“She’s got a fever?” I hiss.
Something is wrong. Laurel wails and rubs her ears, tugging the right one and screaming like someone’s stabbing her.
I’m panicking.
But Imogene is coming unglued.
Sobbing. Kissing Laurel with shaking lips, rocking her desperately.
“Honey, she’s probably just got a cold. Maybe an ear infection.”
“I took her out to the park, and it was so cold today...”
“She was left lying naked outside in the mountains. She’s not dying from a trip outside in her stroller, all bundled up,” I reassure.
“Dying?” Imogene whispers, then sits down hard in the cheap, build-it-yourself armchair that’s in Laurel’s room.
“Notdying. Look, you call Libby. Ask what pediatrician they use. I’ll look up what to do online and see if I can find a local doctor. Maybe she’s just hungry?”
“No,” Imogene says emphatically, and I don’t question her.
“Baby pain reliever and fever reducer. Check her temperature.” I scroll through my phone and read Dr. Internet’s advice, feeling like a failure. “I don’t have any of this stuff.”
“It’s four in the morning. The grocery store is closed.”
“It is, but it’ll be open in a couple of hours. If not, I’ll drive out of town, find an all-night pharmacy. Look, she’s calming down when you hold her,” I reassure, and wrap my arms around them both.
“What if it is my fault? What if she’s really sick?” Imogene whispers as she kisses Laurel’s forehead.
What is she really asking?“Well, you’d stay by her side until she was all better, and I’d stay by both of you.”
“If it’s my fault—”
“How could it be your fault? For it to be your fault, you’d have to want to hurt Laurel on purpose, and I’ll believe that when Hell freezes over.”
DR. VAUGHN ISN’T SHOCKEDby Immy’s appearance, and he gives us a kindly smile when we stumble into his office at eight, his first appointment, desperate first-time parents camped out on his door. Even though I’m not Laurel’s birth mother, Artiedoesn’t correct him when he greets us, “Well, hello, Mom and Dad. First time with a sick baby?”
“Yes. I think it’s her ear.” Artie says, unstrapping Laurel from her carrier and putting her in his lap.
“Oh, that’s an easy fix if it is. Hello, cutie. Hello!” Dr. Vaughn gets Laurel to stop half-whining, which she’s been doing nonstop. He waves a bright red and yellow ball in one hand and peeks in her ear with his otoscope while she’s distracted.
“Yep, that’s an infection, but just a little one. And baby krampuses are usually really tough. This little lady must be spoiled and happy all the time to even let you know so early.”
“You’ve—you’ve seen them before?” I ask.
“No, but I do a fair bit of reading about the paranormal community. Opening a practice in Pine Ridge has made me one heck of a reader. The library in town is top-notch. And there’s a woman in the computer science department... Dr. G, I call her. She gets me all my obscure occult-type materials that the magic shop and the library don’t have handy.”
As Vaughn speaks, he continues his examination. “Other than this ear bugaboo, she’s a healthy baby. Half-krampus, half-human, just like Mom, hm?” His eyes cloud for a second. “Normally, we’d see some fading of the krampus characteristics since she’s only a quarter krampus, but sometimes those genes are strong. If you’re thinking about siblings, you should know they might be almost entirely human-looking.”
“That’s fine,” I blurt. “But Laurel is—”
“Right as rain after twenty-four hours on antibiotics—but keep her on the full seven-day course, or it’ll be worse. Also, has she gotten to the very splashy stage when she takes her bath?” Vaughn boops Laurel’s nose and puts her flat on a special scale in the corner of the room. He coaxes her body to stretch out, and I can see that there’s also a ruler on top of the flat surface.
“She has been loving her baths lately. Very wriggly,” Artie confirms.
“She probably got an excessive amount of water in her ear. The pointed shape—it all trails down into the ear and then can trickle into the ear canal. I’d suggest a hair dryer on low for five minutes after her bath, making sure you aim it at the ears.”
“We will. Do we have a hair dryer?” Artie looks at me.
