Demons Undone: The Sons of Gulielmus Series (52 page)

She drew in a breath and let it out, willing her anxiety to blow away along with that spent air. It was those damned butterflies again. “Hello. Believe it or not, I asked Momma where you disappeared to just a few minutes ago, and she more or less gave me a pat on the head and sent me away with the promise of food.”

He nudged his loose hair behind his right ear and nodded. “We told her we’d be back today, but couldn’t promise it. Maybe she didn’t want to make herself a liar. May I come in? Brought you something.”

“You did? What?”

“Be right back.”

He disappeared from the doorway. His heavy footsteps sounded down the stairs, and then up them again a minute later. He returned with an armload of shopping bags and a sheath of paperwork tucked beneath his right arm.

The bags he deposited at the right side of her bed. The papers, he smoothed against the dresser edge and shuffled into order.

“I know we haven’t talked about it, but I got in touch with an old friend of my mother’s—”

“Old as in
ancient
,” she interrupted. The little she knew about his mother was that anyone associated with her likely would supernatural, too. Oddly enough, she’d married a human man.

“Well, I don’t know if she’d like being called that, but yes. She’s nearly as old as Agatha. Minor goddess of childbirth not too many people call on nowadays, but she’d be thrilled to help with our—
your
delivery.”

“You’ve been giving thought to that?” Hell, she hadn’t even given it much thought since her last appointment, what, five months ago? She didn’t want to think about it, and as long as the baby was moving around, she didn’t fret.

If she thought too hard, she’d worry. She’d seen enough episodes of
A Baby Story
during her long confinement to scare her off the idea of all natural childbirth. If there were a way to zap the little girl out via teleportation before the first contraction started, she’d pay handsomely for the service. She was no wimp, but she preferred her pain to come in small doses.

“You being trapped in a hospital room for two days is out of the question, so you’re looking at a home birth.” His forehead scrunched and he cringed. “That is, unless you’d like the nuns to oversee the delivery.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Figured not. Anyway, even with me and my brothers and Julia nearby, if you went to the hospital you’d be a sitting duck. Wide open. Anyone could teleport in or out and grab you before we could take a step toward you, and I’m not willing to risk that. Out of the question.”

“Well, I don’t particularly relish the idea of someone else making decisions about my body. What if I want an epidural? Or to be knocked out completely? For all I know, this kid will try to claw her way out like that creature in
Alien
and if that happens, I don’t want to be awake to witness it. Just wake me up when it’s time to go home.”

His lips twitched at the corners, but somehow he managed to contain the laugh that had his shoulders shaking.

She was glad he found her amusing, but she wasn’t kidding.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, you’re entitled to that, and I’d want you to have it. I swear, even if it turns out to be a rather boring delivery. I don’t think any of the baby’s supernatural flavors are going to have her creating exits where none exists. Even if she had any power, she probably wouldn’t show signs of them until after puberty. Later, even. I was twenty. Anyway, I think what I have in mind for you would be just as good if you’re willing to give her a shot. She’s very unobtrusive. She’ll be there as much or as little as you need, and will make you comfortable.”

“Is she as good as the drugs?”

“I can’t answer that. All of the women I know who’ve called on her expertise gave birth before the advent of modern anesthesia.”

She opened her mouth to rebut, and he put up his hand. “I know. Will you talk to her at least? I think she’ll put you at ease.”

“Talking, I can do. I can’t promise beyond that. You may have faith in magic, but you all seem intent on completely shielding me from it. I can’t trust what I don’t understand or what I haven’t experienced myself.”

“You’ve experienced plenty of it, and probably didn’t realize it.”

Oh yeah. There had been that werewolf thing. That’d been pretty hinky. What had been stranger was all of them huddling around her like they were moths and she was the only light for a mile. She shrugged. “Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” He looked down at the swath of papers he held, seeming to consider them, and tucked them into his back pocket.

“What are those?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he bent down to the bags on braided rug and picked up two. “Ariel said you’d like those.”

