Chaos Bites (7 page)

“She’s okay,” I said, as much for my own comfort as Megan’s.

“Yeah,” Megan said slowly. “Except . . .”

“Except what?” I sat on the bed, checking for pins, staples, something that might explain Megan’s concern.

“She shouldn’t be able to do that.”

“Do what?” As far as I could tell the kid was great at crying and drooling, but not much else.

“Turn over, push up, lift her head like that. She’s what? Two? Three months old?”

“I have no clue how old she is.” But now that Megan mentioned it, this morning Faith’s head had been kind of floppy. I’d had to support it when I held her. She appeared to be gaining abilities at the speed of light.

“Maybe she’s just small for her age,” Megan said, though she didn’t sound convinced.

Neither was I. Faith was a skinwalker. For all I knew she might be a teenager by next week, and wouldn’t that be swell?

Or maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Teenagers I could manage, bad attitudes and all. I had a nasty bad attitude of my own.

“Burp her,” Megan ordered again. “Make sure you do it every time she eats or you’ll be sorry.”

Since I was already sorry, I did as I was told and was rewarded with a belch that would make an NFLlineman proud.

Megan packed the bottle and the diapers into the bag. “You’re going to call me more often, right?”

“Sure.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “No, you aren’t.”

“I might.” I juggled the baby and the diaper bag. Faith showed her displeasure by spitting white goo onto my neck. “I’m no good at this, Meg. I’m gonna need advice.”

“First tip, wipe the gack off your neck.” She handed me a tissue.

“I could have figured that out for myself.” I swiped the spittle into the tissue and handed it back.

Megan put her hand on my arm. “I’ll be right here. Anytime you need me. Twenty-four seven.”

“I know.” I headed for the stairs before she hugged me or something. I was no damn good at PDAs. They made me twitchy.

Luther had put the baby’s suitcase in the trunk. He stood on the small strip of grass between the sidewalk and the curb, leaning on the open door of the Impala.

“Where’d you get that car?” Megan asked.

“Confiscated from a traitorous fairy.”

Megan opened her mouth, shut it, then wisely said nothing.

While we’d been inside, an infant seat had miraculously appeared as well. “I never even thought of that.”

“Considering she was a kitten when you came here, understandable, but it would be illegal, dangerous, and uncomfortable for Luther to hold her all the way to . . .” Megan spread her hands waiting for me to answer, but I didn’t.

“Well, thanks,” I said, then slid awkwardly inside, one leg in the car, one leg out as I did my best to strangle the baby with the various straps and buckles necessary to keep her in the seat.

By the time I was done, Faith was glaring at me exactly as her father would have. Except her father would have impatiently flicked his hand and sent me flying five feet without ever having to touch me at all. I certainly hoped Faith didn’t grow that talent anytime soon.

As I inched out of the car and began to straighten, Faith lunged to the side, straining to reach something that had captured her attention. Figuring it was a flicker of sunlight or a dust mote, maybe even the shiny buckle on the other seat belt, I nearly kept going. Then I caught a flash of pink flannel.

“Frick!” I exclaimed, and managed to snatch the kitty binkie right before she did.

Faith wailed. I felt like an ogre. Even more so when I straightened out of the backseat, blanket in hand, to discover a middle-aged couple taking a stroll on the sidewalk. Their gazes went from the pink material to my face and they frowned.

“She—uh—puked on it.” I rolled the thing into a ball and tossed it at Luther. “Put that in the trunk.”

He narrowed his eyes at the order but did as I asked. The couple moved on but not before they gave first me, then Luther, an oddly disgusted look.

Megan watched them then turned back with a grin. “They thought she was yours.”

“I get that a lot,” I muttered.

She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “And his.”

My eyes widened. “Yuck! He’s like fourteen.”

“He isn’t.” Megan sobered. “Remember that.”

