by J. R. Ward
How did it come to this? Qhuinn wondered silently.
But as soon as the thought hit him, he shook his head. What the fuck had he assumed was going to happen with two young in there?
"Is she all right?" he barked. "Are they alive?"
"Here comes one," Blay said roughly.
"Baby A," Manny pronounced as he handed a little purple bundle to Ehlena.
There wasn't even a chance to look at the kid. The nurse moved fast, rushing the infant over to one of two triage beds that had been set up.
Too silent. Motherfucker--it was too damn quiet.
"Is it alive!" Qhuinn yelled. "Is it alive!"
Blay had to hold him back--but then again the lunge forward was ridiculous. Like he could do anything to help any of this? Oh, and as if he wanted the nurse to be thinking about anything other than saving that infant?
But Ehlena looked over. "Yes, he is. He is alive--we just need to keep him that way."
Qhuinn took no comfort in any of that. How could he when the entity she was intubating and giving drugs to looked like some kind of tiny alien. A tiny, fragile, wrinkly alien that had nothing in common with the fat babies he'd seen born to humans on T.V. from time to time.
"Jesus Christ," he moaned. "So small."
The infant wasn't going to survive. He knew it down to his soul. They were going to lose him and--
"Baby B," Jane announced as she handed something over to Vishous.
V steamed by with the young, and Qhuinn gasped.
The daughter--his daughter--was even smaller. And she wasn't purple.
She was gray. Gray as stone.
All at once, the memory he had taken with him when he had serviced Layla during her needing came back to him. It was from when he had nearly died himself, and had gone up unto the Fade, and had faced off at a white door in the midst of a foggy white landscape.
He had seen an image on that door.
The image of a young female with blond hair and eyes that were shaped like his--eyes that had changed color before him from the precise shade of Layla's to the mismatched blue and green of his own.
With an animal's cry of pain, he bellowed into the OR, screaming with an agony he had never felt before--
He had guessed wrong. He had . . . been wrong. He had misinterpreted what he had seen.
The vision on the door had been not the prediction of a daughter to come.
But a daughter he had lost in birth.
A daughter . . . who had died.
SIXTY-ONE
As Mary sped through the underground tunnel to the training center, the slapping sounds of her rushing feet echoed out in front of her, an auditory shadow seemingly in as much of a hurry as she was to get where she was going. When she came to the door that opened into the office's supply closet, she put in the code and burst through into the shallow space beyond, passing by the shelves of pens and pads, the back-up flash drives and stacks of printer paper.
Out in the office, she pulled up short. Tohr was sitting behind the desk, staring at a computer screen that had all kinds of rainbow-colored bubbles obscuring the DailyMail.co.uk home page.
He jumped as he noticed her and then scrubbed his face. "Hey."
"How are they?"
"I don't know. They've been in there for what feels like forever."
"Where's Autumn?"
"She's out at Xhex's hunting cabin. It's my night off and she was getting it ready for us to . . . you know." He checked his watch. "I've been debating on whether or not to call her. I was hoping for news first, so she wouldn't worry. Well, good news, that is."
"You should tell her what's going on."
"I know." His eyes returned to the monitor. "I, ah . . . I'm not handling this very well."
Mary went around the desk and put her hand on the male's huge shoulder. The tension in that big body was so great, she felt as though she'd laid her palm on a knot. Made out of granite.
"Tohr, I don't think you should be alone. And if I were her, I'd be really upset if you didn't let me support you."
"I just . . ." Now he looked at the office phone. "I'm back in the old days, you know."
"I know. And she'll understand that. Autumn is one of the most understanding people I've ever met."
The Brother glanced up at her, his deep blue eyes boring into her skull. "Mary, am I ever going to be all right?"
In that moment, she was transported back to sitting with Bitty in Rhage's GTO--and she thought, Yes, that is what everyone wants to know, isn't it. Am I okay? Am I loved? Am I safe?
