by Rye Brewer
Her already fair skin was as white as a sheet. “The… baby…” she whispered between groans.
“I know, I know. We’re here now. You’re not alone.” Jonah joined me, kneeling at her side, appearing about as confused and hopeless as I felt.
“I was… trying to portal to the high rise,” she gasped.
“That was good thinking. I’m glad we found you before you got there, though,” Jonah murmured.
He had gone from being nearly frantic with stress to calm and reassuring.
I wanted to tell him that was the sign of a true leader, that he need never question himself, but it wasn’t the time. I would have to remember for later.
Our eyes met.
“What are we supposed to do?” I mouthed.
He shrugged, then gazed down at her again before helping her to a semi-seated position. She leaned against him, arms still wrapped protectively around her swollen belly as she grimaced in pain. My heart ached for her.
“Just… let me catch my breath…” she groaned, eyes squeezed tight. “And we can go.”
“I wish there was something we could do for the pain,” I offered, feeling completely useless.
“So do I,” she gasped, then let out a short laugh.
Even then, in obvious agony, she tried to bring levity for our sake. I could see why Fane cared for her as he did. She wasn’t only beautiful, powerful, and kind. She was brave. A man like him would feel the pull of a brave woman like her.
It was clear she wouldn’t be able to walk; she could barely sit up without gasping in pain.
“Do you think it would be all right if I carry you?” Jonah asked.
“Yes. I don’t want to bring my child into the world out here.” She draped an arm around his neck, and he lifted her gently, slowly, wincing whenever she did.
Even with the situation being as dire as it was, I couldn’t help noticing how sweet he was to her. Was it because he liked her for herself, or his father’s wishes?
The thought of Fane sent a shiver down my spine. He should’ve been here. He would want to be. But he had other things to do and didn’t want her to know about the change Elazar brought about in him.
Would Fane ever see Sirene again? Would she make it through this?
Sirene raised one hand, closing her eyes as she did. Her brows knit together as she concentrated.
I had never seen her or anyone with the ability to create portals work so hard to do so, but this was a different story.
The portal started as a small, swirling ball of light no bigger than the size of my fist, but slowly grew until it was large enough for us to go through.
“Hurry,” she groaned through gritted teeth. “Not sure… how long I can hold it…”
Jonah wasted no time carrying her through, with me right on his heels. In the blink of an eye, we were standing on the balcony outside the penthouse.
The wind took my breath away, and I fought to adjust to the sudden change of location. It was late in the evening, the lights of the city shone as brightly as ever. No one down on the ground, hundreds of feet below us, had any idea what was happening over their heads.
The penthouse was dark, for the most part. I held up a hand to keep Jonah and Sirene at bay while I tiptoed over to the double doors. A quick glance inside told me there was a light burning in one of the bedrooms with the door slightly open to allow a sliver of a beam into the hall.
Otherwise, the living area was dark and empty.
Process of elimination told me it had to be Philippa. Scott was with Fane. And Gage… Nobody knew where Gage was, which seemed to be par for the course. It had been for as long as I’d been acquainted with the family, at any rate.
I waited a few breathless moments to be certain Jonah’s sister wouldn’t come strolling down the hall before waving Jonah on.
“Philippa,” I mouthed, pointing.
His deep frown told me his thoughts ran in the same general direction as mine. Could she be trusted? Given my druthers, I would immediately vote No, but much of that was personal. I wouldn’t put anything past her.
“Downstairs,” he decided. “There’s an empty apartment I was going to recommend Sirene stay in, anyway. Let’s be as quiet as we can while walking through.”
He looked down at Sirene, who was all but writhing in pain.
“Wait…” She grimaced, gritting her teeth as another fresh wave of pain swept over her.
Even in the chill air with the wind whipping around us, there was sweat on her brow. Once the contraction had passed, she nodded. We didn’t have much time.
I opened the door for Jonah to slip through. His feet barely seemed to touch the floor as he darted across the room. I was used to sneaking in and out of rooms, apartments, wherever, but Jonah’s dexterity surprised me.
We were at the front door in seconds, having escaped notice. I was careful to open it without a creak, lifting it slightly to relieve any weight on the hinges, and we were in the hall.
“Where to?” I whispered.
“Downstairs. Below this one.”
“Won’t anybody up here be able to hear?” I pressed the button for the elevator.
“Soundproofing. It’s pretty thorough.” Yet, he didn’t seem convinced. If Sirene screamed…
Well, what was the worst that could happen? I told myself it would be all right; Philippa was a woman and would be sympathetic to another woman’s pain. I only hoped I wasn’t kidding myself as we bundled Sirene into the apartment.
It was furnished, at least, with a king-sized bed in the master suite. Jonah was as careful as could be in lowering her to the mattress while I made sure there were enough pillows behind her.
Then the truth hit me: I had no idea what to do now we had made her as comfortable as we could.
Neither did Jonah, obviously. We exchanged a worried look from opposite sides of the bed.
