The Curse of M

by Stevie Barry

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lorna, having spent the morning fighting nausea, was in no good mood when Gerald came to get her for the ultrasound. Even Ratiri's frequent aura-cleanings only helped for so long, and she pitied any women who didn't have that. Yeah, the meds kept her from actually throwing up, but she still felt awful.

  "I don't know how Mam went through this five times," she grumbled.

  "You never told me you had siblings," Gerald said, obviously trying to distract her as he wheeled her bed down the hallway.

  "Haven't seen them since I was fourteen," she said. "None but my half-sister, and I didn't even meet her until I was grown. Donovan's a common name in Ireland -- I wouldn't know how to find them if I tried."

  "Maybe we should try later," Gerald said soothingly.

  "Maybe," she said, noncommittal. Truth be told, if they'd gone the way she had in her youth, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

  I should try to get in touch with Mairead, though, she thought, as the technician hoisted her gown and smeared cold goo over her stomach. She missed her sister, who wouldn't have had any idea why she'd run. The families of the cursed had often wound up pariahs, and Lorna loved Mairead and her nieces and nephews too much to do that to them. A lot of people in the village had disapproved of Lorna already.

  The technician, who had been babbling at her, went quiet. She handed Lorna a cloth to clean the goo off her abdomen, and hurried off with a muttered sentence about needing to find Doctor Hansen.

  Lorna froze. Was there something wrong with the baby? Had the woman found some horrible defect? If it could be spotted so early on, it had to be bad. Her heart was pounding as she pulled her gown down, the churning in her stomach not just from morning sickness. All the terror she'd felt when she'd first been told she was pregnant came flooding back.

  Sure enough, Gerald's face was grave when he came in. "I need to talk to you in private," he said. "I'll take you back to your room."

  Her tongue was too glued to the roof of her mouth to respond. The idea that anything could be wrong with her kid due to that rat bastard Von Ratched and his drugs was almost more than she could handle.

  As soon as Gerald shut the door, she said, "Lay it on me." She couldn't do any more than whisper. "What's wrong with my kid?"

  Gerald sat beside her bed, looking worried, uncomfortable, and more than a little afraid. "I'm not sure how to ask this," he said, wincing a little. "Lorna, did something happen to you, before you escaped?"

  "Why?" she asked warily, a whole different kind of dread seizing her.

  "You're not two and a half months pregnant," he said wretchedly. "You're less than one. And I can think of only one way that could have happened."

  Horror flooded her veins, and with it came a savage, almost insane fury. "No," she snarled. "No, I don't believe you. There's something wrong with your bloody machine." She leaned over and threw up again, her brain trying desperately to shut itself down.

  Now Gerald looked truly scared, so pale he was almost green. "Lorna, did Von Ratched…did he rape you?"

  "Yes," she growled, fighting to keep her telekinesis under control. If she lost it, people would want to know why. "Yes, he bloody did, and I swear to God, Gerald Hansen, if you so much as breathe this to anyone else, I'll strike you dead."

  He actually recoiled, the metal legs of the chair scraping against the tile as he backed away. "I won't," he said faintly. "Whether you tell anyone or not is up to you. I told the technician to keep the results to herself."

  "I want to wipe her memory." God, it was so hard, so hard to keep her wrath in check: it clawed at her, scorching hot and sharp as knives, seeking violence. Her wolf came up and nuzzled her hand, but it brought her no comfort.

  Gerald looked horrified. "I can't let you do that," he said, swallowing convulsively.

  Lorna's eyes narrowed. "Then maybe I'll wipe yours first," she hissed. "Don't think I won't do it if I have to. Don't think I can't. If she breathes a word'v this to anyone, I'll kill her. I'll kill you both."

  His face had gone a bloodless white, and for a moment she thought he might actually faint. "You…you really mean that, don't you?"

  "Too fucking right I do," she snapped. "Nobody’s going to know about this. Ever. No matter what I have to do."

  Part of her couldn't believe what she was saying. It was a testament to her rage, that she would even consider murdering one of the few friends she had. Most of her mind was totally beyond rationality.

