He gave her a kiss then started to get out of bed, but she pulled him back, more tears springing from her eyes. “I love you, Aedan.”
He dried her tears then gave her another kiss. “I love you, too, my beautiful Rose. You and our baby girl are my life.”
He watched her eyes for another long moment then got out of bed, walking three feet to the phone. Now that he knew what she was going through, he wouldn’t leave her alone, so he embraced the risk of calling their family from the apartment.
He called his parents first, reaching Serafin on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Aedan greeted.
“Hey, son. Everything okay?”
“No.”
Aedan relayed what he knew of Rhosewen’s affliction, which wasn’t much. “I’ve never seen or felt anything like it,” he finished, remembering the pain he’d absorbed from her hand. “This isn’t a complication stemming from pregnancy. It’s something else.”
“You think the Unforgivables’ curse hit its mark.”
“I’m afraid so.”
Aedan watched Rhosewen walk to the bathroom then waited for her to close the door. “It seems her pain has something to do with the baby,” he quietly suggested. “It started the second she found out she was pregnant, and it’s only gotten stronger. The worst one yet happened right after the baby kicked and we found out she’s a girl. I can’t know for sure, but it’s as if . . . it would seem . . . it’s like the more she loves our baby the more she hurts. And if that’s the case . . .” He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. “If that’s the case . . . having our baby could . . . it could . . .” He couldn’t say it.
He didn’t have to. “I understand, Aedan. I’ll call Caitrin and fill him in on what’s going on. Now that we have an idea of what the spell is doing to Rhosewen, we can research its origins and perhaps learn how to counter it.”
“Have you ever heard of a spell like this?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything. Give us time.”
“We may not have much.”
“We’ll do everything we can, Aedan. It’s our number one priority.”
The bathroom door opened, and Aedan looked at his love. She was so beautiful, even with a pale face and weary eyes. “Call when you know something,” he mumbled, watching her crawl into bed.
“Of course,” Serafin agreed. “Give Rhosewen a kiss for us.”
“I will,” Aedan assured. “Talk to you later.”
“Bye, son.”
Weighted with worry, Aedan replaced the receiver, quickly crawling into bed with his sweet and sorrowful Rose.
Chapter Ten
Rhosewen’s pain continued and worsened so by her seventh month of pregnancy, she was extremely ill. Every move enhanced the torture; therefore she barely moved at all. Her dull, sagging skin clung to bone, veined and ghastly white, and her limp spirals were losing their luster. The only parts of her body that hadn’t paled were her bright blue eyes, which were always shiny with moisture, and her big, round belly, which was only big in comparison to the rest of her frail form. Aedan held her hand around the clock, absorbing a fraction of her agony, but Rhosewen endured the bulk of the physical misery.
Their parents put their lives on hold to search for answers, going so far as to visit dangerous and dark covens, seeking information on the wickedest spells, but they’d found nothing pertinent to their situation. Not even the soothsayers they’d paid exorbitant deposits to could divine useful answers.
The idea of seeking out the Unforgivables and asking them to remove the curse had been broached several times, but Rhosewen wouldn’t allow it.
“That would defeat everything we’ve gone through,” she argued after hearing the idea. “Our number one priority is keeping our baby safe.”
Of course Aedan wanted to keep his daughter safe, but watching his beautiful Rose wilt was killing him. Nevertheless, they decided to stay away from the Unforgivables.
Aedan was sure the actual caster had been Medea. He’d taken his eyes off her for mere seconds; that’s when the curse had hit. He suggested locating Medea and getting her alone. They could make her talk. He would make her talk, and he’d have no problem silencing her. But Caitrin had gathered information that Agro was keeping Medea under his thumb, which meant they’d have to breach an army to capture their mark.
So Rhosewen and Aedan suffered, awaiting their fate.
