Aeromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 3)

“You need to terminate the pregnancy.”

She blew out a long breath. “Are we back to that again?”

His voice was stern. “Katherine.”

“Save your breath. I can’t do it. Ever. If you—”

“You don’t understand.” He fixed her with a piercing gaze. “If you are carrying my baby, Katherine, you’re going to die.”

Chapter 3

The words echoed in her mind, but they refused to register.

“Katherine, listen to me—”

Backtracking, she shook her head. He closed the distance and took her arms. “Will you just listen?”

The word slipped over her numb lips. “No.”

“You’ll die!”

Die? It didn’t make sense. She pulled to free herself, but he tightened his grip.

His tone was urgent. “I’m not a normal human being. If, God forbid, you’re carrying my baby, you’ll die giving birth to it.” He dug his fingers into her arms. “You will die unless you get rid of it.”

The strength left her body. It sounded like a lie, but Lann didn’t lie. “Let go of me.”

A look of defeat washed over his features, but after a moment, he dropped his arms to his sides.

Walking to the sofa on wooden legs, she sat down.

Lann followed. “I didn’t want to tell you like this.”

“When were you planning on sharing this tidbit of information?”

He sat down next to her. “I couldn’t tell you. My kind is hunted. The less you know, the better. But this … this changes everything.”

“If not normal, what are you?” she asked.

The word was hollow. “I’m an aeromancist.”

It had to be a dream. A crazy nightmare. She knew about the forbidden arts practitioners from her study of daemon literature, but those were only tales.

“Aeromancists don’t exist,” she said. “It’s only a legend.”

He seemed remorseful, as if he already regretted what he was going to do. He lifted his hand, palm up. A tiny ball of lightning formed at his fingertips, the electric fibers winding like the thread of a ball of yarn. It grew bigger. When he flicked his fingers, it raced through the room and exploded in mid-air. It was only a pop, a small demonstration, but she jumped as if he’d released a hurricane in the room. Her heart raced. Her body shook.

“Please, don’t upset yourself.” He reached for her. “I didn’t want to frighten you.”

She slapped his hand away. “Why?” she asked through parched lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’re a clever girl. You know why.”

“Then why get involved with me in the first place?” She jumped to her feet. “Why didn’t you just stay away from me?”

He blinked. “I couldn’t stay away. Not from you.”

This couldn’t be happening. She wished she’d never met him. No, that wasn’t true. Despite everything, she wouldn’t have wanted it differently. He’d given her more than the best sex of her life. He’d made her discover love. He’d given her a child. New life. And now the promise of death. It couldn’t be true. She sunk back onto the sofa.

He got up, walked to the kitchen, and came back with a glass of water.

“Drink,” he instructed gently.

It wasn’t water she needed. It was vodka, neat. When she shook her head, he left it on the coffee table and went down on his haunches in front of her. She turned her head toward the wall. She didn’t understand any of this. It wasn’t possible.

“Katherine.” When she didn’t look at him, he gripped her chin and turned her face back to him. “All mothers of forbidden art babies die at birth.”

Her fingers trembled in her lap. She clasped her hands together to still them. “It can’t be true.”

“Please, don’t deny it. It won’t change anything. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I don’t know how you conceived. I can’t explain it. I hoped it wasn’t mine and hated the thought of it being someone else’s.”

“The baby is yours, Lann.”

“I’d like to have tests done.” When she parted her lips to object, he said, “I want to have tests done to know what went wrong.”

“Wrong?” She got to her feet again. “Is this all it is to you? Something went wrong?”

His jaw set in a hard line. “If it’s going to cost your life, then yes, it’s wrong.”

“Maybe this time it’ll be different,” she said, clinging to hope.

His tone was sad. “No mother has ever survived. Why do you think there are so few of us?” As her hands went to her stomach, his eyes followed the movement. “I want you to move back to the monastery and stay there at least until after the abortion.”

She almost choked. “I don’t want to kill my baby.”

Balling his hands into fists, he said in a raised voice, “I don’t want to be the reason for killing you.”

She flinched, leaning away from him. He took a ragged breath, seeming as if he were fighting for control.

She needed time to process all of this. “You have to go.”