Hell did not exist beneath layer after layer of soil. It wasn’t an imaginary place humans used to scare their children. It also wasn’t simply the delusions of a mentally ill man.

It was real. It was… a theme park. (Coincidentally, there was also a mouth to Hell beneath the theme park, but dealing with that wasn’t the purpose of the day.)

Nope, today was about just being. We’d spent a week snooping and investigating while Bry had been good in school all week. Our searching didn’t result in any answers, but Bryony had stuck with English and Brown-tongue for school work and kept his weird writings to his new notebook.

We deserved a break. A laugh. Fun. Something.

Besides, the kidlet had been begging to go to one of the parks, and I figured he was old enough to enjoy it now. And I loved him enough to suffer through a day in the mouse’s domain.

My shoulders twitched and I rolled them, cracking my neck and stretching my muscles. Tingles ran along my spine and I gritted my teeth, pushing back my rising irritation. I could feel it coming, my mind practically booming with the joyful cadence. It thumped and thunked in my head, the volume growing with each second.

I was gonna kill something before we even got inside.

“You okay?” Sam’s deep voice filled my ear, his warmth comforting me and soothing some of that rising tension.

He slid his arm around my waist, tugging me up against him until my side was flush with his. His thumb dipped beneath the lower hem of my shirt and traced small circles on my bare skin. More of that frustration and irrational anger bled away with the touch.

“You sure today is the day for this?” he murmured low.

I opened my mouth to reply, but a hard yank on my arm had me nearly falling to my knees.

“Iz coming! Iz coming! Iz coming!” Bryony jumped up and down, stomping those sneaker-clad feet on the warming asphalt. He pointed and poked the air, showing me exactly what was coming.

Yeah, I knew what it was—the source of my unease, my irritation, and the hovering sense of dread.

It was… the parking lot shuttle.

“I see, kiddo. I see.” I smiled widely, my attention solely on him. I hoped that if I ignored the shuttle, it—and its blaring happy music—would cease to exist.

Unfortunately, it did not and I found myself tugged along by my kid and shuffled forward by my mate until we were all settled on a row, Bryony between Sam and me. Some chick—all giggly and wearing clothes that revealed way too much—tried to join us and sit next to Sam.

One flash of fang and a glare had the little bitch running off.

My wolf told me to chase her and I was so on board with that idea. Until Sam’s hand rested atop mine. He gave it a soft squeeze, drawing my attention from that bitch and back to him.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He pitched his voice low for my ears only though even if he’d spoken at his normal volume, no one would have heard him over Bryony.

Bry who was pointing out everything and shouting at the top of his voice.

I had to remember I loved him and that we were at the park to relax. Right.

Bryony tried to crawl across my lap, scrambling toward the edge of the doorless shuttle, and I grabbed him around the waist before he could get away. I lifted him high and blew a raspberry on his stomach. I smiled when his giggles filled my ears, his joy worth more than any discomfort I experienced while surrounded by all the goodness.

“You sit right here, little man.” I turned him around and plopped his butt on my lap, an arm around his waist to keep him in place.

My son just cuddled in, one hand gripping my shirt while the other remained busily pointing things out. I ran my fingers through his fine hair, the silky texture soft against my palm. Then I laid my cheek on the top of his head, my eyes on my mate.

“Yeah,” I gave him a small smile, “we worked hard this week. Between snooping, catatonic puppies,” we were in public; I couldn’t exactly mention werewolves, “and people trying to do the horizontal mambo all over my bar, I’m wrung out.”

Bry poked my arm and I looked down into his brown eyes. “What’s the horizontill…”

Sponges. Kids were like sponges. I just smiled and did what I did best—I lied. “It’s a dance for grown-ups, kiddo. When you’re old enough, Sam,” I winked at my mate, “will tell you all about it.”

Today, the day of the park, I wouldn’t think about Sam ever not being around.

“I just need a day to breathe.”

“At the park?” He quirked a brow.

“Yes, at… the…”

The shuttle stopped in front of the park’s entrance, the entire area in pandemonium. Not because of a zombie attack or alien invasion, though. No, this was all just… normal. Bryony pulled against my hold, and I grunted but kept my arms on him.

“Tickets then stroller, kiddo.” I stood and propped him on my hip, climbing down from the shuttle. “Tickets then stroller.”

Sam landed with a thump at my side, his large body acting like a shield to keep the crowd from enveloping Bry and me. He stuck his hand in his pocket and, when he pulled it free, revealed a trio of park passes.

