7. What makes no sense? The entirety of your life? #2
The happy squeals in the back of the vehicle implied I’d mentioned their fast food joint of choice.
It took several minutes for the whelps to calm down enough to tell me they’d do anything for McDonald’s.
Bailey would adore scheming with them for extra chances to eat all the nuggets she wanted, too.
“McDonald’s it is. All I ask is you take your time eating so you don’t get sick. ”
If they’d been raised like most gorgons, they’d view my word as law, a painful enough thing to watch despite knowing their training was necessary.
Gorgons who endangered humans rarely lived long lives.
I’d have to enforce their obedient behavior, something Bailey would protest until I reminded her they needed to be disciplined if they wanted to survive through adulthood.
Then I’d have my hands full reining Bailey in, as she often struggled with the basic concept of moderation.
At McDonald’s, Beauty seized my hand and attempted to meld with my leg while Sylvester latched onto the one being no sane mortal would test: his namesake. As angels loved children even more than gorgons, the whelp would be safe enough in his care.
Two joy-induced meltdowns and sixty nuggets later, I carried a sleeping Beauty to the SUV while my angelic grandfather coaxed her brother to walk under his own steam.
“I can’t believe you fed them thirty nuggets each,” my gorgon grandfather complained, helping to settle Sylvester in and buckling his belt. “Have you considered calling Bailey and asking her to come home?”
“You know I won’t do that. You also know why.”
“I do, but I felt the need to remind you that it’s a possibility. What do you want from us in the meantime?”
“I don’t think a father who’d lost so much would risk his children like this.” Like his sister, Sylvester passed out, and I sighed. “Find their father. If needed, I’ll prepare Bailey for an adoption match.”
My angelic grandfather’s sigh didn’t bode well.
“Some mysteries shouldn’t remain hidden in the dark.
For their sake. You won’t find him.” The finality of his words made me wince.
Angels couldn’t lie, and when he said I wouldn’t be finding their father, he meant it.
I presumed it meant the gorgon had perished and his body had been destroyed.
The last thing I needed was another potent batch of gorgon dust making a mess of things, but I’d anticipate and expect it.
Gorgon males who disappeared without a trace usually ended up in a vat to become a batch of gorgon dust for some idiot’s ambitions.
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
“It’s not. I’m sorry. The how and why is the mystery you must solve, but there is no future with their father in it. I’m not permitted to look any further into the matter than that.”
God worked in mysterious ways, as did His angels. “Per His will?”
“Per His will. He permitted me this much. Otherwise, I’d complain.”
My incubus grandfather snickered. “He hates the whining.”
How had my gorgon grandfather become a bastion of sanity? “Can you handle the legal matters for me and register Bailey as the primary match participant with me as her backup and partner?”
“You plan on fighting dirty for them, I see.”
“They deserve only the best, and that’s all Bailey knows how to do.”
“While true, you as her partner sends an odd message.”
“Does it? She rules my roost, and I’m okay with that. It’s not my fault most gorgons have no real appreciation of a good woman. And Bailey, in case you were unaware, is the best of women.”
“She’s a walking disaster, little grandson. She’s everything you need in a bride, but that doesn’t change that she’s a living, breathing, walking disaster waiting to happen. What sort of disaster will she create next? That’s the real question.”
“I wouldn’t say she creates them,” I protested.
“Samuel.”
I sighed. “They just happen around her.”
“She brought phoenixes to a gorgon fight and won.”
“It’s really not her fault the feathers became phoenixes.”
“She planned on it.”
She would. “She loves babies, so all incidents of rabies don’t count.”
My angelic grandfather laughed. “I peeked into the past. Yes, her new puppy was rabid, no, she didn’t contract rabies rescuing him, and yes, she’s doing the treatment anyway. Expect some form of illness.”
My breath caught, and I shivered. “Her immune system is breaking down again?”
“It’s nothing her friend can’t handle, but she’ll be miserable for a while.”
Perkins sighed. “Tiffany has done so much damned medical research lately she could probably perform brain surgery and get away with it.”
“No.”
Everyone laughed at me, and my angelic grandfather ruffled my hair. “She won’t need anything that drastic. It’ll probably just be a cold.”
“The last time she had a cold, she hallucinated hungry spiders in her hospital room and kept begging me to feed them.” While her hallucinations had been hilarious, I had suffered from nightmares for weeks after, aware of how close to death Bailey had come. “You’re sure it’ll just be a cold?”
