Chapter Twenty-One
Greginald
Esmeray buried himself in work as time moved on, taking his promotion as seriously as I took my appointed position in the precinct.
And with each passing day, we grew closer toward his due date, closer to him taking his mandated six weeks of paternity leave.
Mine as well, despite me not being with the precinct that long, they’d given me six weeks and the ability to work from home for a few months while we transitioned with the manny.
I arrived home an hour early to meet the interior decorator that evening, keys pointlessly turning in the door as whoever came ahead of me hadn’t locked it back.
I flicked into my security app and saw Draevus walking in with our decorator early that morning and sighed with relief as they carried boxes in together.
“Gre, is that you?” Draevus called out as I stepped into the foyer and jogged out, head leaning over the banister. Along every baluster had been woven a fine mesh that spanned the length of the mezzanine and down the stairs to the bottom and top where baby gates had been securely screwed in.
“It is. What’s all this?” I glanced around and noticed small changes, furniture bolted to walls, safety latches, sockets with those little guard things on them decorated with red frowny faces.
“I hired a babyproofing expert, and they’ve been seeing to everything.” Draevus smiled wide. “Since you won’t let me gift money or anything extravagant, I’m doing this instead.”
“They won’t even be crawling or holding a fork to even tempt an outlet for months!” I sighed heavily, and Draevus gave me a concerned stare.
“Son. I say this with much respect, but you have zero clue what this child will be capable of. Esmeray was walking at four months. Hell-borne children are vastly developed. Hell is a horrid place for children to survive.” Draevus jogged down the steps, the gates opening automatically for him as he sauntered down.
“There’s a fingerprint scanner on the top, or you can carry one of these.
” Draevus held up his key chain, and a little glossy white fob clattered about.
“I think I’ve been readying myself for a shifter child. How—are there any demon parenting classes?” I followed Draevus up as we made our way to the nursery.
“That’s why Kismet is starting in two weeks, dear. He’s raised several children into their school years just fine. He’ll whip you into shape.” Draevus patted my shoulder and reached into his jacket before pulling out a rather stern-looking book. “And until then, read this.”
I glanced at the cover and read it aloud. “Raising Hell, a Thirteenth-Month Guide to Surviving Infernal Infantsy.”
“It’s the up-to-date one because so much has changed since Esmeray was a baby. You know they say to wait at least three months before letting them have sulfur supplements now? Back in my day, we just gave them a lump of ore to teethe on.”
I flipped through a few pages and there was a great deal that I had missed. “Noted.”
As we made our way to the room next to ours, we stuck our head in, and I knew Esmeray would love it right away.
It’d need time to air out, but fresh dark-green paint coated the walls where a softer green had been used to paint the silhouette of foliage in places.
The crib was fireproof, the sheets an emerald green in a black crib.
A matching sound machine sat perched and pristine on a changing table nearby—already fully stocked with an appropriate-size assortment of diapers.
A comfortable rocking chair sat with a table beside it already stocked with a phone charger and tablet stand.
Esmeray could work while feeding or at least watch some videos.
And the flooring? It had been a gaudy sort of mauve carpet, but that had been pulled up in favor of a hardwood floor, which bore several interlocking foam pieces covering it.
Babies were filthy and accident prone and making it easy to clean and soft made for a happier home.
Depending on who was cleaning. Esmeray hadn’t been as productive as usual, considering his growing size.
The sprites I had in my old home had vacated the premises, and it was a bitch to get ones in newer homes with less residual energy. Draevus had suggested imps, but I’d hired help a few times a week to tidy up and do laundry—except the folding. I still liked that part.
Everything Esmeray and I had selected had been put up, and the decorator was putting the final touches on organizing drawers of neatly folded clothes, stacking diapers, making it social media ready, something we didn’t care for but she did.
“Well, now that you’re here, you can get started on an early dinner and read a bit while we wait for Esmeray.”
I took his prompt for what it was—a polite demand to leave. “Are we having you over for dinner?”
“I am. I won’t linger, though. I know Esmeray is going through the changes,” he said politely.
The decorator snorted as she walked by. “Those last few weeks are nightmares for omegas.”
“Spare me the details, Millie!” Draevus huffed and wandered off, and I took that as a sign to go prepare a few plates of something Italian.
Esmeray was consistent in his preferences, at least. I reached for a cabinet and tugged, only to find the cabinet door stuck.
After a few rattling attempts, a piece of plastic caught my finger, and I glanced in, studying a little white springy mechanism that had latched the cabinet door.
I wondered in what world our child would be able to get that high up and paused.
I flicked through the other book Draevus gave me and confirmed.
Flight started early for hooflings. I mouthed the word as I curled my finger against the mechanism and popped it open.
With a wave of my hand and a whispered spell, I hummed a bar of song about dust in the wind and the book floated, staying in the corner of my eye as I moved from one task to the next.
Parsley, garlic, tomatoes. I gathered them and sat a half-eaten jar of capers on the counter with Esmeray’s tea mug, bag already in.
I needed only cast a spell to heat the pot of water on the counter nearby and pour.
Magic had become so much easier since we bonded, and perhaps it was a bit of his thaumaturgy that had reinforced my own mana.
By the time Esmeray arrived, I had only recently put the pasta on to boil, and he dragged his feet to the stool, breaths heavy. “Any day now, Gre.”
“I can tell. How you holding up?” I swept around the kitchen to give him a kiss, our lips lingering for a second longer than a peck.
The contact relaxed him as I drew the sigil and poured hot water into his cup.
He’d drink it still boiling if I let him—demon.
I turned my back and went to the stove, smiling when I heard the caper jar open. Predictable.
“Pretty good,” he said around a mouthful. “Is the decorator here?”
“Almost done, actually.”
“I saw a bunch of baby safety stuff…” Esmeray glanced around, and I fidgeted with a cabinet lock to get some olive oil out as called for in Vincenzo’s book.
“Your father hired a baby safety expert to come in and babyproof the house while we were out today.” I waited for his inevitable huff of frustration. He hated his father intervening. So, when it came, the inevitable spit of a demonic swear, I flinched as the glass in my hand cracked.
“Sorry.” His muttered apology bled into a groan of discomfort as I threw the glass away.
“No big deal. You’re having a rough time.” I went about cooking as he sipped his tea. Again, after a few minutes, he huffed, and I turned, finding the timing a little too regular. “You alright?”
“I’m fine!” He sat his tea down and slid from the stool before storming out to go upstairs and check on the baby’s room.
His fight with the baby gate brought me over to give him his tag to open it. “They’ll get your fingerprint for it later.”
He glared at me and stomped up the steps, a certain smell about him more sulfurous than normal.
I added that to the mental list in the back of my head and went back to the kitchen, prepping food.
I had the sense to portion the pasta into reusable containers and add the sauce on top before clicking them neatly into place and stowing them in the fridge.
I watched the clock as I took off my apron and took a deep breath when Esmeray’s cry rang out from upstairs, followed by Draevus’s panicked call for me.
“Called it.” I took my damp rag, wiped the counter with a swipe, and strode off.
Because it wasn’t a hospital we’d be going to.