Clara's POV
"Talon?" I whispered.
He giggled and clapped his hands, floating in a little happy circle.
"How… how did you get up there?" I asked, gesturing weakly for him to come down.
Instead, he did a lazy backstroke through the air and floated out of the kitchen toward the living room.
"Hey! Talon!" I scrambled after him. "Come down this instant!"
I jumped, trying to grab his foot. He dodged my hand with an effortless wiggle and zoomed over to the bookshelf.
"Shit. You slippery little thing."
This went on for a solid five minutes. Me, a grown woman, chasing a flying infant around my living room like it was the world's weirdest game of tag. I was getting desperate. I grabbed a broom, thinking I could gently guide him downward.
That's when the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong.
I froze mid-swat. Talon froze mid-float. We locked eyes, his wide with curiosity, mine wide with pure, unadulterated terror.
Ding-dong-ding-dong!
The bell rang again, more urgent this time. I dropped the broom and ran to the door, peeking through the peephole.
My blood ran cold. A large, distorted head. The color blue. A badge.
The police. Of course. I'd called them.
I looked back at Talon, who was now doing slow, lazy loops near the ceiling fan.
He was definitely not missing anymore.
"Hello? NYPD, is anyone home?" A deep voice called out, followed by three sharp raps on the door.
I had to answer. The lights were on. My car was outside. I couldn't pretend I wasn't home.
But first, I had to do something about the flying baby in my living room.
"Just a minute!" I yelled, my voice an octave too high. I sprinted toward Talon, waving my arms frantically. "Get down! Get down right now!"
He seemed to think this was a new game and floated higher. I managed to snag the corner of his blanket and yank. He tumbled into my arms with a surprised squeak. I didn't have time to figure out how to make him stop flying, so I did the only thing I could think of. I ran into the bedroom, dumped him on the bed, and threw his favorite piggy at him.
"Stay. Do not move. Do not float. Be a normal, earth-bound baby. For the love of all that is holy, please."
I slammed the door shut and ran back to the front door, smoothing down my hair and trying to wipe the panic off my face. I took a deep breath and opened the door with a warm, hopefully convincing, smile.
"Hello, officers."
There were three of them. Two men and one woman. One of the men had dark hair and a quiet demeanor. The other… my smile almost faltered. He had icy blue eyes and brown hair, but the most striking thing was the cross-like tattoo on his neck. It was intricate and strange, unlike any religious symbol I'd ever seen.
"Ahem." The female officer cleared her throat, snapping me out of my stare.
I looked directly at the blue-eyed officer and instantly recoiled. His gaze was cold, harsh, and penetrating. I can't explain it, but I felt a wave of pure, undiluted menace roll off him. It was a killing intent, a predator's focus. My every instinct screamed not to let him in.
But I had no choice.
I widened my smile, feeling it strain my cheeks. "Please, come in."
I stepped aside, and they filed past me. I closed the door and turned to face them, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Please, have a seat," I said, gesturing to the couch.
"No, thank you," the female officer declined. I tried not to visibly sag with relief.
"I suppose you're here about the report I made earlier," I started, clasping my hands to keep them from shaking.
"Yes, ma'am. We're the patrol officers for this area. We got the alert, but we weren't able to locate your son. Is there any new information you can give us?"
"Err…" This was the tough part. What could I say? Oh, I found him, he was just practicing his aerial maneuvers in the kitchen. "Umm, actually, now that I think about it, there's a park a couple of blocks down that I usually take him to. I've already searched there, but that's the only place that's significant to him."
I let out a shaky sigh and forced a few tears, putting on my best 'distressed mother' performance. "I'm just so worried about him. I never thought something like this could happen."
"When did you give birth to him?"
The question came from the creepy blue-eyed officer. It was like a bucket of ice water. How was I supposed to answer that?
"About… ten months ago," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Why are you asking?"
"Nothing much," he said, his voice a low monotone. "It's just that our preliminary inquiries indicate none of your neighbors were aware you had a son until very recently. That begs the question of whether you are, in fact, his mother."
My blood ran cold. This was bad. This was very, very bad.
"I am his mother, and he is my son, and he is MISSING," I said, my voice rising with a mix of genuine fear and manufactured outrage. "Your job is to find him and bring him back to me safely, not to question my life choices!"
I marched to the door and yanked it open. "Thank you, officers, for your time, but you can leave now." I gestured pointedly to the hallway.
"Miss," the female officer began, "please don't be offended by my colleague's directness. He sometimes lacks… tact." She shot a glare at the blue-eyed man before turning back to me with a bright, patently fake smile.
Now I really wanted them out. The other, quiet officer was subtly scanning my apartment, his eyes lingering on the closed bedroom door. The door behind which a possibly floating baby was contained.
"There's no problem," I said, producing an even faker, toothier smile. "But you really do have to leave. Now."
They reluctantly filed out. The blue-eyed one was the last. He stopped in the doorway, his cold eyes locking with mine for a moment that felt like an eternity. I couldn't take it anymore. I gave him a firm shove, making him stumble into the hallway, and then I slammed the door in his face.
"Fucker!" I muttered, locking the deadbolt.
I peered through the peephole. The three of them were huddled in the hallway, arguing. After a minute, they left. But not before the blue-eyed fucker turned and gave my door one last, long, chilling glare.
The audacity.
I let out a huge, frustrated hiss and leaned against the door, my knees weak. One crisis averted. Now for the other.
I pushed myself off the door and headed for the bedroom. "Okay, Talon, the cops are gone. You can stop pretending to be a normal—"
I swung the door open. The bed was empty. The window was wide open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze.
My heart stopped.
I ran to the window and looked out. There, zipping through the air about twenty feet above the ground, was a small, blanket-wearing figure, heading towards the park.
"What?!"
I spun around and bolted out of the apartment, taking the stairs three at a time. Horrible thoughts raced through my mind faster than I could run. What if he fell? What if someone saw him? What if a hawk mistook him for a particularly juicy rabbit?
I skidded out the back door of the building, my eyes frantically scanning the sky.
Being a parent is hard. Being the parent of a flying, pyrokinetic baby? This isn't hard. This is a full-blown supernatural crisis.