“That’s a harsh way to put it, but essentially, yeah.”
Something in Nick seems to break, and before he can hide his feelings behind a blank mask, I notice he looks incredibly disappointed. He turns toward the door, and mutters, “Okay. I think I’m going to go.”
“Don’t…” I’m surprised by pleading in my own voice, and the panic setting in at the thought of being abandoned. Normally I’d be kicking myself for that one vulnerable outburst, but at the moment, I don’t care. He might not think I need him, but I know better. “Please don’t leave. I need you here.”
Nick seems torn between me and the door, but it’s ultimately towards me that he moves. He turns off the light and climbs into bed, I lay on my side, and he wraps his arms around me from behind. A few minutes later, his breathing deepens, and his grip on me loosens slightly. And that’s when the floodgates open. All the bitterness over Michael’s sick game, the strain of tiptoeing around both Nick’s and Alyssa’s emotions, the shock of Navarro’s betrayal, everything I’ve been holding back for so long pours out as I start to crack.
I haven’t cried in a long time, and I might have avoided it even tonight, but the positive pregnancy test tipped the scales. Tears roll down my face sideways, dripping from my cheek onto my pillow. I try my best not to shake any, but still the shivers come, and I bite into my lower lip to keep from properly sobbing. I may be falling to pieces, but I’m not about to wake up anyone else. I don’t want their pity, or their advice. I just want everything to be the way it was.
Eventually, I manage to pull myself together enough to wipe my face dry and stare silently ahead of me into the darkness. I try to see if I can feel the life stirring within me, but I feel nothing. Without all the pent up emotion, I’m just… empty. And even with the supportive warmth of Nick’s arms around me, in this moment, I can’t help but feel overwhelmingly alone.
***
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have. My body feels heavy as I blink away the early morning haze, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Nick’s arm is still draped around me. The weight of all my burdens must be catching up to me.
I roll over so that I’m facing Nick, and he grumbles, but doesn’t wake up. My fingers glide over his face, and this time, I’m not surprised by his warmth. For the first year of our relationship, Nick’s skin was cool as polished stone, and part of me still expects him to feel the same as he used to every time we touch. It’s taken a while, but I think I’m finally accustomed to my normal, breathing, human boyfriend. He may be selfish every once in a while, even a little scatterbrained, and make me crave my own space, but I’m glad he’s here right now.
I groan inwardly when my ringtone starts playing; I’d been hoping for a few more moments of peace. I go to roll over and answer the call, but Nick pulls me in closer, and brushes his lips against mine. I wasn’t expecting him to wake up so quickly, but I kiss him back all the same, reaching behind me for my phone at the same time. When we break apart, I place the phone by my ear, press the answer key, and grumble, “Hello?”
It’s Krystal’s voice that comes out of the speaker half a second later. “Rise and shine, Heather. I need you here.”
“Where? And what for?”
“Emergency meeting with the rest of the clan. You know the place. Get here as soon as you can. We’re starting with or without you.”
The line goes dead, and I drop my phone onto the bed with a sigh. Nick rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and asks, “Who was that?”
“Krystal. Apparently, I have a meeting to attend.”
“Oh… do you need me to go?”
“Not yet. Stick around while I take a quick shower, and I’ll walk you home.”
I grab a towel and some clean clothes, and step into the shower, breathing a sigh of relief as the warm water trickles down my back. I spend a few minutes just standing under the deluge, reflecting on everything that’s happened in the past month or so. Half of me expects Nick to join me and snap me out of my reverie, like he’s been known to do on occasion. But he never does. Instead, I find him waiting patiently on my bed when I return to my room fully dressed. He seems to get the sense that today, I need my space. Nick puts on his shoes as I sit down to do the same, and says, “Ready to go when you are.”
The walk between my apartment and Nick’s condo seems far longer than usual. I try to get a conversation started a couple of times, but Nick doesn’t give me any responses more than a couple of words long. I don’t get why he’s being so distant; I’m the one who’s pregnant, he couldn’t possibly understand the panic, or the fear pumping through my veins like shrapnel. Or maybe he does? Maybe it’s not that he sees I need space. He might just need some of his own.