She reached for the handles and pulled, expecting the bags to be light given his deft handling of them, but they were heavy. She dragged them to the head of the bed and tipped them onto their sides. Paperback books spilled out, and Charles sank to his knees at the bedside, resting his elbows on the bed’s edge.

“She wasn’t specific, so I got all of them.”

“These are newer editions than the ones the library has,” she said, her voice a whisper as she thumbed through the glossy travel guides. Rome. Budapest. London. Tokyo. Buenos Aires. It’d be weeks before she got through them all. She read them like novels, pretending she was walking through the sites, seeing what the tourists saw, hearing the music of the land. She could only hope that if she lived long enough to see these places, that they’d live up to the standards set by her imagination.

“Thank you,” she said, piling them back into their bags.

“You’re welcome. Maybe I’ll take you to see those places in person soon.”

“And maybe someone will discover a cure for cancer.”

He sighed.

She put up her hands. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve it. What else did you get?”

“Ariel was very specific about these. No wiggle room. Sent me the item numbers and everything. Some jeans and pajamas and that sort of thing for you. Said you didn’t want to spend the money since you only had a few weeks of belly left.”

“She told you that, huh?”

“She said it was the absolute bare minimum I could do.” He rolled his eyes. “Marion, you can ask me for anything. I’m not going to tell you no, especially for minor things like this. You should be comfortable, and this is a drop in the bucket.”

She shook her head slowly. “I understand that you want to do stuff for me, but you need to understand that I’m used to doing stuff for myself. I’ve been on my own since I was seventeen, remember? I’ve never had a guy want to do anything for me, and, well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re sort of
obligated
to assist me. You knocked me up. Obligatory gift-giving doesn’t exactly give me the warm-fuzzies.”

“I didn’t buy the things because you’re my child’s mother.”

She put up her hands. “Right. I know. I’m your—”

He tilted his head to the side the same way Julia did. Shit, it was even cute when he did it. “My what, Marion?”

“Um.”

He edged closer and pressed a palm against the bed on either side of her thighs. Bending to her eye level, his breath tickled her face. His familiar scent flooded her nostrils, making her dizzy. She leaned back a bit to bring his bright eyes into focus.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she said and swallowed thickly.

What am I?
“What am I?”

Was there an echo? No. Her, she was hearing things. It was like that banging in the woods. Her wits were just scattered.

“You heard that, didn’t you? I figured you would. That narrows down my list a bit.” He inhaled deeply, seemingly breathing her in, and stood up and away from her. He took two steps away and turned his back. “What about that time, did you hear me?”

What was he talking about? “Uh, no. I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Interesting. So it’s only when I’m close.” He turned back to her and resumed his former position at her knees.
How about now?

She put her hands against his chest, pushed him back, and scrambled against the bed to put some distance between them. “Stop! How are you doing that?”

“I’m a psychic.” He shrugged, just as calm as he pleased. “The question now is, what are
you
, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I believe you. And by the way, you just touched me.”

No, she hadn’t, had she?

“I-I …” Heart racing, she clenched her hands into fists and pressed them against the covers as if that would take it back. “I didn’t, did I?”

She had. She’d pushed him.

“Oh my God.”

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said. He grabbed her wrists and kissed the undersides of them, one after the other one.

A delightful fluttering spiraled down her spine, and settled in at her gut. Gasping, she tried to pull her hands free, and he let her. “No, not all right! You’ll—”

“It’s fine,” he said, in a low, calm voice. He dropped to his knees in front of her and pressed his large hands against her thighs, rubbing up them slowly.

Her body was as confused as her mind. His gentle touch felt so good, but her knees began to bob beneath it.

“You’re safe, Marion,” he whispered, keeping his gaze locked on hers. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for months. I wanted you to learn to trust me first, or you wouldn’t have believed me.” He dragged the pad of his thumb along her jaw, and she both moaned and shuddered in fear.

