Chapter Twelve Hidden
“Can you help us bind our souls to the same time? The mortal realm’s time, please.” Dairmuid is poking at a phone Bonwit procured for him.
Watching him try to text is hilarious, but I’m unable to laugh.
I have to call my mother. I have to be responsible. I’m going to have a human-style wedding after all. She has a grandson.
Bonus, the succubus ex hasn’t shown up, and the world is still in one piece. I feel incredibly peaceful and happy for someone who just had a total mental breakdown in the bathroom of an Italian restaurant two days ago.
“Finally! I was going to call the Pine Ridge Police! You’d think my only daughter would call after a big move like that and let me know she was alive.”
I sigh. “Hi, Mom. I did call. I left a message. I also texted a few days ago.”
“You know I hate texting.”
“I do, too!” Dairmuid shouts. “But it worked, my Deanna! Mr. Minegold says he will ask the—”
Thank God, Mom speaks over him before he can say “coven.” “Who is that? That’s not Aaron!”
“No. It’s Dairmuid. My um—”
“Her future husband!”
I turn and glare, mouthing a variety of creative curse words that have him covering Rory’s ears.
Bonwit covers Sprite’s ears, too, just to be safe.
“Future husband?”
“Um. Surprise?”
“Deanna! Does Aaron know? How long has this been going on? How—”
“Um. Well... Um. It seems like a long time. Mom, are you sitting?”
“I am now, young lady! I didn’t even get to hear you were seeing someone? And I—”
“Weeeeh!”
Of course. Like father, like son.
Mom is silent for a second. “Is that a baby or a dog?”
“Both. I mean, I have both. I mean, you have a grandson. Rory Robert. After Dad.”
“Deanna, I am so mad that I could spit! But I’m also so confused! I... I think I need to lie down. And you know it’s Friday! I have the Women’s Caucus today.”
“I’m sorry, Mom, I forgot. I thought you would be upset.” And I’m right.
Mom immediately makes an overcorrection, which is what she does best, and right now I’m thankful for that predictability. “Well, of course I’m upset! But I’m also very happy. I’ll come down on Tuesday with Aunt Myra.”
“Oh. Mom, that’s a long drive, and I—”
“At least you’re getting married. I’m in shock. I’m in shock, but it’s a happy shock. Oh, goodness. Oh, my goodness. Send pictures!”
“I will, Mom. I’ll send pictures.”
“And this isn’t over just because it’s my day to drive the carpool to the county office for the caucus.”
“No, Mom.”
“Good. Send pictures. Rory Robert. Does he have your hair?”
“And his father’s. A beautiful red.”
“Oooh! Oh, my goodness. I never thought I’d be a grandmother. Aaron looked like the kind of man to have high estrogen and a low sperm count.”
“Mother!” I have to sit down for that one.
“Well, I didn’t want to say anything, dear. He was a nice boy, if a little chubby.”
“I have to go, Mom. Your grandson needs feeding.”
“I hope you’re nursing.”
“I... I am doing my best, Mom! Gotta run!”
I hang up and slump back.
“Good Lord,” Bonwit says sympathetically, and puts a plate of biscuits in front of me. “I don’t know which woman to be more afraid of, you or your mother.”
“She’s very fierce. Like you,” Dairmuid says loyally.
“Thank you, I think. Look, there are a lot of things we need to do. I have to get Rory to a pediatrician, and Sophie, the vampire lady with the little girl? She said there is a supernatural-friendly practitioner at the Kids’ Wellness that’s attached to the hospital annex.
We need to call and make an appointment.
I have to get a dress, find invitations, talk to the coven people about what all of this means with us...
With what happened last night.” I blush.
Bonwit clears his throat. “Sprite! Want to go for a walk? Yes, you do!” He escapes out of the kitchen and into the yard.
“I’ll handle all of the dangerous things, love. You handle the baby and the wedding.”
“I want your help.”
“I want to help.” Dairmuid rises and puts the baby in my arms. “But this is supposed to be a very peaceful, wonderful time for you, a time when you can bond with your son. It’s been stolen from you. Even the joy of carrying him, birthing him, and nursing him,” he says in a mournful voice.
“The birthing part I’m okay with,” I admit with a little wince.