When we say our goodbyes in front of the condo, Nick pulls me into a tight hug, and reminds me to pick up my flowers from the front desk later. I promise to do so, he kisses my forehead, I kiss his cheek, and he turns and steps into the empty lobby.
I walk a few blocks down looking for an empty street, and as soon as I can, I teleport to the Caelestia clan’s meeting place. The bright, tranquil streets of the Upper East Side dissolve around me, and are immediately replaced by a cavernous abandoned subway station that’s fallen into disrepair. No train has actually stopped here in years, but the 6 train still uses the loop to get their downtown trains heading back uptown without a hassle. I’ve been here for a few meetings, but it’s still eerie to see people crowding the crumbling platform, marveling at the old architecture, inhabiting a place that’s usually off-limits.
I spot Krystal standing at the top of the stairs leading towards the old exit, and start pushing towards her before realizing she’s still conducting the meeting. Apparently, I’ve missed the important part; what I’m hearing now is just general announcements about training schedule changes, welcoming statements directed towards new members, and a warning to stay out of the public eye as much as possible. Krystal makes a few closing remarks, and then dismisses us, before vanishing on the spot.
I frown, and look around for someone I know well enough to strike up a conversation with. I catch a glimpse of Alyssa’s rectangular-rimmed glasses, and start pushing through the thinning crowd of fellow clan members to reach her. Over the past year, I’ve learned to ignore the curious stares they cast my way as I pass. I’ve become something of a celebrity in our little underground world since word started spreading that I was what they still call a Conduit. (I’ve grown accustomed to using the term Nephilim more often in my head; it seems far more appropriate now that I know what it means, and accept that it’s who I am.) Ever since, all the spellcasters who know either give me a wide berth, or watch me like they expect me to perform a miracle at any second. As if I would; I tend to keep my powers reigned in until they’re needed.
As soon as I’m close enough to Alyssa, I half-shout, “What did I miss?”
She turns to me, seemingly unsurprised that I missed most of the meeting. “Krystal said the Lost are becoming a problem. They attacked a couple of Caelestia members last night, and they’re in the hospital covered in bruises and burns. They’re in stable condition, but the ambulances got to them before we could, and they can’t exactly explain how they wound up in such bad condition. If people start digging around… that could be bad. For all of us.”
I nod in agreement, my last encounter with the Lost still fresh in my mind. They were no match for me, but I could see how a couple of average spellcasters would struggle with a seven-on-one situation. “So, what’s the plan for dealing with them?,” I ask.
“Avoid them as best we can. Never travel alone, especially at night. Try not to get into a confrontation in public. And let Krystal do the investigating.” Alyssa pauses and adds, “A lot of people seemed to think it would also be a good idea to kick me out of the clan.”
“What?! Why?”
“They think I might be a spy for the Lost, just because I used to be Selene’s favorite.”
I can’t say I’m surprised people would t
hink along those lines. Even without knowing how Selene took her in from the streets and kept her clothed and fed, the rest of Alyssa’s old clan would have seen her getting preferential treatment. “That’s stupid of them,” I assure her, “you’re clearly on our side.”
“Glad someone gets that.”
“While we’re on the subject though… there’s something I’ve always wondered.”
“What’s that?”
“Why didn’t you leave with the rest of the loyalists? I thought Selene was good to you.”
Alyssa shrugs, and her eyes lock on to mine as she answers. “She was, but the second she became a threat to you, I knew I couldn’t afford to be on the same side as her. You’re my first choice. Always have been, always will be.”
My face flushes, and I drop my gaze to the ground. I get the feeling we’re no longer talking about loyalty. Normally, I’d change the subject or retreat, but somewhere in me, I find the courage to ask, “Then why are you dating someone else?”
There’s a brief pause, and I look up in time to see the conflicted look on Alyssa’s face, before she adopts a blank expression. “Last time I checked, you were dating someone else too. I may choose you first, but I refuse to wait for you, or make you my only option.”
