Nero was awakened far too early the next morning by the insistent trilling of the telephone. Wishing for the thousandth time he'd gotten around to installing that extension in their bedroom, he staggered down the stairs to answer it, leaning hard on the banister to keep from stumbling over his own feet.

The voice on the other end, muddled by that irritating clicking on the line, belonged to Joe Panni. "You free to work today?" his boss asked. "Tonio's still missing, and I got a freighter coming in this morning. Could use a couple extra hands. I'll pay you the regular rate."

Nero was just awake enough to remember what day it was. "This morning, sure, but I gotta be outta there before ten," he mumbled into the receiver. "It's my day to watch the kids."

"You got kids?" Panni sounded surprised.

Nero laughed. "Yeah. Seven of 'em."

"Seven? You—" He could almost hear Panni shaking his head. "Whatever. Just be here as soon as you can. Ship's due in at six."

Nero squinted at the clock; it was already five thirty. He splashed cold water on his face from the kitchen sink and climbed the stairs to fumble into some clothes in the dark.

"Nero?" Kyrie's sleepy voice responded to the squeak of the dresser drawer. "What time is it?"

"Early." He slipped over to the bed and kissed her forehead. "I'm gonna pick up a couple extra hours at the dock, but I'll be back in time for you to get to the orphanage, okay?"

"Okay." She yawned. "There are some apples on the kitchen table. Take a couple for breakfast."

It was sweet of her, but Nero had no intention of taking food out of the house. He kissed her again. "Go back to sleep."

The interrupted sleep must have taken its toll, because by midmorning, Nero was utterly exhausted. He had paused to rub his eyes, leaning heavily on a stack of crates, when a cup of coffee appeared beneath his nose as if by magic. He blinked down at the offering, then traced the arm attached to it to find Joe Panni staring at him expectantly. "Thanks," Nero mumbled belatedly, taking the cup. He swilled the bitter liquid and hoped it contained extra caffeine.

Panni kept staring at him as he drank, and the reason for it was revealed when he burst, "Look, I know you got old man hair, but there ain't no way you're old enough to have seven kids. What, do you got a whole harem of women at home poppin' out babies, or somethin'?"

Nero nearly choked on his coffee. "Just one woman," he said when he'd recovered, "and I'm pretty sure she'd murder me at the word harem. But she works at the orphanage, so the kids pile up pretty fast."

"Oh." Understanding cleared Panni's face. "So they aren't really, you know, yours."

Something in his tone reminded Nero of that ever-present stigma Kyrie had complained of, and he bristled. "You wanna try that again?"

Panni recognized the challenge for what it was and held up his hands in surrender. "I just mean—you know. Biology." He hurried to change the topic, and his gaze lifted above Nero's face. "So is it a fashion thing, or what?"

Nero blinked. "Come again?"

"Your old man hair. I see kids nowadays with blue, purple, all kinds of colors, but never white."

Nero shrugged. "Just grows that way."

"Really?" Panni's eyebrows rose. "Never seen that in somebody your age. You albino, or somethin'?"

Someone really needed to introduce Panni to the concept of tact, Nero decided, but he was too tired to get into it just now. "Or something. Runs in the family."

"What, all of you have white hair?"

Nero nodded. "My old man and his brother both. Since they were babies."

"Huh. Your grandparents, too?"

"I, uh, never met my grandfather." Oddly, Nero realized, most of the statues of Sparda around the island had been monochromatic, and had been more concerned with portraying his horns than his hair. "But I'm pretty sure my grandmother was blonde." Trish was, anyway. Most of the time.

"Weird." Panni dismissed the topic with a shrug. "Well, anyway, I appreciate you comin' in on such short notice today."

"No problem. I can use the extra cash this week. My other job's been kinda quiet."

"You can have Tonio's other shifts, if you can spare the time. They're listed on the board." Panni shoved his hands in his pockets. "I sure wish I knew where the hell he's got to, though."

"Yeah, me too." Nero finished his coffee. "Let me check with Kyrie about the hours, and I'll let you know which shifts I can take. We've got a couple kids too young for school, so one of us has to stay home with them most days. Which reminds me—what time is it?"

Panni checked his watch. "Nine forty."

"Shit, I gotta get moving. Kyrie's gotta be at the office by ten." Nero crumpled the paper cup and pitched it into a rubbish bin. "Sorry to run out halfway through, but…"

"It's okay. Most of the big stuff is down, and the other guys can handle the rest." Panni clapped Nero on the shoulder. "See ya, kid."

Nero found Kyrie waiting by the door when he reached the house, only minutes before the hour. She gave him a quick kiss as she pulled on her coat. "The boys are in our bedroom, but I promised them they could come downstairs to play once you were home."

