Faith—once again a chubby baby—had her face pressed to the window. Her gray eyes shone luminescent with unshed tears as she pounded against the glass. Her naked chest hitched as she drew in a breath that would no doubt break every ear drum in the vicinity.
Once again she’d developed human skills in far too short a time to be human. A few days ago I’d had to support her neck like a just-born infant. Now she stood on her own two feet, albeit leaning against the car door, and pounded the glass hard enough to make it rattle. If this kept up, she’d be sneaking joints and dating inappropriate young men by next Tuesday.
Something shot past me—a flare of motion too fast to distinguish an identity. I figured it was Luther, with Ruthie manning the controls. Instead, Summer materialized next to the car.
She tugged once on the door, then zapped it with make-me dust, which, from what I’d seen of it so far, worked just as well on things as people. Next time she touched the handle, the door swung open, and she swept Faith into her arms.
The baby hugged her as if they were long-lost relatives. I wanted to stalk over there and yank the child away, but I refrained.
Summer rounded on me, lips pulled back from her teeth, face furious. “You can’t leave a baby in the car like a dog! You shouldn’t even leave a dog in the car if it’s over seventy degrees, let alone ninety in the sun like it is now.”
“The sun wasn’t out until I brought it out,” I said mildly. “And she wasn’t a baby when I left.”
That put a stop to Summer’s tirade.
She frowned, leaned back, stared into the child’s face, then glanced at me, Jimmy, and Ruthie-Luther in turn. “You’d better explain that.”
Luther took a breath to answer, and I shook my head then crossed to the car. Summer inched out of my way as I passed. Smart move, though I wouldn’t have shoved her when she had the baby in her arms.
Faith gurgled and cooed. I glanced at her with a smile—believing for an instant that she was gurgling and cooing at me—but instead she patted Summer’s face and babbled to her like they were BFFs.
“I thought fairies stole babies,” I muttered as I leaned inside and grabbed Faith’s blanket.
“That’s goblins.”
Backing out, I nearly bumped my head when I straightened too quickly. “Goblins,” I repeated.
“Little people. Mischievous to the point of evil. Their laugh curdles milk. They hide small objects from humans.”
“Like babies?”
Summer lifted one shoulder and went back to playing goo-goo with Faith.
“If goblins were stealing babies, wouldn’t there be a lot more talk about missing tots?”
“Who says there isn’t?” Summer asked.
True.
“Except goblins only take babies when they have one to give.” Summer crossed her eyes and scrunched up her face. Faith giggled, the sound pure joy, and I couldn’t help but smile before glancing at Jimmy.
He wasn’t even looking at me. Instead he stared at Faith as if she’d just sprung from the ozone, which she kind of had.
“No one notices they’ve got a goblin instead of a baby?” I found this hard to believe. But so many things were.
“Goblins leave changelings behind,” Summer said.
“Which are?”
“Ugly goblin babies.”
“Still not getting why no one notices this.”
“Because an ugly goblin baby is an adorable human one.”
Shades of The Munsters. The ugly cousin was really quite a swan.
I met Ruthie’s eyes. “What are we doing about this?”
“It’s rare, Lizbeth. When it happens, we do our best to track down the goblin and take back the baby.”
There was so much I didn’t know about this world, my job, hell, everything.
“Why are we talking about goblins?” Jimmy demanded.
“I needed to know.”
“Not right this second. The last changeling I heard about was a good three years ago. The Nephilim have bigger fish to fry. Like you.”
“And you,” I countered.
Jimmy shrugged, unconcerned as always with the legion of half demons that wanted us dead. “What was she when you left her?”
I figured show was always better than tell, so I tossed Faith’s binkie over her head. The bright flash was muted by the pink flannel. Summer’s eyes widened, and she nearly fumbled the baby as the child’s bones shifted, and her soft bronze skin sprouted fuzzy black hair. At least I wasn’t the only one with butter fingers.
“Voilà!” I yanked the blanket off. The black kitten’s tail twitched back and forth as she contemplated each of us in turn with her pale gray gaze.
“Is she yours?” Jimmy asked.
I threw up the hand that wasn’t holding the blanket. “Why does everyone ask me that?”
“She’s a shape-shifter.”
“So are half the people I meet these days.”
“You’re denying she’s yours?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“She’s quite obviously Sawyer’s.” Summer smoothed her hand over Faith’s dark head, and the kitten began to purr. “So why wouldn’t we think she’s yours, too?”