Chapter 3
Life with newborns meant sleep didn't last. The baby monitor's soft chime dragged me from the first deep rest I'd managed in months, yanking me back to consciousness like a fishhook in my chest. I blinked at the tablet's glowing screen, disoriented and fuzzy-headed until I registered Thaniel's fussing.
I tried. Really, I did. But the moment he left the room, my mind kicked into overdrive.
Someone had tried to kill my daughter. A modified wraith—or something worse—had tracked us to a public place.
And then launched an attack precise enough to target Melaina's heart.
That scorch mark on the stroller was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
We'd been lucky. Next time, we might not be. The thought had me reaching for my phone. If there was going to be a next time—and there would be, I wasn't naive enough to think otherwise—I needed every advantage I could get. Every ally. Every scrap of information and protection we could gather.
My fingers flew across the screen, composing messages I should have sent hours ago. It was the middle of the night, but my friends would forgive me. This couldn't wait. Not when my children's lives hung in the balance.
"Emergency family meeting. Kitchen. 10 AM. Be there."
I sent it to everyone, even the people in the house who were asleep just down the hall. Then I stared at the screen, watching the read receipts. They popped up one by one like little soldiers reporting for duty.
Stella's response came first, because of course it did. My bestie was awesome like that. "I'll be there early to give my god children loves and get breakfast."
Nana's followed seconds later. Her message made something warm unfurl in my chest despite everything. "I'm loading my shotgun."
That startled a laugh out of me, short and sharp in the quiet room. "You should both be asleep," I sent back with a smile. Nana had always been sassy. Now, she was a serious badass. It was impressive for a ninety-year-old woman.
Nana's reply was immediate. "Says the girl texting at 1 AM. Besides, sleep is for people who don't have great-grandbabies to protect. Now quit nagging me and go wake up that gorgeous mate of yours for something more productive than worrying."
Heat flooded my cheeks even as I laughed, the sound muffled against my hand. Leave it to Nana to be completely inappropriate at one in the morning. "NANA," I typed back.
"What? I'm just saying, stress relief comes in many forms, Buttercup. And that man of yours is—"
I didn't read the rest, my face was burning as I set the phone down. But the tension in my chest had eased. It was replaced by something lighter. Something that felt almost like hope.
By the time Aidon returned with a sleepy Thaniel cradled against his chest, I'd received confirmation from everyone. Relief and guilt twisted together in my stomach like fighting snakes. These people dropped everything for us. They would walk into danger without hesitation because we were family.
Blood or chosen, didn't matter. Both bonds were equally strong. Equally terrifying in what they demanded.
"You're supposed to be sleeping," Aidon said, settling back into bed with our son tucked between us. Thaniel's tiny hand wrapped around his finger, and an occasional spark danced harmlessly across his father's skin. They were little flickers of light in the darkness.
"I had to make sure everyone would be here in the morning." I ran a hand over our son's soft head, marveling at how something so small could be so precious. So vulnerable. "Everyone's coming at ten."
He studied my face in the dim light from the monitor, those impossibly blue eyes seeing straight through every defense I tried to mount. "Good. I meant to text before we fell asleep."
Guilt moved in and twisted in my gut. "I hate putting them at risk," I whispered, my voice cracking on the words. "I wish we could handle this without them."
"They'd be insulted if you left them out." His free hand found mine, threading our fingers together in a knot nothing could untangle. "Besides, this is what family does. You taught me that."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to protest that this was different.
That I couldn't bear the thought of anyone getting hurt because of us.
But before I could form the words, Melaina's cry pierced through the quiet. It was equally as sharp and demanding as Thaniel’s.
Within seconds, Nyssa's wail rose to meet her sister's.
The two of them created a chorus that meant this night was far from over.
"I've got them," I said, already pushing myself up despite Aidon's hand on my arm.
"Phoebe—"
"It’s ok." I was already moving, my body responding to my daughters' cries before my brain could fully engage. "Stay with Thaniel."
