It was safe to say we were in even more trouble.

King Fergus peered down the line of Kings. “House arrest, unless they’re with each other at a King’s house or school, until Graduation sound about right?”

I swallowed. That was four and a half months.

King Nelson clucked his tongue. “Maybe, they shouldn’t even be allowed to be together at the houses. Keep them separate, except at school.”

All four of us went rigid. That would be…undoable.

King Venclaire was staring at Ezra, and unhurriedly shook his head. “No. They’re here to form bonds with one another.” He scowled. “They just need to learn to follow the rules.”

King Kincaid stared me in the eyes, his narrowed. “If we don’t want to separate them, then let’s give them a little something to do while they’re at our houses to keep them out of trouble.”

My lips pursed as Antonio chuckled. I didn’t think I was going to like this.

No, I most certainly didn’t. The Kings really knew how to pick their punishment to torturous perfection. The meaning was clear. While they dealt with the influx of calls from Mysticals around the world and the United States of America politicians to set up a time for us to speak together, we got stuck every other night babysitting.

We weren’t even paid for it. The Kings just called every Mys they knew in the area that had small children, and dumped them on us, giving the parents free evenings. As an added bonus, we weren’t allowed to call in reinforcements.

Like say, oh, people who actually liked kids.

Where most people — Com or Mys — saw adorable bundles of joy, all four of us only saw tiny imps with too much energy, who always smelled of ketchup, had perpetually sticky fingers, and who had no filters on their tiny, loud mouths. To say I was never having children was a no-brainer since I was a hybrid but, even if I hadn’t been, I still never wanted to have a kid. My friends agreed wholeheartedly. And what did the Kings stick us with?

Babysitting.

“Take it,” Ezra muttered to Pearl, awkwardly holding out the nine-month-old that wouldn’t stop wailing. “It stinks.”

“No way,” Pearl hissed, cleaning the peas smashed on the floor from the five-year-olds’ dinner. “I’m busy.” She scrubbed viciously, even though that particular area was spotless.

“Here.” Ezra held the child out to me. It was our first night of punishment and we were at my place while the Kings were at King Venclaire’s house. Cowards. “I think it needs changed.”

Blotting the spot of juice on my shirt — I had no clue how it had gotten there, except that it was in the shape of a munchkin’s handprint — I scowled. “I’m not changing it!”

Jack raced into the room chasing after a three-year-old, who was carrying a full-sized carrot and making a hacking motion with it.

Ezra jumped in front of him, letting the toddler, who was wearing only a drooping diaper, squeal away happily. “Take this one. I’ll get the slasher.”

Jack sniffed, and made a face. “Man, I’m not stupid.” He tried to outmaneuver Ezra, which was useless since Ezra was a Vampire. “I’m not taking the kid that crapped itself. I’ve got duty of the one who keeps stabbing the deer Shifter.”

“I don’t think so!” Ezra shouted, clearly ticked, holding the child away from himself, the kid screaming even louder. “If this kid needs to be changed, we can work this one out together!” He glowered at all of us.

Feeling a little guilty, I nodded. It really wasn’t fair to stick him with this task.

Jack and Pearl did the same.

Grudgingly, Jack grabbed the diaper bag the parent had left, digging through it before laying a plastic thing on the kitchen table from its depths.

Ezra quickly placed the squalling kid on top of it.

We stared.

“What now?” I asked, trying to hold my breath. The kid reeked.

Jack shrugged and grabbed a diaper from the bag. “We put this,” he shook the diaper, and pointed at the red-faced kid, “on that.”

“How?” Pearl’s head cocked.

Ezra growled. “I cannot believe they stuck us with these mongrels!”

“That’s not going to help.” Pearl patted his arm, glancing at the diaper bag. “Is there an instruction booklet in there?”

Digging through the bag, I found nothing except a lot of tiny clothing and some wipes. I held said wipes up. “We could probably use these.”

Ezra glared at the squalling kid. “At least we’ll know if it’s male or female after this.” The kid screamed piercingly, its chin quivering. “My money’s on female.”

Pearl and I glared.

Jack waved a hand at it, saying, “We need to take its clothes off.”

Ezra grimaced, but started unbuttoning the once-upon-a-time soft, yellow-footed bodysuit thing it wore, which was now soaked with spit and drool. Debating internally, I decided that if I was the brat I wouldn’t want to be soaked, so I pulled a clean, lavender bodysuit thing out of the diaper bag and put it on the table next to the new diaper and wipes. Ezra nodded at the clean clothes, mumbling, “Hey, that’s good. Maybe, it’ll shut up if it’s dry.”

We all nodded.

Then, we got a revelation as he pulled the clothes off.

A smell permeated throughout the kitchen that was so foul all four of us gagged.

Holding the clothes away from himself with two fingers, Ezra hollered, “It came out of the diaper! It’s all over!” He swung the soiled clothes our way. “Take it!”

Pearl and I screeched, jumping back.

Jack moved into action, snapping on yellow gloves from the sink and grabbing the trashcan. He seized the dirty outfit and dumped it in the trashcan, which he sat down near us.

We gazed from it to the child with disgust.

Pearl’s eyes flashed as she muttered, “I can come up with a few ways to get the Kings back.”

My own eyes flared as thoughts of revenge took hold. “I’ve got a few ideas of my own. We’ll work out the details later.” She nodded, and we gazed back at the kid, who was turning purple from screaming so much, and I muttered, “You’d think it would know to shut up. That can’t be healthy.”

They nodded.

“So, I guess I’ll take the diaper off since I’ve got,” Jack lifted his hands, “the gloves.”

The three of us stared in morbid fascination as Jack stepped forward, ripped the diaper on the sides, and lifted it back, his voice guttural. “Holy Mary, Mother of God.”




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