“And again I say ‘yuck.’ ”

“I didn’t mean remember it because I thought you’d touch him.” I made a gagging sound, and she punched me in the arm. “I meant other people will think so, too, and you might get hassled. Not just because of his age but because . . . well, you know.”

I frowned. “I don’t. Know. What are you talking about?”

“He’s, um—”

“Black.” Luther slammed shut the trunk. Nothing wrong with his super-duper hearing. “I’m black, Liz. You’re not.”

“I’m not white, either.” I was part Egyptian and part who the hell knew.

“Your eyes,” he said. “They’re pretty white.”

My eyes were blue, and they did appear darn strange in my darker-than-Caucasian face. But then so did Luther’s.

“We’re both something other than white. So’s the baby.”

“My point exactly,” Megan said. “In some areas of the country, you’re asking for trouble.”

“Still?” I asked.

“Still,” Luther answered.

CHAPTER 7

The drive from Milwaukee to South Dakota was fairly uneventful. We passed by Madison, then La Crosse, drove over the Mississippi River and into the West, stopping for the night in Sioux Falls.

Faith had been extraordinarily good, but she was done, and so was I. Just me and Luther, I’d have continued driving across the inky black unknown roads toward the Badlands. But fiddling with Faith, even if I wasn’t the one doing the fiddling, had worn me out. The constant tension in my neck that came from waiting for her to wake up, to whimper, to whine, to cry had developed into a full-blown pain that shot from my shoulders and into my brain.

We found a cheap but clean motel on the west side of town that boasted free Wi-Fi. Sure enough, when I asked for one room, the same dirty look I was beginning to expect passed over the clerk’s face as he glanced from me, to Luther, to Faith, and back again.

“Second marriage,” I whispered conspiratorially.

You’d have thought I rammed a poker up the clerk’s butt. I guess I was lucky he deigned to rent us a room at all.

“I’ll get some food while you give her a bath.” Luther scooped up the room key.

“What? No. Hey!” The last was shouted as he opened the door to our room. “Why can’t I get the food?”

Luther just rolled his eyes. Right. No naked girl babies around the kid.

“Does she really need a bath?” I asked. “It’s not like she’s been jogging or mud wrestling.”

“May have been a while since she’s had one. She smells a little funky.”

“Fine.” I waved my hand. “Go.”

He started to, then paused and glanced back. “You know you can’t leave her alone in the tub.”

“Duh.”

“You have to hold on to her every second. You only need an inch of water. Not too hot. But she can still drown in an inch.”

“You sure you don’t want to—”

He stepped outside and shut the door.

“Guess not.”

Faith was having a very important conversation with her toes. I took the reprieve to hunt through the diaper bag for anything that seemed like bath stuff. Finally I gave up, grabbed both the bag and the baby, and went into the bathroom.

Five minutes later I was as ready as I was going to get. I had an inch of water in the tub—not too hot. I’d dumped the diaper bag and found a washcloth and towel, along with some baby shampoo. I’d managed to remove Faith’s pink sun suit, as well as her diaper, without making her cry.

I lifted her and set her in the water. Faith’s eyes went wide and she caught her breath. If she screamed, this was going to be the world’s shortest bath. Instead she gurgled, kicked, splashed, cooed, and—

Grrrr.

Growled?

I peered at the washcloth I was running over her chubby, slippery body. Not a dog in sight. Nothing on the shampoo bottle but an unbelievably cherubic child with a head full of suds. No anti-slip stickers on the bottom of the tub. What the hell?

Maybe she was just imitating Luther. Although I couldn’t recall him growling in her presence, that didn’t mean he hadn’t when I wasn’t around. Could babies this young imitate sounds? Only one way to find out.

“Can you say
Liz
?” I asked in a chirpy voice that made Faith stop kicking and stare at me wide-eyed. I couldn’t blame her.

“Liz,”
I tried again.

Faith blinked. Maybe
Liz
was too difficult. There had to be a reason children said
Da-Da
or
Ma-Ma
first.