"Sure, as soon as I clean up." Nero tugged at his sweat-soaked collar. "Remind me tonight, we need to talk about work hours. I've been offered some extra shifts."

"Oh, good! They must be pleased with your work, then."

"I guess so, but it's only because Tonio has gone missing."

"Tonio?" Kyrie blinked. "Football captain Tonio?"

"Yeah. He worked a few shifts with me, but he vanished a couple days ago." Nero shook his head. "I'll fill you in later. You'd better get going; it's almost ten."

"Right. See you tonight."

Nero locked the door behind Kyrie, then headed straight for the bathroom. He'd dashed out without so much as brushing his teeth that morning, and after hours of hard labor he felt unbearably filthy. He scoured the film of sleep and stale coffee from his mouth, then climbed into the shower and let the scalding water soak into his overworked muscles. The gentle caress of heat on his shoulders was relaxing, and the patter of water on tile was so soothing…

Nero jerked awake just as he began to lose his balance, and he slammed a hand against the wall to stay upright. Damn, he knew he was tired, but falling asleep on his feet was another matter entirely. He switched the tap to cold and hissed as icy water cascaded down his spine.

Cleaner, but somewhat shaken by how deeply fatigue had gripped him, Nero wrapped himself in a towel and climbed the stairs to the bedroom. His legs burned on the ascent, and he found himself hoping the boys were asleep so he could just flop on the bed and take a nap.

The twins were not so cooperative. Zaffiro was sprawled on his stomach on the bed, feet kicking lazily as he read a book. The bed pillows were spread around on the floor, and Rosso was balanced precariously on the dresser, weight shifted forward as though preparing to jump from there to the crib.

"Stop!" Nero ordered. "Rosso, what are you doing?"

Rosso looked over in surprise. "Walking around."

"You walk on the floor, not on the furniture. Get down from there."

"But the floor is lava!" Rosso protested. "He said if I touched it, I lost the game."

Nero glared at the boy on the bed. Zaffiro didn't look up, but his waving feet kicked a little faster. "The floor is not lava, Rosso. I'm standing on it. Your brother is only trying to get you in trouble."

"I am not," Zaffiro declared without looking up from his book. "He wanted to play a game."

"All he wants to do is read," Rosso pouted. "He won't play with me."

Nero removed Rosso from the dresser and deposited him on the bed beside his brother before rummaging in a drawer for clothes. "Trust me, kid, in a few years you're gonna wish he played with you a little less. He's really got a thing for mind games."

Zaffiro looked up at last, eyes flaring with interest. "What's a mind game?"

Nero shook his head. "You'll figure it out eventually, but I'm not gonna be the one to teach you." Once dressed, he tossed the towel over his shoulder. "Kyrie said you could play downstairs, so if you promise not to stand on any more furniture, you can come down with me."

That put them in a more cooperative mood, and they barreled downstairs so quickly that Nero didn't even have time to warn them to slow down. By the time Nero reached the main floor, the twins had already vanished into the boys' bedroom. Rosso was digging through the toy chest, while Zaffiro was hunting through the bookshelf.

Nero's jaw stretched in a yawn. He knew he should keep an eye on the boys, but he supposed he didn't have to be in the same room with them, as long as he was within earshot. He'd worked hard that morning. Maybe he would just stretch out on the couch and relax a little…

Something small and blunt jabbed into Nero's arm. He ignored the sensation, his limbs too heavy to brush it away. The poke came again, harder this time. Then something seized his arm and wiggled it. Nero grunted and opened one eye.

Four pale blue eyes bored into his, unblinking and expectant. "He's awake," observed one of the twins.

Nero yawned and stretched, feet bumping the armrest at the end of the couch. His entire body ached. "What is it?" he mumbled.

"We're hungry." Zaffiro frowned at him. "I can't reach the counter. You said no standing on furniture. Does that mean kitchen chairs, too?"

Had Nero been a little less groggy, he would have admired the boy's analytical precision, but in his current state he was only regretting having made such a rule. He glanced at the clock, which read a little after one. "Right. It's past lunchtime, isn't it." He pushed to his feet and braced through a wave of dizziness that nearly put him back on the couch. Why couldn't he shake off this fatigue? He almost never slept in the middle of the day.

Kyrie had left a plate of sandwiches for them. Nero gave one to each child and stared at the third. He knew he should probably eat something, but the fatigue and a growing ache in his abdomen made him doubt whether it would improve his condition. Maybe he'd try later, when he was more awake. He filled a glass of water for himself and sank into a chair to watch the twins eat.

