“Let's get you back to Jerome for this injection,” Conal suggested quietly, linking his fingers through mine and striding through the rows of silent tents where people slept. “Then I think we should both head to bed. It's been a long day.” He squeezed my fingers. “Do you wanna stay with me, or go back to your tent?” The question was asked lightly, but I knew how much the answer meant to him.
I experienced a delicious flutter of butterflies in my groin as I contemplated the thought. Sleeping in Conal's arms was a breathtaking plan; doing other things in his arms also sat high on my list of priorities. “Your tent,” I announced.
Conal smiled down at me, desire sparking in his eyes. “Sleeping, Charlotte. I'm not suggesting anything else.”
I couldn't stop a pout from forming on my lips. Conal chuckled and stopped walking, drawing me into his arms. “Does this mean the calm, human part of your brain thinks it would like the same thing as the Fae-magic controlled part of your brain wanted?” he growled huskily against my ear. “Believe me, Charlotte. I'm more than willing if you want to. I've waited for months to make love to you,” his voice dropped to a whisper, filled with lust-fueled intentions, “and once was never, ever gonna be enough.”
Blushing furiously, I leaned against his chest, keeping my gaze lowered as I responded. “I think both Charlotte's want the same thing.”
Conal caught my chin with his fingers, lifting my face up to his. “Don't be embarrassed, Sugar. What you and I shared last night – it was outstanding.” With a last, gentle squeeze he released me and took my hand again, walking towards the tent Jerome was using as a hospital.
Jerome was waiting and didn't attempt to hide a knowing grin when Conal and I walked in together. “Good to see you're getting some things sorted out, Lottie. Now let's see if we can't get the rest of you functioning like a normal person. Christ knows, I've had enough of the Fae-controlled Charlotte to last me a lifetime,” he muttered, motioning towards a gurney. “Sit yourself up there and I'll prepare the injection.”
Conal lifted me onto the gurney, then leaned his backside against it. “So, what's the deal, Doc? How long will she need these jabs?”
“I have no idea,” Jerome grumbled, drawing fluid up into a syringe. “How the hell could I answer a question like that? This isn't something I've dealt with in the past. For that matter, no-one else has either. Goren is trying to narrow down the possibilities for which magic was used, but the list is still extensive. Much of the magic the Fae employ is intertwined together, one type of potion with another, so there's no way to isolate what has been used on Charlotte.” He wiped over my arm with an antiseptic swab, then smoothly injected the contents of the syringe into my arm. “For the moment, we're going to keep Charlotte calm with this analgesic, but I'm hoping we can isolate the cause of the problem and develop a more permanent solution.”
“The magic won't just fade out of her system over time?” Conal questioned.
Jerome snorted in response. “Do I look like a specialist in Fae magic? They didn't teach this sort of stuff at med school.”
“Fair point,” Conal agreed.
“Guess this is better than nothing.” I wriggled to the edge of the gurney and jumped down onto my feet. “Although I think it'll only be a couple of days before I'm sick of being a pincushion.”
Jerome eyed me with a worried frown. “What you need, is sleep. You look exhausted. No point in me keeping you calm if you can't function because you're exhausted. Go to bed. Get a good night's rest.”
“I'll try,” I agreed quietly, fingering the pendant around my throat. “I'm hoping this thing does what Gabrielle says it will, and keeps Archangelo from seeing me.”
Jerome dropped the used needle into a sharps bin and the syringe into a waste basket, before he turned back to me. “Gabrielle and her friends are extremely talented witches. If she says that thing will work, I would guarantee she's right.” He unhooked his cane from the side of the gurney and leaned heavily against it, watching me intently. “No more episodes of manic rage?”
“I've been fine. Maybe a little agitated as I got closer to the four-hour mark.”
“Keep me informed. We can adjust the dosage and timing if necessary.”
“I will.”
Conal exchanged a meaningful look with Jerome. “I'll keep an eye on her, Doc. Now that I know what's going on, it'll be easy to see the warning signs.”
