Heir of Night (The Thorne Hill)

Lucas puts his arm around me and kisses the side of my head. I lean against him, eyelids heavy. Hell is literally breaking loose on earth, and I just want to go home and sleep, wrapped in Lucas’s arms with all of my familiars and Scarlet crowding the bed. It’s chilly enough to have a fire going, and listening to a fire crackle and pop always relaxes me.

“I thought we’d have more time,” I say quietly.

“We have two months,” Lucas replies, running his fingers up and down my arm.

“I meant with the Horsemen. I really thought Eliza would be right and I’d have some sort of harebrained plan that sounds dangerous and unlikely to pan out but in the end it somehow does. And I have nothing. Literally nothing, Lucas. All we’re going on is that they were sent to Hell probably by archangels and Lucifer locked them in cages like some sort of rabid dogs.”

“Breathe,” Lucas repeats, voice calm and steady. The automatic doors open, and Maryellen comes in. She talks to the ER receptionist and then tells us to follow her up to the second floor. We have to be scanned into the Labor and Delivery floor for security reasons, and the sounds of babies crying comes from the nursery. The L&D floor is on the small side since Thorne Hill General isn’t the biggest hospital. A very-pregnant woman is slowly making laps around the unit with the father of her baby in tow, and Lucas gives my hand a squeeze, thinking that will be us someday soon.

Growing more and more nervous by the second, I keep a strong grip on Lucas’s hand, unable to let go when we get into a room. This isn’t what I expected, and when I see a hospital gown on the bed, I almost lose it.

“I’m not putting that on,” I say, and the CNA who’s helping check me in gives me a look, no doubt thinking I’m too fancy for a hospital gown or something like that.

“It’s just standard procedure,” Maryellen assures me. She doesn’t know my whole backstory but knows why I’m scared of hospitals. “Since you’ve been feeling cramps, we want to check and make sure you’re not having contractions.” She motions to some sort of machine next to the bed that I recognize as the thing that measures the baby’s heart rate as well as contractions from seeing it in movies.

“I…I’m…I…” I sputter, and Lucas pulls me to him. One of his large hands lands on my stomach, fingers splaying on my abdomen.

“It’s okay,” he says calmly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Heart in my throat, all I can do is nod. The CNA pulls the blankets down on the bed and leaves, telling me to get dressed so the nurse can come in.

“It’s just standard,” Maryellen tells me, moving to the opposite side of the room. She sets a bag down and pulls out a large rose crystal on a silver chain to check the baby’s aura. “Get changed, let them monitor you, and once we rule things out, you can go home.”

I bob my head up and down, eyes filling with tears. Maryellen has been up close and personal with me more than once, but having her stand there while I undress is still weird. Thank goodness Lucas is so damn big and broad his frame grants me a bit of privacy. I neatly fold up my clothes and sit on the bed, pulling at the hospital gown. Tears are in my eyes, and I’m working hard to keep them there.

Lucas moves the thin blanket over my legs and perches on the edge of the bed next to me. “Are you cold?” he asks, seeing me shiver.

“A little,” I tell him, knowing most of my trembling is coming from being nervous. He gives me a look, eyes pained for a split second because he can’t sit next to me and let his own body heat keep me warm.

Once I’m settled, Maryellen comes back to the side of the bed to start her usual exam.

“How are you feeling?” She puts a smooth agate stone in my left hand to help her get a better energy reading on the baby.

“Kind of like I’m going to puke,” I answer honestly and close my fingers around the gem.

“I do have something for that,” she tells me. “Are you still taking the morning sickness potion?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to stop taking it and feel sick again. It’s not something I’m used to.”

“You’re more than halfway through the pregnancy and most likely won’t need it, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Good,” I say, and Maryellen pulls up my hospital gown, keeping the blanket over my legs so only my stomach is exposed. She goes to measure the growth of my stomach when some sort of alarm goes off in the room next to us, making me tense and the lights above me flicker.