CLARA'S POV
Remember when I said raising a kid couldn't be that hard?
Yeah. I take it back. I take it all back.
"Talon, get off the counter! That's not a jungle gym!"
"Talon,don't touch the scissors! Those are for paper, not for your hair!"
"How the hell did you evenfind that knife? It was in the back of the highest drawer!"
"Talon,no! Don't eat the soap! It's not edible! Spit it out! I said spit—don't swallow! Arghh!!"
I was wrong. So, profoundly, catastrophically wrong. I salute all the mothers out there, especially the ones with more than one child. You are the real soldiers. The Marines of motherhood. I am just a civilian who accidentally enlisted in a war I didn't understand.
Talon is cute, alright. He has the face of a cherub and the soul of a tiny, chaotic demolition expert. In the month he's been with me, he has personally tested the structural integrity of my apartment. The casualty list is long and expensive: one flat-screen television (he tried to climb it), one microwave (he put a metal cup in it to 'see the sparks'), the kitchen sink (don't ask), and at least three light bulbs (don't ask that either). I can't even begin to count the minor damages. If it weren't for the fact that I miraculously got my old job back—after groveling to Mr. Henderson and promising my firstborn—we would be in serious, life-altering debt.
My firstborn, of course, is the one causing the debt. The irony is not lost on me.
Right now, I was standing in front of the couch, arms crossed, trying to channel my inner stern parent. The cute little criminal was sitting there, head bowed, tiny shoulders slumped.
"Talon," I said, my voice firm.
He slowly looked up. His big, amber eyes were filled with shimmering tears. His lower lip was pushed out in a world-class pout. He looked so guilty. And so unbearably cute.
Ahh, my heart. Stay strong, Clara. Do not succumb.
I had to remind myself that this was his primary weapon. He weaponized cuteness to distract from his crimes. And he was a master at it.
"Don't you dare look at me like that," I said, pointing a finger. "Like you aren't at fault."
His eyes widened in feigned innocence. He started flailing his hands, a series of frantic gestures that seemed to say, Who, me? I would never! I am a perfect angel!
"Ha! Innocent, my foot," I scoffed. "How many times did I tell you not to set Mrs. Franklin's poodles on fire?"
Yes. You read that right. He was setting dogs on fire. Dogs! Not the whole dog, thank god, just the very tips of their perfectly coiffed tails. Mrs. Franklin had come to my door, shrieking about "pyromaniac toddlers" and "satanic possession." It took a month of my salary and a promise to pay for doggy therapy to calm her down.
This whole supernatural baby thing started giving me clues about three weeks ago. The first major incident was the day I learned my child could defy gravity.
It was a Tuesday. I'd just gotten home from a grueling double shift.
"Hey, Talon! I have a surprise for youuuuu!" I hollered, kicking the door shut behind me. I was holding a bag with a new stuffed dinosaur.
I dropped the grocery bag on the floor and braced myself for the impact of a small, warm body launching itself at my legs.
One second.
Two seconds.
One minute.
Nothing.
"Hello? Talon?"
Weird. He usually came crawling at the speed of light. I walked into the bedroom where I'd left him napping just ten minutes ago. The bed was empty. His favorite pink pig teddy was there. His sacred, must-have-at-all-times cream blanket was gone.
That was the first red flag. Talon would abandon the pig, his toys, even food, but he never went anywhere without that blanket.
"Talon?!" My voice pitched higher. I searched under the bed, in the closet, behind the curtains. Nothing. I checked the bathroom, thinking he might have crawled in and gotten stuck. Empty.
Panic, cold and sharp, began to well up in my chest. I turned the apartment upside down. The kitchen, the linen closet, even the balcony. Nowhere!
I lost my baby.
The thought was a physical blow. I'd only had him for two weeks. Was I such a horrible caretaker that I couldn't even manage for a fortnight? Tears started to prick my eyes.
I rushed to the living room, fumbling in my purse for my phone. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely dial 911.
"911, what's your emergency?" a calm female voice answered.
"Hello. I'm looking for my son. Please, you have to help me, I don't know what to do!" My words tumbled out in a rush.
"Ma'am, please try to calm down. When was the last time you saw him?"
"Like, fifteen minutes ago! He was asleep, so I just ran to the store right beside our apartment block to grab milk. I was gone ten minutes tops! I came back and he wasn't in the room, he's not in the house!" I was pacing, biting my thumbnail down to the quick.
"Are you absolutely sure you've searched the entire residence? Children can be very slippery. I advise you to search again. In the meantime, give me his description."
"Okay, okay." I took a shaky breath. "His name is Talon. He's about ten months old. Brown, curly hair, chubby cheeks, big… amber eyes." I decided to leave out the 'sometimes-glowing' part for now.
After the call disconnected, I did another frantic lap of the apartment, checking places I'd already checked twice. The oven. The dishwasher. The laundry basket. Nothing. He was gone.
I sank onto a stool in the kitchen, defeated. Tears streamed down my face. The fear was overwhelming. What if someone had broken in? What if he was hurt somewhere, and I couldn't get to him?
"I'm a total fool," I sobbed into my hands.
"Noii."
I froze. Did I just hear something? I lifted my head, scanning the empty kitchen.
"I'm going crazy. The stress is making me hallucinate."
"Clawa!"
Okay, I was not crazy. That was definitely a baby voice, and it sounded like Talon. But where was it coming from? I got down on my hands and knees, checking under the table again.
"Woo woo!"
The sound was closer this time. I was in the middle of the kitchen. Where could he be? My eyes drifted upwards, following the sound.
And there he was.
A baby. Floating near the ceiling. A baby was casually flying around my kitchen light fixture.
My brain short-circuited. I should have been screaming. I should have been questioning the very laws of physics. But my mind was so fried with panic and relief that all I could do was stare.
The floating baby gave me a toothy grin, showing off his two new front teeth. His amber eyes were glowing, shimmering like liquid gold.
And the baby looked exactly like Talon.
You idiot, a voice in my head said. It IS Talon.