Through all the desperation and gloom, Katherine had been a godsend, nothing short of an angel. When the curse began taking a toll on Rhosewen’s physical appearance, she told Katherine she’d been diagnosed with a rare, untreatable heart condition. Though curious and suspicious, Katherine kept her questions to herself, going the extra mile to make her renters comfortable. She even did their grocery shopping, taking payment for her trouble only because Aedan placed the money in her purse. He suspected she gave it back by buying extra groceries, and he knew she spent more money on their baby than she did herself. She’d already stocked one of her guestrooms with every newborn necessity imaginable; the apartment had a corner devoted to gifts she’d bought the baby; and she’d ordered a crib, measuring every inch of the apartment to make sure it would fit.
Aedan and Rhosewen watched Katherine’s avid preparation and found it sweet, amusing and depressing. They wanted to join her in the planning, share her enthusiasm, but due to Rhosewen’s health, they couldn’t reach Katherine’s level of excitement, so they settled for watching it. She brightened their moods, kept them entertained, and gave them a glimpse of the outside world, which they hadn’t seen in months. Yes, Katherine was an angel.
“Have you decided on a name?” she asked during one of her frequent visits.
“It depends on what she looks like,” Rhosewen answered, lying on the couch with her head in Aedan’s lap. “We have one for if she’s dark and beautiful, like her daddy, and one for if she’s fair and beautiful . . .”
“Like her mom,” Aedan finished, caressing Rhosewen’s white knuckles.
“I guess you’re not going to tell me the two options?” Katherine concluded.
“Nope,” Rhosewen grinned. “We want to surprise you.”
Katherine lifted a hand to her heart, obviously touched by the sentiment. “Are your parents going to visit soon?”
“Two weeks,” Aedan answered. “They’ll stay until the baby’s born. My dad’s a doctor and will perform the delivery.”
“That’s nice,” Katherine approved. “I’m sure you guys miss them.”
“Yes,” they confirmed.
“Hey!” Katherine exclaimed, her face and aura lighting up, “I have an idea. Why don’t you guys stay at my house for the rest of the pregnancy? I have two extra rooms, so your parents can stay, too. I’ll take the apartment while they’re here.”
“That’s kind of you, Katherine,” Aedan replied, deeply moved, “but we won’t impose on you like that.”
“Nonsense. I want you to impose. Please.”
Aedan and Rhosewen looked at each other, considering the cramped apartment and its tiny bathroom.
“Okay,” Aedan decided. “We would love to stay, but we won’t have you living out here. When our parents visit, mine will take the apartment.”
“But I really don’t . . .”
“That’s the deal,” Aedan interrupted. “Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” Katherine agreed, shooting up from her chair. “I’m going to get the rooms ready. I’ll be back once everything’s in order.”
“We’ll be here,” Aedan dryly quipped, and Katherine laughed as she walked out the door.
“That was really nice of her,” Rhosewen whispered, rubbing her stretched abdomen.
“Yes,” Aedan agreed. “Katherine has a positive and active energy that would give most witches a run for their money, and her heart’s extraordinary.” He leaned over, kissing Rhosewen’s clammy forehead. “Almost as golden as yours.”
Two weeks after settling into Katherine’s
largest bedroom, Aedan reluctantly left Rhosewen’s side to meet their parents in the front yard. He introduced them to Katherine as Jack and Susan Callaway and Paul and Diane Klein. Then Katherine made an excuse to leave.
As Aedan led his parents inside, they watched his expression and the air around him, not saying a word. The moment they entered the house, Morrigan sobbed and slumped toward the floor. Caitrin quickly caught her with magic then hugged her to his chest, burying his red face in her hair.
Daleen wrapped her arms around Aedan’s waist, and Serafin took his shoulders, searching his eyes. “Is it really that bad, son?”
Aedan wasn’t crying. His Rose still had petals. “Yeah,” he confirmed, clearing his tight throat.
Morrigan shook her head in denial, her wail muffling into Caitrin’s shirt, and Aedan took a deep breath, struggling to go on. “She’s in bed. That’s where she stays . . . hurts her to move.” He looked from the faded hardwood to Morrigan’s trembling back. “She wants to see you guys, but you have to keep your composure around her. I don’t want her feeling guilty.”