  "I can't believe I'm saying this, but would it truly help, if I let you remove this from her memory?" he asked. "I don't -- I don't want anyone in danger over this."

  Lorna sighed, some of the fight draining from her. A little voice at the back of her head told her that doing so would set a bad precedent, no matter how much she wanted to. "No," she said. "I shouldn't and I know it. But you warn her that if she so much as hints this to another person, I'll break her neck."

  "Noted," he said, and he looked the tiniest bit relieved. "We won't say a thing to anyone, but Lorna, you should really consider telling Ratiri eventually. He knows you better than to ever think you'd be a victim of anything. You're too stubborn to be anything but a survivor."

  It was a little unnerving, just how closely Gerald's words echoed her own thoughts. "I'll think about it," she said. "If I do, it'll be in my own time. Don't go thinking you'd do me any favors if you went behind my back."

  Gerald swallowed again. "I promise." He paused. "This is another delicate question, but -- do you want to talk to someone about it?"

  "There's not much to talk about." She sighed again. "I don't actually remember anything. I just know it happened because…well, you know. Evidence." That was as far as she was going with that, too. "Out with you. I need some time."

  He seemed glad enough to leave, and Lorna let out a relieved breath when he was gone.

  She'd been so careful to tell herself this wasn't possible. She'd missed her period before…that… hadn't she? Wasn't that a pretty good indicator you were pregnant?

  Apparently not, she thought. Some part of her was aware she was going into shock, but that was a good thing -- it kept her numb, for now. Real horror would no doubt come later.

  Did she want an abortion? Her gut reaction was hell yes, but it wasn't that simple. She'd wanted the kid when she thought it was Ratiri's. Yes, she'd been completely terrified of the potential complications, but she'd wanted to stick it out nonetheless. Was she willing to let the identity of the baby's bio-donor change her mind?

  The kid's mine, she thought, troubled. It's mine, not his. Part of her wanted to get the thing out of her as soon as she could, but another part didn't want to give Von Ratched the power to influence her decision. And giving up something she'd wanted until now would be giving him power over her. Am I really going to let him ruin this for me?

  She grimaced, and scratched the wolf's ears. A small corner of her mind knew she was in no mental state to make such a huge decision, but she couldn't help but think about it. Once the shock wore off, once the true horror set it, she might change her mind a dozen times. At least, so early on, she had plenty of time to reach a decision.

  Maybe I'll miscarry, and not have to deal with deciding, she thought. The idea held a certain morbid appeal.

  Just how dangerous could this child be? For all she knew, she and Von Ratched might be the two most powerful people on the planet -- God knew what kind of strength their combined genetics could produce. And Christ, what would she do if it looked like him? That was something she knew she couldn't handle.

  Fuck this. She was too exhausted to think anymore -- she needed sleep. Maybe when she woke up, this would all have been nothing but a nightmare.

  ----

  As soon as Ratiri saw Gerald, he knew there was something deeply wrong with the man. His aura was a churning, restless sea, filled with half a dozen gradations of grey.

  "What's wrong? You look like someone just dropped a bomb on your brain."

  Gerald winced
. "Talk to Lorna," he said. "I'd like to keep my head on my shoulders."

  If not for his aura, Ratiri would have thought he was exaggerating. As it was, Gerald was flat-out terrified. Whatever Lorna had threatened, he obviously thought it was genuine.

  "Is she awake?"

  "She was when I left, but I wouldn't go to her just yet, if I were you. I'm not so sure she'll be in her right mind."

  Now Ratiri was really worried. He had to see her now, warning be damned. Whatever was stewing in her head, she couldn't be left to deal with it alone.

  He hurried to her room, but found her sound asleep. Her wolf came up and licked his hand, and let out a small, unhappy whine. It looked like it was worried, too.

  Just what the hell is going on? he wondered, sitting beside the bed. Lorna's aura was as unsettled as Gerald's, but where his was fear-grey, hers roiled with rusty fury. Ratiri didn't think he'd ever seen it so red, not even after her fights with Von Ratched. Something was infuriating her even in her sleep.

  With a sigh, he started picking at her aura, hoping it might soothe her a little before she woke. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what she had to tell him.