Sirene opened her eyes and sized up the situation in a glance. “I’ve assisted in many births,” she told us with a grimace. “I can be of help, to a point.”
“What do we need?”
She gave us a list of things. Towels, cool water, and a cloth for her head, ice or something for her to sip on.
“Is there anything you know of which we can give you for pain?” I whispered, leaning close to her ear.
I’d already placed towels beneath her, with Jonah discreetly turning his head away.
She sighed. “I wish… there were. But any potion or tonic which would alleviate the discomfort would be—” Her cry was louder than ever before, and her hand darted out to grip mine painfully.
I wouldn’t have pulled away for the world; if she could deal with pain as well as she had, I could grit my teeth and struggle through.
When the hurt passed, she fell back against the pillows with her eyes closed. I had the feeling I knew what she had tried to say. She would need a witch to create something for her, or a warlock. Some sort of healer. I couldn’t exactly run to a drug store to purchase something for her.
Her hair was already soaked with perspiration, and more of it stuck to her face and forehead. I dipped a cloth in the cool water basin Jonah had brought in, wiping her down as best I could. She managed a weak smile before grimacing again.
The pains were coming faster. They seemed stronger. What were we going to do when the baby started coming?
Jonah paced at the other end of the room, watching us all the while. The life of his baby brother or sister was hanging in the balance, not to mention Sirene’s. I wanted to believe he was anxious because he cared more deeply than he had the words to express. I needed to believe that.
When he looked at me, eyes burning into mine, I knew it was true. He cared more than he knew he had up to this moment. He’d been kind and considerate of Sirene because his father had asked him to do so, but watching her as she groaned and whimpered, squeezing my hand until the bones ground together and I bit my tongue to keep from crying out, changed the stakes.
“We need someone else to be here
,” he decided. “Someone to help with the pain and make sure everything that can be done is being done.”
Sirene took a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut. “No one would. No one.”
“Oh, that can’t be true. If we can convince—”
“There isn’t time!” she gasped, then nearly doubled over with a contraction that wrenched a deep, almost animal growl from inside her.
The sound struck fear into my heart, cold and sharp. My vision blurred before I realized I was crying.
She was going to die right there in this bed, with no one of her kind willing to help her because the baby she carried was half-vampire. Just because of that. It didn’t matter what good she’d done, how many she had helped with her powers.
All of my memories came back, mixed with my fear for her. Being ignored, left to my own devices, my sister forced to break the law in order to support us. Thrown into a dungeon and left to starve because none of the Carvers would help us with the basic day-to-day matter of survival.
Sirene had to live. Her child had to have a mother to protect it. I had already lost my mother twice I thought, as I sat on the edge of this bed, holding the witch’s hand and wiping the sweat from her brow.
Somebody had to think about the baby.
I looked down at her then at Jonah. “I’ll do everything I can to help you. I swear.”
Chapter 3
Gage
Plink, plink. Plink, plink.
The ever-present sound of dripping water. Dripping from where? It would be better to ask where water wasn’t dripping from, as the sound seemed to be coming from all around me. All the time. Driving me crazy.
I closed my eyes, shutting them tight, willing myself not to hear that which was in every corner of my brain. Like the sound of a heartbeat, but couldn’t forget the sound, nor push it to the rear of my consciousness. Because there was nothing else to think about, nothing to distract me.
Except hunger.
Despair.
Betrayal.
Rage.
It seemed no matter how I sliced my situation, there was no aspect worth focusing on for very long. Nothing to comfort me. Not even the thought that Micah would surely take care of Cari—which he would, I had no doubt.
That didn’t help one bit. I knew what his idea of caring for her was, and it only made me want to kill him. He thought he could touch her, kiss her…?
I opened my eyes, now looking around for something to take my mind off the mental image of the two of them together. There had to be something to push those thoughts out of my head. Something, anything.
The rats in the corner, perhaps. Not necessarily something worth focusing on. In fact, something I’d rather pretend didn’t exist except in dire situations such as the one I was in, when if I didn’t get my thoughts under control, I’d love my sanity.
There were three of them, slipping in and out of a small crevice in the stone wall. I could only guess the wall divided my cell from the one beside it. I could further guess that all of the walls were in the same state of disrepair, and if I worked long enough and patiently enough, I might even be able to tear a hole into one.
To what purpose? All of that work, and all it would lead me to was another cell. And another. I wouldn’t be able to get out.
Not that I hadn’t tried. The outer walls which comprised the prison—which was what I’d come to think of it as, because what else was I supposed to think?—were carved from solid rock, well underground. The only small window sat at the top of the cell, barred, and revealing nothing. No sound coming from outside, no footfalls or murmured voices or engines.
Nothing.
Who wouldn’t watch the rats, then?
They seemed afraid of me, as if they sensed what I was in their animal way. It didn’t keep them out of my cell, but it did keep them away from me. As I never slept, I didn’t have to worry about them approaching while I was deep in a happy dream.