“
Luther
? Say
Luther. Lu-Lu-Lu.
”

“Glurg,” Faith said. I felt like an idiot.

Quickly I finished washing then drying her. I slapped on a diaper and found a one-piece deal with feet that snapped from the ankle to the neck. It was soft and yellow and looked like pajamas to me.

Faith began to tug at my shirt again so I grabbed a clean bottle and the can of formula, read the directions, and managed to get her fed before Luther returned.

She was falling asleep on my lap when he came in. “Wake her and die a thousand deaths,” I whispered.

He grinned before setting the bags of takeout—hamburgers and fries from the smell of them—on the dresser. “You did fine.”

“Piece of cake.”

“I’ll put her down.” He leaned over to take her but I tightened my hold.

“She’s okay. Go ahead and eat.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“I’ll wait.”

I couldn’t explain it but I didn’t want to let the baby go right now. She was warm and soft. She was quiet. Her mouth continued to suckle even though the bottle was nowhere near. When she rubbed her cheek against my breast, the scent of water and trees wafted upward.

My eyes stung. How could she smell just like Sawyer?

I held her for an hour. The steady pace of her breathing lulled me. I hadn’t felt such peace since—

I’d
never
felt such peace. My life had been one long, unholy jumble of chaos.

While I held Faith I opened my mind, tried to see anything that I could. But she was a baby. She lived in the now. All I saw in her head was a swirling array of faces—mine, Luther’s, Megan’s, Anna’s, Quinn’s—then a bottle and the binkie. Not a hint of
Mommy,
not a trace of
Daddy
. Must be nice to have such simple dreams.

Luther took a shower and crawled into bed. He flicked on the television, kept the sound turned low. Before I fell asleep in the chair, I set Faith in the middle of my mattress, quickly ate a cold hamburger while I researched a few things on the Internet, then yanked off my jeans and climbed in. I lined the far side of the bed with pillows and curled my body around hers.

“Sawyer,” I whispered. “Why the hell did you think this was a good idea?”

I awoke to a darkness so complete, I immediately understood the power had gone out. The only thing that glittered was a thin slice of the moon. Every security light in the parking lot was black, the neon of the sign cold and bleak, the glow from the complimentary night-light long gone.

“Liz?” Luther breathed, not even a whisper.

“Shh.”

I listened for the whip of the wind, the slash of rain, distant thunder. A storm having gone through would explain the power outage—although I couldn’t believe I would have slept through it.

I hadn’t. Someone was in the room. I could feel them. I could almost smell them.

I tilted my head, searching for the telltale buzz that would indicate Nephilim, and got nothing. That should be a good indication of a human; however, the Nephilim had found ways in the past to cloak their nature.

Still, be they human or be they demon, the lack of light and the sneaking around rather than knocking on the door gave me a pretty good clue that they weren’t here to help.

For the first time since I’d received it, my knife was not under my pillow. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to take a knife to bed with a baby. Go figure.

My gun was on the nightstand, but instead of reaching for it, I snatched the kitten blanket off the floor, then lifted the bedspread, tossed the blanket over Faith, and yanked the spread back down to muffle the flash as she changed. An instant later, someone shone a light into my eyes, nearly blinding me.

Luther snarled and went for his weapon. One of the dark shadows punched him. His nose snapped like uncooked spaghetti.

As I came off the bed, something looped around my neck and wrenched me back down. I fell so hard I bounced several inches off the mattress. My neck burned as if the rope had been dipped in acid. Before I could try to pull it off, my wrists were captured, as were my ankles. Wherever the bindings touched, agony erupted.

These intruders knew more about me than I liked. They’d come prepared with golden chains to bind a dhampir.

Luther’s lion rumbled just below the surface. I glanced in his direction, hissing when the movement rubbed the chain where I was already raw. The boy lay so still I would have feared him unconscious if he hadn’t been growling. He had to be bound as well.