Marcus was engaging in spontaneous sword fights
“Fatherhood changes a man.” Her husband grinned. “Wait until you see Jamie’s special feature.”
Nell had lived through a lifetime of Jamie’s special features. “Does it squirt?”
Daniel’s face fell. “Damn, you’re good.” He patted some sort of black pouch hanging off the side of the carrier contraption. “Milk cooler. Has a little hose thingie to pipe milk to the baby.”
She was pretty sure babies didn’t drink milk from hoses. “They tend to prefer nipples.”
Her husband wiggled his eyebrows. “I know.” He motioned her over and guided her hand inside the main part of the carrier. “Meet my contribution-boob pillows.”
Sure enough. Her husband’s chest currently sported two very breast-like contraptions. He grinned. “Jamie found some research study that said babies fall asleep 53% faster curled up to their mother’s chest. We’re just equalizing things a little.”
Only grown men could find a scientific basis for fake boobs. “And it took the two of you how long to come up with this?”
“Two?” Daniel looked blank for a moment. “Marcus is the main engineer behind all this genius. Aaron and Mike helped too-they added the baby toys.” He reached into the carrier and held them up. “Fake iPhone, car keys, credit cards, and sea-glass teether. The sea glass is real. The rest we magicked from baby-safe materials. All firmly attached so they can’t be pitched overboard or swallowed.”
Nell blinked, and touched her finger to the fake iPhone screen. It beeped happily. Okay. That was cool. She looked up at her husband. “I’m still not having another baby.” But she mightily appreciated his attempts to cheer her up.
He sighed and kissed the top of her head. “Well, it was worth a try.”
She chuckled. “I’m sure you can borrow Kenna when Jamie’s done playing with her.”
“I think Devin’s next. Maybe Aaron will share-he’s got two.” Daniel patted his carrier, thoughtful. ”I wonder if we can rig this thing to carry two babies? There’s got to be a market for that.”
Nell just shook her head. “You guys are really going to make this thing, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question-she knew her man.
“Yup.” Her husband looked like Aervyn let loose in the Lego store. “I’m building the website, and Jamie knows some engineer who does product certification testing.”
She was afraid to ask.
He grinned. “That’s where you wear the carrier while bungee jumping or narrowly escaping car crashes. And Devin wants to try broomstick flying.”
Nell snorted. “You’d never get Kenna back down from the sky.” Her eyes sharpened. “Wait. Devin doesn’t have babies. How come he’s involved in this?”
“It’s bungee jumping,” said Daniel, his dimple flashing. “I think he overlooked the babies part.”
Drat. No new Sullivans on the way. Yet.
She kissed her husband’s cheek. “Go have a daddy play date. And send Elorie back this way. Ginia’s got more spa stuff brewing on the stove.” Her daughter was apparently having a very busy day.
He grinned. “I know. Why do you think Nathan and Aervyn beat it out of here right after breakfast?”
Silly boys.
Then again, the last batch had smelled a fair amount like skunk.
And with that, she was squarely on her feet again. Life, back to crazy normal. She reached up to kiss her husband’s cheek. “Thanks.”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
Marcus stood on the cliff’s edge and looked out over sand and water. It always pulled him back.
The beach had been their plaything, the place where he and Evan came to worship boyhood. A stretch of sand just outside the village, divided from humanity by the rock promontory under his feet. They’d felt like explorers. Or pirates of old, discovering the shores of America.
Historical truth had never interfered overmuch with their quests.
It had taken a long list of rules and an Act of Dad, the day after their fifth birthday, to gain permission to visit the beach alone.
For the next three months, he and Evan had practically lived there, two small boys dizzy with freedom and a world that stretched further than their eyes could see.
And then Marcus had woken one night and found himself standing on the beach, screaming Evan’s name and hurling magic at a force he couldn’t see.
His brother’s body had still been back in his bed, tucked in with a life-sized bear and an illicit baseball. His soul-gone. Vanished into the mists.
At first, coming back to the beach had been an act of fractured, anguished hope. Marcus had stared over the waters, willing Evan back out of the evil green fog.
He’d never come. Time and tears had eventually eroded the hope, but Marcus still made regular pilgrimages to the beach. Some days, he got no further than the rock promontory before pain chased him back to safer ground.
Not today.
Marcus stepped off the rock point, making his way down the narrow, winding path to the sand. He cursed as pebbles slid under his feet. Damn old-man shoes.
He’d come with intentions, and they didn’t involve landing in an ignominious pile. A few more steps and he reached the relatively easier footing of sand and seaweed. Small birds feasting on beach detritus skittered out of the way as he advanced, then closed ranks behind him again. Survival stopped for no man.
He headed straight for the midpoint of the beach. There was a nexus there-a point of balance between land and sea, east and west. The place his magic would be strongest.
Power surged as he arrived, water and air responding to his call. He was a witch at the peak of his powers-and it was time to use them.
He turned to the sea, arms stretched to the sky.
He kept it short-the storm was already well underway. With deft hands, he twisted currents of air, bending them double and tossing them into frothing water. Lightning flashed, long crackling columns running flat out to sea. East.
The lightning was a new trick. Marcus smiled grimly. He’d learned a thing or two from Sierra Brighton.
For the first time in forty-three years, he wanted the mists to hear him. Faster now, he slammed energies together, fueling a fog of magic and rage.
He didn’t listen for an answer. There wouldn’t be one, and Marcus Buchanan had long since stopped begging his brother to talk.
Today, he only wanted him to hear. Hands fisted, Marcus faced the mists-with a message. It was short, sweet, and he flung it with every ounce of power he possessed.
His magic died, the spluttering halt of a witch out of gas.
The witch was done. The man had barely begun. He had wards. A warming spell. A castle, a team. And a reason to fight.
He wasn’t living scared anymore.
Chapter 18
