Not only was Gina’s mundane life as a human unnecessarily stressful, but things were also strained in the realm of the supernatural as well. When they had returned from their honeymoon, Rafe had known he would be behind on his work and that it would cause a bit of a fuss. What he did not expect was for the entire world to stop revolving for two months he was gone. Without him there to direct the traffic, Rafe found that a good number of people in his offices simply did nothing at all.
To make matters worse, the announcement of Gina’s pregnancy created a few very different reactions amongst the non-humans of the community. Most of the pack was joyful and supportive. They whole-heartedly rejoiced and were eager to lend a hand in any way possible to the newlyweds.
Then there were the less supportive groups. Some were simply uneasy about how the mutt child would turn out and whether or not he would have stunted abilities if he had any abilities at all. Rafe and Gina could admit that this was a concern that they had considered when they realized that Gina was pregnant, however, they also knew that they would love their child whether he or she was able to turn into a full wolf or not.
Still, the rumors nagged at the back of her mind. What if her child was born mundane? How would he or she take their place among the pack?
These questions sometimes kept Gina awake at night, until Rafe would come to bed and wrap his arms around her. He would gently remind her that leadership was not about being the biggest wolf in the pack, but being able to wield authority over the biggest dog, and sometimes that required a more human touch.
Gina would accept this and snuggle in Rafe’s warm arms, refusing to acknowledge the other group that existed, and their very dangerous ideals. Well, she would try to ignore them, but they made sure she was well aware of their presence and their belief that her child was an abomination.
Blake was the most vocal advocate of this opinion. Not only did she make sure everyone knew of her disdain for the coming child, but also openly threatened the unborn infant, Gina, Rafe, and even those who supported their marriage and child. It was disconcerting how much support she had managed to drum up not only amongst the wolves, but also getting other supernatural creatures to side with her opinions as well.
She was creating quite a mess politically and threatened a great number of Rafe’s diplomatic policies by stirring up strong opinions about the unborn mutt child. Gina could see in her husband’s eyes how weary he was trying to put out the political fires that Blake was setting with complete disregard to her entire pack as she rallied for attention and support to oppose the ideas of the pack leadership and their backing of Gina and Rafe’s family.
*****
Gina and Rafe were counting down the days until their new child would be coming into the world. There were only eight weeks left. Two months, before they would officially have their new son. According to the pack’s shaman, Gina’s child was to be a boy and a great prince.
The nursery had been furnished and the baby shower was set to take place later this afternoon. Her mother had set everything up. It was going to be a quiet, yet fun affair at Gina and Rafe’s house with a potluck lunch.
Gina did her best not to worry, but there were a million things about the shower, but mostly her baby, running through her mind that made her uneasy day in and day out.
In her mind she heard the whisperings of the werewolves and what the fate of a mutt was. They placed bets on whether or not her child would even be able to turn. She worried that the other werewolves would not think that she was worthy of being part of their pack if she could not produce a child that met the standards of their bloodline.
As she worried over all of these things, she watched her mother decorate the living room of her house. The light blue streamers hung down around the edges of the room and wrapped around the stair railing and banister. She could hear the clicking and whirring of the printer in the other room as it printed out sheets of games and trivia.
Pacing back and forth, she began to bite her nails while asking herself if the game she had picked out would be any fun. Would they appreciate the prizes or would they think they were too corny? Would Leila be back with the remaining party favors on time? Would her friends be arriving on time? Would they have preferred she have the party outside in this nice June weather?
“Gina.” Her mother’s strong voice called her away from her thoughts. “Can you go check on that cake in the oven?”
As of late, she had been prone to these trains of thought that fell into cataclysmic spirals of despair. It was one of the reasons that her baby shower had taken so long to plan. Gina had insisted that she wanted to plan it herself along with Leila, but her anxiety kept her full of excuses to postpone. However, Leila had reached out to her mother and she had promptly taken over the affair so as to assure her daughter would not be depriving herself of the traditional party.
“Hey, ladies,” Leila announced as she entered the through the front door, her arms laden with all of the last minute supplies Gina’s mother had sent her to fetch. She carried the shopping bags into the kitchen and the three women worked together to put everything where it needed to go.
They popped open bags of little plastic figurines and cheap tablecloths. Leila sprinkled the festive confetti over the covered tables with enthusiasm and set up the prizes that their friends would be competing for.
“When did you last check your registry?” Leila asked idly as they puttered about the house waiting for the guests to begin arriving.
“Earlier this morning,” Gina answered. “Why?”
“Oh nothing,” Leila said coyly as she rearranged the bowls of nuts and candies for the fifteenth time, “just that I’m probably the best sister-in-law ever, and my nephew is going to be the most stylin’ baby around.”
Gina smiled. Although Leila didn’t have any kids of her own, she had been an infinite font of knowledge for all of her questions about having a werewolf baby, and what she wasn’t able to answer she directed to the pack shaman. Still, both Leila and the pack shaman had cautioned Gina that her little mixed-breed could be a whole different kind of kid, and they shouldn’t expect him to behave just as any other little were-baby would.
