The Magic Number

by Natalie Gibson

  Healing them had been easy. Taking their memories would be easy as well, but he didn’t want to do that. He had told Camilla he would never lie to her. He wanted her to know who he was even if he could never tell her who she was. He couldn’t risk saying it aloud, or the Beast would surely hear.

  Camilla’s angelic singing voice shocked him almost as much as Israel’s touch on his head. He looked up to find them both looking at him with longing. They still wanted him, even if he was a monster. Humans were such trusting creatures, easily attracted to things that could kill them. He allowed himself to be led back to the bed as Camilla sang.

  I dream of only you, my dear,

  of you and I, alone, night and day.

  I dream of you with skies clear

  and even when they’re gray.

  If only you could see past

  a life of loneliness

  Everything that I doth do

  Is done for you, just you.

  Damn the ones that came before

  And make you fear I don’t adore.

  What can I do to prove my love,

  except sing to whom I’m most fond of.

  She held open the covers as he slid into the middle spot, Israel following. Both he and she rested their heads on Nanae’s massive chest, allowing him to cradle them there, as if he were indeed their Guardian and not a monster who hungered for their flesh.

  Israel spoke in a whisper. “So you’re a vampire?” He, like most of the men on the compound, had not been included in the meeting in which Nathalia, the First Sinnis, had explained about the Guardians.

  Nanae stiffened but did not move to correct the other man. Camilla, the woman of so few words, stepped in to defend him. “No. Nanae is a Guardian. He belongs to an ancient race of noble beings with great magic called Nephilim. They are creatures of the light, taking energy from the sun and the earth. On occasion, they take blood for added strength and nourishment. Nathalia says that they are not dangerous but that they are each born with a hunger inside of them so great it could eat up the world. The beast is a burden they each must learn to bear and live with, balancing its needs with theirs. It is always striving toward freedom. For them to drink the blood of another Nephilim is to free the beast and imprison themselves in its place. When that happens, other Nephilim must step in and bring the beast to justice.”

  Nanae wanted to tell them that feeding wasn’t usually like that, that it wasn’t usually so violent. He wanted to tell them that he would never be that way with them again, but he couldn’t, because he wasn’t sure he could keep that vow. He blurted out, “It was the eggs.”

  There was a short, stunned silence, and then Izzy and Camilla both burst out laughing. It turned into a giggling fit when Nanae tried to explain, “The eggs brought out the Beast.”

  Israel’s comment, “You did say my eggs were to die for,” brought another round of cackling, complete with a snort or two. “Got it. No more eggs. Tomorrow, we’ll stick to biscuits.”

  They had no fear of him. Somehow, they could joke about him almost killing them. They were a miracle. His miracle. He hugged them tightly, soaking up the wonderful healing sound of their laughter.

  “I’M PREGNANT.” Camilla couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

  Maeve, busy nursing Genevieve, didn’t get up but congratulated her. “That’s great, Camilla! Congratulations.”

  And though she be but little, she is fierce. Nathalia rushed over to hug Camilla.

  After a few days with Nanae, Camilla was well used to the touch of a Guardian. She barely felt discomfort in the First Sinnis’s embrace.

  Is the baby your Sinnis? Nathalia silently asked Nanae over Camilla’s head.

  The Beast recognized the First as an enemy of its freedom and growled. Nanae kept the Beast down because he had fed well, but still only managed a quick jerk of the head. No, the unborn was not his Sinnis; its mother was. Thankful that the Beast could not hear his thoughts, Nanae wondered if it could hear the First’s words.

  Holding Camilla out at arm’s length, Nathalia could clearly see. She spoke to Nanae. Is Camilla your Sinnis? Without waiting for his answer, she stated, She does not wear your birthmark.

  The rumbling deep inside him and the sudden feeling of his flesh being too crowded told him his Beast could indeed hear the First. He trembled with the effort of keeping it trapped. His shoulders would have slumped if not for the strain. He had hoped he could share the identity of his Sinnis with her, but, “No,” was all he squeezed through gritted teeth.

  Maeve, knowing there was a conversation occurring that didn’t involve her or Camilla, asked, “Did you go to the bank and get an anonymous donor?”

  Camilla shook her head no. Nanae, still struggling with his Hunger, could offer no explanation.

  Maeve took a leap and guessed accurately. “Your abilities are inhibited in the presence of modern machines and computers, like Camilla’s.”

  Camilla confirmed with a nod. “It had to be done the natural way. So will the birth.”

  Nathalia returned to her waiting Guardian in the corner. No one could hear it, but everyone could tell they were having a silent conversation. The two looked worried.

  Maeve diplomatically moved the conversation forward. “So, who’s the father?” Then she added, “If you don’t mind me asking.” After all, who a Daughter chose as her child’s father was no one’s business but her own. They were all free to choose the person they felt would provide the best genes. The Daughters of Women did not believe that the father of their child also had to be the best life partner for the mother.

  Camilla reached out and took Nanae’s giant hand in her little one and said, “His.”

