Ashlynn’s ear-piercing shriek startled Shane awake. His heart pounded as he glanced at the clock on Addison’s nightstand. Its glowing green letters read 6:14. “I don’t wanna have oatmeal!” the pint-sized banshee wailed. Her soprano sliced through the walls and closed door between Shane and the kitchen. “I want pancakes!”
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An almost deja vu washed over Addison as she entered the brightly lit foyer of Daniel’s quarters. A few months ago she’d all but lived there. Now, with her baby boy asleep in his sling, the elegant decor felt austere, and the beginning of an old poem echoed in her mind: “‘Will
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Jacob wouldn’t stop crying. After a mostly sleepless night, Shane was nearly in tears himself. He continued pacing across Addison’s living room with Jacob in his arms. Normally a few minutes of walking after a feeding lulled his son to sleep. Shane had been at it for forty minutes. Although
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Green flames leaped from the plush carpet of Chairman Carlyle’s office. Giovanni studied the small, heatless fire between him and his Matron. Despite being one of the senior witches at Triptych, Gio had never seen this particular spell before. The unearthly flames combined Mind, Light, and a bit of Matter. The
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Shane took another bite of the pasta primavera Svetlana had prepared. Or maybe Addison had. Whoever had cooked dinner, they’d done a good job. If Ashlynn ever stopped talking, he’d say so.
“–a lot like here, on the outside,” Ashlynn prattled, “but there are birds everywhere! Some have blue feet, and–”
“Ashlynn, dear,”
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“Svetlana! You look pretty!” Ashlynn crowed. The girl barreled at Svetlana, wrapping her little arms around one of Svetlana’s skirt-covered legs.
Svetlana patted Ashlynn’s back. “Thank you, dear. You look pretty, too.” And she did. The frilly purple and lavender dress, while not Ashlynn’s favorite, practically screamed “I’m a
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The videophone’s chime startled Shane awake. He bolted upright, disoriented. A glance showed that he’d been sprawled on the couch in his quarters. The artificial lights were mid-day bright. His dress shirt and slacks were rumpled, and his shoes were still on.
The digitized chime sounded again. “What?” Shane snapped.
“‘What?’”
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