He shook his head. “I’m sorry, too. That explains why I didn’t hear from him.” He glanced around self-consciously. “I thought maybe you could, you know.” He wiggled his fingers.

“I can wiggle my fingers, thanks for asking, but what does that have to do with the cow doctor?”

My phone dinged with a text. I grabbed it off my desk and checked it.

“You know what I mean,” Garrett said.

“How’d it go with the ex?”

“She’s not really my ex. I mean, we never really had a thing.”

“Sure you did.” It was Osh asking if he could come in.

I typed back,

Of course.

“You had a kid. That’s a tad more important than a thing.”

“I guess.”

Cookie went up and hugged him. He hugged back as though she were a prickly pear cactus, clearly uncomfortable with the subject of fatherhood. “I don’t care how it happened, it’s still wonderful. Congratulations.”

He wiped his mouth when she stepped back. “Thanks.”

“He’s adorable, Cook. His name is Zaire and you nailed it with the voodoo stuff.”

Garrett’s gaze snapped back to hers. “How did you know?”

She chuckled and walked back into the kitchen. “Marika has a blog. I’m a little surprised you didn’t find it.”

“Wow. I never dug in that direction, I guess.”

Uncle Bob shook his hand. “Congratulations. I’d offer you advice, but I’ve never been married.”

“Neither has Garrett,” I said, stating the truth. “He’s a slut.”

Cookie giggled. “I love it when you call men sluts.”

“Right?” I said, giggling back. “It’s much funnier than the alternative.” It was odd how I despised that word when talking about women, but when talking about men, all bets were off. Maybe because of the centuries-old double standard where a woman who enjoyed sex was a slut, whereas a man who enjoyed sex was a stud. That one never sat well with me.

I slowly got the feeling something was out of place. I glanced around, then bent down to Belvedere’s fishbowl. Only it wasn’t Belvedere. He’d been kidnapped!

“Cookie,” I said, straightening and turning to look at her. “This is not my goldfish.”

“What?” she asked, guilt radiating out of her.

“Cookie!” I said, astonished. “Why would you abduct my goldfish?”

She let out a hapless sigh. “How on earth did you figure that out? It’s a goldfish. They all look alike.”

“Belvedere had a white patch on his side. This… this impostor, does not.”

“Hey,” Cook said, walking over to cover the bowl as though covering a child’s ears. “She is very sensitive. Belvedere didn’t make it, hon. This is Mrs. Thibodeaux.”

“What? I barely had him a day.”

“I know.” She stepped forward and patted my shoulder. “It was his time.”

I sank into a chair at the kitchen table. “I killed him. I knew it. I’m going to be a horrible mother. How can I keep a kid alive if I can’t even keep a goldfish alive?”

“Charley, this has nothing to do with your parenting skills. Any number of things could have happened.”

I sniffed and glanced over at Mrs. Thibodeaux. “Did he go peacefully?”

“Yes.” She patted again. “I found him floating upside down with a smile on his little face.”

“Mrs. Thibodeaux is very pretty.”

“Yes, she is.”

“So, can you try?” Garrett asked, going back to the wiggling-fingers thing as someone finally knocked on my door.

With a sad sigh, I stood and opened the door to a very embarrassed and uncomfortable kid named Osh. When he didn’t come inside immediately, I rose onto my toes and hugged his neck.

“You are welcome here anytime, Osh. I know you didn’t summon them. Reyes knows it, too.”

Osh let me hug him but didn’t hug back unless I counted the slight patting of my rib cage. When I finished, he said, “Rey’aziel has a point. There are only a handful of entities on this plane who could have summoned the Twelve.”

“Come in.”

He stepped inside at last and I went to pour myself a cup of his captor’s blood. “Coffee?” I asked.

He shook his head, then offered a tense nod of acknowledgment toward Cook and Garrett. They had both been there that morning during World War III.

Cookie rushed up and hugged him, too, her arms barely reaching around his shoulders. He bent to let her. It was sweet.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

His gorgeous mouth slid into a smile. “I’m fine. And I’m a centuries-old demon. I’ve lived through a lot worse.”

She stepped back. “You’re a sweet boy nonetheless. Anyone who risks his life for our Charley is family in my book.”

He was taken aback by her assessment of him. I got the feeling he didn’t get many compliments like that. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Okay, who’s up for Italian?” When everyone nodded in agreement, she went to her apartment to call in an order and check on the offspring who had to do her homework before she could join us.

Uncle Bob turned on the television and Osh walked up to me as I sat back at my computer. “You knocked my ass out this morning,” he said, clearly impressed.