  Surely he has told you that he cannot possibly be the father? All Guardians are barren. Nathalia suspected it had something to do with cross-species breeding. Mules—a hybrid between horses and donkeys—were mostly infertile. A few female mules could produce offspring when mated with a purebred donkey or horse, but all male mules were sterile. They had a different number and structure of chromosomes that kept them from creating successful embryos. She thought that it might be the same with Nephilim, who were all male. The chromosomes inherited from their Shinar fathers and human mothers just might not add up. She’d have liked to have her theory tested, but Nephilim were distrusting of doctors and surrendering their blood.

  “Israel is the biological father, but he”—Camilla found it impossible to remember Nanae’s name when with anyone but him and Izzy—“is making this miracle possible. I consider him every bit as much the father of my child as Izzy.”

  Israel was an excellent choice. He was an anomaly, immune to Maeve’s matchmaking magic. He said it was because there was no perfect match out there for him. No one person could provide everything he needed.

  “Well, congratulations to the three of you. As Abbess, I would like to extend the well wishes of the Daughters of Women to you. May your pregnancy go smoothly and your journey into motherhood be easy. May all your children be Daughters.” Maeve meant the word Daughters to mean both female children and members of their organization.

  “Thank you, Abbess. May I get back to work?” Camilla’s week-long leave had come to an end, and she was anxious to get back to the Holy Capacitors.

  “Yes, certainly. The Capacitors are doing well, but I’m sure they’ll be glad to have your unique ability and loving touch again. We’re all so lucky to have you.” Maeve meant it. It was Camilla who allowed the Capacitors in Austin, Texas, to live much longer than should be possible. They had lost zero holy women to the natural petrification process of existence inside the golden power sphere that claimed all Capacitors of other branches.

  “He’ll have to come too.” There it was. Camilla was worried that she might not be allowed to take Nanae with her into the holy storage room every day. He had been allowed down once before, but that was under dire circumstances. The Daughters’ compound had been under attack, and close quarters had been endangering Maeve and Jolie’s unbo
rn children. Camilla had been endangering them.

  Camilla didn’t want to choose between the chance at a baby and the beloved Capacitors.

  “Yes,” the Abbess answered. “It’s fine for your Guardian to go with you, Camilla. But the other rules still apply: no technology and no violence, and you’ll have to clean his mind of dark thoughts before you take him down.”

  Camilla nodded at Maeve, then at Nathalia, and then she tugged Nanae out of the room. Maeve handed baby Genevieve to her Guardian. He wrapped her up tightly and tucked her into the waiting bassinet. The One fell asleep instantly when the gentle rocking started. With Maeve to fill her belly and Samsiel to fill her heart, she would never lack for anything.

  Maeve fastened her nursing top and turned to the couple silently conversing in the corner. She waited. Maeve was the Abbess Primo now and the Holy Mother of the One to boot. Nathalia had promised her full disclosure in exchange for sanctuary here. Apparently, there were things out there that hunted the Guardians.

  Nathalia and Eiran exchanged a glance, and then she explained, We may have a problem with him. His Beast is very strong, and the leash he has on it is thinning.

  “He isn’t Akhkharu, is he?” Maeve knew the danger involved with an uncontained beast.

  Not yet. There may come a time when he is not strong enough to resist his Hunger’s call. It could be much sooner than Genevieve’s eighteenth birthday too. He is dangerous.

  “I just told Camilla it was okay to take him down with the Capacitors!”

  He is no threat to them, just to the rest of us. It’s clear that Camilla loves him, and to love one so close to turning could endanger her tenfold. The beast will call for him to destroy anything that could jeopardize its freedom, most of all a source of love. At least she’s not his Sinnis. I’m not sure any of us could keep her alive if that were the case.

  NANAE WAS brooding by the time they got back to Camilla’s quarters. The difference between angry and perplexed was too small for Camilla to interpret. She did what she was known for. She held her tongue. He would tell her if and when he was ready. He had promised never to lie to her, and she trusted him to keep his word.

  She waited for her computer to boot up as Nanae examined her room. He’d never been there before, and it was as different from Israel’s place as day was from night. It was sparse to say the least, but that was no reflection on her at all. She’d never spent much time here. The lion’s portion of her time was spent below ground in the storage room, her minimal belongings were like her too-pale skin, just another sacrifice she made to her work.

  With the exception of her computer, this room looked the way it would have when monks had inhabited the building. Her only furniture was a twin bed, an armoire, and a desk and chair set that had been here when she joined. They were all plainly carved—no girlie flourishes whatsoever. The walls were still stone, no plaster or drywall had been installed, and there were no pictures or mirrors hanging anywhere. Even the bedding was plain, an all-white collection that included a fluffy down-filled duvet. Nanae fingered the soft comforter and then lifted it, exposing the smooth, flannel fitted sheet. Without a word, he slipped in, turned his back to her and lay under the covers, staring at the wall. He was giving her as much privacy as he could. The bed groaned and creaked under his weight and he had to rest in the fetal position to fit.

  Camilla was glad Nanae hadn’t looked around too closely. He might have found it—her dark and twisted secret that lay only inches from him in a nondescript box pushed far back under the bed. She had never promised to be completely honest with him, and she’d made it this far without telling anyone about her collection. Maybe she’d never have to. She typed her ID and password in and opened her email. She didn’t expect many, maybe one from her baby brother or older sister.

