by Lola Gabriel
Cassius blinked several times as he stared at it in wonder. Like a fairy tale, it just sat there, a moss-covered structure made of thick wood. Smoke billowed from the dual chimneys, and a brown picket fence enclosed two sheep and a handful of chickens on the wide, square lawn. It did not look like much, but Cassius had the sense that it was much bigger than it appeared, and whoever lived inside surely knew a thing or two about survival.
Cautiously, he approached, ignoring the bleating sheep. A cow appeared, startling him, mooing at him questioningly. Cassius opened the gate and allowed himself inside.
“Hello?” he called out. “Ruby?”
If the cow had startled him, the tiny woman that suddenly threw the door of the cabin open scared the daylights out of him.
Cassius’ mouth dropped in shock.
“Opal!” he gasped, stepping backward as the witch stared at him with intense black eyes.
“I am Ruby,” she said, and his heart hammered wildly in his chest. Her resemblance to Opal was uncanny, but as Cassius regained his composure, he saw the subtle differences between the woman before him and the sage who had cursed them all those years ago.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “How did you find me out here?”
“You are Ruby?” he asked, forcing a note of authority into his tone. He did not want to explain the embarrassing avenues he had gone through to locate the living relatives of a witch from the fourteenth century.
“We have already established that,” Ruby retorted. “It’s cold out here, and you’re letting out all my heat. Are you coming in or not?” She spun as she waited for him to make up his mind, and Cassius found himself staring at her again, doubt creeping through him.
You shouldn’t be here, something yelled at him. You are putting everyone at risk. He silenced the warning, reminding his conscience that his father was the one putting everyone’s lives in peril.
“Would you like some tea?” she offered, and Cassius swallowed his reservations, following her inside the cozy cottage. The door slammed in his wake, and he whirled to see what had caused it. Ruby chuckled. “The wind,” she said without turning from the stove. “Which one are you?”
The question puzzled Cass.
“Which one what?” he asked, the words jumbled and confused on his tongue.
“Which one of the princes are you?”
Cass froze. “You know who I am?”
Ruby chuckled again and cast him a look over her ageing shoulder. On closer inspection, she didn’t seem nearly as old as Cassius remembered the witch from the castle, nor was she as lecherous.
“I knew it was only a matter of time before one of you came trampling in this direction,” she said. “My daughter will be sorry she missed you.”
“Your daughter?” Cassius repeated. “Why?”
“Oh,” Ruby sighed. “I suppose every generation has prepared the next one for what Opal did. Some of us believed that you had forgotten how the curse came to be, moved along with your lives, and we were safe, but that was never my school of thought. I knew I would see one of you in my lifetime.”
“How?” Cassius demanded.
Ruby pulled the kettle from the stove and poured the tea into a pot before covering it with a cozy and bringing a tray to the handmade tree-table. The chairs were merely finished wood stumps, and Cassius suddenly felt as if he had been thrust back into medieval England.
Father would love it here, he thought, shaking his head.
“We are still witches, my lord,” Ruby said. “We know things inherently. I imagine that is why you have come.”
“I have come because I need answers,” he told her shortly. “And I need them fast.” Ruby poured the steaming tea into a cup and placed it in front of him before fixing herself one.
“I don’t know how much I can help you,” she mumbled, and Cassius gave her a look of surprise.
“You haven’t even heard what I need,” he reminded her, and she shrugged.
“I can guess,” she replied. “You want to kill one of your kind.”
Cassius felt a shiver of shock to hear the statement said aloud and with such indifference.
“No!” he denied. He didn’t want to… kill his father, nor did he want to kill any of his brothers, if push came to shove. No, what he was looking for wasn’t a way to destroy them.
“Then what do you want?” Ruby asked, folding her hands over the table.
Cassius considered the question, taking a sip of his tea. “Is there a weakness we possess? A way we can be slowed or—?”
“Killed?” Ruby finished, and Cassius scowled.