  ----

  Some part of Lorna was surprised to find she wasn't having a nightmare.

  She was in the Garden, standing in a field of lavender. The scent of it enveloped her like a physical thing, calming her fury almost against her will. The sun beat warm on her shoulders, and she breathed a faint sigh of relief when she realized her injuries had not come with her.

  She felt the Lady's eyes on her, but she refused to turn and confront that sad dark gaze. A little part of her blamed the Lady for this, irrational and unfair though it was.

  "You could have warned me," she said, staring out at the endless sea of purple. "I know you knew. Just what the fuck am I to do now? The world doesn't need a little Von Ratched running around." Even saying his name made her feel ill.

  The Lady's hand closed on her shoulder, a light, warm touch that sent a jolt of raw power through Lorna. "It does need a little Lorna," she said gently. "Two, in fact. Your children will be very powerful, and in time the Earth will need that."

  She turned Lorna to face her. "What has happened to you is vastly unfair," she said. "I know this, but I cannot change it. You are pushed and tested so because you are one of a very few people strong enough to bear it. Know this, Lorna: your children are yours, and only yours. Amadai showed you them, did she not?"

  Lorna had forgotten that -- forgotten the two tiny, dark-haired children that looked like miniature copies of herself. Naturally, at the time she had assumed they were hers and Ratiri's. The memory made her heart ache a little. "How can you say that?" she asked. "I'm right stubborn, yes, but I know myself. I'm angry and vicious and I've all the patience and tact of a goat. If those kids'll be as powerful as you say, I'm not the one who should be raising them. How can I teach them to control that power, when I don't bloody know how to do it myself?"

  "You will learn. You are wiser than you give yourself credit for. Have faith, Lorna -- in yourself, and in Ratiri. He will love those children as his own."

  "That means I have to tell him," she said bitterly. "Bad enough Gerald knows. This was meant to be my secret, dammit."

  The Lady smoothed back her hair. "You need tell no one but Ratiri," she said. "Keeping it to yourself would poison you, in the end. You must stop thinking they will think any less of you. If anything would be your downfall, it would be pride, not anger. Forcing yourself to face the world alone is no way to live. And you need not do so any longer."

  Lorna's mind automatically rebelled against that. She didn't need anyone, dammit, and the last time -- the only time -- she'd let someone in too far, they'd died. Loving Ratiri the way she did scared her shitless, because of what she'd gone through when she lost Liam. She'd damn near lost her mind without him. Needing people, truly relying on them, only got you hurt in the end.

  You already need Ratiri, she thought. And he needs you. Stop being Lorna Donovan long enough to accept that.

  "It's not that easy," she said aloud.

  "Your life has never been easy, Lorna," the Lady said gently. "You just avoided confronting it by avoiding all responsibility. You can do that no more."

  "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she groused. "How am I even to tell Ratiri about this? You know'v his own wolf, that animal in his mind. This might break him."

  "Stop underestimating his strength," the Lady ordered, but her tone was still gentle. "You do him a great disservice. Allow him the chance to stand on his own, to deal with this in his own way. As to how you tell him," she added, "I would not try to pad the blow. You are too forthright a creature to ease its impact."

  For the first time, Lorna smiled, though there wasn't much humor in it. "Is that your way'v saying I'm subtle as a brick?"

  "If you like. He waits for you, child. Wake, and let him share this burden with you. It will not be intolerable then."

  "If you say so," Lorna sighed, dubious to the extreme. "If this backfires, I'm blaming you."

  "It will not," the Lady promised. "Wake now. We will speak later."

  ----

  The red in Lorna's aura had drained while she slept, but it was replaced by grey worry. Ratiri watched her wake with no small amount of apprehension. He took her hand when she opened her eyes, and what he saw there made him go still.

  Lorna was an expressive creature -- it was part of why she was such a terrible liar. Her face was as easy to read as a billboard, especially to him. Whatever had happened, whatever terrible knowledge had been imparted to her -- her eyes looked like she'd peered into hell, and it had stared right back. She was weary and careworn in a way that must have nothing to do with her physical state.

