Yes—
The church.
Today was the day for Ben Hawk Parker's baptism.
Gwen had gotten up early, stepped into the walk-in closet, opened the clothes-stuffed cabinets, muttering about having "nothing to wear" while digging for ages before finally pulling out something right for the occasion.
Hawk's outfit was simpler.
Suit and tie.
After Gwen stepped out of the closet, she took Hawk's tie as he stood, looped and tightened it neatly for him, and out they went.
Since the church sat right next to the Palm Street community, they didn't bother with the car and walked.
On the way, Gwen greeted neighbors with warm, sunny smiles.
The neighbors responded just as warmly.
Hawk kept a polite smile—short on words, long on manners.
He was short on words by nature.
You could tell from the gulf between Gwen's contact list—hundreds of entries—and Hawk's, which barely hit double digits.
Even so, the Phoenix household stayed well liked in the neighborhood.
Credit to Gwen.
Especially once folks learned the captain of the 21st Precinct—the one covering Palm Street—was her dad, George Stacy. The Phoenixes got even more popular.
It never hurts to have friends in the right places.
Half a month ago, when the man next door—Mr. Smith—got hauled in by the 21st for drunk driving, it was Gwen who greased the wheels.
She hadn't even needed to ring George. One call to Detective Mahoney did it.
Thinking of the now-discharged Detective Mahoney as they headed for the church, Hawk glanced at Gwen hanging onto his arm.
"By the way—Mahoney's doing better?"
"He was discharged two weeks ago. You're thinking of it now?"
"Forgot."
He'd spent the last days grafting the Blood Dimension into his Underworld and brainstorming a race native to it—no bandwidth for anything else.
He hadn't even checked on George afterward—let alone anyone else.
Hawk thought of that, eyebrow ticking up. "Right—where's George?"
"Dad?"
Gwen met his eyes, puzzled. "What about him?"
Hawk shrugged. "He's seen what I can do now. Didn't he say anything?"
"Uh…"
Gwen's eyes narrowed; the corners of her mouth curved into a very pretty arc. "What were you hoping he'd say?"
"Wow, Hawk's amazing?"
"Oh my God, Hawk is incredible—I had no idea he was that strong?"
Hawk watched her whisper theatrically, lips twitching, and dropped his voice to match. "Your acting right now is way hammier than when you were in the plumber outfit last night."
Gwen's smile froze. She rolled her eyes, slipped her arm free, and strode ahead.
Hawk's smile froze, too. He hurried after her at a trot. "Sorry. My bad."
Gwen cut him a sidelong look, a sly spark in her eye. "Too late. Half a month off."
"No way!"
Hawk shook his head at once, solemn. "The next shipment of uniforms is already on the way. We agreed on two months, and two months it is. A person should keep his word, Gwen."
It wasn't like he'd forced her into that fee.
God was his witness.
Back then, George hadn't even been in mortal danger—quite the opposite. He was about to enjoy a certain… blessing.
So there'd been no "saving George to strong-arm Gwen" about it.
Gwen hadn't wanted her dad to "enjoy" that soon-to-be-served blessing, so she'd paid for two months and told Hawk to get involved.
He did gain an unexpected bonus afterward—
The Blood Dimension.
But—again, God's witness—when he jumped in, he hadn't expected to end up with an ownerless dimension.
And landing the Blood Dimension later had let him create a race of his own.
Not the point.
"Unexpected bonus" means something you didn't plan on getting.
Bottom line:
He acted because Gwen paid for two months of uniforms—not because he foresaw a free dimension afterward.
Still—
Having flatly refused Gwen's attempt to claw back payment, Hawk's eyes slid sideways; he smiled. "Actually… taking off half a month isn't impossible."
"Really?"
"Think about it. That female vampire was this close to 'feeding' when you offered two months. If we backdate half a month from when I stepped in, she'd already have 'fed.' So I can go find a female vampire and let her 'feed'—then I'll agree to knock off half a month."
Gwen's eyes lit up—then the rest registered. In a flash her gaze turned feral; two tiny tiger fangs showed. "You dare!"
"I kind of think George was tempted."
"What?"
Hawk gave her a look and grinned. "Why else haven't we seen him at dinner these twenty days since? My guess—he thinks I ruined his big moment, so he's avoiding me."
Gwen blinked, halted, and stood stock-still.
Hawk stopped too, stepping back to stand beside her.
They faced each other.
For some reason, meeting Gwen's eyes, Hawk felt like he'd just doused himself in gasoline and struck a match.
Sure enough—
Gwen smiled lightly, tone just as light. "Hawk."
"Mm."
"You say my dad was tempted. What about you? If it were you—would you accept?"
"Not a chance."
Hawk shook his head without a pause, all upright resolve, meeting those green gemstone eyes without a flicker. "I, Hawk Phoenix, am not a two-timer."
Among the abilities that came with his awakened sixth sense, there was one he used as little as possible:
Sixth Sense—X-ray Sight.
If he let his thoughts slide even a little, that nearly mothballed power would be on all the time—no exceptions.
He hadn't.
One woman is enough.
Besides—
He'd met Gwen when he was a nobody. She watched him come into his own; she shared his current peak—however temporary—and she'd share everything after.
And he was a warrior.
It's said:
Scholars rise, then cast off family.
When have you heard of a warrior rising—and casting off wife and child?
So—
Hawk looked at Gwen, face grave. "You're my past, my present, and my future. The only one I care about."
Gwen stared at this very familiar Hawk, at the starlight burning in his eyes, and opened her mouth.
"…Sorry."
"Too late."
"What?"
"You doubted me. Add half a month."
"Dream on!"
Gwen watched the sly curve return to his lips. "Two months is two months. I won't cut—and you won't add."
"Deal."
His brows eased; the seriousness vanished into a smile. "Original terms accepted."
Gwen caught the look—and realized. "Tha—"
"Language, Gwen. Language."
He cut in gently before she could let a word fly.
An eyebrow flick from Gwen, and—zip—Hawk stepped forward, letting her swat cut the air.
"Stop right there."
"Nope."
He shook his head.
No taste for pain.
Gwen scowled and launched after him.
Hawk turned and ran.
No lingering.
Soon—
At the church doors, Peter and Felicia—waiting for their son's godfather—saw Hawk and Gwen racing toward them, laughing, one chasing, one dodging.
Peter and Felicia traded a look and a blink. "What was that about…?"
Hawk and Gwen settled down, arms linked again. Hawk chuckled at Peter's curious stare. "Warming up. Where's my godson?"
"Aunt May's holding him. Father's getting ready," Peter said.
"Let's go."
"Head in," Hawk told Gwen. "I'll go get things ready."
Today was little Ben's baptism.
As the godfather, Hawk had a few duties of his own.
Someone else might have come at dawn to prep.
But Hawk had grown up in a church; he knew the whole routine by heart—no briefing needed.
By the time Gwen, Peter, and Felicia entered, Hawk had already finished the prayer before the crucifix, traced the sign of the cross over his chest, and handed the gold cross he'd prepared to the priest.
The priest prayed in turn and hung the cross around little Ben's neck as he slept in Aunt May's arms.
This golden cross was to be worn for life.
It was the godfather's gift to his godson.
As if he sensed something, little Ben's eyes fluttered open. He was just about to wail when his chubby hand found the cross. Fingers pinched the gold—his mouth pinched shut—and he giggled.
If you looked into those blue eyes—Peter's exact shade—you'd notice:
Deep in little Ben's gaze—
A light shimmered—
The Northern Cross.
(End of Chapter)
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