“I would prefer it doesn’t come that,” he said gruffly.
“You haven’t said no,” she commented, which angered Cassius. She was toying with him, just as Opal had done before.
“Is there a way to stop us?” he asked, his hazel eyes drilling into hers as he waited for an answer.
“Yes,” she answered.
Cassius felt the air deflate from his body. It was not until that minute that he realized he had been afraid she would say there was not.
“Really?” he demanded. “How? What is it?”
Ruby’s ugly face curled into an amused smile.
“Firstly, there is only one way of which I know to kill one of you,” she explained. “But it would never happen, which is why you have never been killed. Secondly, you can all be stopped. That is a much simpler task.”
“How?” Cassius repeated. “How can we be stopped?”
“I see that the legend is true,” Ruby said, her amused smile widening. “You are impatient and impulsive. That is why you are in this mess.”
Cassius snorted.
“Opal had something to do with that mess,” he informed her, and the witch nodded.
“I happen to know that she could not have turned you if you had not all agreed. Am I wrong?”
Cassius flushed, knowing that she spoke the truth, but his nerves were taut. “As much as I am enjoying this psychological assessment of my personality, I do need some answers. Lives depend on it.”
Ruby flicked her tongue and took another sip of tea before answering.
“Finish your tea,” she instructed. “And I will tell you everything you wish to know.”
Cassius wasn’t sure if he should believe her or not, but he had little choice. He downed the liquid and watched as she reached for his cup.
“Are you reading my tea leaves?” he asked in disgust. “If I wanted a psychic, I could have found someone closer to home.” Ruby turned the cup upside down and studied his face.
“No one is so powerful that they cannot be stopped,” she explained, gesturing for him to give his palm to her. With a calloused index finger, she traced the lines of his hand, cocking her head speculatively. “Some of us are harder to slow than others,” she continued. “But all of us have different weaknesses. You and your brothers are no different.”
Cassius knit his eyebrows.
“How will I know what someone’s specific weakness is?” he asked in confusion, and Ruby smiled.
“I am here to tell you precisely that,” she replied, suddenly dropping his hand and lifting the cup. Her ebony eyes widened in shock, and she bit on her lower lip. “It is the king you wish to stop,” she murmured. “This is more difficult than I originally thought.”
Cassius was flooded with disappointment. “Why?”
There was no humor in Ruby’s expression as she looked up at him, and Cassius realized for the first time that she foresaw the danger the world was facing.
“You need to give him a purpose for living,” she told him, her voice catching as urgency filled her eyes. “If he feels he has a direction, he will abandon this war he is about to start.”
“You’re not making any sense!” Cassius growled, jumping to his feet. “You’re as bad as Opal!”
“Sit down!” Her voice was like whiplash, and Cassius found himself obeying, despite his mounting anxiety. “What could a man possibly want more than anything i
n the world? What would give him a reason for being?”
“Land?” Cassius tried.
Ruby scoffed.
“Think deeper!” she snapped. “Something he can mold and shape, something he can cultivate and grow as long as he is alive.” Cassius stared at her, his intestines twisting.
“A son?” Ruby’s eager nod made him scowl. “He has six of us,” he growled. “What the hell good has that done?”
“No,” the witch sighed. “You are all a disappointment to him in your own way. He needs a new son, a new heir.”
Cassius gaped at her. “How am I supposed to make that happen? He is far too old, and I don’t know if his wife even allows him to touch her!” The mere thought of it made him shudder.
Ruby slowly placed the cup down.
“Then you must find him the next best thing,” she replied. “Although he may, arguably, find it better.”
“What is the next best thing?”
“A grandson.”
Cass chortled.
“A grandson!” he whooped. “That’s grand. I have six weeks to find him a grandson,”
Ruby shook her head. “Not just any grandson—a dragon baby.”
15
“Why am I always the one taking you the hospital?” Audrey muttered as she steered her Mustang through traffic toward the Mills-Peninsula Medical Center. “You should have gotten a midwife!”