That would’ve been the ultimate slap in the face, I decided. Dreaming of a happy time, a happy place, only to wake up and find a rat gnawing on the hem of my pants. Or my flesh.
They skittered away, squeaking and chattering at each other. There were so many other such noises. I generally tried to tune them out.
But that wasn’t worse than the silence from outside. This was what truly disturbed me. It meant there was no hope of being heard. No hope of discovery.
No hope of Cari ever finding me, like she saved me the first time when she found me in the canyon, dumped there to die when the sun rose.
In the first few days, I had yelled and roared and cursed Micah and fate itself for putting me in my situation. I had railed against everything against me and sworn vengeance. Blood would flow.
That had been nothing more than a waste of energy. I ended up hoarse and thirsty, with nothing to do about it. And my thirst had only gotten worse as the hours had ticked by.
I sat on the floor with my back against the wall of my cell, looking out at the dimly lit corridor.
“Cari, where are you?” I whispered, unable to get her out of my mind. The scent of her, the feel of her skin. The sound of her voice, the sparkle in her eyes. We had come such a long way from that first night, the night I’d picked up on her scent and followed her.
What had been the point? All it did was get her brutalized, and all but killed. I’d turned her because of it. And we’d become hunted. I’d ended up left for dead.
What was the purpose, if only pain and utter misery had resulted?
She would never find me here. I didn’t even know if she would want to, after spending enough time with Micah. He would capitalize on her newness, her freshness, the fact that her thirst was still so sharp and demanding. He would give her what she wanted, instead of making the mistake I made by trying to dampen her spirits.
She would fall deeper into his world—the sleekness of it, the seductiveness of the city.
Once enough time had passed, she’d forget me entirely. And he would allow that—nay, he’d encourage it. Anything he could do to put a wedge between us, even without my being there, he would do.
Plink, plink. Plink, plink.
The dripping water again. The only sounds I’d ever hear for the rest of my long, tortured life.
Along with the sound of my moans and cries and pleas for blood. Because I knew, the lust for blood, the need to feed, to have that life-sustaining essence would overcome soon.
Pleas that no one would hear.
Chapter 4
Cari
I couldn’t stop crying.
For three days, I was either tearing up, actively sobbing, or struggling to stop crying. At least, that was how it seemed.
Gage.
Gage!
What was happening to him? What sort of torture was he going through? What were they doing to him in order to try to get to me?
They would stop at nothing. He hadn’t told me too much about the league—he’d avoided specifics pretty strictly—but I knew they were ruthless. I knew they drew a hard line when it came to creating new vampires. They wanted me, and they would use him to get to me.
He’d never let that happen. He would die before he’d give me away.
I let out a guttural moan, sinking into a chair beside Micah’s bed.
He’d insisted I stay in his room in the days following Gage’s kidnapping. We didn’t share it, he never even suggested it. But he sat up watching me as I tried to rest.
Until now, I had only soaked his pillows with my tears.
I looked at those pillows, at the bed, as I sat alone.
He was someplace, I couldn’t remember where. I had hardly paid attention, which was unforgivably rude after he’d been so kind and considerate. So protective.
I would never let anything like that happen to you. They will never find you. I’ll protect you. We all will.
I reminded myself of his words, which he had repeated like a prayer in my ear, over and over, since Gage disappeared into that car. I wished I had seen it b
ut was glad I hadn’t at the same time. I didn’t want my last memories of him to be of his terror or pain as they shoved him into some random car and drove away.
Taking him away from me forever.
I bent forward, covering my face with my hands and rocking back and forth. What was I going to do? How was I supposed to go on without him?
“Cari.”
A familiar voice.
Micah knelt in front of me, rubbing my back as I continued to rock.
“Cari, you know how it tears at my heart when I see you like this.”
“How do you think I feel when I imagine what Gage is going through?” I wept, not bothering to look at him. He had seen me in various states of hysteria over three days and didn’t need to see my tear-stained, swollen face again.
“You’re torturing yourself,” he murmured, as steady and patient as always.
I wondered how he managed that. He always seemed so level, where I was frantic and emotional. But he hadn’t just lost his love, had he?
My love. My mate, for God’s sake. The one I was meant to be with. We were supposed to be together!
Another broken cry wrenched itself from my chest, and when Micah pulled me into his arms, I didn’t push away. I was too weak, too tired to fight. And I did need the comfort he promised.
“Shh.” He stroked my hair, his arms firm around me. It was nice, feeling taken care of. And immediately, guilt pulled me to pieces all over again. No one was taking care of Gage. He was suffering, maybe dying.
Because of me.
“It’s all my fault! All of it!” My chest hurt, actually ached, like someone was squeezing my heart. I wished they would tighten their grip and kill me and get it over with.
“How can you say such a thing?”
“I’ve been thinking and thinking about it, and there’s no other answer.”
“So stop thinking about it.” He pulled back far enough to take my face in his hands. “Carissa. You’re driving yourself mad. You obsess and break your own heart. You break your mind. I can’t allow this.”