“But truly all of this was fated, my Deanna. Did you know that? For Rory led me to you.”
I enjoy the kiss Dairmuid gives me, one of beautiful, blissful reassurance—but part of me is still worried. Saz is still out there, and we know what has to happen. The specifics are being worked out, and part of me believes that everything will be fine. Eventually.
Someday down the road, though, when we tell our children about how we met, or Rory adds up a few things, I just wonder... “Will you ever tell him about his mother?”
“That’s you, now. Look, Deanna. Didn’t you see it?”
Whatever it is, no, I didn’t. Dairmuid tilts my chin down, and Rory stirs, eyes squinched shut one moment, and open the next.
His eyes are no longer red, not even a hint. They’re green and brown, a hazel wood in two tiny, bright spheres. “My baby,” I whisper. “He’s mine. He’s really mine.” I whisper, holding him closer, kissing his tiny forehead.
“By all that is good, he is.”
If this were a movie—something bad would happen. Right then. Right now.
But nothing does.
“Come on. You and Mr. Minegold chat about things. I’ll call the pediatrician. I need to practice for Sunday this afternoon.”
“In the church?”
“I can do it here or there.”
“The organ at the church seems much larger.” Dairmuid looks at the small electric organ that sits proudly in the corner of the living room.
“Well, it is. This is the kind most organists have in their houses. I’d really love to play an organ like the one at Longwood Gardens or the Wanamaker Organ one day,” I sigh.
“Why can’t you?”
“Because they’re huge! And expensive. And don’t belong to me,” I giggle, realizing that it’s going to be fun watching Dairmuid learn about human life—although I’m dreading journeying into the fae realm and meeting my immortal in-laws. “Can your mother and father come here?” I ask suddenly.
“What? To hear you play the organ?” Dairmuid looks puzzled.
“No! So they don’t meet me and decide to like... imprison me in a pumpkin or something. I heard fae are tricky.”
Dairmuid smirks. “My parents will grow to love you. But I think you’re right. It would be good if they journeyed here first. Or, a neutral realm. A realm between.”
“A realm between? What’s that? Can you do that?”
“Not everywhere, no, but here I can. Pine Ridge and the edges of the fae realms are rich in energy, which is why all sorts of supernatural beings journey here, looking for what they need to survive or thrive. Now, think of it like the little dome I made for you last night—”
“For me? You were just as loud,” I tease, blushing.
Dairmuid doesn’t blush. He leans back against the counter, a pleased grin on his face that makes me want to throw the bottles and sterilizer on the ground and flatten him on top of it.
“Just as loud? You know, I’m not sure. Maybe we’d better try again.
I think I’d quite like pulling you into a secret little realm anytime you wanted me.
The middle of a party. A night when the children are restless, and you fear waking them.
” Dairmuid swishes his hand through the air, and his pleased smile spreads.
“There are already spots just teeming with energy, like they’re waiting to be opened. ”
My skin prickles the second he says that, and it’s only by some miracle that I move away, trusting a deep, motherly instinct that says I need to protect Rory.
Because why should there be a thicket of energy inside my house, just waiting to be opened?
That doesn’t seem right, but Dairmuid moves far faster than a human when he wants, and his hand pops into nothingness as his smiling eyes meet my suddenly wary ones.
“Deanna? What—”
“Close it!” I scream.
“So soon?”
Everything inside of me freezes for a second, the “my car is crashing, and I’m watching in slow motion” feeling taking hold before adrenaline kicks in.
Sazara. Saz. She slides into my home and fills the entire kitchen with her presence.
Huge bat-like wings. Ruby red skin, blazing eyes, and a perfect, curvaceous body covered in a black dress that was working overtime to provide any kind of coverage and was in danger of failing.
Fangs in her smile. Talons outstretched. Tail lashing.
“You little bitch,” she turns to me, her hands still wrapped around Dairmuid’s, her claws sinking in before he can fight her off.
“You stole my son, and you warded up the outside of the house, blessed and charmed every room. You didn’t think to look for a hiding place between in and out, did you?
No. Because you—” she turns to Dairmuid and flings him to the other side of the kitchen as easily as throwing a paper cup, “have more cock than brains. You see one thing or the other, and you have precious little time for what might be a bit of both!” She roars, and a torrent of fire pours from her throat.
