Lethal Game (GhostWalkers 16)

More than anything, Cayenne detested needles. All of them expected her to protest. She frowned. “Are you saying there’s still a baby inside me?”

“Rubin says a girl.” Trap framed her face between his hands, forcing her to look at him.

Malichai held her arm. Joe found Cayenne’s vein and slipped the IV in. He looked up at Trap. “She allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of. If she is, it wasn’t in her file anywhere.”

“Get her under,” Ezekiel snapped. “Where the hell are Draden and Shylah with the equipment?”

“They aren’t miracle workers,” Malichai reminded. He slid off the bed, pulled on a pair of drawstring jogging pants, hurriedly scrubbed and pulled on gloves. His leg protested every step he took, but that didn’t matter. The life of Trap and Cayenne’s daughter was at stake. He was an anesthesiologist and was needed. That was all that mattered. He’d specialized in several types of medicine, as had most of the GhostWalkers, but nearly all of them had gone through the rigorous schooling for an anesthesiologist. More than anything, they were often needed in the field along with surgeons.

“Get her out,” Ezekiel repeated. “Amaryllis, I need you right here. You’re going to guide me in. I have to get through or around the silk shield and find a way to get the baby out. If I have to, I can go in through her back or side, but that’s going to have all sorts of complications.” He looked at her. “Can you do it?”

She nodded but glanced back at Joe. “He’s probably your better bet.”

“I need him for the baby and Rubin to shut down any heavy bleeding I won’t see around that shield.”

“You can do this, Amaryllis,” Malichai said. He knew she could. He absolutely believed she would be able to guide Ezekiel to the infant.

“You promised Cayenne,” Trap reminded. “You said anything she needed.”

Malichai didn’t like the additional pressure being put on Amaryllis, but she just nodded and put both palms over Cayenne’s midsection so he kept his full attention on his patient, making certain she wouldn’t feel anything when Ezekiel had to cut her open to take the baby.

They had nothing to give for a local that would work, so they had to put Cayenne out. In some ways, because she was so lethal if she injected her venom into anyone, and if this went wrong, which it very well could, putting her out was the better option.

“The baby is aware, Trap. Sing to her. Talk to her. Let her know you and Cayenne and her brother are waiting for her. That she’ll be safe,” Ezekiel instructed.

Trap had a good singing voice. He didn’t hesitate to use it. He sang to his daughter, sometimes making up the words, telling her about their home and how they were a family, how they’d been waiting for her. They had friends everywhere. People who loved her. She’d heard them talking already. She knew their voices. He went back to singing a lullaby and Ezekiel joined in. Malichai knew the words and he sang softly as well.

“To the right,” Amaryllis whispered. “Straight. Keep that cut very straight. If you don’t, you’ll hit the silk armor and break off the tip.”

Ezekiel had the worst job, Malichai knew. He could keep Cayenne just under the surface, safe, not feeling anything. His brother had to perform surgery without any sight. He made the incision and carefully separated the muscles to expose the uterus.

“Now where?”

“She’s right there, where you are. You can touch her.”

Ezekiel glanced up at Trap. Trap nodded. Malichai tried to send his brother as much unity and goodwill as possible. Draden and Shylah came into the room, pushing a cart filled with equipment. Both wore medical gear, and they closed the door on a couple of curious guests.

Ezekiel turned back to the job of taking the baby. He made the cut carefully, Amaryllis guiding his every movement, and then he was lifting her free, cutting the cord, handing her off to Joe.

She was so tiny Malichai’s heart nearly stopped. How could a baby of that size possibly survive? Shylah and Draden worked fast to set up the equipment needed for the little girl.

“Rubin,” Ezekiel said suddenly, urgency in his voice.

Trap spun around, going from where Joe had the baby, back to his wife and the blood spilling in crimson globs onto the floor beneath the bed.

Don’t you fucking die on me, Cayenne, Trap ordered. Rubin . . .

“Don’t interrupt his concentration,” Ezekiel snapped.

Trap had turned so pale, Malichai feared he was going to faint. He’d never seen Trap so shaken. Even his hands shook as he pushed his fingers continually through his hair over and over. Finally he bent close to Cayenne’s ear.

“Baby, listen to me. I’m not much good without you. You know that. Just don’t fucking do this. Whatever Rubin is doing, let him. Just let him.”