“Nope.” I marched over to the daemon. “Don’t count your dragons before they hatch next time.”
“Fiiine.” She launched into a glide in a sulk. “Can we go check the bottle now?”
“Yes.” I flicked a wrist toward the front door. “Let’s go.”
The daemon lumbered after Colby, the pair discussing pirate ship names, while Clay walked with me.
“You’re good at the parenting thing.”
“Yes, well, I was lucky.” A hoarse note crept into my voice. “I had a fairy golem father to teach me.”
“Aww.” He slung an arm around my neck and reeled me in for a kiss on the cheek. “You love me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I shoved him off me with a laugh. “You already knew that.”
“Still nice to hear it.” He bumped shoulders with me. “How many nieces and nephews should I expect?”
“Why are you so obsessed with me procreating?”
A shudder rippled down my spine when his comment reminded me of Stavros’s offer.
“Mostly, I’m curious how much weight you could gain. Like, is there a record we could beat?”
We?
There was no we in stretch marks, labor, or postpartum weight loss.
“You want to use me…to break a record for the most pounds gained during a pregnancy?”
“Or maybe I just want to do this and not get caught.”
Wary, I cut my eyes toward him. “Do what?”
“Tag.” He thumped me between the eyes. “You’re it.”
Using his head start, the jerk took off at a sprint, cupping his hands to yell to the others, “Ahoy there.”
“I’m an aquatic daemon,” Aedan said dryly, “not a pirate.”
Devious Clay might be, but he was a lot of golem moving at a high rate of speed on a downward slope.
Hot on his heels, I tripped him, and sent him sprawling. He shoved up on his forearms, spitting grass as I stepped over his legs to join the others at Camp Aedan to inspect the peculiar bottle in Aedan’s hands.
An odd aura surrounded it, giving it a faint rainbow sheen. “You found that in the creek?”
The glass was thick, handblown, and a deep azure like the vintage kind locals stuck on bottle trees.
“Yeah.” He handed it to me. “Water would void any nasty spells on it, right?”
“In most cases, yes.” I shut my eyes and rolled the glass between my palms. “There’s something…”
“Smash for Rue?” The daemon, still high on adrenaline, looked hopeful. “I like smash.”
“I know you do, big guy, but there’s magic in there.” I sniffed the cork. “Ah.”
A pungent whiff of copper and decay told me who sent it, and it spoke volumes about Dad’s power that its trip down the creek hadn’t washed away all traces of his signature.
“Rue safe?” The daemon’s fingers twitched, eager to snatch and crush. “I smash?”