I sang my lungs out in filk, with Sean sitting quietly off to the side. And I had sung “Heart’s Path.” I was still working out what I would do if Gollum and Julia resolved their differences and stayed together.

I didn’t dare hope. So I buried my emotions in the problems of my growing household.

And then there was Sophia. Lady Lucia continued to hold court in the café with the tired and cranky baby. I needed to take that child home, give her a bath and a good supper, and put her to bed for about twelve hours.

Sean barely brushed the surface of my consciousness.

“Cool,” Doug said, scouting the parking lot. “Oak said I need to stay with you now. I’m not really a fir anyway. I’m more of a filbert.” He shrugged.

We call hazelnuts filberts in Oregon. And we grow a goodly portion of the world’s supply in the Willamette Valley.

Then he spotted my little hybrid car. “Can I drive?”

“No.”

“But I drive Father’s car. It’s a real tank. A 1974 Buick Riviera. Forest green. V-8. Automatic.” He proceeded to give me statistics on the engine and gear ratio that meant nothing to me.

“That car probably only gets fourteen miles to the gallon. It’s hypocritical for him to drive a gas hog like that when he claims to be the guardian of the forest trying to correct pollution and global warming.”

“That describes the old man perfectly,” Phonetia snorted as she claimed the shotgun position, relegating the backseat to Doug and E.T. He grumbled a bit about male superiority.

“But you’re gay, so you aren’t truly male,” E.T. objected.

“Just try convincing Father of that.” His buoyancy evaporated.

“The Nörglein and his opinions don’t matter anymore as far as you three are concerned. He no longer has authority over you,” I replied. “My imp is gay. So I have no problem with you preferring boys, Doug. I have no expectations from any of you on that front.”

Silence reigned on the short drive back to the condo. We were suddenly overcrowded again, lacking bed space, and three teens sharing one small bathroom guaranteed squabbles. Where would I put a crib? In my room. The only place left that wasn’t occupied.

I might have to sell at a loss to get into a bigger place sooner rather than later.

I’d worry about that next week, after the con. In the meantime, I had to come up with another cover story to explain the sudden addition of Doug into the family. No way could I pass the tall gangly youth as my own. I’d already stretched that lie to near the breaking point.

Time to consult Gollum, Scrap suggested.

“I don’t dare call him tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow.” I had no idea how he fared with his own family issues.

Tomorrow. I’d deal with that tomorrow.

“Scrap, can you keep watch tonight? I really need some sleep.”

“I don’t subscribe to any porn stations. They’re boring.”

“But he can’t see you. Can he?”

“Does that mean your family is my family?” I’d really like to meet his harridan of a mum.

“You’re right,” I sighed in regret. I had always wanted children of my own, lots of them.

I could hear the children stirring. They’d want breakfast and an early start at the con. Soon I’d have to settle squabbles over who got the shower first and fix them something to eat. Maybe they’d settle for cold cereal.

“About the dark elf?” Allie asked. She sounded bright and chipper, but then she was three hours ahead of me and had probably slept the night through.

“That and Gollum. What if he and Julia make up their differences and stay together?”

“You’ll go on as you have been. How are things with Dr. Sean?”

“Okay.” I couldn’t drag any enthusiasm out of my tired mind.

“Concentrate on him until you know any different,” she advised solemnly.

“I know. But I don’t love Sean. Gollum’s the only man I truly want.”

“What did Lady Lucia tell you about family and relationships? They don’t fit with the life of a Warrior.”

I laughed at that. I hadn’t told her about the baby. Not until I knew for sure. “But now I’ve got the girls, and Doug. I have children,” I hedged.

“Teens. You have teens, not infants. Teens can be left alone occasionally. Teens can actually help you; act as spies and such. Teach them to be your allies.” The last sentence faded and veered off, as if she got distracted.

“Did I call at a bad time?” Dammit, she was my friend. She should be there when I wanted to talk about my problems.

“Steve’s in town for the weekend. We’re getting ready to go talk to the priest about the wedding,” she replied. “Look, I know you need a friend right now. But I’ve got to go. Call me tonight and we’ll hash it all out. There’s nothing you can do about Gollum until you actually talk to him.”

“What about the Nörglein and the kids?”