Everyone nodded save for Morrigan.
“I know it’s hard,” Aedan added, touching Morrigan’s shoulder. “And I don’t expect the tears to stop, but you can’t break down in front of her.”
Morrigan took several deep breaths then left Caitrin’s chest. “I won’t,” she agreed. “If I can’t handle it, I’ll leave the room.”
“Thank you,” Aedan whispered. “And… I’m sorry… for everything.”
“Me, too,” she returned, squeezing his bicep. Then she grasped for Caitrin’s hand as she followed Aedan down the hallway.
When they entered the bedroom, Morrigan stumbled to a standstill, gripping Caitrin so fiercely her entire arm turned white.
Rhosewen’s body was emaciated, absolutely pitiful, all but the big, round belly brimming with life. Her dilapidated muscles convulsed and flexed as she looked at her parents, her pallid lips curving into a weak smile.
Aedan rushed to the bed, quickly taking her left hand. Then his muscles tightened as hers melted into the blankets.
“That’s better,” she sighed. “Thank you.”
He kissed her hand then laid his cheek in her palm. “Of course, my love.”
“You guys are just in time,” she said, looking at their company. “Your granddaughter’s kicking up a storm. Come feel.”
Morrigan and Caitrin flew to the bed, gently hugging and kissing their daughter. Then they moved aside, letting Serafin and Daleen do the same. Soon all four of them had their hands on her twitching stomach, sighing as they reveled in miraculous peace.
Once the baby stilled, Serafin performed examinations on mother and child. Though Aedan did this multiple times a day, he demanded additional opinions, hoping they could disprove his dire assessment.
After Serafin and Daleen finished, they took each other’s hands and looked at Aedan. “Let’s give them some privacy,” Serafin suggested, “go talk in the kitchen.”
Aedan didn’t like this suggestion and looked away, searching Rhosewen’s eyes.
“Go,” she insisted. “I’ll be fine.”
After another long moment of watching her, Aedan looked to Caitrin. “Let me know if it gets worse.”
Caitrin nodded, keeping his sober gaze on his daughter, and Aedan leaned in, kissing her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing her lips. Then he let go and followed his parents.
Once they sat at the kitchen table, he turned to his dad. “Well?”
“You’re right,” Serafin lamented. “Her organs are failing her.”
Aedan dropped his head to the table as an anguished cry scraped his throat.
Daleen stifled a sob, wrapping one arm around Aedan’s back, and Serafin cleared his throat before going on. “Her heart, liver, kidneys, bones, even her skin, it’s all in terrible shape. The only healthy thing about her is the baby, who’s thriving despite Rhosewen’s condition.”
“Isn’t there something we can do?” Aedan croaked. “Anything? There has to be something we haven’t thought of yet.”
“We’ve hit dead ends at every turn,” Serafin replied. “We know the curse was designed to target her and not the baby, and it would seem our theory is correct—the spell’s catalyst is her love for the baby. We’ve figured out the curse’s intention, but it doesn’t do us any good. A spell like this involves thorough detail, details we can’t possibly know. And we haven’t found anyone with a similar experience, no one to clue us in on the specifics. Without knowing the actual spell work involved, we can’t remove it or reverse it. We could guess for years and not get it right. There are far too many components incorporated. Furthermore, if our theory is correct, as long as she loves her daughter, we can’t heal her body.”
“I’ve tried healing her,” Aedan whispered. “It doesn’t work.”
Serafin reached over, resting a hand on his son’s back. “I’m sure you’ve done everything you can, Aedan, but this is out of your hands. It’s my belief this will end in one of two ways. The first, the most hopeful, is that we’re dealing with a temporary spell, designed to affect Rhosewen only while she’s pregnant. Once she gives birth, the curse will cease to exist, which means we could heal her… if she makes it through the delivery.” He paused, sliding his hand to Aedan’s shoulder. “But if the curse is everlasting, our hands are tied. Rhosewen’s body can’t take much more. If this goes on, she will die.”