Jerome grinned. “Good to see you two back together again. Conal, you were absolutely right to believe Charlotte would come back to us.”
Conal glanced down at me, his eyes filled with softness. “I wasn't gonna give up on her, Doc.”
Epi trotted through the tent entrance, glancing from Jerome, to Conal, to me. “Ah, Child. I'm impressed to see you returned for your injection on time.”
“I'm not ten years old, you know,” I muttered darkly. “I can do what I'm told.”
“Of course, of course.” Epi pushed his glasses further up his nose. “I never suggested you couldn't. Now that we have you back, and in sound mind, perhaps we need to meet in the morning and discuss our next move.”
“Take back Zaen,” I announced. The three men watched me warily, and I hurried to explain my reasons. “We need somewhere secure to live. Somewhere we can keep all these people safe. These tents in the middle of nowhere… it's not feasible to protect everyone if we're attacked in this setting. The walls of Zaen are our best protection.”
Conal ran his fingers through his hair. “There's not much left, Sugar. The Drâghici and the Fae pounded us for fifteen straight days in the end. We've done a couple of reconnaissance trips since we abandoned the city – there's nothing left. Not even the walls stood up to the onslaught.”
“You may have to consider that a return to Zaen is not feasible,” Jerome added.
“I repaired the generators,” I argued. “I have to believe I can repair the city. I'll talk to Nememiah, grovel if I have to, for help.”
“What about your son?” Epi questioned quietly.
Chewing my bottom lip, I met his gaze. I knew determination would be evenly mixed with despair in my expression. “Zaen first. I can't get my son back until we have somewhere secure for him to live. Somewhere everyone can live.” I clenched my fingers together, rubbing one thumb across the other anxiously. “I have to believe in Nememiah, that he's done this for a reason. He's on our side; I'm certain of it. If he says my baby is safe, I have to believe him.”
As the words left my lips, vivid white light emanated outside, lighting the entire tent as though a spotlight had suddenly swung onto it. From my perspective, it seemed as if the sun had risen, in a mere split-second. A cursory glance at my watch confirmed it was only a few minutes after midnight. Conal pulled me close, his forehead creasing in a worried frown.
From outside, startled shouts and screams echoed through the camp and I forced one word from between my quivering lips. “Archangelo?”
Conal released his grip on my waist and pushed me towards Jerome. “Keep her safe. I'll go and check what's going on outside.” Without a backward glance, he and Epi slipped from the tent and Jerome held me against his side, pulling a Katchet from his pocket. I eyed the weapon with trepidation, almost frozen in place by fear.
“I won't let them hurt you,” Jerome announced, doing his best to sound reassuring.
Conal reappeared in the doorway; and I was relieved to see the hard resolve had disappeared from his features. “Charlotte, you'd better get out here.”
With a last, worried glance at Jerome, I hurried over to where Conal waited, his hand outstretched to take mine. He drew me outside and I stared mutely at the curious scene.
Nememiah stood in the center of camp, his impressive height dwarfing everything around him. The glow emitted by his form lit the camp as if he was on a stage, surrounded by theatre lighting. He was watching our group impassively as they formed an irregular circle around him. The initial panic had subsided and silence descended, everyone staring at this strange being w
ho'd materialized out of nowhere.
Stepping closer, my heart slammed against my ribcage when I realized he was holding a tiny bundle in the crook of his left arm. My limbs trembled and I began to pray that my first instinct would be proven correct. Conal squeezed my fingers and released me, leaving me to walk slowly towards Nememiah on my own.
“Nememiah?” I greeted him cautiously. Our last conversation had been fraught with tension and I still wasn't certain what the purpose of this visit might be. But if my assumptions were correct, I intended to tread extremely carefully.
He lowered his gaze to my face and I waited for him to speak, unable to drag my eyes away from the tiny bundle he was holding so carefully.
“My child.” His voice echoed across the camp, drawing anyone who hadn't already woken to this curious situation and still more people ran to join the group circling the massive angel. He was even more intimidating than I recalled from our single previous 'meeting'. Standing at near ten feet tall, his appearance was awe-inspiring. “I have considered what you said to me.”
