Page 23 of Postpartum Spells & Infant Hells

“Good,” I whispered, “because seven dead children in our room is not normal. I don't like this. We need to get rid of them.” Part of me felt bad. These children’s souls were being used by another entity. They weren't choosing to hunt my children.

The braided girl turned toward me. She looked about seven years old, with a freckle beneath one eye. Her bare feet were hovering just above the rug.

Nyssa opened her eyes, and dark shadows immediately curled up from her crib. The braided girl froze as Nyssa's shadow stretched toward her. My heart hammered in my chest. I didn’t want their powers to touch.

“Aidon,” I warned.

“I see it,” he confirmed. “I’ll keep Nyssa corralled.”

Aidon’s shadows wrapped around Nyssa’s right before they touched the girl's hand. For a heartbeat, the child became more solid. Color returned faintly to her cheeks. Her gray dress deepened into a faded blue. And her eyes widened in shock.

Nyssa blinked and smiled up at her father and the child. Through our bond, I felt how he surrounded Nyssa and protected her. I wanted him to break the connection, but didn’t dare suggest it in case it would cause our daughter pain. The braided girl stared at her with naked wonder.

“I’ve got Nyssa, but I don’t know what to do, Phoebe,” Aidon murmured.

“Don’t do anything for now,” I told him, unable to look away.

The braided girl stepped forward and stopped before the crib. “We are the oldest ones lost in the shadows,” she explained.

“What are you doing to my daughter?” I asked her.

“We need to be carried to the road before he makes us hurt others again,” the girl replied, giving me an answer to another question entirely. Frost thickened across the windows as she spoke. “The woman with silver eyes built it once. We missed our chance when it opened.”

Aidon's shadows drew tighter around him. “Who sent you?”

“No one,” the girl answered. “We came while he sleeps.”

My breath caught. “Kaltherax sleeps?” I asked.

The girl nodded slightly. “He listens less when mothers stop fighting.”

Tarja's claws scraped against the wood. “That child has been dead for decades,” she muttered into my mind. “She's still smarter than most witches.”

I ignored the commentary and focused on the girl. “Why did you come now?” I pressed.

The girl's gaze shifted toward Nyssa. “Because others will come if you say yes.”

“How many others?” I asked, tightening my grip on the crib rail.

The girl hesitated before answering. “Many.”

I exhaled sharply, trying not to curse. “That isn't helpful.”

The girl's expression softened. “We have waited a long time.” That statement made my stomach twist. “Do not drive us out.” She lifted one hand.

Aidon's expression hardened immediately. “I don’t understand.”

“Families have tried to drive us out,” the girl explained.

Aidon waved his hand for her to continue. “And?”

The boy beside Thaniel stepped forward. “They used prayers, salt, iron, and fire,” he reported.

“What happened when they did?” Aidon prompted.

“Their wards collapsed,” the boy continued, surprising me.

The braided girl lowered her gaze. “One baby could not wake.” Her comment had ice sliding through my chest.