Page 61 of Which Witch is Willing?
He snorted. “Got that right. In my line of work, the last thing I want around is a child.”
Claire supposed he had a point. She turned her gaze to Killian. “What about you?”
His face fell, and she realized the error of her question. “Far too many times,” he said.
Claire shook her head. “Of course. I’m sorry. But look at that beautiful face. This time, you’ll get to experience all the wonderful things about a child.”
Killian’s smile returned, and he sat on the edge of the bed where he could place an arm around Tierra and be closer to his baby. “I swear here and now that nothing will hurt either one of you.”
She half-wondered if Tierra would argue, since his possessiveness had been a point of contention between them in the past, but she only snuggled closer to him.
Claire leaned against Dru and nudged him. “We should go and let the family have some time. I’m sure the others want to know everything is okay.”
Dru stepped away from the bed so fast that Claire had to restrain a chuckle. Killian might have fallen gracefully into fatherhood, but it appeared that Dru had no intention of doing the same any time soon.
Which was completely fine with her. She liked the idea of being an auntie.
But mom?
Not so much.
29
The following day, bright sunshine washed through the old Victorian’s kitchen windows, bringing with it a sense of a pleasantness and hope. Tierra had asked the witches to convene in the kitchen, and they were all eager to see the newest member of the household.
Claire eyed Aerin and Moira, who both watched her with expectant looks on their faces. “I’m sure Tierra will be here any minute. She’s probably dragging after the birth. I can only imagine how hard it must be.”
Aerin glanced at her Cartier watch, sighed, and lifted the lovely Cassius Basaltic black clay mug, handcrafted by Tierra. She sipped and set it back on the table, leaving a perfect red-lipped mark along the rim.
Moira groaned and pushed on one side of her stomach as though adjusting the position of the baby. “Thank the stars that this one won’t squirt out of me and go tear-assin’ around the room like one of them murder hornets. I can’t even imagine such a thing. That ain’t natural.”
Aerin slid a sideways glance toward Moira. “But having your child grow overnight is?” she muttered.
Claire sent Moira a reassuring smile. “I’m sure your baby will be perfectly healthy and happy.”
She knew Moira still worried about her child, and, of course, both of her sisters had reservations about Tierra’s baby. The new mother had asked for recovery time, but everyone wondered what might happen when Violet met Aerin, who’d practiced dark magic and who’d been temporarily inhabited by Lucy, and when Violet met Moira, who currently carried the dark-souled baby who would bring balance to the world.
They hoped.
Moira sighed and glanced about the kitchen. “I’d give my right elbow for some buttermilk-battered frog legs right now.”
Claire half-swallowed, half-choked on her coffee. “Gross,” she managed.
Aerin turned her face away and held up a hand. “Please. Let’s never discuss that again.”
Moira frowned. “Don’t y’all go turnin’ your noses up. Amphibians are practically their own food group back in the parrish. Used to make hoppers for Uncle Sal every Sunday. They’re all crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. Lots a protein, too. Just what a growin’ boy needs.”
Claire took another swallow to clear the bile in her throat. “I’m with Aerin on this. Enjoy them all you want, but I don’t want to see, hear, or smell them.”
Aerin pushed back from the table, the chair legs squawking as she did. She stood and looked down at her sisters. “I don’t have time for this. If Tierra doesn’t want us to meet it, that’s fine by me. Babies smell, and they cry.”
Moira admonished her sister with a stern look. “She’s not an ‘it’.”
Aerin met her gaze head on. She pointed to the ethereal blue blouse she wore that looked as if it had been spun from clouds. “See this? It’s made from the finest mulberry silk, and it can’t just be tossed in the wash if one of those things pukes on me. You, yourself, told me that Port Townsend’s former dry cleaners is now a haven for lonely zombies looking for a hookup. Don’t think you’ll catch me anywhere near there.”
Moira widened her eyes and slyly placed a finger on her lips as though to shush Aerin.
Claire’s instincts jumped into overdrive, and she glanced back and forth between the two of them. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”
