Queen of The Hill (Knight Games) Read Free Page B

flu, perhaps?” Looking bored, he picked at his feathers with his beak.
    I toyed with the corner of the bag on the counter. I was late. Not a lot late. Just about a week. “Can I ask you something?”
    Poe shrugged his bird shoulders. “You can ask. I can’t guarantee an answer.”
    “Do you think … with the candle Rick used … Do you think he was human? Like entirely human?”
    “At the end? When you saved him?” Poe asked.
    I nodded.
    “As close to human as he could be. He was dying. If you hadn’t put out the candle, you’d be up witch creek without a paddle.”
    The bag rumpled and ripped as I pulled it open and removed the pregnancy test.
    “Bloody hell! You think you’re pregnant!” Poe covered his beak with one wing.
    Mouth gaping like a fish, I tapped the package down on the counter. “I don’t know. I mean, I hope not. I haven’t been on birth control since Gary, and Rick and I definitely did the sexual healing thing when he was human-like.” I raised both eyebrows. “Plus, I’m late and perpetually nauseous.”
    “You said it yourself. Human-like. Not fully human.” Poe gave a cynical snort. “The chances are …”
    I furrowed my brow as I stripped out of my puffy white parka. “What, Poe? You know nothing about the magic of that candle. Are you going to babble off some made-up statistic about the chances I could be preggers? I’ll save you the trouble. It doesn’t matter if it’s one percent or ninety percent, I’m peeing on this stick.”
    Smugly, I marched into the guest bathroom. I was in there all of thirty seconds before I realized I never used the guest bathroom and marched back out. No toilet paper. With an indignant swagger, I jogged up the stairs to the bathroom off my bedroom, tearing into the box on the way. I tossed the package in my overflowing trash can.
    What if I was pregnant? How could I raise a baby when I couldn’t even empty my own trash or keep toilet paper in my guest bathroom? Michelle made her own baby food from organic produce. I could barely make a sandwich.
    “Please don’t let me be pregnant. Please don’t let me be pregnant,” I chanted as I took the test. I placed it on the back of the toilet while I washed my hands. Two minutes. Two minutes until I would know for sure if my life was over.
    Into my bedroom I paced, heart thumping and mind racing. If I were pregnant, I’d have to keep the baby. This would be my only chance to ever have a child with Rick. Would the kid be normal? I was a witch. I had magic in my blood. What if the baby was born with horn stubs? Would electric lights flicker when it cried?
    Poe flapped into the room and landed on my dresser. “By the goddess, breathe into a bag or something. You’re going to give yourself an aneurism.”
    I laughed and wiped away the tears in residence on my cheeks. “What are you talking about?” Poe couldn’t read my mind, but familiars, by nature, were intuitive of their witch’s feelings. It bothered me a little that I couldn’t hide what a mess I was about this from him.
    “Whatever the outcome, it won’t help the situation to have a magical meltdown. In the time I’ve known you, my worrying witch, in this life and the last, you’ve been uniquely adaptable.”
    “Adaptable. Not nurturing or intelligent. Not … parental.”
    “No one is parental until they become parents. But you’ve become a great witch in just a few weeks. You could become parental if you had to. You are … resourceful.”
    I plopped down on my bed. “I could learn to cook.”
    “Or hire a cook,” Poe said under his breath.
    My line of sight followed the trail of clothes on the floor to the dust on my dresser. “Also, someone to clean.” Rick had money thanks to some wise investments in the early 1900’s. What better use for it than improving his child’s environment?
    “Exactly. If by some miracle you are ‘preggers,’ as you say, you shall overcome.” He blinked at me slowly.
    I nodded, relaxing a