Chapter 3 #2
I listened as Mom and Nana talked to Greyson and Jean-Marc about school before Greyson left.
"I've got the monitoring network running remotely," Jean-Marc said, getting to the issue I’d been messaging him about all morning.
"Any magical signature within a half-mile radius of you guys will trigger an alert on your phone.
I've calibrated it to ignore your usual household readings and friendlies. "
"Thank you," I managed, my throat tight. "I'm sorry we pulled you into this—"
"Don't." His expression was fierce. "Those are my sisters and brother. There's nothing I wouldn’t do for them. I’m just sorry I can't be there physically."
Before I could respond—before I could tell him that his being here, even through a tablet screen, was holding me together more than he knew—a soft knock rattled the door. A second later, Stella burst through like a hurricane with a caffeine addiction and zero concept of personal space.
"Where are my godkids?" she called out, already halfway across the room with two carriers of steaming cups and a box of pastries that she somehow managed to deposit on the counter without spilling a single drop. "I brought bribes! And emotional support in the form of chocolate croissants!"
Clio appeared in the doorway behind her. The healer had become a big part of our group during my pregnancy, and it felt natural to include her. She oozed a grace that was the complete opposite of Stella's bubbly, chaotic energy.
"Thank you for including me,” Clio murmured at the same time Stella's arms wrapped around me tightly enough to crack ribs.
I nodded at the healer while my best friend’s familiar jasmine perfume enveloped me. "Tell me everything," Stella demanded when she pulled back enough to meet my eyes. "And I mean everything. Don't you dare leave out a single detail or so help me—"
A chuckle escaped, and I extricated my body from her clasp. “I know, you’ll give me a makeover and try to stick me in a pair of designer shoes.”
Stella beamed at me as she grabbed a cup of coffee. “Damn, right.”
Grabbing a croissant, I messaged Tseki, Murtagh, and Layla to join us.
When they walked in the back door, I launched into the tale again.
Nina and I told them every detail and every horrifying second.
But this time I added what we'd discovered about that scorch mark.
About how close—how fucking close—we'd come to losing Melaina.
Stella's bubbly energy evaporated like steam. and she picked up Melaina. She held our daughter close to her chest. “Who was it?”
“More like a what,” Nina replied as she lifted her phone. “I got footage so you guys can see it.”
"Send that to me, as well," Jean-Marc asked before Nina pressed play and angled the screen so he could see it, along with those who hadn’t the night before.
I couldn't watch the hooded figure stalk us through the market. Or see the reddish-orange lance materialize out of nowhere and head right for my daughter. It was playing on repeat in my head. I should be thinking about Nina's dome snapping into place and how I had deflected it.
"Pause there," Jean-Marc commanded through the tablet, and Nina froze the frame. He leaned closer to his screen and narrowed his eyes. "Those modifications aren't natural. Someone did that to them deliberately."
"The question is whether they were created that way or creatures were altered," Selene said quietly, her dark eyes narrowed. "And why?"
"I might be able to answer part of that," Stella said, making every head turn toward her. "I need to tell you something. Something I learned last night after Nina called me."
My heart started hammering against my ribs. "What?"
"I reached out to my contacts across the network I’ve been building," she said, referring to the relationships she’d been developing through her real estate dealings.
She might only have been an agent in Camden, but she had started gathering other paranormal agents across the country and creating a network she could access.
Perks of being outgoing and friendly. "Three other supernatural families have reported similar attacks in the past two weeks. "
"Jesus." Mom's hand flew to her mouth.
"You guys all have something in common.”
Nana made a come-on motion with her hands. “Well, don’t keep us in suspense. What is it?”
“They are all families with infants under six months old.
" Stella released her cup and grabbed a scone.
"None of the attacks killed anyone, but each one was more aggressive than the last. The first was in Portland involving a fire elemental family.
Their daughter survived because her father's flames burned hotter than the attacker's spell.
The second was in Montreal. Selkie twins were targeted, and their mother pulled them into the water just in time. "
"And the third?" Aidon's voice had gone dangerously quiet.
"It was in Phoenix last week. A Fae family adopted a human infant that they'd rescued from being trafficked." Stella met his eyes, and I saw her chin tremble despite her efforts to stay composed. "They’re devastated that the baby didn't make it."
Nina made a small, wounded sound that had Selene pulling her close. Mom looked shell-shocked, making Binx rub against her arm. "Then we’re dealing with some baby serial killer? Is that what you’re saying?” Nana demanded.
“I sure hope not,” Stella replied. “There’s no doubt that someone is targeting supernatural children."
"Why?" The word came out of my mouth strangled. It was barely more than a whisper.
"I don't know yet. But—" She pulled out her phone, scrolling through messages. "The descriptions from all three attacks match what you saw. Hooded figures. Gray skin. Long fingers with black claws. And that same reddish-orange energy."