Will I get through this?
Whatever the "this" was, be it death or loss, confusion or terror, depression or anger.
"You're all right already, Tohr. And I really think you need to call your shellan. You don't need to protect her from your pain. She knows exactly the burdens you carry--and she picked you with all of them. There is nothing here that will shock her or make her think you're weak. I will guarantee, however, that if you try to keep this from her, it's going to make her feel like you don't trust her or you don't think she is strong enough to handle things."
"What if the young don't make it? What if--"
At that moment, a scream . . . a horrible, masculine scream . . . racked what seemed like the entire training center, the sound so loud it rattled the glass door, a sonic boom of mourning.
As Tohr scrambled out of the chair, Mary bolted for the exit, ripping it open.
It was not a surprise to see the entire Brotherhood gathered once again in the vast corridor. It was also not a shock that every single one of the males, and their mates, was staring at the closed door of the main OR. It was further apt that all of the Chosen and the directrix, Amalya, stood among them looking equally panicked.
No one said anything. It wasn't as if that scream of Qhuinn's didn't explain enough.
Mary went to Rhage, slipping her arm around his waist, and as he looked at her, he pulled her in close.
When there was nothing further for a moment, people began to mill. Soft talk broke the silence. Tohr took out his phone with hands that shook as he sat down on the concrete floor like his legs had fallen out from underneath him.
"Oh, God," Rhage said. "This is . . ."
Unbearable, Mary thought.
To lose a child, no matter how premature, no matter the circumstances, was an agony like no other.
*
For the first time in his adult life, Vishous froze in the midst of a medical emergency. It was only a split second, and he came back online an instant later . . . but there was something about the little lifeless body in his palms that stopped, literally, everything about him.
He would never forget the sight of it.
Wouldn't forget, either, the scream that Qhuinn let out.
Shaking himself into focus, however, he snapped back into action to do the one thing that might possibly help. With steady hands, he got a small tube down the infant's throat, slid a mask over the face and hooked the breathing apparatus up to a piece of medical equipment that was not human, but strictly for vampires. When he initiated the flow, a fortified, oxygenated saline solution went into the young's lungs, flushing out the sacs, blowing them open . . . and then sucking out the liquid, which was sent into a filtering system that would clean it, reoxygenate it, and send it back in.
Using his thumb, he pressed into the achingly tiny chest, massaging the heart with a rhythm.
Bad color. Really wrong color. Goddamn gray of a headstone.
And the young was lax, nothing moving, the arms and legs that were scrawny and wrinkled as a hatchling's flopping loose from shoulders and hips.
The eyes were open, the all-white orbs showing no pupils or irises because the little girl was so fucking premature.
"Come on, wake up . . . come on . . ."
Nothing. There was nothing.
Without thinking, he shouted over his shoulder, "Payne! Get me fucking Payne--RIGHT NOW!"
He didn't know who responded to the command. He didn'
t fucking care. All that mattered was that a millisecond later, his sister was right next to him.
"Wake her up, Payne," he barked. "Wake this kid up--I am not having this on my conscience for the rest of my goddamn life. You wake up this fucking kid right fucking now!"
Okay, yeah, his delivery sucked. But he didn't care--and neither did his sister, evidently.
And she knew just what to do.
Extending her open hand directly over the infant, she closed her eyes. "Someone hold me up. I need--"
Qhuinn and Blay were on it, each of the males taking one of her elbows. And, shit, V wanted to say something to the pair, offer some kind of . . . anything . . . but there was nothing that could be helped with mere words here.
"Payne, you gotta do this."
As the aching syllables hit the airwaves, it was a shock to realize that he had spoken them, that it was his voice that was cracking, that he, the one male on the planet who never begged, ever, for anything, was the person uttering the shaky--
Warm.
He felt a warmth.
And then he saw the light, the glow that, unlike the destructive force that he housed in his palm, was a gentle healing power, a rejuvenating force, a blessed, miracle-giving benediction.
