“She’ll probably Dewey decimal your cookbooks.”
“I don’t have any cookbooks.”
“Metaphorically speaking.”
“Oh, hush,” she said, curling up against my side and resting her head on my shoulder. “I’m too tired for multisyllables.”
I grinned into the darkness. “Me, too.”
“Do you think the baby is okay?”
“Yes.”
“Does your mother know where we keep the diapers and everything?”
“Yes.”
She gave me a light sock in the arm. “I’m too tired for multisyllables, not multiwords.”
“Got it.”
She started to giggle. “I like your parents.”
I pulled her closer and stifled a yawn. “They like you, too.”
She was quiet for a long moment and I thought she’d gone to sleep. “I miss Laria.”
“Want me to get her?”
“No,” she murmured through a yawn. “Bunny and Jack need some time with her.”
And just like that we let down our guard and trouble walked right in.
26
CHLOE
I woke up with a start and poked Luke in the side. “Did you hear that?”
“Mmm-mmph,” he said, burying his face deeper in his pillow.
“You didn’t hear that yelp?”
Maybe he couldn’t hear it over his snoring.
Laria wasn’t in her bassinet, which meant I wasn’t going back to sleep until I found out what the yelping was about.
“Nothing to worry about,” Jack said as I stumbled sleepily into the living room. “Everybody’s fine.”
Laria was lying on the floor in a soft and cozy nest of blankets. She wore a pale peach onesie with watercolor bunny rabbits on it and was happily kicking her arms and legs like it was early morning instead of late at night. I bent down next to her and she clutched at my finger with one tiny hand and my heart did that crazy lurching thing it did every time I saw her.
“Where’s Bunny?” I asked, looking up at a slightly disheveled Jack.
He looked down at his feet and my early-warning system went off. “She’s—uh, she’s in the bathroom.” He met my eyes briefly, then glanced away. “She had a little accident.”
“Watch the baby,” I said, then raced down the hall.
“Now, don’t worry,” Bunny said when I burst into the tiny bathroom. She was sitting on the closed toilet seat running cold water over a hand towel. “It was just one of those freak things.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “You’re getting a black eye.” A horrible thought popped into my head. “Did Jack—”
She laughed, then winced in pain. “Actually it was Laria.”
“Laria?” It was my turn to laugh. “No, seriously, Bunny. How did it happen?”
“It was Laria,” she repeated. “I was tickling her tummy during a diaper change and she kicked me in the face.”
I made all the right noises, but I found it hard to believe my week-old infant could kick hard enough to do any damage at all. A poke in the eye? Sure. But Bunny’s eye looked like it ran into a small but powerful fist.
Was it possible the MacKenzies really had mixed it up in the living room and Bunny was covering for her husband? I pushed the thought out of my head. Maybe she had had one of those klutzy accidents (the kind I had all the time) that were too embarrassing to own up to and she had substituted a little white lie.
I had no idea, but there was one thing I knew for sure: Laria couldn’t possibly have done it.
“You need ice,” I said as I took a good look at the quickly bruising area. “I’ll be right back.”
I dashed to the kitchen, grabbed an ice tray from the freezer, and hurried back to the bathroom.
“I’m supposed to be the nurse,” Bunny said with a rueful smile as I wrapped the ice cubes in a damp towel. “I should be taking care of you.”
“I brought you some ice cubes,” I said with a laugh. “I didn’t perform surgery.”
“I’m sorry I woke you,” she said, wincing as she pressed the cubes against her eye. “You must be wishing Jack and I had stayed somewhere else.”
“We’re glad you’re here,” I said. “All three of us are.”
And the strange thing was I meant it. Not the black eye part, but the rest of it.
An hour later Bunny and Jack were safely ensconced in our minuscule guest room. Laria was asleep in her bassinet. And Luke and I were having one of those intense whispered discussions familiar to new parents since time began.
“A week?” he whispered, sounding desperate. “They’re going to be here a whole week?”
“They want to help us with the baby,” I whispered back. “That’s what families do.”
“We only have one bathroom.”
“I know.”
“My father can stay in there for hours.”
“TMI,” I said.
He drew me into a hug and I curved my body around his. “And here I thought Elspeth was our biggest—” He stopped. “Trolls hold grudges, right?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Maybe Elspeth coldcocked my mother from some other dimension as a way to even the score.”
I started laughing and had to bury my face against his side to keep from waking the baby. “She doesn’t even know your mother. Why would she want to punch her?”
“Think about it,” he said. “Elspeth was seriously pissed at us, right?”
“No argument there.”
“And she hates humans.”
“Agreed.”
“Why not take a free shot at my mother and screw with us in the bargain?”
“You’re beginning to sound like one of those conspiracy theorists. If Elspeth wanted to take revenge against us, she wouldn’t be subtle about it. We’d be the ones walking around with the black eyes.”
“Okay, then how about what happened to you at the Presentation ceremony?”
“I tripped.”
“Backward?”
“Now you sound like Lynette.”
“So I’m not the only one who thought it was weird.”