“Take that one step at a time. That’s what motherhood is all about. Live from one minute to the next. Deal with each crisis as it comes.”

“When did you get so smart?”

“Since your brother and I decided to get married and I started thinking about having children of my own. Wasn’t sure I could handle them while I was a cop. Now I’m not a cop and I really, really want babies. Lots of them.”

“So do I.” But I’d never get my own children. Just the strays that fell into my lap.

The Powers That Be had made sure of that. Unless . . .

What had Scrap called the crystal ball? A bargaining chip?

“Bye, Tess. I’ve really got to go. Call me tonight. Even if it’s the middle of the night.” She rang off, leaving me alone with my problems.

As alone as I’d ever been.

“You got first shower yesterday. It’s my turn!” E.T. yelled.

“What about me? I haven’t had a real shower in ages,” Doug chimed in.

Except now, I had to deal with three teens on my own.

I held out my arms to the little girl and she toddled two steps to hug me about the knees.

“Oh, my, her first steps!” Lucia looked as if she might cry.

“I’m honored, Sophia, that you chose to walk to me for those first steps.” I picked her up and hugged her close.

She tugged on my dangling dragon earrings with her right hand while sucking the middle two fingers of her left.

Gently I extricated her sticky fingers from the pewter jewelry. “Maybe she just wanted to investigate rather than honor me,” I laughed, taking a seat beside Lucia, the baby still in my arms.

This is what it would be like if I accepted Lucia’s offer. Sophia in my lap by right and preference.

“I believe you should have this,” Lucia said, pasting a KIT sticker on my con badge that matched hers and Sophia’s. “I ordered an extra just in case you needed it.”

“I’m not . . .”

She held up a hand, blocking my protest. “In case of emergency, you may stay with my daughter without questions.” Then she signaled the waitress for a new carafe of coffee and an extra cup for me.

“I never needed coffee until Sophia was born. Now I cannot live without it,” she said, almost apologetically. “More refreshing than blood.”

I almost gagged, but smiled squeamishly instead. I knew she had killed a man by draining his blood. Gary Gregbaum was a scumbag of a white slaver who had upset forever the balance of Faery to the other dimensions. He needed to be taken out. But that way? I honestly didn’t know if Lucia had served justice or not.

“I will host a party in my suite next week. I’d invite you to share my volunteers, but I need you to keep Sophia. She should not be exposed to my life . . . style.” She added the last word almost as an afterthought.

“Nothing is fully decided yet. I have to check my calendar. I have three teens to consider now.”

“If you must. I trust you with my daughter more than any of the nannies I have hired. They all quit after only a few days.”

“You scared them away.”

I covered my unease with a sip of very good coffee. “Bless you. I barely had time for a single cup with breakfast before my girls and their brother dragged me out this morning. They couldn’t wait to get back to their games. I hope they aren’t disappointed that their friends might not be here yet.”

“Very interesting, this convention of yours. In some ways it reminds me of the market fairs in my youth.”

“Not terribly different from Renaissance Faires and Highland Games. A gathering of people who want to celebrate a certain aspect of their hobby or culture,” I replied.

“I do not fully understand the source of this con culture.”

“Then you haven’t read much science fiction or fantasy.”

“No. But I have seen this ‘Star Trek’ as part of the exhibit and rides in Las Vegas.”

“There are Trekkers here too.”

“I saw the costumes. Some are very good. Some not so.”

“People do what they can within their budgets and sewing talents. The idea is that they help re-create their favorite part of the genre.”

“Ah. And the vampires?”

“That’s part of the genre too. Though I don’t think many of them will take it as far as you have.”

She grinned, baring her fangs. Very good implants to complete her persona. “Perhaps I can find new recruits . . .”

“Leave it alone, Lucia. These people are mostly innocent. The hard-core Camarilla followers hang out in different venues. You’ve found them already if you’re hosting a party next week.”

“Ah, wishful thinking. I need a dose of my reality.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Since Sophia came to me I have not the taste for innocent blood that I used to. Most of my party guests are flying in as . . . um . . . escorts to business people I need to entertain in high Goth style.”

“You mean intimidate them into signing one-sided contracts.”

“Of course.”

Sophia climbed over me to return to her mother. Then she slid down beneath the table and crawled out to the opposite side where she pulled herself up by the chair. Carefully she eyed each potential handhold and how many exciting steps she’d need to take to get there.

