I talked with the boys about the abilities they wanted. As I anticipated, Micah was really interested in the idea of learning magic and controlling fire, and Gavin liked the idea of “taking care” of people with a healing ability.

A healing ability was obviously necessary, and I had a feeling a fire ability was too. I was familiar enough with the ancient methods of making fire to know that cartoons and movies had given people a terribly unrealistic view of how easy it was. Even if I could find flint and steel, I’d have to have something extremely flammable to catch the spark and nurse it into a strong flame, and a firebow - where you spun a hardwood stick quickly in a soft log - required you to keep spinning that stick for a long time. Even if you knew what you were doing, it might take you more than a half hour to start a fire. We didn’t have that kind of time and energy to waste.

I wasn’t sure how Micah would handle actually setting monsters on fire - he often went out of his way to avoid fighting things he perceived as nice animals in games - but I didn’t try to change their minds. Gavin could be a little more impulsive and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to have the option to set the house aflame at will. I had a momentary vision of waking up to a room filled with smoke and Gavin still grinning sweetly as he explained what perfectly reasonable thought process had led to this.

Nope. This was good. Micah casts fire.

Micah was practically dancing in excitement. “Can I get my ability now, Mom?”

“Yes,” I said, then looked around. Practical he may be, but he was still nine. Hell, if you gave me the ability to cast fire, I’d want to do it. No way I was going to ask him to have that kind of self-control. I grabbed a scrap of paper and a cast-iron pan as Pointy guided him through the interface. When his eyes focused on me, I was ready. “Can you light this paper on fire?”

His face scrunched in a nearly cross-eyed way that was probably focus, but looked a lot like indigestion. When the paper burst into flame I actually dropped the cast iron pan with a yelp. It crashed into the hardwood floor, leaving a noticeable dent. The paper drifted down after it, still aflame, and I stomped on it as it landed, smothering any further blaze.

The kids all started laughing, and I felt my face heat.

“Mom!!! You told me to do that.”

“I did. I did. I guess Mom’s just a bit jumpy today.” I tried to give them a grin.

Micah wasn’t paying too much attention, his eyes fixed on the cast iron. “Can I do that again?”

“In a bit, hon. I’m going to be counting on you to cook dinner today! I think, though, that Mom’s gonna go out and try to fight a monster.”

Micah laughed. “Oh, is Mom?”

I laughed a little at that. He had me there. The kids were old enough that I didn’t usually refer to myself in the third person anymore.

Gavin peered anxiously out the window. “I wish Daddy was here. He is a lot better at the fighting than you.”

Ouch. Kids were too honest. He wasn’t wrong, though. Vince took the boys to aikido lessons twice a week - Cassie was too young - and he’d done it himself all through college. He’d talked with me a number of times about starting, but the adult classes were held after the kids’ bedtime. If we both went, we’d need to hire a sitter every time we attended class. I didn’t know how well human-to-human martial arts would translate into killing alien animals, but it had to be better than nothing.

“I wish Daddy was here too. Still, look how much bigger I am than that little thing. I’ve got this, right?”

Gavin squinted up at me thoughtfully. “Probably?”

Damn. Lie to me a little here, kid!

The longer I waited, the more freaked out I was getting. I needed to go soon or I was worried I’d lose the nerve to try this at all. I started wrestling myself into my snow gear - puffy snow pants under a puffy hooded jacket, with thick rubbery boots to guard my feet and ankles. The jacket zipped up under my chin and would offer some protection to my neck as well. I skipped the snow gloves. They barely gave me the dexterity to make snowmen; if I tried to use them to hold a spear, I doubted I’d keep a grip on it.

After I was dressed, I went into the kitchen for my backup plan. Thawing on the counter were a number of small cubes of sliced frozen ghost pepper. Vince and I both loved spicy stuff, and he’d had a chance to buy a whole slew of the famously hot capsicums from a buddy who’d grown too much. We’d cut them into smaller parts and frozen them. The intention had been to use it a bit at a time in things like stir fry, but even in small amounts the heat was just barely pleasant for the two of us, and far too much for the kids to enjoy. Gavin had tried to steal some of the broccoli out of my bowl and heavily regretted it, calling the spice in my bowl “demon pepper.” The name had stuck. We’d used it a few times, but cooking separate meals had been a hassle and the vast majority of the pepper was still languishing in our freezer.

I grabbed a pair of rubber gloves. Working quickly, I swept the thawing cube along the outside of my gear, contorting a bit to reach as much of my back as possible.

“No hugs, kids! Mom’s covered herself in the demon pepper!”

I grabbed my spear and headed toward the front door.

A tiny squeak interrupted me.

“Excuse me, Meghan? I think you’d be better served by exiting through the back door. There is a rodent visible in the back yard as well, and your fence limits the number of additional enemies who can interfere.”

I paused. “Good point.”

Honestly, that was obvious. An obvious and basic piece of strategic advice that I had completely missed. It made me wonder what else I was missing, and almost made me change my mind about going out at all.

The kids were all clustered, watching me nervously. Even Cassie seemed to realize something serious was going on, and Micah’s eyebrows were nearly pasted to his hairline. “Be careful, Mom.”

I swallowed.

I swallowed again.

Dear God, please protect me, so I can protect them. I am not good at this and I should not be here right now.

I took a deep breath and summoned up all my years in theater. Maybe if I did it well enough, I’d start to believe it myself. I gave them a bright smile.

“I love you guys. So much. You need to stay inside while I fight. Even if it looks like I’m having problems, I need you to trust that I’ve got it. Okay? I’ll be back in a couple minutes! Pray for me and wish me luck!”

An uncertain chorus of assent met my announcement. I turned around and walked out the door before I lost my nerve.