“Mostly.”
“You know she’ll get sick, but you don’t know the specifics?”
“Precisely.”
“Have I ever told you that angels are assholes?”
My grandfathers snickered.
“I’ve heard such a thing before.”
“Well, it’s worth repeating. Angels are assholes.”
Perkins sighed, claimed the front passenger seat, and shook his head. “If I mouthed off to an angel like that, I’d be exploring the afterlife right now. You? You mouth off to an angel, and he laughs.”
“There are perks to being the product of weird familial relations. They are few and far between, but they are there.” I did a second check of the kids and their belts before closing the SUV’s back door. “Is it a safe assumption you can’t help with the rabies situation?”
“He has meddled enough in human affairs lately. When men try to make themselves into gods, men must deal with the consequences on their own.”
That didn’t sound good. “Are you being literal? Please tell me someone isn’t trying to become a god. Honestly? Being a police chief is a tough enough job. I don’t want to deal with anyone with divine aspirations.”
“No one sane does.”
Perkins rolled down his window. “Not to interrupt, but I’d like to remind you that the bible does imply that things like intentionally spreading plague and so on is technically His domain.”
“Not quite,” my angelic grandfather replied. “That thought is close enough to serve a purpose in this discussion. The children of the divine are expected to do such things. That is their nature. However, men without divine blood are incapable of handling such power. All it will do is destroy them.”
“Like ambrosia will.” I wished I could forget Bailey’s distant eyes whenever she was exposed to the divine essence. “Having divine ancestry isn’t a guarantee.”
My grandfathers laughed, and my angelic grandfather ruffled my hair again.
“You think of your Bailey as always. She’s safer than even you, Little Samuel, and you carry the blood of many divines.
No, don’t worry about her and ambrosia. When she dives into its golden depths, you’ll understand why men fear the children—or grandchildren, or even the most distant of children—of the divine. ”
“I don’t find that at all comforting.”
“That’s because you are wise. We must go now, and we will take care of the legalities. They will not find this a comfort now, but their parents loved them very much. Remind them of this often.”
“I will,” I promised, wondering how I’d tell Beauty and Sylvester the truth. Would they understand what an angel’s word meant?
I’d find out soon enough.
Bailey
Before I even attempted to do the magical equivalent of looking for a needle in a haystack, I needed to have a few words with one Police Chief Samuel Leviticus Quinn.
I asked Perkette to pull over so I could step out of the vehicle and have the illusion of privacy while I spoke to him.
I dialed his number and waited for him to answer.
He didn’t, which meant he was likely driving. Tapping my foot, shivering in the cold, I waited.
Five freezing minutes later, my phone rang.
“Hey, Bailey. I was driving. How are you?”
I took a moment to enjoy Quinn’s voice before I grinned and replied, “Perkette’s trying to turn me into a bad girl, Mr. Police Chief Samuel Quinn.”
“You have my attention, Mrs. Police Chief Bailey Quinn.”
Before my talk with Perkette, I would’ve believed he was just playing over my use of his title. Knowing better, his clue amused me, a subtle warning of the sharp left turn my life was about to take. I had to give him credit. He was a sneaky, sneaky man when he wanted to be.
“Perkette has talked me into using my magic to attempt to locate you a kitten in a dumpster.”
My husband’s long-suffering sigh made me unreasonably happy. “Seriously, Bailey? You could just go to a shelter.”
“I’m not going to find the breed I want in a shelter.”
“Yet you believe you’re going to find one in a dumpster?”
“Well, that’s why I’m going to try and use my magic. If there is one in a dumpster, I’ll find it!”
“Along with another case of rabies,” he muttered.
In the background, I heard Perky laugh.
“I’ll try to avoid another case of rabies, but no promises. I can’t seem to resist rescuing rabid animals from dumpsters.”
Quinn sighed. “There’s a possibility someone is attempting to cause a major rabies outbreak. For my peace of mind, please get the largest bag of the best grade neutralizer you can get your hands on.”
Damn it. Worse, I agreed with him. A spike in rabies cases in New York City among the feral cat and dog populations could happen, but I’d rescued my puppy from Atlantic City, too far away for it to be part of the same group of stray animals.
“I’ll do that. Will my new job let me put in the order, Mr. Police Chief Samuel Quinn? ”