He lapsed into silence, evidently awaiting a response.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly as dry as the Sahara Desert. “I apologize for what I said. I was… wrong to question your judgment.”
He was silent for another minute, his eyes revealing no emotion. He penetrated my mind, tiny whispers of movement recognizable as he probed my thoughts. It was less painful, mercifully, than it had been the first time. “Your words are spoken as truth,” he finally announced. “You remain my child and committed to the quest I have given you.”
He cast his impassive gaze across the silent throng. “My child remains committed to your safety and survival. She has proven her worth, time and again. You must place your trust in her, to provide you with protection, to bring this war to an end.” He returned his attention to me. “I did not understand the emotional attachment between a mother and a child. Despite your concerns, the child was well-protected where he was.”
My heartbeat accelerated when Nememiah seemed to confirm what I'd already suspected. The tiny bundle cocooned in his arm was my son.
“It seems I was acting on misinformation, and you have revealed the error I made. I do not pretend to understand the ways of humans, but I was satisfied with the child's safety. I have done my best to provide protection – why else would I have ensured the child ready to be born earlier, when it was foretold of the other one's intentions?”
I lifted an eyebrow. It had been Nememiah who accelerated my pregnancy? From what we'd been able to figure out, the date I would have been due had been sped up by at least a couple of months, and thinking back, it occurred that by doing so, he'd given my baby the best possible chance of surviving his premature birth. A hundred questions crossed my mind, but for the moment, I couldn't tear my gaze away from the little bundle in Nememiah's arm.
“The child of my child must be protected at all costs,” Nememiah continued. He glanced down at the little bundle in the crook of his arm, and then back to me. “You will rebuild Zaen?”
Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded agreement.
Nememiah waited for another full minute before he responded. “I have doubts about the safety of the child in this environment. He would be better protected if he were to remain with me.”
“No!” The word slipped from my lips, filled with every ounce of anguish burning in my heart. “Nememiah, he's my son. Please!”
Nememiah continued to gaze down at me, no emotion in his perfect features. “The vampire Lucas has fought unflinchingly on your behalf. He is determined that you be entrusted with the child, but doubts remain. You are alone. How will you protect the child, without the vampire to assist you?”
How could I answer that question? How could I convince Nememiah that I would do anything – anything – to have my baby with me and that I would defend him with my life?
“I'll be protecting Charlotte's baby.” Conal stepped forward and wrapped his arm around my waist. “I'll give my own life, to protect her son.”
Grateful, I looked up at Conal and saw the steely determination in his expression.
“You. A werewolf. You will protect the child of my Child and the vampire?”
Conal agreed, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss against my forehead. “I will.”
Nememiah stared down at Conal for long time, his expression neutral. “You are intending to take Nememiah's Child as your life mate?”
I frowned, wondering at the sudden intake of breath I heard from some of the crowd surrounding us, but too focused on the immediate situation to think too hard about it. Whatever Nememiah had asked, it had caused a reaction, among, I suspected, Conal's pack.
“I am,” Conal responded, and the tone in his voice was determined.
“And I'll be protecting Charlotte's baby.” Striker stepped forward and stood by my side, offering me a delighted grin. Obviously, he was finding the entire situation thoroughly entertaining.
“I'll be protecting Charlotte and her baby.” Tears blurred my vision when Nick stepped forward, offering me a tiny smile. “My pack will look after them.”
“William and I will do all we can,” Gwynn said, stepping forward with William's hand clasped in hers.
“I will protect Charlotte and her son.” Nissa stepped forward, her eyes wide, but determination clearly visible in her vibrant orange irises.
One by one, and in groups, people stepped forward, swearing their allegiance to protecting my baby. Even new people, ones I didn't know, came forward and pledged to help.
Nememiah listened mutely, his gaze falling on each person who spoke. I wondered if he was committing them to memory – his intense stare certainly gave that impression.
