Immortally Ever After (23 page)

“Power has its privileges,” she said simply.

Nice.

She unwrapped another Go-Gurt while I pulled Father aside. “You’re staying, right?”

He glanced over my shoulder. “As long as our patient doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Good. Listen,” I said, unsure how to say what I had to tell him next. “Leta let my identity slip. And hers. She told every living dragon in limbo.”

“No,” he said softly.

“Yes.” He touched my arm and I almost wished he hadn’t because it made me want to sit down and cry.

It might not even matter anymore because I was about to deliver the baby that would damn everyone. It seemed everything I tried to do to make things better only made them worse.

Father shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

I shrugged off his grip, needing a little levity. “Fine load of help you are.”

It didn’t faze him. “I do know that things happen for reasons that we sometimes don’t understand.”

I smirked. “After everything we’ve seen here … You really believe that?”

“Yes,” he said, positively unwavering. “And there’s a reason you seek out my help. Deep down, you believe it too.”

I shook my head. I’d give my life for a pinkie’s worth of his faith. “Father, I—”

“Eeeee…!” Medusa shrieked behind me.

Father lurched backward. I went sideways. The ground shook so bad I had to grab on to the tent pole to stay upright. The cart rolled into the heart rate monitor and both of them crashed over.

“It’s coming!” she screamed as winds tore through the tent.

Merde. I hoped it was just the child of the damned and not the gods coming to smite me. The canvas crackled. Fitz was barking wildly. The door rattled on its hinges. Light poured in from around the corners as everything rumbled and shook.

“Hold on, Medusa. I’ve got you!” I said, taking one hard step after another into the driving storm. Dust stung my eyes and I forced myself to keep pushing forward even as the gorgon clutched the sides of the cot. She ground her teeth, the snakes in her hair standing on end.

I knelt in front of her and fought her gauzy skirt. Father averted his eyes as I made my exam.

“I can see the head.” She was fully dilated. Two or three good pushes and we should be good.

The winds died down and she leaned forward, panting. Sweat slicked her forehead and arms. “You can see my baby?”

I fought a grin. “She has hair like her mother.”

Medusa choked on a grin.

“We’re going to push on the next contraction, okay?”

She nodded.

“Father, can you get me some fresh towels? And your welding gloves,” I added, not taking my eyes off my patient. “You can do this, right?”

She blinked twice. “I want an epidural.”

“It’s too late for that, but the good news is this baby is coming fast.”

“My baby,” she said, panting.

“Yes,” I said, reaching up to squeeze her hand.

A knock sounded at the door and Horace burst in.

“Did you bring Rodger?” I asked, trying to see behind him. I’d even take Nurse Hume at this point.

“No.” Horace eyed Medusa like she was going to fry him on the spot. His attention shot to me. “We have bigger problems. The investigators are on the way.”

“Here?” Panic shot through me. “They’re coming here?”

Horace nodded frantically. “Thaïs is with them.”

This was it. Only I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t do anything.

“Run!” Horace shrieked before he zoomed away.

“Eeeee…” Medusa clutched her belly.

“Get me the gloves,” I said, hurrying toward her.

Winds streaked through the room. I clutched onto the bottom of the cot as it began sliding sideways. Father gripped my arm, shoving the gloves into my hands as the back wall of the tent blew out.

I shoved the gloves on as Father worked to keep the cot upright. Medusa screamed and sunlight blazed down as we lost the roof.

“She’s coming!” I screamed over the din. Baby snakes snapped at my gloves as I supported the head. “I want you to push!”

Medusa’s tail slammed against the side wall, taking it down. “It hurts!”

“On the count of three!” I told her.

“Ow-ow-ow!”

“One.” The cot lurched toward me as the bottom right leg snapped off. Father shoved a shoulder underneath, keeping it steady.

I could almost see the shoulders. “Two.”

“No!” she screamed.

Father reached out to take her hand, his shoulder still bearing the brunt of the lurching cot. Her talons dug into the skin on the top of his hand, drawing blood.

Driblets of sweat ran down my back. “Three!”

Medusa’s shriek shattered the lanterns.

I forced my hands steady, as my pulse pounded in my ears. “Push!” We almost had the baby’s shoulders free.