“No holding her back now!” I said. Since I was closest to her, I stood and hovered over the little girl to make sure she didn’t get into trouble.

Lucia looked relieved that she didn’t have to move.

“Can I leave Sophia with you for a brief time? I need to . . . um . . .”

“Sure. The ladies room is in the corridor to our left.” Idly I followed Sophia a whole three steps before she wobbled and plunked onto her bottom with a wail. I picked her up, comforting her. She cried from disappointment more than any hurt. Her bottom was very well padded with diaper and frilly panties.

I put her back into her high chair and offered her some breakfast. She nibbled a triangle of toast, getting more grape jelly on her face than in her mouth while I savored the very good coffee. Fortunately, her frilly dress was royal purple. The jelly stains wouldn’t show, much. If . . . when . . . the child was mine, I’d have her in sturdy, washable rompers.

Lucia returned. She’d freshened her makeup and brushed her lustrous hair. She looked less weary and worried. I wondered if she had a flask of blood secreted in her bag.

Sophia ignored her. Finding more interest in my dragon earrings than her mother.

“You two look well together, cara mia Tess. Like you belong together,” she said, resuming her place on the corner banquette as if sinking onto a throne. Her regal bearing invited lesser folk to approach but not to get too close. “Fitting, that you are my only living relative. Of sorts.”

“I have a brother and sister, nieces and nephews. My father is a Noncoiré too. He has brothers and sisters. One of them, MoonFeather, is a witch.”

“But they have not your special talents. Nor do they have an imp companion to bridge the gaps between this world and the next.” She gestured vaguely to where Scrap dangled from a tree in the garden area, seemingly conversing with a pet parrot and a pug wheezing on the ground.

“Can you see him?” I asked, remembering Scrap’s comments from the night before.

“Not really. Just an awareness that he is somewhere close, in that direction. If we both concentrate we can communicate.”

That was a relief. Lady Lucia wasn’t really as spooky as I first thought. Most of her violence and bloodlust was an act to intimidate enemies, business associates, and district attorneys.

“I have decided. Tomorrow morning we will go to early Mass together. You will stand as godmother to my baby.” An order, not a request. “A prelude to your adoption of my child.”

“I’m honored . . . Are you sure? Can you step onto sacred ground?” Vampires couldn’t, if you believed the literature. Fiction and legend weren’t so detailed about very dilute demon blood. I had no trouble in churches. But Lucia was almost two hundred years closer to the source than I.

“I would not ask if I were indecisive. And I have been baptized. I attended Mass most every day of my life until I escaped from Count Continelli. Since then?” She shrugged as if not interested. “You are the only one I trust with my daughter’s soul, and her upbringing. I have already changed my will, regardless of your decision to adopt my baby or not.”

“Then I’ll see you at St. Mary’s at six.” Before dawn, in keeping with her persona. I felt honored by her trust. But I was also a little afraid of the heavy portent in her words. Life wasn’t going to be easy anytime soon.

“You are wearing the pearls?”

“Almost always.” I fingered the strand hanging beneath my bulky Aran Isle sweater.

“Good. You never know when you’ll need them.”

What did that mean?

She turned her focus onto Sophia, pulling a wet wipe out of the diaper bag and cleaning jelly off her face, hands, knees, dress front . . .

“Thank you for the coffee, Lady Lucia.” Somehow her manner indicated she required the title now rather than the more familiar form. “I need to talk to some people in the Green Room before my ten o’clock panel.”

“I can spare you. But first, tell me where is the charming physician who escorted you yesterday?”

“Sean should be here anytime. Unless he got called to work on an emergency. He’s supposed to have two full days off, but that doesn’t always happen.”

“I understand. And was that Donovan Estevez I saw with Doreen Cooper yesterday?”

“Sure was. They’re engaged.”

“Ah, that is good. He will have less need to take interest in me and my child. The Cooper woman will be a steadying influence on him. He will be an impressive man when he matures into his responsibilities.”

“Still might be a good idea to stay out of his way.”

“Agreed. Now off with you to your appointment. I have things to prepare for the baptism. White lace gowns in the appropriate size are very difficult to find.”

“Harder to keep clean.”