"Qhuinn?" his sister said roughly. "Qhuinn, give me your hand."
Vishous got the fuck out of the way, although he had to still hold the breathing mask in place because the infant was too premature for even the smallest one Havers had.
Qhuinn extended an arm, and, shit, the male was shaking so badly it was as if he were standing on an agitator. Payne took what he put out, though, and laid it under her glowing palm so that the energy had to pass through his flesh to get to the infant's.
The brother gasped and jerked in response, his teeth beginning to chatter, his flushed face instantly paling.
"I need another set of hands over here," Vishous barked. "We need to keep Dad off the floor!"
Next thing he knew, Manny was by Qhuinn, the human jacking a hold on the guy around the waist.
As energy began to leave him and channel into the young, Qhuinn started to breathe hard, his chest pumping, his mouth falling open, his lungs clearly burning--
The infant changed color in the blink of an eye, all that was matte and gray and the terrible hue of death going red and pink.
And then the tiny hands, the impossibly tiny, but nonetheless perfectly formed, hands twitched. And so with the legs, the feet kicking once, twice. And so with the belly, the hollow pit expanding and contracting along with the beat of the machine.
Payne didn't stop. And Qhuinn lost his footing, only Blay's strong arms and Manny's extra support keeping his body from the floor.
Longer, Vishous thought. Keep going longer. Bleed the well dry if you have to. . . .
And that was exactly what his wonderful sister did. She kept pumping energy from herself into and through Qhuinn, where it was magnified and focused, and thereafter funneled into the young.
She kept going until she passed out cold.
Qhuinn wasn't far behind her.
But Vishous couldn't worry about them. He just kept his eyes on the young, looking for signs that the life force wouldn't hold . . . that the gray would return and signal death's renewed grip on the little thing . . . that the miracle would be but a short, cruel respite. . . .
Don't you do this, Mother, he thought. Don't you do this to these good people.
Don't take this life from them.
SIXTY-TWO
Rhage was probably crushing Mary with the hold he had on her, but she didn't seem to notice. Good thing, as he doubted he could have loosened his arms.
All around him, he was both dimly and achingly aware of his brothers, their mates and the Chosen, the household and community standing together in the midst of the tragedy on the far side of a door that was too flimsy to contain all the ensuing grief.
Rhage just couldn't help thinking about Bitty. God, if he got the chance . . . if he and Mary got the chance, he would never rest from protecting that little girl. Making sure she got the life she deserved, the education she needed to be independent, the grounding to know that she was never without a home, no matter how far away she traveled.
"It's so awful," Mary whispered. "So terrible. There's just been too much death around here lately--"
The door opened wide and Blay exploded out of that OR like he'd been shot from a cannon.
"She's alive!" he yelled. "They're both alive! They're alive! And Layla is stable!"
There was a moment of total silence.
As if everybody who was in the corridor kind of had to reprocess everything, switch to a different track, change to another gear.
"And Qhuinn's out cold on the floor!"
Later, Rhage would think it was bad timing that the cheering started up right after that little update--but who the fuck cared?
Blay was engulfed in bodies, everyone shouting and crying, hugging and slapping palms, cursing and laughing and sputtering and coughing as details were demanded and given once, twice, many times. There was just so much noise, so much life, and Rhage was right in there with the best of them, feeling like the lottery had been won, the gift given, the semi-trailer truck sailing by instead of striking one of their own.
Doc Jane was the next one out, and she peeled her mask off her face as everyone cheered for her. But unlike the new dad, she was careful to shut the door behind herself, holding it in place.
"Shhhh," she said with a laugh. "We have a lot of patients in there. I need two gurneys to come through here, can you guys make some room? Oh, thanks, Ehlena."
The nurse had obviously exited through the other door, and was doing a push-and-pull with the rollers. People milled to get out of the way, but Blay was still getting hugs, which led to a little bit of a delay.
