Chapter 12
Deejay
The phone rings twice before Loretta’s Mattatron answers it with a bit of snark. “Hello, Deejay. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Good evening, Loretta, thank you for taking my call,”
I greet her, returning the attitude, though we’re both teasing. “A few of my boys are at the Galleria and happened upon a Chaos Eater.”
I hear her Mattatron give an audible gasp, but I’ve never known Loretta to make such a noise, so I assume that it’s his expression of horror, not hers. “How did you attract the attention of a Chaos Eater?”
she demands, and now I can hear her shock, so maybe the gasp was hers.
“I have no idea if it was intentional or not. They met the Chaos Eater at the mall, so it could be coincidence, you know.”
“I’ve known too many Diviners to believe in coincidence, Maledict. I will send a team. I’ll keep an eye on your boys while they shop in case he’s specifically targeting them. Do you think this is connected to the Siren?”
“He gave up rather quickly for that to be the case, but if he is targeting anyone in my family, I am telling you now he won’t live to see the Headsman.”
I’m the Maledict, Prime World Eaters can be cursed to death just as easily as Siren assassins.
“Make sure it’s justified, and there will be no problem between us,”
she instructs me. “I will have my enforcers investigate his presence in Houston, and hopefully ascertain whether he’s an actual threat to us.”
Chaos Eaters aren’t predictable, if their species name didn’t make that clear. They’re gaping maws of unending hunger for numinous energies, and they feast on every kind of psychic and magical energy, the livelier the better. They don’t have a natural power cap, they are as powerful, magically speaking, as there is energy to feed them. For a Chaos Eater, a scared child in a fire is as bolstering as the fireman saving the child, but, if the child and fireman are also non-human, the energy is far more ‘nutritious’ for the Chaos Eater—the difference between a fast food hamburger and a cut of rare prime rib. Feeding from non-magical energies doesn’t pack as much good, lasting power for them as feeding from magical energies does.
“Thank you. Please let me know what you do find out when you interview him.”
She assures me that she will keep me updated and hangs up. I have no doubt that she will be good to her word, so I holler for Kendall and Colt.
When they appear in the kitchen door, I point to the table. “Clear the table and set it, please.”
Kendall moves while Colt hesitates. “What’s for supper?”
he asks suspiciously.
“My boot in your ass if you don’t get moving,”
I tease him, but he hops-to even if he glowers about it, so I give him a real answer. “Also, chicken parmesan, and baked fettuccine alfredo with zucchini.”
“Yum,”
Colt decides while Kendall frowns at me.
Kendall is not a fan of zucchini, but in our house, we have rules about food. We can all choose one food to refuse to eat, but we have to eat everything else. Kendall chose all mushrooms, so he must eat the zucchini. Colt’s choice has always been fresh tomatoes, which cracks me up because the boy will gag trying to get mushrooms down, but can eat a tomato without that kind of violent reaction, and yet, he still chooses to eat the mushrooms over the tomato. We have mushrooms far more often than fresh tomatoes because I don’t like tomatoes either, so I choose not to have them on the table except for on our twice monthly salad nights, whereas I love mushrooms and will put them in a dish at least twice a week.
I put the hot food on the table with a selection of fresh vegetables that I always have, and then grab the twins from their pack and plays one at a time. I get them situated in their highchairs, and just get seated myself when the doorbell rings.
I shoot Kendall a glance. “Please give your brothers cut up portions of the alfredo,”
I instruct as I get up.
My doorbell only rings for two reasons: a new nephew or a delivery. Since I’m still not expecting a delivery, I prepare myself for another nephew. Taking in Matt and Cary seems to have opened the floodgates for my sister’s stepsons. Since I still haven’t made a general announcement that they should bring me their stepsons, I’m grateful the word is spreading so quickly. I both mind it because it sucks that they’re breeding with men who already have kids and subjecting those kids to their neglect, and I also don’t mind it because those boys deserve so much better than my sisters in their lives, and if their fathers are willing to hand them over to a stranger, they deserve better than their fathers as well.
When I open the door, the man standing under the colonnade is far too old to be a nephew. “Can I help you?”
I ask, stepping out and shutting the door behind me.
“Hello, I’m Calvin Julien. My wife told me she dropped my son off here?”