Her words hit me like a dull blow to the stomach. Even so, I know it would be stupid of me to expect her to wait, just as much as it would be stupid of her to expect there to be anything to wait for. Especially now that mine and Nick’s genes are combining and replicating within me as we speak.
When I don’t answer, Alyssa just shrugs again, and says, “I have to go. I’m meeting Lily for lunch in Union Square. I’ll see you around.” Then she turns and vanishes, leaving me on an emptying train platform staring wistfully into thin air.
12
Telling Jenna and Rachel about my predicament turns out to be even more stressful than telling Nick. They’re two of my best friends, but I can’t shake the fear that they’ll judge me too harshly, or refuse to help me find a clinic and attend the appointment. There are so many things I’m brave enough to tackle on my own, but I don’t feel prepared for this.
I call Rachel first, since I’m sure she’ll actually be free, and naturally, she freaks out when I break the news. “Is this a fluke,” she asks, “or were you being stupid?”
“What do you mean?”
Rachel clears her throat, and asks, “Were you two being safe?”
“He was a vampire, and they’re naturally infertile. I figured that was all the protection we’d need.”
“Wait… was a vampire?”
Oh… It completely slipped my mind that I never told Rachel about any of what’s been going on with Nick and I. I could have tried to explain the last time I saw her, but not in front of Jenna, who doesn’t even know the supernatural world exists. I want to explain, but there are more pressing matters at hand, so I tell her, “It’s a long story.”
Jenna’s reaction is far less appropriate, which is to say, it’s a typical Jenna reaction. When I finally do get a hold of her, she lets out a low whistle, and says, “I thought for sure Rachel would be the first of us to get knocked up. Go you!”
I immediately regret my decision to tell her.
In spite of her less-than-serious initial reaction, Jenna agrees to aid in the hunt for a suitable clinic, and even promises to clear her schedule for a day that works best for the three of us. A week later, Jenna, Rachel, and I walk solemnly into the lobby of a squat brown building on the Upper East Side, the second floor of which is occupied by a Family Planning Center. Even Jenna doesn’t have a single witty thing to say; we’re all intimidated by this place, and by the knowledge that each of us might have our turn here for one reason or another.
Even the woman at the second floor’s front desk is somewhat intimidating, heavily tattooed as she is, but she smiles brightly at us as I sign in. She hands me a clipboard with a questionnaire clipped to it, and instructs me to fill it out to the best of my ability, using only honest answers. I sigh, and take a seat between Jenna and Rachel. I despise filling out forms, especially when the first question is How long have you been sexually active? I groan, and start with the second question, the sound of my pen strokes drowned out by the other patients flipping magazine pages, filing their nails, or engaging in conversation.
Somewhere near the bottom of the questionnaire, I lose focus enough to realize that Jenna and Rachel are talking over me. I take a break from writing in time to hear Rachel ask, “Have you always known you were into girls, or is this a recent thing you’ve realized?”
Jenna laughs, and replies, “I’m straight, for the last time. I just don’t have time for dating anymore. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be smart to get too close to anyone new.”
“Why not? Heather and Nick have been going strong for a long time, and I can handle Chase just fine with my busy schedule, so-“
“Just drop it, alright?” Jenna picks up a magazine called Motherhood and pretends to leaf through it. “I don’t see why it matters to you, anyway. It’s my life.”
Rachel crosses her arms, and says, “I’m just trying to unravel the mystery that is Jenna Chen’s love life, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m happy with my love life exactly as it is: nonexistent.”
“Are you sure you’re into guys? Because I’m pretty sure we could hook you up with Alyssa-“
“Don’t be stupid, she’s dating someone. And besides, she’d never take me over Heather.”
“Who is sitting right here,” I remind them. “Can we talk about something else, please?”
“You mean like the fact that we’re suddenly alone?,” Jenna asks.
I look up from my nearly completed form to see that she’s right; everyone else in the room has vanished, save for the receptionist. Out of curiosity, I walk over and ask her, “Where’d everyone go? Do you need us to leave the waiting room or something?”