  She thought about her family and absentmindedly rubbed her belly. Her baby was only a few days old, but she already loved it. She missed her siblings desperately, but her sister Melissa had her own life and family. Melissa was only two years older than Camilla but had gotten married right after high school and got pregnant; though, she only succeeded in carrying to full term after Camilla moved away. Camilla was unlike her fellow witches in that she could absorb and use the power around her. She didn’t have to reach the age of consent before her abilities manifested. Her healing happened without any effort on her part. Her close friends and family were just blessedly cancer and illness free. They were also pregnancy free.

  Her parents had wanted a large family, like they each had growing up, but Camilla’s mom had miscarriage after miscarriage after Camilla’s birth. Her mom had given in to despair and drink. She was in and out of addiction treatment facilities their whole childhood. It had been just Melissa and Camilla growing up, and they’d been thick as thieves. Then Camilla had gone away to Texas for college. There, she met Nathalia and joined the Daughters.

  Her mother got pregnant within a few months. She’d gone cold turkey and stayed sober from then on out. All she’d ever wanted was more children. She only got one more, a son named Thomas. She had developed placenta percreta and had to have a full hysterectomy postpartum. Camilla could have healed it, but her mom wanted nothing to do with her. She thought her middle child was cursed, even more so after Camilla joined “that hillbilly witch cult.”

  Camilla had flown home to Utah immediately after Thomas’s birth. She’d held tiny, tightly wrapped Tom for hours. Her little baby burrito, she called him, her joke lost on people who had so little exposure to anything nearing ethnic diversity. She’d seen him less and less through the years with her sister’s pregnancies to think about. Then when Tom was six, Mom had asked her to stop visiting. She was a bad influence, not living the life of a good Mormon girl like they’d taught her.

  Camilla had been floored. She’d never once been taken to church as a child. Her dad was apathetic at best, and her mom was absent—plain and simple. Now her mother had found religion and wanted to pretend it had always been so. Melissa’s husband, Stan, was a Mormon, and Melissa joined the church to make him happy. She knew the truth, but she played along. Melissa liked her life and didn’t want to rock the boat. After all, Camilla wasn’t a big part of their lives anymore anyway.

  So, communication was reduced to email. Tom was ten now and more savvy with the computer than anyone in the family would ever be. He loved Camilla and enjoyed having a secret from his overprotective mom. The woman had probably done more to promote her younger children’s relationship than she would ever know. Tom told Camilla everything, and Camilla was always honest with him, even when the truth was harsh or hurtful. Tom took it in stride, thinking of his letters to Camilla more like a diary and her letters back as his conscience.

  Camilla had two emails. Tom had started fifth grade just a few weeks ago and was really enjoying it. There was no one to bully him or embarrass him. He was on top of the world. Sixth grade was the first in middle school, so for this year, he was one of the biggest fish in the small elementary school pond. He enjoyed the book she’d sent him. Another mistake their mother had made was buying him an e-reader for Christmas a few years ago. He loved it of course. He went through books like they were going out of style, and it allowed Camilla to send him secret presents. His mother kept his e-book purchases under strict surveillance, but she didn’t realize that other people could purchase books for him. Camilla had flooded him with the kind of books he loved, the kind of books that broadened his horizons past Utah, and Tom cherished them even more because they were his little secret.

  She replied to him, apologizing for her long delay. She told him she had been on holiday but was back now and would check her email every day. She told him about her two new friends. She wanted to tell him about her baby but decided to wait until she was a little further along. A lot could happen in forty weeks, and she knew better than most the damage that a miscarriage had on a child’s psyche.

  Camilla glanced at the giant resting in her bed. Nanae seemed very sure of his ability to hold th
e baby to her, but she had lived with her own ability for a long time. She still doubted this was really going to happen, though she was willing to do anything to make it so. She would just have to trust that his magic was stronger than hers.

  The second email was from someone she didn’t recognize—probably more junk mail. Since she had started using her account to purchase books for Tom online, all sorts of people had her email. The subject line said, Your Guardian’s No Angel. That intrigued her, and since her spam filter hadn’t blocked it, she double-clicked the email.

  It read:

  He is a demon posing as an angel, waiting for the one he can drink from to end his immortal thirst. He will do anything to possess and consume it.

  Now there are only a few Akhkharu with you, but soon, they will start pouring in. Each after a child bride to claim. They will say they are there for your safety, but what are they really after? Bodyguards do not look with hunger at their principals. Watch and see what I say is true.

  We will contact you soon.

  Dr. Paion

  Odd. Nanae certainly had a dark side, but he was no demon. He did drink her blood, but she’d never allow him to do that to her baby. Once it was born, Camilla would be more than able to protect her child, especially with the Daughters to back her. They gave little merit to the rights of fathers, and Nanae wasn’t even the biological father. She’d have no problem keeping them apart if Nanae turned dangerous. Would he want to marry the baby? It was weird to think about her lover with her child. Who wants to sleep with a man that had slept with their mother?