“No, you’re not. But people have weird accidents every hour of every single day.”
“And there’s probably a troll behind most of them.”
“Welcome to Sugar Maple,” I said, then promptly fell asleep.
I woke up just before dawn with my breasts aching and heavy with milk. Strange, I thought. Laria demanded food every two and a half hours, night and day. She was like a tiny Swiss clock engineered for total accuracy. Was it possible I’d slept through her cries? Waves of mommy guilt washed over me as I glanced at Luke, who was sleeping soundly next to me. It didn’t seem possible that we’d both sleep through her demands and it definitely didn’t seem possible that Bunny wouldn’t have heard her cries in the guest room next door.
I quietly climbed out of bed and peered into the bassinet.
Okay, now that was even stranger. Laria was wide awake, looking up at me, as peaceful and placid as an infant could be.
Just the sight of her made my milk flow. I scooped her up and carried her out to the living room. I loved to sit in the rocking chair while I nursed and watch the sun come up over the mountain Forbes the Giant called home. Funny how you could spend your entire life in the same town and never take time to appreciate the small daily wonders.
Despite all the drama surrounding her birth and the Presentation ceremony, I had felt more settled and at peace in the last eight days than at any other time in my life. All the puzzle pieces had finally dropped into place and—
“Ouch!” I didn’t mean to yell, but Laria had my nipple in a death suck. “Sweetie, let go!”
Her eyes had lost that deliberate look and had gone all unfocused. So much so that I wondered if maybe she had fallen asleep while nursing and this was some painful (to me at least) reflex motion.
The pain increased. We were at nine on a scale of ten and climbing fast and my girl
was hanging on like an angry dog with a bone. I stood up and started walking swiftly around the room, hoping to break her concentration, but somehow she managed to take it to yet another level of hell.
I guess I was making more noise than I realized because Bunny ran into the room, hair askew, feet bare, and quickly gauged the situation. I thought I saw a small smile twitching at the corners of her mouth but didn’t have time to be annoyed. I was too busy trying not to cry.
“She won’t let go,” I managed. “I can’t make her stop!”
“You need to break the suction,” Bunny said, then told me to slip my fingertip between the baby’s mouth and my poor abused nipple.
Which turned out to be easier said than done. “I can’t get my finger into her mouth,” I said. “She’s latched on pretty good.”
“Let me try,” Bunny said. “Do you mind?”
At that point I didn’t mind if every soul in Sugar Maple gave it a try.
“You’re right,” Bunny said as she tried to slide her pinky between my screaming nipple and Laria’s hungry mouth. “She’s like a little vacuum cleaner.”
“Please, I can’t take any more! Do something!”
“I’m trying, honey, but—wait a second ... wait a second! Mission accomplished!”
Tears of relief coursed down my cheeks as I freed my poor nipple from Miss Baby Death Grip.
“Go put some ice on it,” Bunny advised. “It’s going to bruise anyway, but the ice will make you feel better.”
“I think we’re going to have to change her name to the Terminator,” I said as Bunny followed us into the kitchen. “She definitely did a job on the two of us.”
Bunny took Laria while I rummaged in the freezer for a bag of peas I could cover with a dish towel. (We’d used up all of our ice tending to Bunny’s Laria-induced black eye.)
“You know,” Bunny said, placing a kiss on the baby’s forehead, “she feels a little warm to me.”
I winced as I placed the makeshift ice bag against my breast. “Maybe I should put on one of her lighter onesies.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. Touch her forehead.”
I pressed my lips to her soft, fragrant skin and frowned. “You’re right. She is running a little warm.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Bunny said. “Babies run low-grade fevers all the time, but let’s keep an eye on her.”
I peppered her with questions about babies and fevers, when to worry, what to do, who to call, and I started to wonder how new mothers made it through the early weeks without someone to lean on. I trusted my magick friends implicitly, but there was something deeply comforting about sharing my concerns with Laria’s grandmother. Her blood kin.
I gritted my teeth and tried to nurse, but Laria was having none of it.
“Her little mouth is probably sore from all that sucking,” Bunny said with a chuckle.
Although I didn’t mind the reprieve, Laria’s lack of interest left me vaguely unsettled.
“Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day,” Bunny said, peering out the kitchen window. “I think I’ll change into some warm clothes and go out for a nice long walk. I might even stop at that bagel shop and bring home some goodies for all of us.”
As far as houseguests went, Bunny MacKenzie was a whole lot more fun than Elspeth.
Ten minutes later I heard Bunny and a grumbling, half-asleep Jack head out on their early morning constitutional. Laria was lying peacefully in her bassinet, not asleep but content to watch the world go by. Luke had planned to go in to work for a few hours and catch up on things. He was in the bathroom showering. I stretched out on the bed, telling myself I wasn’t going to fall asleep.
So much for good intentions. It seemed like a second later that Luke was shaking me awake.
“Wh-what?” I mumbled, trying to pretend I had been awake all along. “I was just resting my eyes.”
“Something’s wrong with the baby.”
