set against the reddening flesh of her face, were natural.
Which is completely normal if you’re a Nereid.
She drew a deep breath and set the basket down, resting her forehead against the cool wood surface of the shop’s counter. The rainbowed tapestry of her tattooed arms curled around her head.
“Honey,” I said, handing her a paper towel to wipe her mouth. “Are you okay?”
“No.” She lifted her head just enough for me to see her watery green gaze. “I’m pregnant.”
I blinked at her, disbelieving. “Say what?”
“I’m pregnant,” she repeated.
“Are you sure? Steve makes some pretty odd food combinations—”
“I’m sure,” she said.
“But, but…” I sputtered, searching for words. “You and Steve have only been dating for a month.”
“Believe me, I know,” she said.
“How did this even happen?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re familiar with the process.” Fine red slits puffed at the sides of her neck. Poor Shayla was green around the gills.
Literally.
“What I meant was, didn’t you guys use protection?”
“I was on birth control.” She pressed her eyes closed tighter and moaned. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Is everything all right?” Joseph had materialized against the backdrop of shelves stuffed with the odd array of objects Mark had collected or purchased over his centuries on the planet. I wondered exactly how long he’d been lurking there. Stealthiness ran in the family, apparently.
“Shayla,” I said, “this is Joseph Abernathy. Mark’s father.” I followed this statement with a meaningful glance of the we will totally dish about this later variety.
“Dude,” she said with her characteristic bluntness. “Weren’t you dead?”
“It seems to be the consensus,” Joseph said. “I must say I am vastly grateful that seems not to be the case.”
Shayla offered Joseph a clammy hand, which he took, and kissed. She shot me a side-eye of the this here is a whole-ass daddy snack variety.
I covertly nodded my agreement.
“You wouldn’t, perchance, be dating a werewolf?” Joseph asked.
“She would, as it happens,” I answered on her behalf.
“Ahh.” He nodded, a knowing smile fixed on his handsome face.
“Ahh what?” Shayla blinked.
“Traditional birth control methods are somewhat ineffective against…em…” Joseph hesitated, presumably searching the air above his head for a polite way to say werewolf jizz.
“Were-spunk?” I asked.
Shayla stifled another gag.
“Sorry,” I said.
She waved a hand, as much to silence me as to ask Joseph to continue.
“Hanna is correct,” Joseph said. “although it’s not necessarily the substance in question that’s the culprit. Regular proximity to a werewolf often proves a powerful stimulant to female reproductive systems.”
Didn’t I know it.
“My mother warned me against dating non-humans.” Shayla groaned.
I sure wished mine had.
“Hey fine people, what’s shakin’?”
Steven Franke, my long-lost brother and Shayla’s significantly odd other, hitched up the plaid pants covering his bony thighs and snapped his suspenders for emphasis.
Joseph looked at Steven’s face, then to mine, comparing. I nodded, confirming what he already knew.
He had sprouted past my proportions, the male expression of my long limbs protruding from the black Def Leppard t-shirt just as his feet stretched the mint green boats of his Chuck Taylors. He’d inherited our father’s fine blond hair and thick sable brows rather than the auburn mop I’d drawn from our mother’s side.
Joseph, Shayla and I all exchanged nervous glances.
“Whoa,” he laughed. “Why do I feel like the guy that baked an air biscuit in the middle of the party?”
“How could you not tell me?” Shayla accused, punching his upper arm. “What were you thinking?”
“Look, Nicholas Cage’s career has been over for a long time,” Steve said. “I didn’t exactly think it was a secret.” His face took on a boyish cast that could disarm the Roman legions.
“Don’t even start with the jokes,” Shayla warned. “Not this time.”
“What?” He looked honestly alarmed now, his face innocence incarnate.
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
I watched Steve’s face for signs of shock, but found only pure, uninhibited wonder.
“Slap a trout and call me daddy,” Steve exclaimed. “No shit?”
“No shit,” Shayla said.
“Me?” His long, bony fingers pointed at his own bony sternum. “I’m gonna be a dad?”
“You.” Shayla pointed a red-lacquered nail at him.
Steve let out a whoop and galloped across the space between to scoop Shayla up and swing her in a circle.
“Stop!” She begged, laughing. “Do you want me to yark again?”
An unfamiliar expression crossed Steve’s usually playful face as he looked down into Shayla’s eyes. “You wanna get hitched?”
“What?” The features of her face curved like a question as he set her down.
“You. Me. With the ring and the thing and forever,” he said.
“You’re out of your mind!” she insisted. “We’ve only been together for a month!”
“In