“Duck!” Father hollered as one of the boards from the ceiling swung down, crashing into the freestanding heart monitor.

Fists pounded on the door, never mind that we had two entire walls blown out. “Investigators. Open up!”

Fuck.

Not now. Heart in my throat, I ignored them. “One more push.”

“Argh!” Medusa flung her head back, her tail blasting through what was left of the side wall. “You said that the last time!”

“Go!” I ordered.

She stiffened, her growl shaking the tent.

Crash.
The door fell in.

chapter twenty

Wind shrieked through the space. Thaïs stood front and center, flanked by two heavily armored investigators. The operatives wore head-to-toe red, with polished boots and the crest of the gods on each shoulder.

Sweet Jesus. I couldn’t deal with them right now.

My gloved fingers supported the baby’s head as a tiny asp from her hair wound around my thumb. This was what mattered. This baby. This life. I locked eyes with Medusa. “I’ve almost got her.”

“Halt!” Metal screeched against metal as one of the investigators pulled his sword. I glanced up. The other whipped out a roll of parchment from his coat, his back ramrod straight, his jowls sagging. “We have a warrant.”

“It’s going to have to wait,” I called above the winds, my clinical armor threatening to crack as Medusa geared up for another contraction.

She sat up on her elbows, body clenched, breath tight. “Get out!” She glared at the intruders, her hair twining. “Out! I command!” Her jaw clenched and her irises reddened.

Oh, no. Not now.

“Calm down!” I warned her. Stress was bad for the baby and there was no way for me to monitor what was happening with my equipment in pieces on the floor.

Medusa’s face was a mask of rage.

Padre and I shared a terrified glance. “Look away,” I warned.

He jammed his head against his chest and shut his eyes tight. I did the same, bracing myself as bright heat seared through the tent. My breath felt humid, my hands stiff as I kept them steady for the babe. If anything happened to her, I’d never forgive myself. I took deep, measured breaths, tasting the acrid stench in the air, trying desperately to stay focused despite the unmistakable crackling of flesh turning to stone.

My mind swam and my muscles ached as the heat died down.

“What is this?” Medusa demanded.

Neck stiff, I lifted my head to find the gorgon frowning at me.

She heaved, her face set in a snarl, but at least her eyes were back to normal. “Intruders are not in my birth plan.”

Mine either. I could only imagine the mess behind me, but I didn’t have time to look. The baby was coming fast.

“Okay,” I said to the gorgon. “Are you ready?”

She clutched the rails of the cot and looked at me like I was the one shooting curses out of my eyeballs. “It. Hurts.”

“I know. You’re doing great.”

I flexed my fingers. “One more time,” I said, as Father grappled with the bottom of the cot.

Medusa bore down with all her might. “Arrrrgggggg!”

“Good, good, good!”

I exhaled as the babe slid free, into my waiting arms. I turned her around, cradling her as she wriggled, her tiny fists closed tight. My heart did a flip-flop when she looked up at me with the biggest, most beautiful violet eyes. Her nose was a button, her little lips perfectly bowed. A baby asp gave the teeniest tiniest hiss as it curled around her cheek.

The winds had stopped, the air had stilled.

“She’s perfect,” I said.

I wrapped her in a clean towel. I didn’t trust my legs, so I walked the baby up on my knees. Gingerly, I eased the baby into her mother’s arms.

Medusa gasped. “She is perfect, isn’t she?” She snuggled the babe against her breast, murmuring and cooing.

I stayed there and checked to make sure mom was doing okay, but her gorgon body was already healing fast.

Muscles stiff, I stood and eased off the welding gloves.

“Keep them,” Father said, as he noticed the afterbirth sizzling at the tips. I dropped them where his trash can used to be. Then Father and I backed off to give Medusa and her baby some privacy.

I ventured a glance at the ruins of the doorway. The three intruders had been turned to stone. Only one of them had had the sense to duck. The other held his sword, ready to skewer us. And Thaïs, in stone as in life, sneered like the world had somehow forgotten to bow down and worship.

“Are you okay?” I asked Father. I saw that he’d managed to steady the cot with the remains of the heart monitor. Smart man. I hadn’t even noticed him doing it. Then again, I’d been distracted.