The woman smiles at me again, and says, “No, that won’t be necessary. We need you right where you are.” She waves her palm lazily, and suddenly, I’m slammed against the back wall of the clinic, the wind knocked out of me by the impact. I take another look at her, and realize the tattoos on her right arm don’t match the ones on her left, which look much more familiar. I should have picked up on it earlier; this woman’s a spellcaster.
She snaps her fingers, and takes her flowing brown hair out of its bun as other spellcasters, all dressed in black, begin to materialize around her. “I thought it was just going to be another boring day on the job,” she says, “but when the Conduit walked in… well, let’s just say my obligation to the Lost matters a lot more.”
A shot rings the air, and the receptionist clutches her shoulder as blood rapidly stains her white shirt. Everyone in the room looks around for the shooter, and I’m the first one to spot Jenna, with a pistol in her hand and a cold expression I’ve never seen her wear before. I’m not even sure where she pulled the gun from; she’s wearing denim shorts and a faded orange tank top, not exactly the best attire for stashing a weapon. In an authoritative voice, she commands, “Leave my friend alone.”
I have so many questions, but they’ll have to wait. The receptionist smiles a little, and draws her blood soaked hand away from her shirt as the wound starts closing. “Bad move, kid.” She snaps her fingers again, and the Lost start closing in on us. There are more of them than in Central Park, more than I care to count, but it doesn’t matter. I have to protect my friends.
As it turns out, I might not need to worry about them as much as I assumed I would. Jenna’s pistol goes off again and again, and the bullets usually disintegrate against shields put up by the spellcasters in their path, but occasionally they slip through their defenses. Rachel isn’t nearly as helpless as she seems in her human form either; the first thing she does is lift one of the wooden tables stacked with magazines clear off the ground, and throw it across the waiting room at one of the spellcasters approaching her. It looks like they’ll be fine without my
help for the time being.
A massive spellcaster materializes to my left, and takes a swing at me. I use a spell that should have knocked him backward, but his fist still connects with my jaw. I’ve never taken a hit from someone this strong before; my legs give out, and my body twists as it falls to the ground, and even in the midst of colliding with the tile, I can’t figure out what just happened. Usually, that spell serves me well enough in a fight. It dawns on me that he and the rest of his clan must be warded against my usual spells. My last few encounters with the Lost must have been to study my attack patterns.
The huge guy that just knocked me down steps towards me to finish the job, and I quickly go over a list of spells in my mind, searching for one that they wouldn’t expect me to use. I decide to take a leaf out of Rachel’s book, and fling a chair at my most immediate threat. Just before he brings his foot down on my face, the wooden chair collides with the back of my attacker’s head, and he stumbles forward. Before he regains his balance, I pull in my leg and kick at his throat, satisfied by the surprised gurgle he lets out as he crumples to the ground beside me.
I’m back on my feet in a flash, looking for the next spellcaster coming to take me on. There are a few closing in on me, but I notice that across the room, Rachel is slowly being surrounded. I teleport to her side, and slowly, we start working on the crowd gathering around her. I watch my friend carefully, and am taken by surprise when I see up close how strong she is. Rachel is on the leaner side, with nowhere near as much muscle as Jenna, but nevertheless, her tiny fist caves in the chest of the spellcaster she strikes with a sickening crunch. She lifts the woman easily and throws her into a throng of her peers, knocking them all off their feet. Over the din of shouts and gunfire, I ask, “How are you doing that?”
Rachel grins at me, and shouts back, “Werewolf thing. We can borrow the strength of the wolf even in our human forms. I just got the hang of this a few weeks ago.”
A tattooed man holding a shimmering blade of energy pushes his way towards us, and as he lifts his arm to strike, his movements and the movements of those around him seem to slow to a crawl. I step in closer and grab his wrist mid-swing, squeezing until he drops his weapon. The blade vanishes into the hilt as it falls to the ground, nearly out of reach. I twist my torso and catch the hilt just before it hits the ground, channeling my own energy through it so that a blade matching my pale blue aura springs into being. I swing, and slice through my opponent’s neck easily. The blade isn’t made of anything tangible, so it doesn’t cause any damage to him physically, but he crumples to the ground writhing in pain all the same.
Shattered (the Spellbound Series Book 2) Page 9