing for a few seconds before taking three big gulps of air. Worry gnaws at my gut as I wait to hear what has my aunt so upset.
“Lila, your grandma just passed away. She had breast cancer that she never told us about.”
My whole world stops, and from the look on Mila and Ella's faces I can see that theirs has, too. Grandma Jeanne was my best friend when I was a little girl. We were her only grandchildren and, when Mom and Dad died, we lived with her until we went off to college.
I try to say something, but my voice just cracks. I hand the phone off to Mila, without a doubt the strongest of us three.
“I can't believe she's gone,” I whisper.
Ella is already sobbing, her face in her hands. “I didn't even get to say goodbye!” She wails. The sunny day just became a cruel joke, and I just want to go inside. I want to hide away, go home to my boyfriend and just lay in bed with him for the rest of the week.
“Okay, thanks. Have the lawyer call me.” Mila wipes away a single tear as she hangs up the phone. Her bottom lip quivers, but with a look up to the sky she composes herself. “Grandma left us something. We'll be getting a call from the lawyer tomorrow. I'm going to head home, and I suggest you girls do the same. Meet me at my house around noon tomorrow.”
She stands up, not offering to hug us. She just places a hand on my head, and then her other on Ella's head, before walking slowly to her car.
“I'm going to go home, too.”
I chew at my lip, worrying about Ella as she stands up. I stand up, too, hugging her tight. I watch as she walks away, keeping my eye on her until she turns the corner. She's devastated, but at least she lives close enough to not have to drive.
Being a triplet is weird. I hear it isn't like other siblings. When one of us is in pain, we all sort of instinctively know. So when we're all in pain, the misery is amplified. This was very true when Mom and Dad died. We were miserable for months longer than we should have been, because we fed off of each other.
Now that we don't live together anymore, though, it's easier. We'll probably be able to move past this pretty soon.
“I'm home,” I call out, wiping away big tears from my eyes. Noah comes out from the bedroom, his hair wet from a shower.
“Hey, babe. I just got back from a run, and I need to spend an hour or two finishing up this code, but-” He stops, and looks at me. His fierce blue eyes tear through my attempt to hide my sadness, and in seconds I'm on the floor crying with his arms wrapped around me.
“Baby, what's wrong? What happened?”
“Grandma Jeanne died! She died and we didn't even know she had cancer! We can't even afford to go to her funeral, Noah, it just isn't fair!”
Noah says nothing, only holding me tight. After a while, my sobbing dies down, and then I can stand up again. I take deep breaths, standing near the window and looking out at the playground near the apartment. Children are laughing and running around the swing set, playing tag. I wish I was a kid again. I wish I could go back to before all of this loss and pain.
“You'll get through this, Lila. You're strong. If there's anything I can do, just tell me and I will do it.”
I met Noah when I started college. Unlike Ella and Mila, I'm actually seeing my education through. That's not to say that Ella and Mila are failures. Ella was destined to be a housewife, and Mila bust through the glass ceiling at the advertising firm she interned at. They're both successful at what they love doing.
Meanwhile, I have no clue what I want. This year I switched my major for the second time since I started. Now I'm focusing on psychology, but it's so boring.
Noah has supported me through it all, though. He works a pretty nice job, it brings in enough money to pay for our needs. Just not a lot of our wants. When I get out of school, my debt will be crushing. If we get married, he'll be crushed by it too.
I'm so scared about the future.
It doesn't help that I've been baby crazy for the last year. Every time I ovulate, I go nuts. I usually keep it hidden, but a few times I begged Noah to impregnate me. He's never said no, only that it wasn't the right time.
We both want a big family, just not with almost a hundred thousand dollars of debt hanging over us like a Sword of Damocles.
Mila's house isn't big, but it's taken care of. She pays gardeners to keep her roses healthy, and spends her weekends outside tending her vegetable garden. She lost 15 pounds in the last year just from gardening and eating her own produce. She's lucky. I can barely keep my basil plant alive.
“Hey, Lila, come on in,” Mila says. I can hear Ella's sniffles in the living room as soon as I pass through the threshold.
“She's still miserable, huh?” I ask, my heart aching. I miss my grandma, too, but Ella and Grandma Jeanne were more like sisters.
Mila nods, throwing her red hair behind her shoulder. “She probably will be for a while. Anyway, the lawyer is going to call any second.” As she says this, her phone buzzes in her pocket. “Speak of the devil. Hello?” She puts the phone to her ear and stalks into the living room. “Hang on, let me put you on speaker phone.”
“Hello, ladies. Your grandmother told me so many stories about you. She loved you so much.” The lawyer is a woman, probably
old herself. I can imagine Grandma chatting with this woman over tea, telling her about the time I scraped my knee because I was too scared to ride my bike safely.
Ella sniffles. Big, sad tears run down her face and into her pouting lips. She looks like she didn't get a wink of sleep. Even though she's the eldest of us triplets, she's always been the big baby. We try to protect her, but life has a way of throwing punches where we least expect it.
“Well, I hear only Mila will be able to make it to the funeral. That's fine, and you'll each be sent rose bushes fertilized by her ashes, as she outlined in her will. She also had one other thing for you. Your grandmother had six million dollars, saved up and gave me instructions to split this evenly between you three.”
I gasp. Ella sobs and pulls her knees up to her chest. Mila just listens.
“Six million dollars?” I ask.
“Yes. But, there is a catch.”
With two million dollars, I could pay off all of my loans and move into a house with Noah. We could be free to do what we want, to figure our lives out. Of course that money won't last forever, but it will last long enough to get us on our feet.
“You must give birth to a child before you can be given your share of the money. There's no time limit, though. You could wait until you're forty years old if you don't care about the money. If you hit menopause without having given birth to a child, your share of the money will be given to your grandmother's church.”
“What!” I yell, standing up. “You have to be kidding.”
“This is ridiculous. Are you sure this is what Grandma wanted?” Mila asks.
“It is.”
We both look at Ella, who stares miserably out the window.
Mila leans forward, her eyes slits as she regards our sister. “Did you know about this, Ella?”
Ella nods, wrapping her arms tight around her body. “Grandma told me about it when Eric and I were worrying about money. It was right after we got married. Grandma said if we made it on our own, then once she's gone we'll have it much easier. I just need to get pregnant.”
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