“You know I can’t lie to you, sweetheart, don’t you? Tap into that place”—he trailed his index finger down her neck and made a light circle over her heart—“and listen in.”

“This is ridiculous. I can’t—”

“Listen to it. Please. This is about me, you, and our future, so please try. Just tune in, and trust your heart. Trust your
gut
.”

“What about my brain?”

“Brains get in the way. Just try.”

Forcing out a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and tried to tune out logic and reason, and listen to the little voice that never steered her wrong. Not even back in Idaho.

The little voice said,
Hurting you would be hurting himself, and besides … you’ve touched him before. Yesterday. And nothing happened
.

Something should have happened, right? Shouldn’t she have felt something besides comfort when she grabbed his wrist if she were losing her claim to her soul?

She opened her eyes and saw the plea in his expression, and it was so clear that he wanted her so badly.
Her
. Whether it was the Fates who were responsible for his endearment, she couldn’t say, but she was glad it was there.

“I want to trust you,” she said.

“I know it’s hard, and I know you’ll probably want some proof, right?”

She nodded, and knew she probably looked a little crazed. “That would help.”

“You can ask your grandmother, Julia, or even Mrs. Tate.”

“Mrs. Tate?”

“Yes. She’s like you. She bore a demon’s children, so no matter how Pop touches her, no matter how hard he tries to sully her, he can’t mark her soul.”

“I’m safe because of the baby? So, after she’s born …”

“You’re safe from me forever.
Forever
, Marion.”

“Oh,” she said lamely.

Did this mean they could have a real relationship, not just frustrating chastity?

Okay, maybe she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Not without proof.

“I’ll talk to Mrs. Tate,” she said, and waited for him to show some sign of offense.

He didn’t. “I’ll arrange it. We’ll see if we can bring her here as soon as possible.” He pushed up to standing and drew the papers out of his pocket. Sitting, he extended the top-most sheet toward her. “Hey, I’ve been working on getting you a bit of leg room. I know you’re feeling pent up. I’ve always had an eye for real estate, and I couldn’t let that deal slip away.”

This was all too much at once. What was this?

Marion turned the page sideways and studied the simple map. That parcel looked familiar, with the trees at the rear, the creek at the right.

“Is that the neighboring lot? The cotton field that hasn’t been seeded this year?”

“It is. You may have noticed the signs during your walks.”

He knew about those? Shit. She dragged her shirtsleeve across her forehead. What next?

“The property went up for sale back in January. I talked it over with Clarissa, and she thought it’d be a good idea if I bought it. If for nothing else, she and Claude could extend the wards and expand the safe area for the supernatural types who need a bit of respite. But I thought maybe
you
could live there. We could build you a house wherever you want it, and you’d be just a short walk away from your grandmother and sister. Look.” Gently, he took the paper back, being very careful to avoid touching her hands. He made a circle with his finger near the property border. “The new wards would be strongest right around here, and John and Ariel thought they could move back here.” He pointed to a spot sort of near the woods, just on the other side of the property line.

“You’d … build me a house? Just for me? Uh,
us
?”

Heat rushed up her neck to her cheeks. There went that shyness again. She hoped the ballsy bitch would come back soon, because she didn’t like feeling this vulnerable. Love felt like such a weak thing. Was that was it was, love? Or was it fear?

“Yes. Well, not just us. Us and our daughter.”

“Why can’t we stay here?”

“Certainly, you could stay if you wanted to, but it might get crowded in here.”

“What do you mean? You and Claude moving in full time?”

That actually wouldn’t be so bad. She just felt safer when they were all around, and there was so much more warmth when the house was crowded and filled with the three brothers’ playful arguing. And, yeah, she wanted to keep her incubus near. Maybe he was retired from the profession, but when he disappeared for days or weeks at a time, she worried that the connection she thought they had meant nothing to him. Whenever he returned, she regretted ever feeling that way because he always had such sadness in his eyes when he looked at her. He didn’t act like he’d forgotten about her. That was her hang-up. A side effect of Foster Kid-itis.