Interesting. I’ve never had one of the dads show up after the fact. “Two things. One: even if your ID says Calvin Julien on it, I have no way to verify you are who you say you are. Two: my nephews get dropped off by their mothers and I make it clear that those boys are mine as of that moment. What do you want with what is mine?”
He gives me a wide-eyed, appropriately fearful look. If this guy knows anything about the non-human community, he needs to remember that I am the ruler of this domain. “I just came to give him his inheritance. My wife slipped out of the hotel with him this morning before I could give it to him, so I came to hand it off.”
He holds up a small plastic lock box.
“I see,”
I grunt. “I can deliver it, but my nephew is not currently available, and even if he was, I wouldn’t let you see him unless he wanted to see you.”
And happened to mention it without prompting since there is no way I would tell Robert his dad stopped by with no intention of taking him back.
Calvin decides to set the box on the ground rather than approach me. “That’s fine. I’ll get out of here. Thanks for…whatever,”
he stumbles out as he backs toward his car and fumbles into the driver’s seat.
I watch him leave, not moving until he disappears out of sight, then I pick up the box, examining it. I don’t take chances with my boys and I am paranoid enough not to bring unexpected packages into my house until I’ve vetted them. Fortunately, I have a special way of making sure deliveries are safe to bring into my home. “If you were packed with ill-intent, rust will eat you, fire will burn you, and the evil intended for the receiver will come back on the sender tenfold,”
I murmur, using my power to cement the curse. I watch the black tar sphere of the curse spread over the box, but when it doesn’t disintegrate and burst into flame immediately, I breathe a sigh of relief. At least the inheritance isn’t something meant to hurt Robert more.
I take the cursed object into the house, considering the long-term impact of keeping a cursed box. I am a Curse-Weaver, not a Curse-Ender, so I can’t remove the curse I’ve put on it. It’ll be fine for the lifetime of the box as long as no one trips the curse with bad intentions. I’ll have to warn Robert about it, so I put it on top of the fridge out of reach of the littles and sit back down with my boys.
“What’s that?”
Kendall asks curiously as I dish my food up.
“Cursed box. Also Robert’s, so stay out of it.”
Kendall and Colt haven’t yet met Robert, but I did warn them we have a new arrival.
“Was it cursed before or after you received it?”
Kendall asks for clarification.
“After,”
I chuckle.
He nods accepting my answer as enough explanation.
Colt snorts and frowns at me. “You don’t have to curse everything that comes into the house,”
he comments sarcastically.
“I don’t curse everything,”
I smirk at him. “I didn’t curse you when you came in the house.”
Colt cocks his head, arching his brow. “Are you sure about that? Because I’m fairly sure I wasn’t born with webbed feet.”
It’s nice when I can draw him out of his teenage angst and the permanent baditude that sometimes irks me.
I give him a level stare. “You don’t have webbed feet.”
Colt shrugs pointedly. “How would you know? I always wear socks.”
“You’re so full of shit,”
I grin proudly. Teenagers are just so much more stimulating conversationalists than babies, though I love having babies too.
He grins at me, wide and toothy. “Learned from the best.”
“Damn straight,”
I agree with a decisive nod.
“Monet is pretty amazing,”
Colt adds without missing a beat.
Kendall snorts as I glare at Colt. “And who do you think taught your brother how to bullshit?”
I deadpan.
Monet is one of my adopted sons; I got him when he was thirteen and I was twenty-one. He currently studies at Texas A&M in College Station, though he’s a few short weeks away from graduation.
“Are we going to his graduation in May?”
Kendall asks, interrupting the repartee.
“Of course. We’ll be driving there as soon as you get out of school on the Friday before and then we’re coming back Sunday morning. It’s going to be a hard and fast trip, but we can’t miss his graduation. Everyone will be there.”
“Everyone?”
Colt asks, perking up.
I nod my confirmation. “I’ve already discussed travel plans with your older brothers and booked the hotel last December when we were sure of his graduation. We’re taking over the Marriott,”
I smile. I don’t get to see all my oldest sons often, but they all gather for the important events. “We’ll see everyone for Monet’s graduation and then we’ll see them again for the Fourth of July. We’re going camping the whole first week of July with all your brothers.”
“Awesome,”
Colt decides. “Can’t wait to shoot off rockets with Jansen. Bet he brings his big ones.”
“Remind him in June so he doesn’t forget,”
I suggest. Jansen is my third oldest son, and a rocket scientist and hobbyist—he knows how to have fun with rockets and will share his love of them with anyone who shows the slightest inkling of interest.
