Blade Bound (Chicagoland Vampires 13)

“Is it a general unease?” I quietly asked. “A malaise?”

He looked surprised, then suspicious.

“Mallory said the same thing,” I explained. “That she had a sense of dread and didn’t know why. Couldn’t identify a reason for it. Catcher didn’t sense anything, and she didn’t want to talk to you because she was afraid she was just being paranoid.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t like this.”

“Why do you think it’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and looked back at us. “You know prophecy isn’t exact. I get senses, images, but I don’t know details.”

“But?” I said.

“But it feels like the world is shifting. And with it, the future. Your future.” He glanced down at my abdomen. “His or her future.”

I hadn’t taken the idea of a child for granted, or hadn’t meant to. I knew the future was uncertain. But that didn’t ease the fear that clutched at me, that made me feel preternaturally protective of someone who didn’t even exist yet.

Ethan moved a step closer, as if to bring me within the sphere of his protection. “You’ve already said we’d be tested.”

“And you will be.” Gabe lifted his gaze again, and the sympathy in his eyes nearly brought me to tears. “But that may not be enough.”

“Meaning?” I said, but the word sounded hollow, far away. As if I wasn’t actually part of the conversation, but hearing it. Trying to live through it.

“Meaning there is no guarantee,” Ethan said.

Gabriel pushed a hand through his hair, his frustration obvious. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to talk about this here. It’s not the time or the place.”

“If there’s danger out there, it’s exactly the time and place.”

Gabriel grunted, an acknowledgment of Ethan’s protectiveness.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“Don’t live in fear,” Gabriel said. “Just live. Keep your people close; keep your eyes open. That’s all any of us can do.”

A few feet away, Tanya turned back, beckoned Gabriel to her. His attention shifted, narrowed on his wife, like a man too accustomed to the possibilities of danger and loss.

He pressed a hard kiss to my forehead. “Be careful, Kitten,” he said, then strode to his wife.

Ethan and I stood quietly together for a moment.

“I told him not to call you Kitten,” he muttered, probably just to make me smile. Which worked.

“Yeah, well, we can’t always get what we want.”

The words were out before I’d thought about them, and I reached out, squeezed Ethan’s hand, made myself lean into the uncertainty.

“I don’t want him to be right. I don’t want Mallory to be right. I want the world to spin like it has for these last few months, when my toughest decision was picking out a bridesmaid dress for Charlotte.”

“And perhaps dealing with the ghost.”

“And the ghost,” I said with a nod as our friendly neighborhood necromancer, Annabelle, swirled on the dance floor with her husband, looking radiant in her signature pale pink.

Ethan put an arm around my waist, pressed his lips to my temple. “We take each night as it comes, just as we have before. That is all we can do, and the best we can do.”

I nodded, let myself have a moment to lean against him, be still beside him, at least until my stomach grumbled.

“Let’s also take in some food.”