"Someone out there is hunting supernatural babies,” Nana said flatly, and the rawness in her voice made me flinch. “We need to find them before they hurt anyone else."
Tarja leaped onto the island with that feline grace that somehow always looked like she was defying gravity, her green eyes bright. “That sounds exactly like what we learned in Stuleros last night.”
Binx padded to her side. “My father and the other familiars shared their memories with us. What they've witnessed. What they've survived.”
He settled onto his haunches, his tail curling around his paws.
“A hooded figure—much like what we saw today—stalked a woman with a basket in medieval France.
Her magical baby was in the basket. The attack was swift and brutal.
The mother's desperate defense barely held.
The figure only retreated when the town's witches responded.”
“A century later,” Tarja added, her mental voice crisp and clear, “in a different country.
Another magical child was almost killed.
It failed only because of the intervention of a witch and her familiar.
The familiar said the hunter's lance burned the same reddish-orange. It left the same scorch marks.”
"How many times has this happened?" Mom asked, her voice tight.
“They told us about a dozen such attacks before they suddenly stopped," Tarja replied. “It seemed as if these were infants with more than average power. The children need to be visible to those who hunt magical bloodlines.
“The familiars in Stuleros remembered attacks across continents,” Tarja continued. “Across centuries. It always had the same pattern.”
"Why didn't you tell us before they were born?" I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended, but fuck it—this was my children's lives on the line. "You knew this could happen and you didn't—"
“Because I didn’t know about this before now.” Tarja’s voice remained friendly despite my anger. “I’m not omniscient, and this was not something my witches had ever had to deal with."
Mom reached down to stroke Binx's head, her expression a mix of understanding and frustration that probably mirrored my own. "Did they tell you what was doing this?" she asked.
“Unfortunately, they didn’t know, but the consensus is that Aidon was right and it’s a wraith of some kind,” Tarja purred as she nosed Melaina’s foot where it dangled over Stella’s arm.
"Okay, I’d like to examine the babies," Clio said, already moving toward the stairs with that healer's purpose that brooked no argument. "If their magical signatures are what's drawing these hunters, maybe we can find a way to cloak them."
Clio's hands hovered over Melaina without touching. Her eyes took on that unfocused quality healers got when they were seeing with senses beyond the normal five. She read her energy before repeating it with Nyssa and Thaniel.
"Well?" I asked when I couldn't stand the silence anymore.
"Their signatures have intensified significantly since birth.
" She turned to face me. "It's normal for divine children to manifest early, but your three are exceptionally strong.
Melaina's fire magic is already more developed than some adult elementals.
Thaniel's electrical control is unprecedented for an infant.
And Nyssa's shadow work—" She paused, and something like awe crossed her face.
"Phoebe, her shadows are sentient. They respond to her emotions with purpose and intelligence. "
"Is that bad?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted.
“It’s perfectly normal,” Aidon interjected. “Mine were the same way when I was little.”
Clio smiled at us. "It's remarkable. These powers make them visible to anyone with the right kind of sight. They're like beacons. If we can’t cloak them, we need to teach them control as early as possible. And until then, we need to keep them protected."
But before anyone could respond, Jean-Marc's equipment started beeping urgently through the tablet speakers. "What is it?" Aidon demanded, moving to stand in front of me.
"There's a magical signature approaching." Even through the screen, I could see Jean-Marc's fingers flying over his keyboard. "It’s powerful. And it's not trying to hide."
A howl split the air outside. One of the shifter’s issuing a warning. Within seconds, Tseki and Murtagh were heading for the door with their claws out. Layla was right behind them, already shifting. Aidon stepped fully in front of me with shadows gathering around his hands.
"An evil creature who has come to kill the babies wouldn't ring the doorbell," Stella pointed out, her usual brightness dimmed with caution. Her fingers twitched toward the athame on the island.
"No," Nana agreed, pushing herself up from her stool. "But someone with manners who wanted to chat might. It’s a novel concept, I know. What is the world coming to?"
Aidon crossed to the door, peered through the peephole, then went very still. The kind of still that made my stomach drop to my feet. "It's Hecate."
"The Goddess of Witchcraft?" I squeaked, my voice jumping an octave. "Here? Now?"
"Apparently." He opened the door, and every protective instinct in me screamed to throw myself over my babies like a human shield.
The woman who stepped inside was both ageless and ancient. Her presence filled the room. She was beautiful, terrifying, and utterly other. She wore modern clothes. Jeans and a leather jacket. Power radiated from her in waves that made my skin prickle and my magic reach out instinctively.
"Lord Aidon," she said with a slight nod. Then her gaze found me. I felt it like a physical touch. "Phoebe Duedonne. We need to talk about why your children are being hunted."