Page 64 of Marcus-stiltskin

The creature laying in the baby box isn’t a shark. In fact, if I had to compare it to something, I’d say it looks a lot like a potato… a potato with a face. Its forehead and nose and mouth are all scrunched up, stacked one atop the other. Its skin has a strange yellowish tinge and its cries are soft and almost kitten-like.

“We are not keeping this until we can get another date in front of the arbitrator.” I announce.

Marcus laughs and reaches out for the “baby.” “It’s not that bad, see–” It hisses at him and reaches to snap at him with razor-sharp teeth.

“Oh, now I get it, Freddie K.”

“Get what?” Marcus asks as he steps back and shakes his head in agreement. “On second thought…no, no, we are not volunteering to take this one in.”

“I asked Freddie K. what was in the wall and he sent me a picture of a swaddled shark.”

Marcus snorts. “He wasn’t too far off.”

I sigh. “No, he wasn’t.”

Deputy Moreau apparently works 24/7 or perhaps they send her out on all the weird cases, because she’s the first officer at our door when we call the non-emergency number.

“The fire department said they’d sealed it shut,” she says as she steps inside.

“It is,” I tell her with a sigh. Marcus and I are still standing near the opening. Horrible as the creature is, it feels wrong to just leave it in the box, but neither one of us is willing to get bit to bring it out.

“This is magic. The, uh, child reeks of it.”

She looks at us strangely. “Why is it still in the box?” she asks, reaching for the baby before we can stop her. It snaps at her, it’s tiny teeth grazing her hand.

“Shit. It bites?” she asks as she snatches her hand away.

“I have a first aid kit,” Marcus says as he wanders off toward the bays. Deputy Moreau shakes her bleeding hand as she gets on the radio and asks dispatch to get in touch with CPS.

“Is CPS equipped to handle this?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this, but I swear, ever since those fae moved in behind the Wild Hare, shit keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

“Maybe we should ask them. They might know what kind of creature this is.”

She nods. “That would be a great idea if we knew how to get in contact. They can step into our world far easier than we can to theirs…and frankly, with what I’ve heard about what goes on, I’m not sure I even would want to go there. We got called down to the Wild Hare Halloween night by a woman wanting to press charges for being drugged and almost carried off to be some fae’s wife. How can I arrest something that can just disappear?”

Marcus returns with a small first aid kit and a thick blanket I could swear I’ve seen him give Willow before. “It may be ugly as hell, but I feel bad leaving it in the box. I’m going to try to get it out without losing a hand, too.”

I snort, but step away. Marcus is too brave for me. He doubles up the thick blanket and then throws it on top of the child in a move that would have whoever certified him as a foster parent losing their mind. He wraps it up like an angry feral cat and pulls it from the box as it writhes from inside the blanket. Marcus cradles the bundle in his arms and turns to close the box when the alarm sounds again.

He looks at me and then at Deputy Moreau. “I’m not the only one hearing that, right?”

I shake my head. Slowly, he opens the door. He stands for a long moment, staring, so I step under his arm to get a closer look. There in the box, where the potato baby had just been, is potato baby number two. Unlike number one, it’s pissed. I’ve never seen a tiny creature this angry. It has freed itself from its swaddle and kicks tiny fists and feet in the air, screaming at a pitch that is more freaky creature from the woods than human. Marcus hands potato baby number one to Deputy Moreau and takes his overshirt off, throwing it over the screaming creature, before pulling it out as well.

“Maybe it’s hungry or needs a change.” I tell him. Much of our baby supplies from our weekend with Jada are still upstairs. “Let me go make it a bot–” I start to say, only to be interrupted by a third sounding of the alarm.

“I don’t even want to look,” Marcus sighs. Deputy Moreau steps up to the box and looks inside. She wrinkles her nose as she turns away. “This one has claws.”

“Not it,” Marcus says, and I laugh.

“Someone thinks you’re Rumplestiltskin.” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “Never helping a girl spin straw into gold again,” he says as Deputy Moreau rolls her eyes.

“I have a feeling if we take that baby out of the box, another will appear,” Deputy Moreau says.

“Same.” I say. “I also have a feeling about who can help us, but I’m not exactly eager to be in their presence anytime soon.”

---