When the last person had spoken out, he returned his attention to me. “Step forward, Nememiah's Child.”
Forcing my legs into motion, I took the last few steps, having to arch my neck to see his face.
“I have made my decision.” Nememiah's voice boomed across the valley. With infinite care, he bent down towards me, placing the tiny bundle in my arms. Clasping it close to my chest, I hardly dared to believe my son was finally where he belonged.
“Take great care of him, Child. I have returned him to you as he was when stolen from your womb. He will remember nothing of those who held him.” I caught a flicker of emotion in Nememiah's eyes, but it lasted only a second before he schooled his features back to neutral. “You have made it clear that you believe he should be with his mother. Do not prove me wrong in this regard.”
With a startled gasp from the collective group surrounding us, Nememiah appeared to disintegrate before our eyes, into thousands of tiny, shining pieces, which hurtled rapidly towards the dark sky above, disappearing in seconds.
Falling to my knees, I pushed the blanket away from the tiny bundle in my arms and sobbed when I saw the face of my son.
Chapter 21: Patrick
I hovered anxiously while Jerome completed his examination of my baby, powerless to take my eyes off his tiny form.
He was beautiful and perfect. It was as if whatever God existed had taken Lucas and myself, mixing us evenly into the little boy laying on the gurney, giving him half of my attributes, and half of Lucas's.
My son was watching Jerome, his bright green eyes wide, staring at Jerome's face with a solemn expression. His eyes were an exact replica of mine, which Jerome said was unusual in a baby so young. Like Lucas, he had dark hair with bronze highlights, but it was curly, like mine. His long fingers were his father's, his face heart-shaped like mine. Everywhere I looked on his tiny body, there were similarities to Lucas and myself.
Jerome finished his examination and straightened up, throwing me a satisfied smile. “He's perfect, Lottie. Absolutely perfect.” With accomplished ease, Jerome deftly placed a fresh diaper on my baby and wrapped him carefully in a blanket, before settling him into my arms. “He looks to be no more than an hour or two old. The umbilical cord is still attached.”
I bru
shed my fingers across one tiny cheek. “How can that be?”
Jerome cupped the baby's head in his palm, gazing down at him in wonder. “I have absolutely no idea. But he's perfect in every way – ten fingers, ten toes, everything is exactly the way it should be in a newborn baby.”
Jerome had taken charge as soon as Nememiah vanished, guiding me into the makeshift hospital with my precious bundle clasped in my arms. Requesting privacy, he'd guided us into a quiet spot to give me a little time with my baby. I'd assumed Conal would come along, but he'd insisted this was my opportunity to get to know my son for the first time, pressed a kiss to my forehead and gently pushed me towards Jerome.
“No doubt every single person in camp is waiting out there to meet this young man, but I think you should spend a few minutes alone together first,” Jerome suggested. “I'll leave you in peace, and hold back the hordes for as long as I can.” He limped out of the room and I was enveloped in silence, only the gentle murmur of voices in my mind audible as I gazed at my son.
Inhaling deeply, I memorized his little face while he stared at me attentively. “I think you have an old soul, little guy,” I murmured softly.
“Perhaps we should consider giving him a name?”
The sound of Lucas's voice made me smile and I brought him forward in my mind. “We probably should.”
“He's beautiful, my love. He has your eyes.”
“Lucas, thank you. I know you've worked hard to convince Nememiah that he should be with me.”
“It's I who should thank you, my love. You were determined not to lose contact with me and I'm grateful for it.”
“I couldn't let that happen to you.” I lapsed into silence for a few seconds. “Do you want me to bring you back, so you can hold him?”
“I look forward to the prospect, my love, but not tonight. Not when there are so many people waiting eagerly to meet our son. It's been a long and emotional day for you, I don't want to add to the stress you've already endured. There will be time enough for me to visit when you're feeling stronger. And whenever you look at him, I will see him as you do.”
Knowledge Protects (The Nememiah Chronicles Book 5) Page 15