The morning after the magpie incident, Samantha woke to the sound of systematic destruction.
Not magical destruction. Not dimensional catastrophe. Just the specific chaos that came from eight children discovering that someone had eaten the last of the cereal.
"It wasn't me!" Emma's voice echoed up the stairs.
"Then who phased into the pantry and took it?" Claire demanded.
"Maybe it was the twins when they were still magnetic!"
"We were attached to the refrigerator, not the pantry, that's geographically impossible—"
Samantha pressed her face into the pillow. Beside her, Marcus hadn't moved, though she knew he was awake from the deliberate stillness of his breathing.
"Your turn," she mumbled.
"I retrieved a screwdriver from an angry bird at midnight," Marcus replied without opening his eyes. "I've earned at least fifteen minutes of pretending I can't hear them."
