Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last (22 page)

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s all right.” The nurse bent down and gave her the fresh pad. “Let’s take care of this. You’re all right…here, no, you’ll want to give that to me. We have to send it to the lab. There’s a chance it can be used to determine why this is happening, and you’re going to want that information if you try again.”

Try again. As if the loss was already done.

The nurse snapped on gloves and got a plastic bag from out of a console. Things were taken care

of discreetly and with alacrity, and Layla watched as the name she’d given was written on the outside of the bag in black marker.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay.”

The nurse took off her gloves, snapped out a paper towel from the holder on the wall, and knelt

down. Taking Layla’s chin in her gentle hand, she carefully dried cheeks that had become wet with

tears.

“I know what you’re going through. I lost one, too.” The nurse’s face became beautiful with

compassion. “Are you sure we can’t call your
hellren
?”

Layla just shook her head.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind. I know it’s hard to see them upset and worried, but

don’t you think he’ll want to be with you?”

Oh, however was she going to tell Qhuinn? He had seemed so sure of everything, as if he had

already looked into the future and stared into the eyes of their young. This was going to be a shock.

“Will I know if I ever was pregnant?” Layla mumbled.

The nurse hesitated. “The blood test may tell, but it depends on how far along you are with what’s

happening.”

Layla stared at her hands again. Her knuckles were white. “I need to know whether I’m losing a

young or this is just the normal bleeding that occurs when one does not conceive. That’s important.”

“It’s not for me to say, I’m afraid.”

“You know, though. Don’t you.” Layla looked up and met the female’s eyes. “Don’t you.”

“Again, it’s not my place, but…with this much blood?”

“I was pregnant.”

The nurse made a hedging motion with her hands, her lips pursing. “Don’t tell Havers I said

this…but probably. And you must know, there is nothing you can do to stop the process. It’s not your fault, and you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just, sometimes, these things simply happen.”

Layla hung her head. “Thank you for being honest with me. And…in truth, that is what I believe to

be occurring.”

“A female knows. Now, let’s take you back.”

“Yes, thank you very much.”

Except Layla struggled with getting her panties in place as she stood up. When it became clear she

couldn’t get her hands coordinated, the nurse stepped in and helped with enviable ease, and it was all so embarrassing and frightening. To be so weak and at the mercy of another for such a simple thing.

“You have the most gorgeous accent,” the nurse said as they rejoined the traffic in the hall,

sticking once again to their slow lane. “It’s so Old Country—my
granmahmen
would approve. She hates how English has become our dominant language here. Thinks it’s going to be the downfall of the species.”

The conversation about nothing in particular helped, giving Layla something to focus on other than

how long she was going to be able to go until she needed to make this trip again…and whether things were getting worse with the miscarriage…and what it was going to be like when she was forced to

look Qhuinn in the eye and tell him she had failed….

Somehow they made it back to the exam room.

“It shouldn’t be much longer. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

The nurse paused by the door, and as she went still, shadows crossed the depths of her eyes, as if

she were reliving parts of her own past. And in the silence between them, a moment of communion

was struck—and though it was unusual to have something in common with an earthbound female, the

connection was a relief.

She had felt so alone in all this.

“We have people you can talk to,” the female said. “Sometimes talking afterward can really

help.”

“Thank you.”

“Use that white handset if you need help or feel dizzy, okay? I’m not far.”

“Yes. I shall.”

As the door shut, tears watered up her vision, and yet even as she ached in her chest, the crushing sense of loss seemed disproportionate to the reality. The pregnancy was only in the very beginning

stages—logically, there was not much to lose.

And yet to her, this was her young.

This was the death of her young—

There was a soft knock at the door, and then a male voice. “May I come in?”

Layla squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. “Please.”

The race’s physician was tall and distinguished, with tortoiseshell glasses and a bow tie at his

throat. With a stethoscope around his neck and that long white coat, he looked like the perfect healer, calm and competent.

He closed the door and smiled at her briefly. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, thank you.”

He regarded her from across the room, as if assessing her medically even though he did not touch

her or use instruments. “May I speak frankly?”

“Yes. Please.”

He nodded and pulled over a rolling stool. Sitting down, he balanced a file on his lap and stared

into her eyes. “I see that you haven’t listed your
hellren’s
name—nor your father’s.”

“Must I?”

The physician hesitated. “Have you no next of kin, my dear?” When she shook her head, his eyes

registered true sadness. “I’m so sorry for your losses. So there is no one here for you? No?”

When she just sat there, saying nothing, he took a deep breath. “All right—”

“But I can pay,” she blurted in a rush. She wasn’t sure where she could get the money, but—

“Oh, my dear, do not worry about that. I need not be renumerated if you are not able.” He opened

the file and moved a page out of the way. “Now, I understand that you have gone through your

needing.”

Layla just nodded, as it was all she could do to keep from screaming, “
What is the test result?!
”

“Well, I have looked at your blood results and they have shown some…things I didn’t expect. If

you so consent, I would like to take another sample and send it to my lab for a few more tests.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to make sense of it all—and I’d like to do an ultrasound, if you don’t mind. It’s a standard exam that will give me an idea how things are progressing.”

“As in, how much longer I have to miscarry until it is complete?” she said grimly.

The race’s physician reached out and took her hand. “Let’s just see how you are, shall we?”

Layla took a deep breath and nodded again. “Yes.”

Havers went to the door and called for the nurse. When the female entered the room, she rolled in

with her what appeared to be a desktop computer mounted on a cart: there was a keyboard, a monitor, and some wands mounted on the sides of the contraption.