“It’s too late for that now!” Brooklyn gasped as another contraction violently seized her. “Can’t you go any faster?”
“There’s Christmas traffic!” Audrey snapped. “Screw this, I’m driving on the shoulder.” Under normal circumstances, Brooklyn would have protested, but she was in far too much agony to do anything except hope her child didn’t come into the world in the passenger seat of Audrey’s car. “We’re almost there,” Audrey assured her. “Just hang in there, hon.”
Brooklyn squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to count her breaths. She felt as though the baby was going to claw its way out from her abdomen. Was this amount of pain normal? Even if it wasn’t, she could only bite down on her lip and keep breathing. Another contraction overcame her, and she screamed, sweat streaming down her forehead.
“How can the baby be coming so fast?” Audrey called back to her. “You just went into labor!”
Thankfully, the next turn was into the medical center, but Brooklyn was almost delirious with pain as medical staff got her down onto a wheelchair.
“The baby’s coming!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “Now!”
“Shh,” the nurse whispered, racing her toward the maternity ward. “You’re fine now, honey. Don’t worry about anything. We’ve got you.” The lights flickered around her and Brooklyn worried she was going to lose consciousness.
From somewhere behind her, she heard Audrey yelling at them, “Give her the good stuff! Don’t skimp on anything!”
For a second, Brooklyn could’ve sworn she did faint, because the next thing she knew was that she was sprawled on her back, her legs spread open as a staff of doctors and nurses surrounded her.
“I see a head!” someone called excitedly.
“Brooklyn,” the nurse called to her, face inches from hers. “I need you to look at me now. You have to push. Your baby is coming.”
With a terrific, agonized groan, Brooklyn did as she was instructed.
“Breathe,” the nurse instructed, and she took several short, erratic breaths. Someone held her hand, and Brooklyn turned to see Audrey at her side, her face covered in a surgical mask.
“You’ve got this,” she said comfortingly.
“One more big push, Brooklyn!”
Brooklyn inhaled and pushed, the sounds of a shrill cry piercing the air. Again, spots danced before her eyes, but she was aware of the silence beneath the wails of her newborn.
“What’s wrong?” she gasped, struggling to sit up. “Is… is my baby okay?”
“Lay back,” the nurse instructed. “Just catch your breath. He’s fine. He’s a… little… boy.” Her tone was hesitant, and Brooklyn was covered in a blast of shivers again.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked Audrey, who stared after the screaming infant, but her friend did not answer. “Tell me!”
“Shh!” Audrey said, turning her attention back to Brooklyn. “There’s nothing wrong.” Though the quaver in her voice told Brooklyn differently, she didn’t push it.
“I want to hold him!” she babbled, tears filling her eyes. “Give me my son!”
“Yes, honey,” the doctor said, appearing with a freshly wrapped baby in her arms. “Here you are.”
Brooklyn peered into the face of the child she and Cass had created, his blue eyes barely peeking through half-closed lids. As he was lowered into her yearning arms, his cries faltered, and his lips puckered.
Oh, my God, Brooklyn thought, gently kissing his red forehead. Oh, my God, I’m in love.
“He’s beautiful,” Audrey whispered, brushing a strand of Brooklyn’s blonde hair off her forehead, where it had matted and stuck. “I love both of you.”
Happiness and melancholy filled Brooklyn as she studied her small son. He was already falling asleep against her chest, and Brooklyn closed her own eyes, her pulse slowly regaining its normal rate.
“Let us check you out, Mama,” the nurse said, reaching for the baby, and Brooklyn’s eyes flew open as she instinctively pulled him back. The nurse smiled tenderly. “He will be right here in his cot,” she assured Brooklyn, who reluctantly handed him over.
She allowed the doctor to check her, but she could not peel her eyes away from her child.