Rosso polished off his food quickly and began playing with the crumbs on his plate. "When can we go to the house?" he asked suddenly.

Nero blinked. "What do you mean?"

Rosso turned and pointed toward the refrigerator, where Kyrie had affixed the boys' crayon drawings amid the vast collection of school craft projects and juvenile artwork. Nero realized Rosso was indicating the lumpy, multi-peaked building he'd drawn the previous day. "I want to go back to the house."

"Is that a house you made up?"

Rosso shook his head. "I dreamed about it. I want to go back there."

Dream interpretation was well beyond Nero's reach. "Maybe you'll dream about it again tonight. That's like going back, isn't it?"

The boy's lip extended in a pout. "No, I want to go back for real."

"Mother will take us there," Zaffiro put in.

Nero frowned. "I don't think Kyrie knows where that house is, either."

Zaffiro shook his head firmly. "No. Mother." He pointed at his own drawing on the refrigerator.

Nero stared at the crayon drawing. He'd naturally assumed the adults in the family portrait represented himself and Kyrie, but if that long blonde hair hadn't been a mistake…

White hair runs in the family.

It was impossible, though, wasn't it? Nero was no expert on child development, but he knew early childhood memories rarely persisted beyond a few years. The twins had been reduced to infancy, and while they had remembered what their mother looked like then—at least, insofar as they had thought Trish was their "mama"—there was no reason a boy of four should be able to recall someone he hadn't seen since he was a year old. Yet somehow, Zaffiro had retained a mental image of both his parents. That was likely all it was; the boys didn't seem to question their new names, or how they had come to be here, or who Nero and Kyrie were, so they obviously didn't remember much about their own identities. Just lingering impressions, perhaps.

Still, it was fascinating that they could remember this much. Perhaps their early-life memories were as resilient as their half-devil bodies. "You know," Nero mused aloud, "You may be the first artist in Fortuna's history to do a portrait of Sparda in his human form."

Zaffiro cocked his head and frowned. "What does that mean?"

Nero shook his head and banished all the questions about his family that crowded at the back of his mind. "Nothing. Finish your sandwich. We have a lot of work to do after lunch, and I'm going to need your help."

The after-lunch project Nero had in mind was moving the books and toys so he could rearrange the boys' bedroom. Enlisting Rosso and Zaffiro's help not only reduced Nero's workload, but kept the boys out of mischief. Zaffiro declared himself in charge of moving and reshelving the books—"I can even put them in alphabetical order!" he bragged—while Rosso gleefully scooped up armloads of toys and deposited them in a pile on the sofa. Nero was well aware they would spend as much time reading and playing as putting things away, but at least it would keep them safely out of the room while he was moving furniture around.

Nero swallowed two aspirin to mute the pounding in his head and hauled the low bookshelf into the corner of the living room, then shoved the toy chest out into the hallway to clear space while he moved the beds. With the twins occupied, he spent several minutes shifting and rotating the bunks around the bedroom, until at last he found an arrangement that would allow another full set of bunk beds to be squeezed into the room. "Bringing our maximum foster capacity to eight," he muttered under his breath. "Which is about four more than we can afford."

He was leaning against one of the bunks, catching his breath and willing the pain in his stomach to vanish, when Kyrie returned home. He heard her asking the twins what they were up to and leaned out in the hall to greet her. "Hey! You're home kind of early, aren't you?"

"Sister Benedicta decided to close the office for the afternoon. Some things happened." Her expression told him she didn't want to discuss it in front of the children, and he nodded. "How's the room coming along?"

"Come see for yourself." He steadied her as she climbed over the toy chest that was blocking the hallway. "If we get a bunk the same size as the others, it'll fit against the wall, there. It's a tight squeeze, but there's room for the toy chest right at the end."

"Good. I don't mind having the books out in the living room, but I'd rather keep all the toys in here. I spoke with Sister Benedicta, and she'll lend us as many beds as we need. There are still several bunks in storage from the wing that had to be closed."

"Okay. Next time I'm down at the docks, I'll ask some of the guys if they can help us move a set of beds."

"It sounds like it's all coming together." Kyrie smiled up at him. "Now we just have to reclaim the living room. Zaffiro has about half the books shelved. Rosso has stacked toys on every horizontal surface. He claims he's putting them in alphabetical order, too, but I'm not sure what alphabet he's using."

Nero chuckled. "Well, I'll move the toy chest back in, and he can put them in order right back in the box." He stepped out in the hallway, bent, and hefted the heavy wooden toy box.

Or tried to.

He managed to lift one end of the chest a hand's breadth off the floor when his vision tunneled and a dull roar overlaid his hearing. The last thing he heard before everything faded out was Kyrie calling his name.