Lucas.
Things erupt into chaos, with the news crew moving in closer and the police shouting at whoever just ran into their active crime scene. I clench my jaw and stare at my phone, heart hammering. More gunshots ring out, and the camera man ducks, almost tripping and falling as he runs.
“Someone is coming out,” the reporter says, taking her stance and looking into the camera before turning back. We can hear the police yelling to hold their fire, and the camera zooms in on a man with his hands held behind his back, walked out of the building by Lucas.
“Fucking gladiator,” Eliza grumbles, hiding her big sigh of relief. I miss what the reporter is saying, crazy straining my eyes and doing my own check. Lucas has blood splattered on his face and a circular red stain on his chest. He’s holding the gunman’s hands effortlessly with only one of his own and has the gun—some sort of rifle that has been bent in half—in the other.
A spotlight is shone on him, and fuck, my husband is so damn attractive. He drops the gun and thrusts the gunman forward and then speeds back into the building, emerging seconds later with an injured teenage boy in his arms. He brings him to an ambulance, and the reporter tries to get closer but is blocked by the police, who are trying to detain Lucas with no luck.
My undead lover zooms away, and we’re left almost as stunned as the reporter, who is quite literally at a loss for words for nearly a minute.
“I cannot believe what we just witnessed,” she finally says. “But it appears a vampire just apprehended the suspect and brought out one of the victims needing medical attention.” She looks into the camera, and I can tell by her face she’s not in favor of vampires having any sort of human rights. “There was blood but he—he didn’t drink it.”
“Vampires saving the day instead of murdering innocent children?” Eliza laughs. “They’re not going to know what to do with this.”
“Maybe they’ll revisit barring vampires from any sort of career in law enforcement,” Melinda muses. She was raised not to trust vampires as well. Anything not totally human isn’t to be trusted by a hunter, and that includes witches.
Abby laughs nervously. “Vampires upholding the law.” She pulls her arms in and clamps her hands together. “It makes sense, actually. You guys are hard to kill.”
“I don’t know why any of us would want to risk our undead lives, no matter how hard we are to kill, to uphold rights and laws we’re denied,” Eliza quips. “But that’s a conversation for a different time.” She gets up and paces across the room. Like me, she’s anxious for Lucas to return. “I need to check on everyone upstairs.”
Leaving the live stream of the news on, I stand and try to stretch out my lower back. I don’t understand how I was able to stand somewhat comfortably this morning, but now it feels like my uterus is going to fall out if I stay on my feet long enough. The pressure is so damn uncomfortable.
“We’re safe to go back upstairs,” I say. “And into the kitchen so I can get another pretzel with cheese. And garlic sauce.” I put one foot on the stairs and wince, getting hit in the crotch from the inside again.
“Oh, shit.” Abby springs to her feet. “I momentarily forgot. Sit,” she tells me. “And put your feet up.”
“I’m okay,” I counter, knowing it’s a habit to say I’m good, even when I’m not. It’s a bad habit I don’t want Elena to inherit. It’s okay to not be okay, and it’s healthy to admit when you need a break or when you need help. “I think. I hope,” I add with a grimace. “I’m not currently in pain. What I felt earlier wasn’t pain in an obvious way.”
Abby looks at me, trying to follow along with what I’m saying.
“I mean, it’s like everything got all tight.”
“That sounds like a contraction.”
“It stopped, thankfully,” I add, and something dawns on me. The weird feelings of my baby being a ball of fire or the extreme tightness of my abdomen happened after I used my angel powers. My worst fear this whole time was that my body isn’t human enough to carry a baby to term. Have I been hurting my daughter each time I use my powers?
The swinging doors at the top of the stairs are pushed open, and Lucas appears before me. I don’t even realize I’m smiling at the sight of him until he kisses me.
“You were right,” he says, pushing my hair back. He still has blood on his face and his shirt is damp. “The gunman was infected and muttering about how he was a true patriot and had to protect his country against alien invaders.”