Free Feral Magic by Robin D. Owens Page A

her mind and an accompanying screech that hurt Brandy’s ears.
    She just grunted.  Her face felt tight and itchy so she rubbed at it and found tear tracks.  Eh, that hadn't happened for a long time.
    Neither had sex and her body felt achy.  If Dak was here, she'd be revved and happy; instead crankiness cloaked her.  She'd give him a piece of her mind when he got back.
    She hauled the kid up and he wrapped his arms around her neck and set his head on her breasts, sobs subsiding.  Feeling for him gushed through her, almost banishing her irritation.  She would miss him.
    Brandy knew Dak would return.  No way was he leaving his nephew here.  She would not worry that Dak might have found Bretine and was fighting her.  Might be losing.
    No.
    We need food! Tom-Tom repeated.
    Fooodd! Gypsy whined.
    FOOOOODD!!  WE NEED FOOODD! chimed in Favel.
    Whose side was he on, anyway?  Had to be done.  Food for baby and cats before a shower.
    Hoping that the "spell" Dak had put on the baby gate to keep Favel safe let humans as well as cats through, and still thinking darkly of the man, she wrenched it open.  Her cats zoomed downstairs.  Even before she could speak with them mentally, they'd been sensitive to her moods.
    Clumping downstairs, she slid Favel into the highchair, gave him a spoon to bang like all babies.  Belatedly she took a deep sniff.  Nope, his diaper was all right.  Not sure how that happened, but she wasn't questioning luck.
    Favel watched as she fed the cats, whined himself when he saw meaty food being given to them and pouted when she didn't serve him from the same can.  Still peeved, she stomped to the refrigerator for Favel’s meat-grains-and-greens, a combination she and Dak had made the day before.  She tipped the mixture into a bowl and placed it on Favel's tray.
    He did love the turkey.  So had Dak, a new taste treat for them both.
    Favel squealed and dropped the spoon on the floor, went at the food with both hands, digging into the soft mess and slapping some into his grinning mouth.
    She should have put a bib on him.
    Brandy sighed and went to get a damp washcloth.
    The cats had gobbled their food and howled for her to open the back door.  They preferred that instead of going through the cat door.  They zoomed through, entering the hot morning.
    Since Favel's fingernails had turned into little claws, Brandy just watched as he ate.  She let him play with his food, smear it all around his face, and eat it himself, keeping a wary eye on those claws.  Dak had better come back soon.  He knew she couldn't take care of Favel alone – the baby, probably; the cub, pretty much, but the black panther shapeshifter?  No.  She'd be too rough or too gentle.
    She could get hurt.
    And Dak could tear her apart.  She really shouldn't forget that – or that both man and child were aliens.  Favel's claws growing and retracting at will reminded her of that.
    There came an awesome fart-squishy-poop sound, a terrible smell, so she called breakfast done, took Favel up to the bathroom, bathed and diapered him.  He wriggled and scowled and grumbled and it was warm enough that she didn't put any more clothes on the little guy.  She finally took him down to the living room and put him under the upside down playpen and he calmed.
    Really, he was odd.  So was Dak, and alien, and she should cut him a break, she supposed.  Couldn't be easy, figuring out how to get himself and the baby back to their own dimension, coping with a strange world.
    A twinge went through her that soon Favel and Dak would be gone.  They'd certainly shaken up her life, and for the good.  She was determined to do more living, more living in the moment.  Socialize more.
    Date, even.
    Though she hoped Ross and Dak hadn't spoiled her for other men.
    But she wouldn't go with a soldier or a warrior next time.  That just meant heartache.
    The doorbell rang.  Brandy squinted through the peephole at two uniformed cops.  Acid pitched in her