I padded down the hall to the nursery. My bare feet were silent on the cool hardwood. The crying intensified as I approached. Both my daughters had worked themselves into a state that meant this was going to be a production.
"Shh, I'm here, I'm here," I murmured, reaching into Melaina's crib first. She was red-faced and furious. Her tiny fists were waving like she was ready to fight the world. The same fierce spirit that had protected me while she was in the womb.
I scooped her up against my chest, her warmth seeping into me.
Then I turned to collect Nyssa, who was crying so hard her little face had gone blotchy.
Shadows were pooling anxiously around her blanket.
I had to set Melaina next to her sister so I could scoop both up at the same time.
Once in my arms, I moved Nyssa to the crook of one arm, leaving Melaina in the other.
With one baby cradled in each arm—a skill I'd developed out of sheer necessity—I made my way back to our bedroom. Aidon had just stood as if he were going to join me and then settled next to Thaniel again. Our son's eyes opened and closed when the mattress dipped.
"Hand me a pillow?" I asked as I settled cross-legged on the bed.
He tucked a nursing pillow around my waist one-handed. We'd become a well-oiled machine since the babies had been born. There were times he knew what I needed without my asking.
I arranged the girls on either side of the pillow, and he unbuttoned my top.
I unclasped one side of my bra while he got the other.
He helped Nyssa find my breast while I guided Melaina.
The moment they latched, the crying stopped.
The sudden silence was almost deafening.
It was broken only by the soft sounds of nursing and Thaniel's gentle breathing.
"There we go," I breathed, the tension in my shoulders starting to ease. "That's better, isn't it?"
Melaina's tiny hand found my finger, gripping it with surprising strength for someone so small. The same fingers that would have been stilled forever if that attack had landed. My throat tightened, and emotion threatened to overwhelm me.
"Don't," Aidon said quietly, moving closer to us on the bed. "Don't go there."
"How can I not?" I whispered, looking down at my daughters. "Someone tried to take her from us."
His hand came to rest on my thigh, warm and solid.
"And they failed. They'll keep failing. We won't let anything happen to them. If you can’t trust the family we’ve built, trust that my mother and father will do whatever they need to make sure no one touches a hair on their heads.
These babies have more powerful beings looking out for them than I did. "
The girls nursed for twenty minutes, their tiny mouths working with single-minded determination that would have made me smile under different circumstances.
After being burped and changed—a process that had Aidon and me moving in that silent synchronization we'd perfected—we got them back to sleep.
This time, we kept them in bed with us. Their warm little bodies were nestled between us like the most precious treasures in existence.
We drifted in and out of sleep, feeding and changing them in those dark, quiet hours when the world felt suspended.
By the time we dragged ourselves out of bed a little after eight in the morning, I felt like I'd been through a war.
Which, considering what was coming, probably wasn't far from the truth.
By nine-thirty, our house had transformed into a command center.
Mom and Mythia had commandeered the kitchen at dawn.
They started baking enough pastries to outfit an army.
The scent of coffee and cinnamon scones filled the air.
There was nothing like comfort food for uncomfortable conversations.
Binx curled up in a slice of sunshine in the window above the sink.
His blue eyes tracked everything with an unnerving intensity that reminded me he was far more than just a cat.
Nana entered the kitchen carrying a canvas bag that clinked ominously with whatever arsenal she'd deemed necessary. She kissed each baby's forehead before settling on her stool at the island like a queen claiming her throne, dropping the bag at her feet. Talk about a promise of violence.
Nina and Selene each munched on a cinnamon scone, drinking coffee. Nina jumped into action when the tablet on the small desk off to the side of the kitchen chimed. “Hey, big brother,” she said with a smile.
Jean-Marc returned her grin. Behind him, Greyson lifted his hand in a wave. “Hey, Nina. Good to see you. How’s it having new baby siblings?”
Nina showed them the babies, holding them up one at a time while my gaze scanned the room visible behind them. Jean-Marc lived with Greyson, Emmie and Skylar, my friend Fiona’s children. The girls weren’t there though.