Chapter Fourteen This Way Comes #2
The three of us share a wince. “He’s not a succubus,” I protest, but I’m not sure exactly what the difference is. Liam looks nothing like the picture in Minegold’s book.
“Same type of demon, many forms, and divided into two branches,” Ardy pipes up. He’s a Pooka, or half-Pooka. The point is, he was raised by human and paranormal parents, and he seems to know what he’s talking about. “Like fish.”
“Like fish?” I rub my head, worried that lack of sleep is ruining my ability to function.
“You know how there are thousands of different fish, and all the different species look different, but they’re still all ‘fish’? We need a specific spell. Think of it like we’re trying to prevent a piranha from getting into our realm but leaving all the goldfish, guppies, and minnows in peace.”
“Oh! That makes sense. And this succubus is a piranha?”
“Seems to be. Someone shed blood, accidentally or on purpose, and that’s definitely more in line with a threat than not, not to mention that this one isn’t local.
I’ll leave the specifics of the spell to Alban and the magical types.
I have to go to the hospital.” Ardy holds up the vial and testing cassette.
“There’s a decent wound here, but the blood stains don’t continue past this immediate area.
That means we’re looking for a being that was whisked from this dimension almost immediately after being injured—”
“Good luck finding them,” I mutter.
“Or,” Ardy continues with a pointed glare, crossing his arms, “the being that was injured began to heal almost at once. A hardy specimen. Thick-skinned. Heavy.”
“You can tell that from the blood?” I demand, pointing at the little plastic test.
“No, by the path he or she left through the woods. Broken branches and brush. Large feet. Long strides. Almost no blood past the large concentration in the immediate area. The hospital will let me use their lab, and I can run more specific tests to get actual DNA—which won’t matter a hill of beans if the victim has never been arrested or their supernatural DNA profile isn’t in some database.
What I’m actually hoping for is someone coming in with an injury that matches this kind of attack. Claw marks. Big slashes.”
“But they started healing right away. And they’re not human. Wouldn’t most monsters who are already on the mend avoid the hospital?”
“Depends on what they know and how freaked out they are,” Alban sighs. “We might never find this victim. The best thing we can do is prevent the succubus from coming back to create any more.”
“Agreed.”
Alban sighs. “I’ll start phoning people. Your backyard is gonna be busy.” He brightens up. “Andrea will get to meet a lot of the ‘paranormal’ community at once.”
And people will be in my house. My space. I have never had a guest until Andrea. I never needed to, never wanted to. “Oh.”
“You’ll be fine.” Ardy pats my shoulder.
Ardy is right. It’s fine—because of Andrea. And Andrea? She sparkles whenever she’s with people, even at four in the morning. Her mind is always sharp and excited about everything new, so she inserts herself in the thick of things—and she stands with me.
Not just next to me, with me, arm or hand in mine, snuggled to my side, telling the world, “This is my person. I am his family.”
It’s a good thing the sun is coming up blazing, because everyone will think I’m blinking from that instead of because my eyes are cursed with that prickly, hot pre-tear feeling.
We watch the coven of four women and Alban working. Tessa Roscommon had to bring her babies with her, and Andrea is holding one while Ian Fenclan, a huge, bearded Orc who recently became a grandfather, holds the other, babbling baby talk.
“You know, being around kids who won’t stop whispering while you’re trying to get everyone ready for the Winter Concert is way different than being around an adorable sleeping baby,” Andrea whispers, stroking the baby’s pale, chubby cheek, admiring his shock of wispy red hair.
“I might develop baby fever after this.”
“Good.”
Andrea looks at me with wide eyes and arched eyebrows. “Good?”
“Good,” I say firmly. “For someday.”
“Ah. Um. In your perfect world—”
“This world. The one where you’re with me,” I say firmly, daring her to argue.
Andrea laughs softly under her breath, pausing for a minute to watch the coven and Alban finish up and high-five each other. “Okay. In this perfect world, how soon do you tie the knot? Have babies? Build a giant cat run in the yard?”
I think about that. “When my girlfriend wants.”
“Wait, no. That’s nice, but couples have to compromise.”
“But I don’t care how soon. I was never going to have anyone to love, or any family.
All I wanted was a nice, peaceful place to exist without hurting or being hurt.
I have that. Now, I have more than I ever wished for.
” I squeeze her possessively, proudly, and I even let myself pat the baby’s chubby leg in its little suit with the feet enclosed.
“I don’t know if we can have children, or if Chopin will like more cats around.
My wishes now focus on your wishes. When you are happy, I am happy. ”
Andrea leans into me, silent. I’m still learning her, but in a life where your instincts save you, I am a fast learner. This silence is content. Thoughtful.
“I don’t have a timeline, except my family seems to think that a person either needs a spouse or an advanced medical degree before they’re thirty.”
“You are so far from thirty!” I swallow a plea for her to reconsider. Waiting six years to make Andrea my wife seems far too far away, but on the other hand, an eternity is not too far away when it comes to waiting for her.
“My family—I love them—has been close and wonderful, and very important to how I do things. Disappointing them is something I never want to do, but... I’m not fitting the mold right now, moving away, being the first teacher in the family...
I’m not a disappointment. I’m just different.
And I think I want to be on my own timeline from now on.
Our timeline.” Andrea smiles up at me. “I think I’d like to take a cruise next summer—for our honeymoon. ”
Honeymoon. Means marriage first. Which means married soon. In the next year.
A tidal wave of excitement and elation sweeps through me, and I hug Andrea hard enough that she squeaks. “Good. Good!” I say, and then I’m angry because I should say so much more.
And Andrea? Andrea is perfect, because she doesn’t mind that I don’t say much at all.
It’s a dream come true.
Too good to be true.
“All right! Unfriendly succubi are effectively barred, but this might be a rinse and repeat situation,” announces Madge, the short, silver-haired tough cookie who owns the magic shop in town and is one of the foundational four of the local coven.
“You need to put out something in the paper and one of those town-wide text alerts,” she addresses me.
“Tell people to look for signs of irresponsible camping. Charred earth. Gouges in the ground. Sparks and embers where there shouldn’t be, signs of fire left unattended. ”
“Got it. Sunderland will contact the paper and do the emergency alert text.”
“Can I help you put the kids in the car?” Andrea offers when Tessa comes over, rubbing her eyes, looking exhausted. “Or do you want me to watch them while you have some coffee and a power nap?”
Tessa Roscommon’s eyes light up. “Oh, my gosh. Would you? I have their portable play pen in the car.”
“Can we, Gordon?” Andrea looks up at me with bright eyes, baby cuddled up to her cheek.
The sheer amount of cuteness should be a controlled substance. “Of course.”