After the party died down Leila sat with Gina and helped her write out thank you notes for all of the gifts she had received. The shower had been a lot of fun, and Gina had enjoyed watching all of her friends, both human and werewolf, get together and have a good time playing trivia and other games like the ‘Diaper Changing Olympics’.
Rafe arrived home and carefully picked his way across the living room full of presents to kiss Gina. “How was the shower?”
“Good,” she answered. “Tanya and her husband got something for you.”
She held up a pacifier with a large mustache attached to it.
“Awesome.” Rafe took it from her and jokingly stuck it in his mouth.
Gina and Leila burst out laughing.
“Told you he’d do it,” Gina said.
The trio goofed off for a while before Leila excused herself to go get ready for the pack run that night. She hugged Gina and promised her extended womb that he’d get to join her soon enough for a run.
After closing the door behind Leila, Rafe pulled Gina close and kissed the top of her head as she rested it against his chest. “Did you have fun today?”
“Yes,” she answered, “but I’m certainly worn out. How was your day?”
“Same as always,” he said. “Just a bunch of bureaucratic nonsense and people who talk too much about nothing.”
Rafe walked Gina back to the couch and sat down with her as she continued to go through the gifts and write the thank you notes. He’d joke about items and pretend he had no clue what they were for.
“Don’t you need to get ready to go for your run tonight?” Gina asked when she noticed that the sun had already gone down.
“Well, I suppose so,” Rafe shrugged. He rubbed a hand over her belly and asked, “You sure Junior doesn’t want to go running too?”
Gina laughed, “Not while he’s still inside of me.”
“Good point.” Rafe kissed her deeply and then kissed the top of her belly. “I shouldn’t be too long tonight. You going to be up when I get home?”
“Most likely,” she answered as she got up to walk to the door with him. “This little tyke is always up when you go running.”
Rafe laughed. “That’s my boy.”
*****
Gina sat in the dining room with the patio door open. In the distance, she could hear the howls of the pack as they congregated in the woods a few miles outside of town. The cool night air was welcoming and the chirruping of the crickets soothing.
Gina read aloud to herself and the baby from a book of Brother’s Grimm Fairy Tales. She had just finished reading Bremen Town Musicians when her baby began to kick and move around quite animatedly.
Taking a deep breath, Gina placed the book on the dining room table and stood. He was always active on nights when the pack went for a run, but tonight he was especially excited. She headed to the kitchen to make herself a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows to appease her craving.
As she sat back down in her chair, a sound from the living room caught Gina’s attention. She stretched her neck to look around the doorway, but couldn’t see anything.
“Rafe?”
There was no answer and so she picked up her book again as she sipped her hot chocolate. She flipped through the pages looking for the next story to read when she heard the distinct breaking of glass.
“Hello?” Gina stood and headed over towards the kitchen as a shadow moved across the doorway. She quietly slid the utensil drawer open as she called out, “Who’s there?”
A figured appeared in the living room doorway. It was Blake.
She was dressed all in black, her tangled brown hair suggested she had been with the pack at the run, but had separated from them to come here. Gina felt the handle of a steak knife in her hand and held it steadily behind her back.
“That mutt in you is an abomination,” Blake spat at her. “Rafe should have never gotten involved with you.”
“Well that’s your opinion,” Gina responded, “and you’re certainly entitled to it, but it’s not going to change anything.”
“True, but since he clearly can’t be reasoned with, there are other ways to remedy the situation.”
Blake’s hand began to vibrate as she began to shift and claws extended out of her fingers. Gina gripped the knife in her hand and took a defensive position. Outside she heard a chorus of howls much closer to her house than was comfortable. She could not discern whom it was letting out the call and assumed from Blake’s lack of reaction that it was not anyone who was going to protect her.
Letting out a growl, Blake stalked towards her and Gina positioned herself so that the kitchen island was between them. In her womb, she felt her baby fidgeting nervously as if he could sense the danger that he was in.
Taking a breath, Gina calmed her nerves and told herself that she wasn’t defenseless. She may not be a werewolf, but she was not about to roll over for one either.
Blake let out a yell and charged. As she leaped onto the top of the countertop between them she shifted completely into her wolf form.
Gina held up her left arm as the wolf sprang at her and slashed out with the knife in her right hand as she felt the teeth sink into her arm. She fought on pure instinct as she felt the claws tear into her. Her passive ways had completely disappeared in that moment and all she felt was the need to kill Blake to protect herself and her child.
A sudden crash through the patio door interrupted the fight and Gina turned in expectation of fighting off another assailant. Instead, the small group of wolves who had come through the door attacked Blake.
Gina stood still as she processed what was happening. Among the tumble of fur and teeth she recognized the black tipped ears of Rafe in his wolf form. She felt the drop in her adrenaline and suddenly realized that she was slick with blood.
