Mimi's Demons

Chapter 94: The Chapter Not Included in Parenting Books

Duke found himself blinking through a haze. He was outside, and he couldn't remember why.

Oh yeah. The corpse bleeding in the snow outside his manor gates. Didn't look like the guy died quickly, and the satanic sigil drawn in blood in the snow was particularly obvious this time.

Lieutenant Denny looked concerned.

"Sir...are you well?"

Duke could feel Omen's similar gaze on the back of his neck. Two of Cromwell's men were just waiting at the side for the okay to search the body, which the Lieutenant had also been called up to inspect as well to make sure nothing of importance was disturbed from the scene, as well as to verify that Duke wasn't implicated in the murder.

Duke took too long registering that said cop had spoken.

"Well enough," he said gruffly. The officer wasn't close enough to know about the sick little girl deep in his mansion. "You got your people coming to do whatever they do?"

"They'll come as soon as you're finished." His tone said he was confused Duke was asking, because that should have been obvious.

Duke blinked a few more times at the dead body before deciding he wasn't awake enough for this.

"Just have your men do it," he said. "Send me the reports."

Usually, sending a civilian the forensic results of a murder scene would be a big no no. But this was Duke. And the Chief, Duke's actual insider man in the local police force, wouldn't so much as blink to hand them off. Lieutenant Denny was just their trusted go between.

Even so, Lieutenant Denny looked almost as pale as the snow as he swallowed and nodded.

"Yes, sir. We'll get this cleaned up right away."

"Please." The last thing Duke needed was for Mimi to look out her window and see a special delivery from a demon.

Then he was walking aback up the pathway to his front door, salt crunching beneath his shoes. Omen and Cromwell's men followed behind dutifully, adding their own crunch to the quiet winter air.

"Sir..." said Omen.

"I know," he said, rubbing his hands roughly over his face.

"The Little Miss has voiced her concern about your lack of sleep."

"Didn't I say I already fucking know?" He dug his knuckles into his burning eyes. "Shit just had to start stirring now."

"You have medication for your insomnia, sir," said Omen. "Now would be the time to use it."

"That's not medication, that's tranquilizer." He gave Omen a glare to punctuate that sentence, because he was getting tired of saying it. Yes, he trusted Omen and his security with his life, but he would never be comfortable with willingly knocking himself into a coma for anyone to take advantage of. At least with normal sleep he could wake up if someone tried their luck. But the sleeping meds he'd been prescribe were the strongest of their kind, and they had to be to face up to Duke's paranoia.

"Nonetheless, sir," Omen left it at a stern look he reserved for rare moments just like these. All straight mouth, lowered brows, and a steady gaze.

It said 'this is for your own good.'

Duke's phone gave a simple, crystal like trill.

There was only one person assigned that ringtone.

Having not heard it for what felt like months now, Duke snatched up the phone with barely withheld excitement.

Mimi: I miss your ugly face that needs sleep.

Duke's mouth twitched. Brat.

...Maybe sleep wouldn't be so bad.

Stuffing his phone into his back pocket, he stood.

"Right. Have Serena fetch the poison and meet me at Mimi's room. It appears she's awake and coherent enough to insult me."

Omen's expression softened and the corner of his mouth also started to turn. He gave a short bow of his head.

"Will do, sir."

With that, Duke and Omen left, and if Omen reached out occasionally because Duke tottered just a bit too hard to the side, only Cromwell watching from his nest would know.

Seriously, someone should have warned him how impairing a sick child could be. Sick children were a menace. A bane to a functioning society. Parents everywhere should be given sick leave along with their kid, good god. It was like all he could think about when he closed his eyes was the sickly wheeze of Mimi's breathing and her flushed, sweaty face, or the glassy, blank way she looked at him through fever lidded eyes. If he didn't already have everything a hospital could do on hand, he would have already taken her to one despite her protests. He'd already pointed out to her the problem of having a hospital and medicine phobia when she aspired to be a doctor, but she had just glared at him and kicked his calf. There could have been a protest somewhere in there about how good parents should be sensitive to their young children's feelings, but he'd been too busy cackling.

...What if she didn't get better? What if the doctor had to put a tube down her throat to keep her airways open and Mimi had to wake up like that, hooked up like some sort of coma patient? What if the steroids went to far in opening her airways and disabled her immune system? What if—

For the umpteenth time that day, it took him several blinks through a haze to register what he was looking at. He'd reached Mimi's room and was looking at his little blond daughter in her bed. She was scowling at him, face no longer blotched, eyes bright and aware, but her hair was a mess.

"You look terrible," she said. "Like poo."

"And your hair looks like something died in it." She looked wonderful. No more fever, sitting up on her own, she even had a cup of tea in her hands that she sipped imperiously at his insult.

"You could only hope to look this good dying of the plague," she said.

He snorted.

Then wobbled forward and may or may not have curled up on her bed. He never knew if Serena got around to bringing the hated moose tranquilizers. He didn't even dream.

But when he woke up, a blanket had been thrown over him, his shoes had been removed, and his baby girl slept peacefully beneath her covers with her feet tucked under him. Her wheezing had gone down to a wet snore in and a faint whistle out. Only three fingers had a hold on her ugly bear.

He took out his phone to silence it without even looking at the notifications, tossed it over the side of the bed, and went back to sleep. 

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Old movies with animation mixed with live action is weeeeeird. How'd it ever pass? 

Got to fix my author's notes that I made in the pass, because currently...I am homeless. My husband who I wish to be glued to like an anaconda most days is in Mobile, Alabama so he can get to work because that's where his job is and I and the boy are in a mother-in-law suite at my brother and sister-in-laws house. We just got told by the credit union they won't fund our house until the electricity has been updated and the asbestos siding 'seen to by professionals,' whatever that means. And since closing on a house takes at LEAST a month...

...Our savings are also down to the bare minimum we needed to close on this house, which now is...so I've had to ask my family for money for food. 

It's a low time, man. Low.