  "Lorna, what happened?" he asked. "Gerald's aura was a mess when I saw him, and he told me I had to talk to you."

  She scowled. "I should've realized that'd give him away," she said quietly. "Ratiri, allanah, I've something nasty to tell you, and if you flip out, or go all cave-man on me, I'll lamp you out."

  She was deadly serious, he realized. "I won't," he said, his throat suddenly dry.

  "Gerald gave me an ultrasound," she said, each word sounding like it was wrenched from her with great difficulty. "I'm only a month along. Kids aren't from you."

  Ratiri froze. He could think of only one reason that could be, and he was enveloped by a fury so intense he literally saw red.

  "Stop, allanah," Lorna said, her voice and her eyes dangerously sharp. "No cave-man, remember? Son'v a bitch has paid and then some. I don't need anyone else to fight my battles."

  The tiny part of his mind not consumed by rage recognized the stubborn pride in her voice, the steely determination that was part of the core of her being, for better or worse. Yes, he wanted to tear Von Ratched limb from limb, but that thread of rationality told him voicing that would do Lorna no good at all. She was stubborn, and he knew her well enough to realize she would not appreciate such a sentiment, and that she just might hit him for it.

  Swallowing his instinct was no easy thing. Lorna was right in calling it cave-man -- he wanted to avenge his woman, goddammit. Lorna, however, needed no avenging: knowing her as he did, she'd probably been more inventive about it than he could ever be. If he were to do or say anything her brain could warp interpreting as him thinking her fragile, she might well shut him out and never let him in again.

  "Why didn't you say anything?" he asked at last, his voice very small. More importantly, why hadn't her aura betrayed her? That kind of trauma should have been obvious.

  "I don't remember any've it," she said. "The Lady took it from me, before she dropped me off in the wilderness. I remember the aftermath, but that's it."

  She was telling the truth, he saw. "If the Lady could pull you out, why didn't she do it before…that?"

  Lorna sighed. "Asked her the same question myself, though she didn't give me any real answer. I think maybe…well, when Von Ratched found me, he was pretty damn br
oken. It's irony in its worst form, but I think what he did destroyed him rather than me. And I figured nothing I could do to him could be worse than that."

  Ratiri was quiet a while, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "What do you want to do now?" he asked at last.

  "Move forward," she said. "The shite that happened to me doesn't define me. The Lady says I've got twins, God help me, and…I want them. They're still ours in every way that actually matters." She hesitated. "Will that…bother you?"

  Strangely, Ratiri was sure it wouldn't. It probably ought to, if he had any sense at all, but it didn't. "No," he said, "it won't. Though I must admit, the thought of twins scares me."

  Lorna smiled a little, a bittersweet smile. "You're not the only one. The Lady -- well, I saw them, as they'd be when they grew older. They looked like me, and I'm afraid they'll have my temper." She paused. "I was thinking this already, and now it freaks me out a bit more -- what kind've mother will I be? I didn't have the best example growing up. I'm not sure I'm equipped to be a parent at all."

  "We'll manage," he said, giving her hand a light squeeze. "And it's not as though we haven't got plenty of people who will help us. Whether we want them to or not."

  "True. Let's just -- I don't want this getting out, all right? Not even to Katje or Geezer. Bad enough Gerald knows. You're the only person I really trust."

  Her words warmed him, because he knew it was true. Lorna might as well have had 'trust no one' engraved into her brain -- except where it came to him. It was a weight of responsibility that almost frightened him. "It will stay our secret," he promised. "But Lorna…talk to me about it, if you need to. Don't bottle it up and shut me out. You have to know I would never, ever see you as any kind of victim."

  Lorna sighed. "Gerald said you'd say that. My question is, d'you really mean it?"

  Ratiri looked at her, his small, wounded angel. The silver in her hair had advanced considerably, and her sunburn was beginning to peel, but she was beautiful in a way he was sure she was unaware of. It was a beauty born of strength, deeper than physical appearance. She was too tough, too iron-stubborn to ever seem like a victim to anyone who so much as glanced at her. "I do," he said. "Do you know what I first thought, when I saw you after they brought you in?"