Page 43 of It's In His Hiss

They arrived twenty minutes late, looking like they were bracing for a magical inspection, clutching a store-bought lemon tart.

Mom hovered near the punch bowl like it might sprout tentacles. Dad made awkward small talk with Gideon about weather spells, which is hilarious because my father still flinches whenever the espresso machine hisses.

But they’re trying. Uncomfortably. Haltingly.Honestly.

Gideon pours tea. Gordy kisses my temple. Verity gently removes a snake from her son’s mouth.

And me?

I clear my throat and say, “So… we have a bit of news.”

Verity gasps, eyes going wide. “Wait?—”

“I’m pregnant.”

Gordy grins against my cheek like he’s been holding that smile in for months. Which, to be fair, he kind of has.

There’s a beat of stunned silence. Then chaos.

Verity screams and throws her arms around me, somehow managing not to drop her baby in the process. “Oh, my gods, Alice, that’s incredible! How far along?”

“Ten weeks. Just out of the magical hazard zone, according to our very chatty midwitch.”

Gideon offers Gordy a firm handshake and one of those deep, proud nods that men exchange when emotions are too big to say out loud without setting something on fire.

“Alice,” Verity says, pulling back and cupping my cheeks, “I’m going to buy so many tiny, enchanted onesies, you don’t even know.”

“Please make sure none of them have tentacles this time,” Gideon mutters. “We still haven’t figured out how the last one opened the spice drawer and summoned that chili demon.”

Felix lets out a high-pitched giggle as if that wasabsolutelyhis idea.

Verity holds up the baby and waves his little hand toward my stomach. “Say hi to your future best friend.”

Felix burps.

I laugh until I’m crying.

My parents smile and congratulate us on our news. Mom even seems a little smitten when Verity hands her Felix like a prize turnip.

And when Mom hugs me as they leave and whispers, “You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” I don’t need magic to feel the truth in it.

It isn’t perfect. It isn’t polished.

But it’s a start.

Gordy slips his hand into mine as the guests trickle out, our fingers fitting like they weremade for each other. Across the room, I catch Rapha and Drusilla lingering by the door. He’s whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh—reallylaugh, the sound bright and unexpected. There’s still a shadow in Rapha’s eyes, a flicker of something haunted beneath the charm. But tonight, it’s quiet. Contained. And when Drusilla brushes a kiss to his jaw and pulls him gently toward the street, I know they’ll be okay.

Something tight and warm coils in my chest. Not anxiety. Not magic. Just… hope.

“They’ll be next,” I murmur.

Gordy hums, kissing my temple. “You think?”

“I know.”

Because if those two—centuries of pain, demonic deals, literal hellfire baggage—can find a way back to each other?

Then anything is possible in Screaming Woods.

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