27
CHLOE
Instantly I was stone-cold awake and on my feet. Laria was lying in her bassinet, her tiny arms and legs outstretched like planks of wood. Even her spine looked rigid.
My own knees went weak and I grabbed on to Luke for support. “I think she’s having some kind of seizure.”
I’d never known fear like that in my life. It shot through me like lightning headed straight for the core of my being.
“Where’s my mother?” Luke asked. “She might know what this is.”
“She and your dad went for a walk into town.”
Laria’s mouth twisted into an expression of pain mixed with bewilderment that I hope I never see again.
I cupped my hands and brought up blueflame. “I’m calling Janice,” I said to Luke. “We need help.”
“This better be good,” she said from within her hologram a second later. “I’m trying to get the kids ready for school.”
I quickly laid out the problem.
“I’m on my way,” she said and the hologram dissolved.
Luke and I didn’t even have time to panic. She was there with us in a heartbeat, not even breathing hard from the rocky transition. She scooped the baby up in her arms, but instead of melting into Janice, Laria grew stiffer and more rigid than before.
“What is it?” Luke demanded. “Say something, Jan!”
“Quiet,” I warned him. “She’s concentrating.”
Janice laid the baby down on the bed and massaged her tiny limbs. Laria began to cry, huge, gulping howls that tore at my heart.
“We need Lilith,” Janice said.
Luke reached for my hand and we both held tight.
“It’s that bad?” I asked, my voice trembling.
The last thing you want to see on your best friend’s face at a time like this was compassion. “I don’t know,” she said. “That’s why we need Lilith.”
Lilith came to our side in an instant. She and Janice directed all of their energies, all of their combined skills in the healing arts, toward Laria while Luke and I could do nothing but watch and wait and pray for answers as our baby’s tiny body went into what seemed like spasms at irregular intervals.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Lilith said finally during one of Laria’s quieter moments.
“Neither have I,” Janice concurred. “It’s some kind of seizure, we’re in agreement on that, but that’s all we know.”
“I think you need to take her to a human hospital,” Lilith said, her lovely face awash in worry.
“No!” The word burst from my mouth. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
“Honey, you know we wouldn’t recommend it if we didn’t think it was important.” Janice put an arm around my shoulder and gave me a quick hug. “Laria is more human than magick. She needs the kind of help only a human doctor can give.”
“At least for the diagnosis,” Lilith said, trying to ease our fears. “Once we know what we’re dealing with, we can come up with a plan to fight it.”
“But until then we’re stymied,” Janice said.
“But you were able to help me,” Luke reminded Janice, “and I’m full-blooded human.”
“Please,” Janice said, taking his other hand in hers. “Listen to me. I wish I could do something right now, but I can’t. I think you two should get in your Jeep and take Laria to the ER now.”
I gasped as Laria’s body went rigid once again and her eyes seemed to roll back in her head.
“I’ll warm up the Jeep,” Luke said and took off at a run.
I was shaking so badly I couldn’t dress the baby. Lilith and Janice had to help me snap and button her into her clothes then wrap her in the yellow and white log cabin blanket I had knitted for her over the summer.
“Take her to Good Samaritan,” Lilith advised.
I must have looked as blank as I felt. “Good Samaritan?”
“The human hospital. It’s not too far from Sugar Maple.”
She grabbed paper and pen from my nightstand and wrot
e down the information.
“Take this,” she said. “And if you can, ask for Dr. Albright. She’s studied herbal healing with me so she’s sympathetic to our ways.”
I nodded, but my mind was empty of everything but terror.
“Bunny and Jack are out walking,” I said as I hurried toward the front door. “Tell them where we are and give them directions, okay?”
“Your phone!” Janice grabbed my cell from the hall table.
Baby. Phone. Diaper bag. I was running on automatic pilot as Laria and I flew across the snowy yard toward the Jeep.
Luke wasn’t doing so well himself. It took two of us to get the baby properly strapped into her car seat. But when he got back behind the wheel he managed to pull it together. Which was a good thing since I was a total wreck.
I gave him directions to the hospital, but other than sharing the information about Dr. Albright, we didn’t say a word to each other. What was there to say? Something was wrong with our baby girl. The waves of mommy guilt grew stronger with every second that passed. Should I have seen a human doctor during my pregnancy? Had my stubbornness somehow hurt Laria? Would a medical doctor have noticed a problem early on and handled it in utero? Was I to blame for whatever was happening to her now?
“Don’t cry,” Luke said. “She’s going to be fine.”
I cried harder.
“Kids are always coming down with weird things,” he said, the slight hitch in his voice giving him away completely. “My parents spent half their adult lives in the ER waiting for one of us to be examined.”
But we weren’t your average all-American family and Laria wasn’t your average infant. Magick flowed through her veins and we had no way of knowing how or if that magick would somehow make itself visible to a human doctor. But even discovery would be a small price to pay for our daughter’s life.
I’m a worrier. The worst-case scenario is always my go-to position. And that was where I went as we raced toward Good Samaritan. By the time Luke wheeled into the parking lot and raced toward the ER entrance Laria was in the throes of what looked frighteningly like a seizure.
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