Colt nods, pushing his plate away. “Done. May I be excused?”
“What’s your excuse?”
I challenge.
“Traffic was a nightmare,”
he pops off, grinning.
I point a finger gun at him and laugh. “Better make haste,”
I dismiss him.
Kendall pulls Colt’s plate under his and sighs. “May I also be excused?”
I grin at him. “Do you have an excuse?”
“Mercury’s in retrograde,”
he offers with a reserved smile.
“Terrible news. Better go check your tech or something.”
“Probably going to lose the mail tomorrow,”
he snorts as he takes his and Colt’s plate to the sink.
I check on the progress of the twins’ meal, letting them mostly just play with what’s left. They covered themselves in noodles and sauce, but it looks like more of it got in them than on them, so I consider it a win. I finish up my supper, then grab two wet washcloths to give them a quick wipe down before bath time.
After baths and bottles, the twins go down for the night. It feels strange getting them ready alone even though Matt’s only been helping with this for a week at most. The thing is, I love going through the day to day with him. He makes the grind of parenting enjoyable because he’s there in the thick of it with me, laughing at the same things that bring me joy and frustrated with the same things that frustrate me. It’s nice to have an understanding partner I know I can trust. So, even though it hasn’t been long since he really stepped up and started helping me, I feel his absence acutely.
Hell, I am such a sap!
When I get the babies down, I do a bed check for Jasper and Cary, finding them tucked up. I give them both kisses, listening to them each give me one story about their trip to the mall. Surprisingly, neither mentions the Chaos Eater. I close their door, and knock on Kendall and Colt’s door, getting a come-in response immediately. They’re laying side-by-side on the bottom bunk. Kendall reads from his eReader while Colt plays a tappy-tap game on his phone.
“Aren’t you a little old to be sharing a bed?”
I ask, arching a brow at them.
Kendall puts his device down and frowns up at me. “We aren’t sleeping together. Colt was playing a game and I was reading to him.”
“Ah.”
Makes sense. Kendall can project his thoughts into someone’s mind if he touches them. “Well, don’t stay up too late.”
I stoop down and kiss each of their foreheads in turn. “Love you.”
Kendall blows me a kiss back. “Love you too, Papa.”
Colt puts his phone down and stands up, hugging me. “Love you too. Good night, Papa.”
I squeeze him, grateful for his hug because I just don’t get one from him as often as I used to.
He lets me go, grabs his phone, and climbs into his bed. “Will you hit the light?”
he asks before I leave.
I smile and turn off the light, wishing them a last goodnight before heading to Robert’s door. I knock lightly and wait since I’ve already explained the rules about our rooms being our safe spaces.
He opens it, standing back from me a bit.
“Hello, Robert. Did you get everything you need?”
I ask, looking over the pajamas he bought.
“I got what I could think of. I really need to get in to see a doctor. I had a panic attack when I should have been protecting the kids, and I need to get this under control.”
He sounds determined, though a bit nervous, swallowing hard after stating his needs.
“I will make an appointment tomorrow. I also know an experienced therapist who has worked with me and my sons for years if you want to meet her. She’s quite the exceptional therapist and has taken care of my family with me for a decade.”
Robert nods. “Um, please call me Robbie. I prefer that.”
“Sure,”
I agree with a pleasant smile. “When you’re ready, there’s a box on top of the fridge in the kitchen. It was dropped off for you, but just so you’re aware, I cursed it before bringing in the house to make sure that it was safe. Don’t unpack it and then repack it if you have any ill intentions in your heart. In fact, I very much suggest taking whatever is out and then destroying the box altogether. Cursed objects can be a bit tetchy.”
Robbie blinks at me before slowly nodding. “Ooookaaaay…”
“I’m the son of a Naiad. My talent is cursing. I am known as the Maledict, but I can’t undo my own curses,”
I explain with a shrug. “Have a good night, Robbie. We’ll get you sorted tomorrow.”
Robbie takes a deep breath and forces a smile. “Thank you,”
he says seriously. “I mean, for everything. I would be—”
he chokes up, clears his throat, and continues, “lost without you.”
“Let me make this perfectly clear, Robbie: you are mine, now. My family, my nephew, mine. Whatever you need, whatever you require—it is a joy to provide, not a burden. And you are very, very welcome.”