beside the baby’s cheek. “He’s pretty, isn’t he? And strong.”
“Sure is,” Zander said.
“He made it through a lot before he was even born. He’ll be a tough kid.” She curved her gesture up over his head, keeping an inch of space between them.
“Right,” Damon said briskly. “But that’ll be a hell of a lot easier if you can feed him. Come on, girl. Try it.”
She lowered her finger toward the baby’s head. Brian held his breath, and didn’t resist as Nick tugged him closer. The moment Lori’s hand touched the child, she drew a loud breath. Then let it out in a wail that was echoed by the baby’s higher cry. She blinked fast, her other hand waving aimlessly in the air.
“Shit.” Damon leaned away, breaking her contact with the infant.
Immediately, Lori’s eyes opened wide, then she frowned and stopped waving. She took one fast, harsh gasp. “Shit!”
“That’s what I said.” Damon sat back on his heels, rocking the child again. “What happened? Describe it.”
“I don’t know.” She rubbed her eyes. “It’s like, when I touch him, I lose where I am. Everything is fuzzy and bright and uncomfortable.”
“And scary?”
“I guess.” She pushed higher on the pillows and winced. “Fuck it, my gut hurts and I want to hold my damned baby.”
Zander barked a short, unamused laugh. “This is nuts! This is all nuts, right? Babies don’t do whatever you think he’s doing.”
Nick said to Brian, “When you held him, you looked happy. Not freaked out like Lori. You were staring at him and smiling.”
“Yeaaah.” Lori looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “What did you see, little brother? You weren’t having seizures.”
Brian struggled to put it into words. “I was just, you know, checking his trace. So I could Find him, if I ever needed to. And the light was all white and shiny and silver and… I don’t know. It was pretty and bright. I got distracted. I probably overdid it.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Nick muttered.
“But it didn’t hurt?” Damon asked.
“No. Not at all.”
“Not cold and confused and fuzzy, like she said?”
“No. Let me check—” He closed his eyes and looked inside his head to where those traces floated in the darkness. Cracked his Finder eye open— White! Silver! Shiny, shiny, flowing river…
A hard jolt to his back startled him. He blinked his eyes open, cutting off that silver shine. Everyone was staring at him. Nick thumped him between the shoulder blades again, rough enough to bruise.
He grabbed Nick’s wrist. “I’m good. I’m back. He’s really bright. Was it long?”
“A few seconds, but I don’t fucking want to see you stand there like no one’s home in your head. Don’t do that.”
“Hmm.” Damon rose smoothly, the baby against his shoulder. “So to you he’s a blindingly bright trace. To me, he’s just another little Kerr to take care of. To Lori—”
“He’s my goddamned son,” she said. “And I’m going to hold him. Maybe if you wrap him in a blanket?”
Zander scooped a fresh baby blanket off the dresser, turned to Damon and said, “Let me this time.”
Damon backed up a step, then said, “Why the hell not.” Between them, they wrapped the baby up like an infant burrito, then Zander took him back to Lori. She touched the blanket, then the baby through the blanket.
“Huh. Nothing.”
“That’s good, right?” Zander held the child close, though. “Maybe it was a one-time thing.”
“Maybe you should try rubber gloves.” Damon moved to the other side of the bed and passed her a pair from Zander’s bag.
“I feel stupid,” Lori grumbled, but she pulled them on. “Okay. Try now.”
They determined that she could touch the baby with gloved hands and not react. Carefully, Zander transferred the wrapped bundle to her arms.
Damon sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll hang out here.”
Lori said sourly, “Don’t you trust me?”
“To not kiss him and give yourself another seizure? Sure. I trust you.” Damon didn’t move away.
Brian watched as Lori explored the child with her latex touch. She seemed to have no trouble looking in the kid’s eyes. Just like he’d been able to touch the kid, when she couldn’t. The kid. The real live kid who might be mine after all, but there he is, and he’s just a little baby. He felt a rush of sympathy. Poor kid, having his mom’s touch feel like a dead balloon. He asked, “Did you pick a name, Lor?”
“Joshua Felix.”
“Felix? Like a cat?”
“With nine lives, hell, yeah. Josh for short.” She bent to look at the baby. “Hi, Joshie.”