“I shall allow my nurse to do the draw—her hands are far more competent than mine in that

regard.” He smiled in a gentle way. “And in the meantime, I’m going to check on another patient. I

shall return imminently.”

The second needle stick was far better than the first, as she knew what to expect, and she was

briefly left by herself when the nurse departed to deliver the goods to the lab—wherever, whatever

that was. Both of them returned shortly.

“Are we ready?” Havers asked.

When Layla nodded, he and his nurse conversed, and the equipment was arranged close to where

she was sitting. The physician then rolled back over on his stool and pulled out two arm-like

extensions from the sides of the examination table. Flipping what looked like a pair of stirrups free, he nodded to the nurse, who dimmed the lights and came around to put her hand on Layla’s shoulder.

“Will you lie back?” Havers said. “And move down so that you’re at the end of the table. You’re

going to put your feet here after you remove your undergarments.”

As he indicated both of the footrests, Layla’s eyes peeled wide. She’d had no idea that the

examination was going to be—

“Have you never had an internal exam before?” Havers said with hesitation. As she began to

shake her head, he nodded. “Well, that’s not uncommon, especially if this was your first needing.”

“But I can’t take off—” She stopped. “I’m bleeding.”

“We’ll take care of that.” The physician seemed utterly sure. “Shall we get started?”

Layla closed her eyes and leaned back so she was lying flat, the thin paper that covered the

padded surface crinkling under her weight. With a lift of the hips and a quick shuffle, she did away with what covered her.

“I’ll take care of that for you,” the nurse said quietly.

Layla’s knees locked together as she patted around with her feet for those forsaken stirrups.

“That’s it.” That rolling stool squeaked as the doctor closed in. “But move down farther.”

For a split second, she thought,
I can’t do this
.

Curling her arms around her lower belly, she squeezed them in, as if she could somehow hold the

baby inside of her at the same time she kept herself from flying apart. But there was nothing she could do, no conversations she could have with her body to calm it down and keep what had implanted, no

loving pep talk she could impart to her young so it would keep trying to survive, no strain of words to calm her total panic.

For a split second, she longed for the cloistered life she had once found so stifling. Up in the

Scribe Virgin’s Sanctuary, the placid nature of her existence had been something she had taken for

granted. Indeed, ever since she had come down to earth and tried to find purpose here, she had been rocked by trauma after trauma.

It made her respect the males and females whom she had been told were beneath her.

Down here, everyone seemed to be at the mercy of forces outside of their control.

“Are you ready?” the doctor asked.

As tears rolled out of the corners of her eyes, she focused on the ceiling above her, and gripped

the edge of the table. “Yes. Do it now.”

TWENTY

Holy shit, Qhuinn was completely out of control.

Almost no visibility. Plane wobbling back and forth like it had the DTs. Engine cutting in

and out.

And he couldn’t even check on Z. Too much wind to yell over, and he wasn’t taking his

eyes off wherever they were headed—or more like wherever they were going to crash-land—even

though he couldn’t see a damn thing—

What in a million years had made him think this was a good idea?

The one thing that appeared to be working was the compass, so at least he could orientate himself

to where home base was: The Brotherhood compound was due north and a little east, on the top of a

mountain surrounded by the invisible, defensive boundary of V’s
mhis
. So directionally, he was right on, assuming that N-S-E-W dial was in fact more operational than, oh, say, everything else in the tin-can shit box.

As he looked to his right, the unrelenting wind coming through the half-shattered windshield

slammed into his ear canal. Out the side window, he could see…a whole lot of dark. Which he took

to mean they had passed through the suburbs and were out over the farmland. Maybe they’d already

hit the rolling hills that eventually turned into the mountain—

A sound like a car backfiring got his attention in a bad way—but what was worse?

The sudden silence that followed.

No engine clatter. Just the wind whistling into the cockpit.

Okay, now they were really in trouble.

For a split second, he thought about dematerializing out. He was strong enough, aware enough—

but he wasn’t leaving Z—

A strong hand landed on his shoulder, scaring the balls off him.

Z had dragged himself forward, and going by the expression on his face, he was having trouble

staying on his feet—and not just because of the bucking and weaving.

The Brother spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the din. “Time for you to go.”

“Fuck that,” Qhuinn hollered back. Reaching forward, he went to try the ignition. Couldn’t hurt,

right?

“Don’t make me throw you out.”

“Try it.”

“Qhuinn—”

The engine kicked back on, and the din reintensified. All good news. The trouble was, if the

bastard’d gone out once, it was going to go out again.

Qhuinn shoved his hand into his jacket. As he snagged his cell phone, he thought of everyone they

were both leaving behind—and he passed the thing to the Brother.

If there was a hierarchy in the reach-out-and-touch order, Z was at the top of the list. He had a

shellan
and a daughter—and if anyone was going to make a call, it was him.

“What’s this for?” Zsadist said darkly.

“You can figure it out.”

“And you can leave—”

“Not leaving—gotta fly this deathtrap until we hit something.”

There was some further arguing at that point, but he wasn’t moving from the driver’s seat, and as

strong as the Brother was under normal circumstances, Z wasn’t in any condition to muscle around so much as a loaf of bread. And the convo didn’t last long. After the talk dried up, Z disappeared, no doubt ducking back into the rear so he could make that last contact with those he loved.

Smart move.

Left to his own devices, Qhuinn closed his eyes and threw a prayer up to anyone who might hear

the thing. And then he pictured Blay’s face—

“Here.”

He flipped open his lids. His cell phone was right in front of his face, held in place by Z’s sturdy grip. And the GPS map was up and rolling, the little blinking arrow showing him exactly where they

were.

“Another three miles,” the Brother yelled over the roaring noise. “That’s all we need—”