“Dair!” I scream, dropping to my knees.
“Frost!” Dairmuid usually doesn’t have to command his autumnal elements to obey, but he throws an entire November at her in one jerk of his good arm, the other one hanging limp at his side.
Saz laughs. “Oh, Dairmuid. For me? Why so cold, lover? I think you need to remember just how I used to warm you up.” She blasts flames at his torrents of ice, and the result is a house full of steam. The fire alarm goes off, and I know I have seconds before the sprinklers start, too.
Seconds before she does something worse. Kills Dairmuid. Rory.
Bonwit comes charging in from outside, a fleet of rolling orange pumpkins aimed at Saz, green vines shooting from thin air and working to wrap around her—which is kind of hard to do when your target is now crackling with flame.
The pumpkins knock her off balance, but not down.
The vines swat at her before burning, and the steam makes everything a gray, damp fog.
And what am I doing? I’m hiding. Down on the ground, shielding my son behind the kitchen island.
It’s one of those desperate moments that might go wrong, but everything else is going wrong, too. I open the cupboards, still empty, still waiting to be filled with appliances I’ll get around to buying one day, and I put Rory in the small, bare wooden space, squeezing his hand and praying.
Movements were swift. Silent. Careful.
Now that he’s out of my arms, caution is gone. I rise, I yank, and I scream.
“Hell Bitch!” I shout, sliding over the counter and taking out the sterilizer and a rack of clean bottles on the way, legs ready to land, a prayer still buzzing in my head.
The biggest knife in the knife block now in my hand.
Saz turns, mildly surprised.
I guess that’s better than focused and enraged.
She doesn’t even react when I pile into her, eight-inch blade going into her neck with all of my motherly rage and fear behind it.
For the longest second of my life (so far), she looks at me, eyes wide.
Do succubi not die from a whole-ass chef’s knife in the throat? Did I just piss her off and give her an immortal version of a papercut?
And then—she falters. Her lips open, and black blood flows out in thick gurgles. Her body falls, slowly, horribly.
Bonwit and Dairmuid are reacting. I’m not.
I’m numb, breathing so hard I can hear my own panting and only that.
There are words in the beautiful, melodic language being spoken.
I can tell. Feel it. Rushes of wind that smell like fresh, clean pine woods fill the house, and blow Saz out of it.
Outside, I see plumes of yellowish smoke forming from the spot where her body lands, and Dairmuid staggers back towards the house at once while Bonwit and Sprite keep watch outside.
“Rory!” A single word finally forms on my lips, and I drop, shaking, to the ground. I open the cabinet, pull him into my lap, and hold him with my back against the counter, afraid to move lest I drop him.
“Deanna! My lady?” Dairmuid rips into the house, shouting himself hoarse.
“Here!”
Dairmuid slides to me, one arm bloody and still dangling, skin paler than moonlight. “Are you hurt?”
“No. We’re fine. You’re bleeding.”
“It’ll stop soon. She just dug her claws in but good. Oh, Deanna! You... you are a hero. You have slain her. You have saved a fae lord and his son and heir. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“That we’re alive and the sprinkler system stayed off?” I manage to say through trembling lips.
Dairmuid rises and pulls me up. He bows low, tousled, sweating, and somehow more handsome than I’ve ever seen him. More real than I’ve ever seen him.
“From this day forward, you are considered a friend of the fairfolk. No harm will ever come to thee by our hands, and heapings of bounty and protection will be cast upon you every season. My parents will treat you as an honored guest and hero. You are Lady Deanna, Demonslayer.”
“That’s a really cool nickname. Plus, in good with the in-laws. Awesome,” I smile at Dairmuid, pass the baby into his good arm—and then I sit back down on the counter. “We need a new sterilizer,” I say, looking at the broken one on the floor.
“And you need a new blade, my lady. My hero.” Dairmuid bows again and kisses my hand, his injured arm lifting with an effort. “My love.”
“My love,” I whisper. “I love you. Both of you. Do you think... Is it possible that we could avoid any other excitement and/or terror for a few years?”
Dairmuid nods heartily. “On the other hand, meeting my parents doesn’t seem so terrifying now, does it?”
I have to smile at that. “Well, I handled the ex-girlfriend pretty well. Bring on the in-laws.”