Just as the nausea set in, she felt a pair of strong arms around her and Rafe’s voice in her ear. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but as she looked down at herself she recognized the deep tears in her own body. Her breathing was shallow as the edges of her vision dimmed. She could barely feel the kicking of her baby as she closed her eyes.
***
The beeping of machines greeted Gina when she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Rafe slumped over in a chair, his head resting on the bed next to her. After a moment she recognized that it was a hospital bed that she was laying in. The beeping machines she heard were hooked up to herself.
As she tried to move, she woke up Rafe. He momentarily looked around the room as he tried to discern what was going on. When his eyes locked onto hers, he sprang up from the chair and his lips were upon hers.
“Gina, I-I thought-” He fumbled as he tried to find the words to say.
She ignored the aches of her body, glad to feel his arms around her. As his body pressed against hers, she noticed that there was something missing from herself. She breathed deeply and tried to speak. “Rafe…the baby.”
He released her and just then the door of the room opened and Leila and a nurse walked in together. A smile lit up Leila’s face. “Oh, you’re awake.”
In her arms she carried a small bundle of cloth. Beaming, she brought the bundle over to the couple and passed it off to Gina.
Rafe kissed the top of her head. “Gina, meet our son.”
The breath caught in her throat as she looked at the tiny face of her son, alive and well in her arms. She smiled as the tears streamed down her cheeks. Here they both were, strong and healthy.
“I know we hadn’t quite decided on a name yet,” Rafe said. “We thought we’d wait for you to wake up.”
Gina kissed her son’s forehead. “Aiden.”
THE END
Bonus Story 4 of 40
Secret Heat
They had acquired their target, and it was him. Passenger Robert Whitman had thought the Cypriots might put eyes on him after he cleared customs, but they were on him the second he got off the plane at Larnaca Airport. A baggage handler on the jetway followed him up to the non-EU line, where a uniformed agent milled about aimlessly, but always in his vicinity. The agent at the counter scanned and stamped his passport with a gulp and pushed the document back through the gap in the Plexiglas booth with trembling fingers. At the baggage claim, Whitman’s luggage appeared on the conveyor only after every other bag had been snatched by its owner, or made several laps around the baggage area. They’d taken a good look inside the suitcase, no doubt, but there was nothing to see.
No one tailed him from baggage claim, but he picked up on a couple of possibles as he made his way to the car rental desk. He wasn’t actively seeking them, but he’d developed some pretty good intuition over the years. He reminded himself that he wasn’t even supposed to look for surveillance on this operation. Well-trained habits die hard, though.
He saw them as he left the parking garage. There were at least three vehicles following him as he headed north and west along Larnaca Bay on the B3. They were matching his speed and attempting to keep an incidental vehicle or two between them and his rearview mirror. The result was a sort of vehicular body language that gave them away to the trained eye. When he made his turn into the parking lot of the Misty Beach Hotel, one of the suspect vehicles continued past him and the other two turned off into parking lots on either side of the road.
It really was a game this time – a rigged game, and he was on the inside – but the Intelligence Division of the Cyprus Police didn’t know that. They also didn’t know that Robert Whitman wasn’t his real name, or that he didn’t really work for the State Department, or that their surveillance team was itself under surveillance. All they knew was that the CIA wanted them to keep an eye on him, if they could handle it, and to report on anything he did while on the island. They were not supposed to apprehend or engage, just observe and report. Th
at made Whitman’s job easy; he was just a rabbit leading the dogs around the track.
***
The inland side of the Misty Beach Hotel could have been mistaken for a municipal administration building but for the hotel logo painted onto the clean white cinderblock and the green awning that covered the last few feet of walkway before the entrance. Not quite like the brochure, Whitman thought. The tinted glass doors slid open to admit him onto a marble floor that reflected light streaming in from the bay side of the lobby through three story glass walls framed in antique bronze. Beyond the glass, a swimming pool meandered toward the bay, and beyond that, a beach dotted with umbrellas and sunbathers.
Whitman walked to where the lobby began stepping down to pool level, then turned back toward the plain little reception desk, and the plain blonde woman behind it.
“Hello. Welcome. Checking in?” The blonde’s accent was part British, part Scandinavian. It was interesting, and she was suddenly not so plain. Kind of cute, actually; he put her in her mid-twenties, so probably about 15 years younger than him.
“Are you sure you’re not a tourist pretending to work here?” He handed her his passport. “You don’t look or sound too Mediterranean to me.”
“Well, you sound very American to me, Mr. Whitman.” She smiled and handed back the passport. “But that’s a good thing.”
“Really? I thought everyone just groaned and slapped their heads when we came around. But back to my original question: Are you sure you’re not some lost Norwegian tourist? ” He gestured toward her lapel. “You don’t even have a name tag.”
In Time to Love Page 13