How to Raise an Incubus, #2

H2RAI 4: A Promise Fulfilled

How to Raise an Incubus 4: A Promise Fulfilled

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Three days later, I was standing in Chris Dartwood's kitchen, flipping an omelette on the stove - for Lisa, the pregnant pastor's daughter who was now crashing at Chris' place.

I gritted my teeth in annoyance, wiping the sweat off my brow that was a result of being in front of the heat too long. Becoming a personal chef was not what I'd signed up for.

"Thanks for making me breakfast," Lisa said softly from the island behind me.

I scowled at the frying pan before me. "No problem. Is there anything else I can make you? Bacon? Cereal?"

"Stop with the sarcasm," Chris scolded, and I turned to direct my glare at her. "Like I said, Lisa isn't feeling too well today, and I have my hands full. We help each other out here."

My eyes travelled to the wall clock above a calendar. It was almost ten. "I get that, but when can we get to the other stuff?" I asked, my voice meaningful. I wasn't sure if Lisa knew about demon hunters.

Chris laughed. "Lisa knows I'm a hunter, Rainelle. No secrets here."

I huffed out a breath. "Good to know."

Lisa's eggs were finally ready and I flipped them onto a plate, turning and setting it before her. She looked like crap, but that was understandable. I'd been there before. Instantly, my heart softened towards her.

"Eat," I told her.

She pushed a strand of flaming hair out of her face before grabbing a fork and knife from where Chris had placed them earlier. "Thanks, Rainelle."

"Call me Rae."

"Thank you, Rae. I feel like...like you're the only other person besides Meg who understands what I'm going through." She shoveled a forkful of cheesy omelet into her mouth.

I leaned forward, elbows on the island. "You can talk to me anytime. I know how scared and confused you must be, and I'd be lying if I said your feelings aren't justifiable," I said gently. "But I'm here for you."

I may have sounded like a cheesy school counselor, but I actually meant that. I was more than a decade older than her and I was prone to feeling the exact same way on occasion. The fear of the unknown was a fear like no other. It swallowed you up into an endless, cavernous darkness and made no sense whatsoever.

"Thanks." Lisa gave me a wide smile. "Maybe you can even be here for the birth."

"Yeah. Maybe." This both terrified and intrigued me.

Chris seemed to watch our exchange with open interest. "How have you been feeling, Rae?" she wanted to know, taking a long sip of what she'd earlier informed me was masala chai tea.

I lifted my shoulders. "Okay."

"No morning sickness? High BP?"

Does the nauseating thought of seeing my mother again count?

"Nope. All good."

"And you're taking all your vitamins?"

"Every last pill," I muttered, glancing down at my stomach. Today, thanks to the cool weather, it was hidden under a black hoodie. This morning, I hadn't been able to do up the button of my favorite pair of skinny jeans. I was beginning to live in leggings, sweats and yoga pants these days.

"Don't hesitate to let me know if –"

"Look, Chris, I appreciate the concern," I interjected, "but my babies aren't why I came here."