The word hung in the air like a veil, smothering Aedan as he slowly raised his head. “Which scenario do you foresee?” he asked, his voice raw and raspy, his lungs empty and burning, his heart breaking—constantly.
“We’re talking about the Unforgivables,” Serafin whispered. “They’re merciless. I’m sorry.”
Aedan abruptly stood, knocking over his chair. He couldn’t sit still, drowning in the agony of a broken heart, but there would be no swimming to the surface. The surface was gone. “I’ll be back in ten minutes,” he said. Then he turned and left the house.
Sadness, pain, anger and love—sweet, perfect love—had him gripping his heart as he walked to the garage apartment. Once he was through the door, he fell to his knees, a tormented roar bellowing from his chest as he buried his face in the shag carpet.
She was going to die. His love, his Rose, his life, it was all coming to an end. She would never see her friends, family or home again. She would never celebrate another birthday, or spend another day on the beach. She would never walk another forest trail, or feel another waterfall’s spray. She would never know her daughter—the precious babe she loved so much, the life she was dying for. She deserved the world, yet everything was being ripped away from her.
Rage filled him, boiling his blood and vibrating his body. He wanted to rip open his chest and yank his heart out. He wanted to tear every last fiber from the carpet. He wanted to scream until his lungs exploded. But he didn’t. He merely whispered one word.
“Medea.”
It wasn’t an easy decision to make, and he didn’t make it lightly. It would mean leaving his little girl, leaving the only piece of Rose he would have left. But he wouldn’t be able to keep her safe without Rhosewen. If Rose died, so would part of him—the biggest part of him. Their daughter’s best chance would be to hide in the non-magical world, oblivious to her heritage, and he had to give her that chance. He owed it to her. He owed it to Rose.
He lifted himself off the floor and walked to the closet, emerging with a large jewelry box made of cocobolo wood. Hinged by pink gold, it had a long stemmed rose carved into the lid. He’d made it with the intention of placing his daughter’s first ring inside and giving it to Rose on the day of the birth. He’d never gotten the chance to fill it and would never get the chance to present it to his love.
He sat down at the table, sadly staring at the box for several heart-wrenching seconds. Then he sealed it with magic. Only his daughter would be able to open it now.
That night, after their parents had gone to bed sad an
d defeated, Rhosewen lay in Aedan’s arms, thinking about the day’s events. “I’m glad our parents are here,” she whispered, “but it’s making Mom sad.”
“Everyone’s sad,” Aedan replied. “It’s hard to see someone you love in so much pain, but we’re not the ones who have to feel it.”
“You do.”
“A small fraction, my love. I hate that I can’t take it all.”
“I wouldn’t want you to.”
“I know, but I would anyway.”
Using his chin, he brushed her hair from her face and touched his cheek to hers. With such a short amount of time left to them, he didn’t want to talk about the end, but there was something that had to be done. “Rose?”
“Yeah?”
Dread weighed on his chest like a boulder as he searched for inner strength. “You understand, right? That your body might not . . . that there’s a chance . . .” Why was it so hard to say out loud? He was furious with himself for being so weak when his wife and child needed him so badly.
“It’s okay,” Rhosewen whispered, laying a frail hand on his face. “You don’t have to say it. I know what the odds are.”
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, and he quickly kissed it away. “I’m sorry, Rose. We don’t deserve this. It shouldn’t be this way.”
“No, but it is. The most important thing to do now is make it all worthwhile by giving our baby girl the chance she deserves.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And I’m going to make sure she gets that chance. No matter what happens to us.”
“I know you will. You’re the most amazing man in the world. Our baby and I are very lucky to have you.”
He kissed her cheek then looked at her left hand. “There’s something else I want to do for our daughter. I want to give her the opportunity to know her mom.”
“I’d like that, too,” Rhosewen squeaked, more tears streaming from her eyes.
Aedan lifted their hands, gently wiping her face dry with a knuckle. “I’ve been working on a spell that could provide that for her . . . if things go wrong.”
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