“I’ve never seen a birth,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “It’s a miracle!”

I shook my head. “It’s usually more organized.”

Then again, this was war. We were grateful when our patients lived, when we could send them back to the front to be shot at again. I’d never delivered a baby down here. I felt a burst of warmth.

This was the first time I was dealing in life instead of death.

I had to think it meant something for our future that a child could be born here, among the chaos. I glanced over at Medusa, murmuring kisses on the wee one’s forehead. This baby might be epic, but so was every child. This was a new life, a fresh start. A person with infinite possibilities ahead of her.

This was the moment when one child really could change the world.

I watched a little snake tail escape her makeshift blanket and curl around her mother’s arm.

This child—every child—was a gift. Innocent. And I refused to believe that something so beautiful could bring total disaster.

The sun hung low in the sky.

Father and I wandered past the smashed medical equipment and debris, to where his desk used to be. All of the walls were blown off his hutch. We’d lost the roof too.

Fitz whined and trotted in circles. Father bent down to hug and calm him.

“I’m sorry, Father.” Sorry for him, for me. For this war and everyone in it. I took a step and nearly crushed his seminary graduation photo, under smashed glass. I retrieved it for him as Father stroked Fitz’s head and let the hellhound lick his cheeks.

“Pictures. Stadium blankets. They’re only objects.” Father glanced around the ruined tent. “Although I admit I was growing a bit too fond of them.” His mouth twisted into a small smile. “It’s people who matter.”

I couldn’t agree more.

We stood inside the wooden frame of the hutch and looked out onto the minefield.

A light breeze nudged sheets of tattered canvas across the junkyard. The sun sent rainbows skittering down the broken windshield of a wrecked Humvee.

There was nothing to do now but wait.

I stiffened when I saw movement behind the burned-out ambulance. “Padre,” I warned.

He tried to nudge in front of me, which was sweet, but futile. Nothing would be able to protect me from the gods.

My palms slicked and my breath hitched.

I’d always known this day would come eventually.

If this was the way the gods wanted it, fine. I could deal. As long as they didn’t hurt anyone else, especially the baby.

There was only one of them. Although one was all they’d need. I wondered what kind of torture they’d chosen. Maybe I could bait this god and trick him into smiting me on the spot.

He was strong, sturdily built, and … wearing a brick-red flight suit. Sweet heaven. “Galen?”

My head felt light when he emerged from the mess.

Damn. It felt like I’d aged ten years since I’d last seen him. I flung my arms around him and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

“Thank God.” I nipped him on the mouth. “It’s.” I kissed him again. “You.” He felt so solid against me, so right. I was a wicked, stinking, gooey mess, but I didn’t care.

His hands tightened on my hips. “A man could get used to this.”

Father grinned and clapped Galen on the shoulder. “Good to see you, son.”

“I heard Thaïs was heading this way and thought there might be trouble,” he said, glancing past me to the ruins of the tent. “Clearly you’ve taken care of it.”

“It was actually a rather uneventful birth. Except for them.” We stopped in front of the statues of Thaïs and the two investigators.

“Yes,” Father said. “What are we going to do about this?”

Galen inspected Thaïs’s outthrust jaw and superior sneer. “Do we have to do anything?”

“Call me crazy,” I said, “but I think HQ’s going to notice.”

Medusa waved at Galen. “You came!” she exclaimed, as if he’d dropped by for a hospital visit.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, moving to her side. He pulled up Father’s discarded stool and sat to hold the baby. “Congratulations. She’s beautiful.” Galen cradled her while Medusa reached out to stroke her hair. “What’s her name?”

“Emma,” she said, growling gently. She glanced at Galen. “You don’t think that’s too common, do you?”

“No,” he said, as the baby gripped his finger. “I didn’t meet anyone on the Isle of Wrath and Pain named Emma.”

He looked so natural with the child, like a proud uncle. Pride swept through me, followed by a pang of regret. Galen would never know what it was like to have a child of his own. Neither would I.

We had no future. Unless we could somehow fix all of this.

After a while, Galen gave Emma back to Medusa and we moved away to give the two some privacy while she nursed.