“Tickets are handled.” His voice stroked me like a delicious caress and that little smirk and smoldering gaze made me wish we could do a little horizontal mamboing of our own.

“Sam…” We hadn’t really discussed the what can he-can’t he conjure rules and it was like he read my mind.

“Whatever’s necessary to survival.” He stepped closer, eyes darkening further, and the flavors of his desire fanned my own. A hint of red swirled in their depths, that evil still lurking inside him just begging for free reign once again. Part of me wanted to embrace it and the other part of me remembered what happened the last time he’d welcomed that dark side.

I’d lost him.

“And your happiness—his happiness,” his voice was husky and rough, “is necessary.”

I swallowed hard, pushing back the whine that threatened to break free. Now—surrounded by a miserable number of children—was not the time to tackle Sam. Instead, I reached for him with my free hand and twined our fingers, giving a squeeze.

A smack to my cheek reminded me of the “him” Sam spoke of and I turned my attention to Bry.

He pulled his hand back to whack me again, but I caught him mid-strike. “First, we don’t hit. Second— “

“You hit Mr. Martins,” Bryony pointed out.

I didn’t just hit Mr. Martins. I killed him, but I wasn’t getting into that argument with my brownie child in the middle of a crowd of humans. He knew about some tweener races, but not all. Which made explaining that when Mr. Martins—the vampire—said he had a couple of humans over for dinner, he literally had them for dinner.

“Second, Sam took care of our tickets. We just need to get you a stroller,” —I so wasn’t carrying Bryony once he’d exhausted himself— “then we can check out the rides and play, okay?”

“No stroller.” Bry had that little tilt in his jaw that said he was determined.

I might not be his biological mother, but that didn’t mean I was without the ability to mother him. Or follow Momma R’s instructions to the letter in situations like this. So I just kept quiet, made my face a blank mask, and then lifted a single eyebrow. Just one, perfectly arched eyebrow.

The trick, I was told, was that I had to wait him out. It would become a battle of wills and he—

“Fine.” Bryony poked out his lower lip and I felt the need to raise my sword in the air and bellow a victory cry.

Instead, I took my triumph with grace and we carefully navigated the twisting and twining turns of the entrance and then the line for the stroller.

After which point, Bry wanted a drink and we hadn’t even made it past the entryway to the park.

On High save me now.

But we did make it in. And in. And even farther in. And we even mostly-ish blended with the humans that filled the area. –ish because Sam neared six feet and I sported blue hair. We didn’t exactly give off the traditional “parent” vibe.

We moved from attraction to attraction, Sam and me taking pictures of everything like any other touristy family. I’d even gotten Sam to pose with the mouse—a big half-fallen gel dressed in all black just standing next to a man in a mouse costume. I’d told him to smile. It looked more like he bared his teeth, but I was happy. I didn’t even giggle once.

The three of us were happy. It was weird.

Weird, but I refused to dwell on it at that moment. I wanted to embrace it, just for a little while.

And Bryony just… I always worried about him—about how the things he’d experienced affected him. He’d been so young when he witnessed the death of everyone in his brownie hive. Everyone. Including his mother. He was quiet around strangers and didn’t open up with other kids until he’d been around them a while.

As if he couldn’t afford to love anyone else just to lose them later.

But today he waved at everyone, laughed freely, and ran around with a large group of kids when we took a small boat over to some book-inspired island… thing.

Yet, I wasn’t destined for idyllic life. We stopped for lunch, Sam once more coming up with dining plan tickets to cover our food. And when did they switch from cash and credit cards to some weird, dining plan? Whatever.

When I quirked a brow, he just smirked at me, saying a single word. “Necessary.”

We found a small table. Bry settled between Sam and me while he happily munched on his chicken nuggets and chattered away about what he’d already done and wanted to do next.

Yup, chatter, chatter, chatter… until he wasn’t. I focused on my son, noticing his eyes were distant and glazed while he stared at another kid at the next table. Their gazes remained locked, both children with blank expressions, and neither blinked the whole time. They simply silently stared, bodies unmoving and expressions empty.

Eventually, the other kid’s parents noticed and pulled him away, breaking the weird staring contest the kids had entered. But Bry still stared straight ahead, even though the other child was gone.

“Kiddo?” He didn’t answer and I waved a hand in front of his face. “Bry?”

I have him a gentle shake. “Bryony?”

He snapped out of it with a jerk and a small gasp, and he tilted his head back to look up at me.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I brushed hair out of his face, needing that small connection while anxiety rose inside me.

He nodded. “Can I have ice cream?”