"How can I help?" Rhage asked Doc Jane.
"Well, right now we're good. Everyone's okay--we just need to move some patients around."
Rhage took the doctor's arm before she turned away. "Are we really out of the woods with the young?"
Those forest green eyes held his. "As much as we can be right now. It's going to be a long couple of nights, but that water ventilation system of Havers's saved both their lives. We owe him."
Rhage nodded and let the female go. And then he was going over to where Mary and Tohr were hugging and waited his turn. He just wanted to feel his shellan against him once more.
As Mary pivoted toward him, he held out his arms. It was so damned good to have her jump into them, and he lifted her off the floor.
"You ready to give it a shot?" he said into her ears. "You ready to be a parent with me?"
"Oh, Rhage." His shellan's voice caught. "Oh, I hope so."
"Me, too." Putting her back down on the ground, he frowned. "What?"
"Ah . . ." Mary looked around. "Where do you think we can get a little privacy for a sec?"
"Come with me."
Taking her by the hand, he led her away from the crowd, going past the locker room and the weight room to the entrance to the gym.
"Ladies first," he said as he held one of the steel doors open.
The security lights softly illuminated the vast space, and the exit signs over the doors glowed red like little hearths.
"I've forgotten how big it is in here," Mary said as she broke away, put her arms out, and circled around, going Sound of Music.
Rhage hung back and just watched her move, her body lithe and beautiful to him, stirring him in places that were going to get greedy fast if he didn't look away.
"I can turn on some lights," he murmured, hoping for something to do.
"I like it dim like this. It's romantic."
"I agree."
As his cock kicked behind the leathers he'd thrown on for dinner, he shook his head. Clearly, they had something important to talk about, yet here he was with sex on the brain. Disgraceful.
But, man, she was hot.
And he was juiced from the good news.
/>
And they were alone.
And then Mary did a pirouette and some kind of sashay thing that made his eyes go to her ass and stay there.
Cursing under his breath, he cracked his back and stretched first one arm and then the other.
"Is there something wrong?" God, he hoped not. On a lot of levels. "Mary?"
"Oh, Rhage. Loss is hard, you know?"
The sadness in her voice was like a great eraser, wiping all the erotic right off his mind.
"Is Bitty okay?"
"That's what she wanted to know." Mary smiled in a way that seemed mournful. "That's what Tohr wanted to know, too. Isn't that what everyone does . . . and yes, she's all right. She's just going through a lot."
"She needs a family."
Mary nodded. "On the way here, while I was driving, I talked to one of the social workers, the one Marissa has assigned to our . . . case, or adoption petition, or whatever we're calling it. We're kind of making up the procedure as we go, but she's going to talk to you and me separately and then together. About where we are in our lives. How we came to the decision to want to adopt. What our plans are both with, and without, Bitty."
"What do I need to study to pass that?"
She twirled her way back over to him. "Just be honest. And thoughtful. There are no wrong answers."
"Are you sure about that? 'Cuz I'm pretty frickin' sure she's not going to like my response to 'Do you have a beast living inside of you?'"
"We talked about that with Marissa, remember? We can't hide it, but the beast has never hurt me, and it's never been a threat to anyone in the household--as long as they were not in the field. And I can counter any mortal danger argument with the whole I-can't-die stuff. No problem."
God, what in the world made them think this was going to work, he wondered.
"It will kill me if we can't do this because of my curse."
"We can't think like that." She picked up his hand and kissed it. "We just can't."
"Fine, so assume we pass. Whatever that looks like. What then?"
"After that, if we were to follow human procedure, Rhym would come and do a site visit at the mansion. But it's a little different considering where we live and with who."
"Whatever, if someone has to come here, I'll take care of that."
"Well, let's see what she wants to do, okay?" Mary tucked her hair back. "And listen, while we were talking . . . Bitty's been through so much--and so much so recently. I really think it's better for everyone if we start off in a foster kind of relationship."