Page 2 of Haunt Improvement
Selling houses in a small town wasn’t a super lucrative profession, but it paid the bills.And with Dylan’s construction experience, flipping a few fixer-uppers would keep us comfortable and pad the retirement fund.Of course, he was keeping those handy skills close to home lately, remodeling the third-floor nursery.
Dylan, his brother Drew, and their cousin George had spent their childhoods in the large, open room below the belfry.I’d left it mostly untouched when we had fixed up the house the first time around.But with bitty bat on the way, and Asher’s playdate plans, it had needed some serious updating, including proper insulation, new flooring, a few baby monitors—and a lock on the dumbwaiter door that led to certain heart failure.
The Hernández house had a lot of quirky charm and history, and I loved it.I loved that Dylan and I would be raising our daughter in his childhood home.But Assjacket didn’t have much else to offer.Well, besides the Country Club and the community theater.It could have used a decent shoe store, and maybe a Target.But the place wasn’t entirely without perks, especially for Shifters.
Zelda, the Shifter Whisperer, protected the two-natured citizens of these parts.Her magic healed them when they were injured or sick.It worked for Daisy, too.And my magic—with the help of Dylan’s great-great-grandmother’s sex ritual grimoire, and Dylan’smagicwand—had broken the Hernández curse.So Asher was in the clear as well.
Dylan frowned at the half-eaten cookie in my hand.But rather than scold, he lifted my wrist and took a healthy bite, reducing my sugar consumption more diplomatically.It still earned a grunt of displeasure from me.
“Miiine,” I grumbled, then shoved the rest of the pawpaw-doodle into my mouth as he leaned in for another bite.The baby rolled and delivered another kick, this one aimed at her father.“See?Even bitty bat says to get your own.”
“Oh, you can hear her now, too?”He snorted.
Usually, it was Asher translating pretend conversations with the baby, discussing all the games they were going to play with their Papa Ernesto in the nursery.We’d tried to explain to him that the family ghosts had departed after the curse was broken, but Asher was insistent that hisabuelolived in the nursery with the vintage G.I.Joes and Tonka trucks.
I wasn’t one to dismiss spectral sightings, and this house had certainly seen its fair share of ghosts.But Asher also had an invisible pet dingo.If therewasa ghost, at least it wasn’t streaking through the living room like Papa Diego had or dropping phantom duces in the upstairs toilet like Papa Mateo used to before he’d crossed to the other side.So long as Asher’s ghostly pal was a good house guest, I supposed he could stay.
Dylan helped himself to a cookie from the cookie jar, which Mama Hermosa promptly relieved him of.
“Gracias,mi cachorro,” she cooed, dipping the pawpaw-doodle in her cup of coffee.
“Of course, Mama.”He grabbed a second cookie, which I snatched next.
“Thanks, honeybat.”
“You’re welcome,cariño.”He grinned and shook his head before reaching into the jar a third time, but when he turned around, his expression grew serious.“We really should talk about names again.Fruit bat gestation is considerably shorter.DeeDee said you could go into labor any day now.”
“Onlyif our daughter inherits your Shifter genes,” I snapped, forgetting Mama Hermosa was in the kitchen with us.
“Dios mío,” she groaned pitifully into her coffee mug and then crossed herself.“Please, don’t wish my poornietawingless.”
Dylan waved his hands around my stomach, keeping a cautious distance in case our daughter chose violence again.“Do you really wantthisfor another four months?”
I pointed my cookie at him.“You said my bump was cute!”
“Very cute,” he confirmed with a nod.“But it’s also turned you into an accident waiting to happen.”He pointed out the bruise on my arm where I’d fallen on the front steps last week.
“It was slick, and Broomzilla hadn’t swept the leaves up yet,” I said, yanking my cookie back when he moved to bite it.I stuffed it into my mouth and continued my rant with bulging cheeks.“I don’t think we should decide on a name until she’s here.It’s a West family tradition.”
“But your family disowned you,” he reminded me.And not for the first time.
“Uh, what do you call Glinda?”
“They disowned her, too.”
“But she’s still family, and our gran would want us to honorsomeWest witch traditions.”
“You’re a Hernández now.”Mama Hermosa patted my shoulder and tutted sympathetically.“But I see no harm in waiting to officially name little Yanet.”
The pawpaw-doodle suddenly felt like cement in my mouth.I swallowed hard and tried to smile, but from Hermosa’s fearful expression, I hadn’t quite pulled it off.
“No?You’re sure,mija?But Yanet is such a popular name in Cuba,” she protested.
“I’m going to take a bath,” I said, making a beeline out of the kitchen before I said something that might hurt her feelings.
We were sonotnaming this baby Yanet.Though, I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about giving my daughter a traditional West name either.That was a lot to live up to, or a lot to live down, depending on who you asked.And I should know.
Dylan had made a fair point, though.I wasn’t looking forward to four more months without cookies and midnight broom rides.But I was also having a mild freak-out over the idea of a Shifter baby that could sprout wings and fly out a window.As long as she stayed in my belly, I could keep her safe and sound.