Bry hadn’t finished his lunch but that whole encounter had me wanting to get the fuck away from our table. I rubbed his back, exchanging a worried glance with Sam. “Sure. We’ll clean up and get you one.”

Which was what we did, standing in a long line to get a treat before wandering over to a nearby stage where performers in cartoon animal costumes put on a show. While Bryony was captivated by the performance and his ice cream, I leaned over to Sam.

“Did that seem as strange to you as it did to me?” I murmured.

He nodded. “I noticed a few others in the park with the same look on their faces.” He tilted his head to the side and I followed the direction of his gesture. “See?”

A teen sat nearby, staring into the distance—dazed—and looking like she didn’t even see the show. I spotted another child with the same look and a grown man who was so far gone he drooled on himself.

“I don’t like this.” At all. “It’s not quite as bad as Mitchell, but it’s close enough.”

And everywhere. When the performance ended and we got back to walking around the park, it seemed like every third or fourth person was out of their senses.

“I don’t feel any dems.” I kept my voice low so no one else would hear us. “And Jezze’s amulets haven’t twitched.” I’d worn mine all day. And I knew just because dazed people were in the park didn’t mean the magic came from within the park. It could originate from somewhere else.

We stopped for a bathroom break and I took a few minutes to clean Bry’s face. I dipped a napkin in a stream of water from the fountain and dabbed at his cheeks.

“How’re you feeling, kiddo?”

“Good.” The expression on his face was pure innocence and joy.

“Your tummy isn’t bothering you?” I was ready to cling to any excuse for his behavior. Anything but him being affected by the magic that’d harmed Mitchell.

“No.” He shook his head.

I looked him in the eye, my expression serious so he knew I wasn’t kidding around. “Bry, have strangers said anything to you lately? Or given you anything?” I grasped at straws and I knew it, but I needed answers and hoped they’d be of the non-magical kind.

“No.” He shook his head harder, eyes wide. “I don’t talk to strangers.”

I smiled widely and gave him a kiss on the nose. “Good boy.”

“Kids aren’t strangers though, right? ‘Cause I talked to the kids on the island.” He pointed behind him and waved his hand toward the attraction.

“No, they aren’t. You can talk to kids your age. Just not grown-ups. And you never go— “

“Anywhere without telling you first.” He slumped and released an aggrieved sigh.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re funny.” I gave him another kiss and then put him back in the stroller.

We stopped at a few more attractions. My mind was too occupied with worry to enjoy myself, but I was happy Bry was happy. He seemed oblivious to the dazed people in the park and he continued making friends with other kids. Which… worried me on one level but made me proud on another. Maybe he’d just needed to relax and have fun to bust out of his quiet shell.

I’d almost convinced myself I was right until we got in line for another ride. He stayed with Sam and me and started talking with another kid. I almost ignored it, simply because I didn’t want to spoil his fun.

Then I heard the language they were speaking—and the fact I didn’t understand a word.

I stared at them, my lips pressed together to form a thin line. The other child’s mother noticed me staring and pulled her son away. Bry said something else in that unknown language and the boy replied with a wave. It sounded so innocent, just two new friends saying good-bye. But those strange words coming out of my son’s mouth set me on edge.

I picked him up and carried him back to his stroller, propped on my hip. Sam noticed my grim expression and stepped close to me, his large body between me and the passing groups of people. He was a wall of protection, and I needed that.

“Bry, what did Tempmomma say about using those special words?”

“Not to do it in school.” He jerked his head in a hard nod.

I nodded in return. “I don’t want you using them in the park either. How about we agree to make them house words instead.”

“Like shit?”

I sighed and hung my head. “Yes, sweetheart, like shit.”

I ignored Sam’s shaking, his body trembling with suppressed laughter. Ignored. It.

“Why?”

“Because…” I exchanged a glance with Sam and he shrugged. “Because we don’t know what those words mean. Can you tell me where you learned them?”

Bry tilted his head to the side. “Tempmomma, where do I learn any words?”

I couldn’t argue with him and I hated that.

I bent and tucked him back into his stroller, carefully clicking the seatbelt into place. “I think it’s time we headed home, Bry.”

“Awww…” he whined. “Why?”

I put my hand behind my back and crossed my fingers while the lie tripped off my tongue. “We… need to get home before it gets dark. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Bryony whined and I ignored him. Mostly.

Okay, I caved and bought him an overly priced stuffed animal and a lollipop bigger than his head to get him to stop.

If only my frustrations were trashed just as easily. I still had no idea what was going on, but one thing was blatantly clear—the problem was spreading.