He needs to know his father, she thought, the notion filling her with excitement and worry simultaneously. She forced the idea out of her mind. He didn’t have a father. The man who had spawned him was a beast. Then again, was he really? What had Cass ever showed her but gentleness? Maybe he had some disfigurement or—
Stop it! Brooklyn scolded herself. You’re having postpartum blues. You decided a long time ago that you will be his mother and his father.
“What are we going to name him?” Audrey asked, and Brooklyn grinned up at her friend.
“We?” she echoed. “I didn’t realize we had gotten married.”
“We may as well,” she replied dryly.
“What about Audren?” Brooklyn asked, smiling up at the vivacious redhead. “After his godmother.” Audrey’s blue eyes widened, and she grinned.
“Really?” she asked, gleefully clapping her hands together. “You would name him after me?”
“I would on the condition that he doesn’t come equipped with your mouth,” Brooklyn laughed.
“I can’t promise anything,” she joked. Then her face grew serious. “Speaking of genetics,” Audrey started to say, but Brooklyn held up her hand.
“I don’t want to go down this road again,” she said firmly, and Audrey sighed deeply.
“I’m going to call everyone and tell them the good news,” she said, leaning down to kiss the top of Brooklyn’s head. “Can I tell them to come anytime?” Brooklyn nodded, realizing how much she suddenly needed her friends beside her.
“Yes, please,” she replied.
“We’re going to move you into a room now, Ms. Demeris,” the nurse said, and Brooklyn nodded.
“I’m going to make those calls and grab a cup of coffee,” Audrey told her as she was lowered onto a wheelchair.
“Room 402,” the nurse said to Audrey.
“I’ll be right there.”
In Brooklyn’s room, baby Audren was handed back to her, and the nurses left her alone to feed him.
“If you need any help, just buzz,” the kind nurse told her.
“Wait!” Brooklyn called after her.
“Yes?”
“Thank you!”
The nurse smiled and nodded.
“That’s what we’re here for, dear,” she replied, closing the door.
Audren continued to sleep, his tiny chest rising and falling
as his miniscule lips parted. Brooklyn had the irresistible desire to examine every inch of his body, and she gently unwrapped the blanket, careful not to disturb him.
“You’re perfect,” she murmured, counting his small fingers as she studied him. A sense of wonder she had never known filled her: soft baby skin and two skinny arms, a baby tummy and knee-less legs.
Such a strange creature, she thought, shaking her head. But when her eyes reached his feet, her heart stopped.
Tiny talons jutted from his toes, his feet greenish in color.
She gasped aloud, and Audren’s eyes fluttered open. He did not start crying, though, so Brooklyn carefully continued to look him over. She turned him around, and her head went light.
Protruding from the base of his spine was a stump. It was pointed on the end and scaly to the touch.
Brooklyn cursed under her breath. She quickly wrapped Audren back up and drew him to her breast, rocking him gently as she fed him.
There was a knock on the door, but before Brooklyn could respond, the doctor entered, a stern expression on her face.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But I need to take the baby for some tests.”
Brooklyn held Audren tightly to her chest.
“No,” she said. “He’s eating.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Brooklyn, I’m sure you’ve noticed that he has some abnormalities on his body. We need to determine precisely what it is—”
“He’s perfect!” Brooklyn roared. Her tone startled Audren, who began to cry. “You’re not taking him anywhere!” She continued to rock him, her eyes wild, as if daring the physician to touch him. Whatever the doctor saw in Brooklyn’s face seemed to keep her at bay.
“I’ll come back after you’re more rested,” she said, but Brooklyn glowered at her.
“You’re not touching my son,” she hissed to the retreating doctor. Audrey entered at the same time the woman walked out.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, immediately noting the expression on Brooklyn’s face.
Without a word, Brooklyn began to unfold the blanket as Audren continued to cry. However, when the cloth fell away, there was nothing unusual about infant’s feet. Ten perfect toes sat where she had seen the claws only minutes earlier. Perplexed, Brooklyn turned him over, shushing him gently as he slowly calmed down.