In the Arms of the Beast (Kings of Hell MC 5)

As this new life was emerging right in front of them, somewhere out there, Beast could be dying. And even with Marcel, without Beast his life could never be complete again.

Malachite remained a steady presence behind Magpie. His face expressionless behind the reflective shades, and he didn’t even flinch when a rock flying his way broke the glass covering one of his eyes. Instead of running off like any normal person would have, he opened a large beach parasol and directed it toward the collapsed part of the building, more interested in his master’s comfort than safety.

As surreal as that was, Laurent was soon too taken by the sight of Magpie pulling apart the shell and more of the thick juices leaking out on the robe. There was another limb in sight, but just as Laurent took in a deep breath of sulphur-scented air, ready to pull his baby into his arms for the first time, the membrane that to this point had held the egg in one piece ripped, and the contents were laid bare before him.

Laurent still held the gasping child’s hand, but he blinked several times, afraid his eyes were deceiving him despite successful surgery.

Six more tiny human beings stirred in the reddish pool soaking through the elegant robe among shell pieces. Some reaching out for the shell, two already crying, another rolling its head from side to side. Wrinkled, red, one with a full head of hair, they were all so perfect Laurent couldn’t comprehend it, but as another one of the babies started crying, his mind absorbed what he was seeing.

He pulled Marcel into his arms in the way he’d learned newborns should be held.

“Wha-what is this?” he asked Magpie, afraid to look away from the goo-covered limbs, heads and chests. “Seven. There’s SEVEN! Why is there seven?” his voice got a high pitch he couldn’t fight, terrified and amazed all at once.

Magpie, who must have also woken up from the stupor, looked up, with his bare chest working frantically. “I’ve never given birth before! How was I to know what would happen?” he asked in a voice almost as high as Laurent’s. “You must have given me too much blood.”

Laurent took in the sight before him once more, unable to breathe. “You told us to give you more!”

“I also told you I don’t know how everything works!”

Marcel cried out, and just like that, Laurent forgot about the argument, about his fear, and everything else. The tiny being was so vulnerable and helpless without him, and he wished he had enough arms to hold all the children at once. “There, there, it’s all right. You have many brothers. That’s perfectly fine,” he said, rocking the baby in his arms. At this point, he was convincing himself more than anything else. This was insanity. Only fitting for the end of times.

The ground rumbled under them again, and Magpie held up the head of a child that had started choking. He patted it on the back, and at last it gave a cry, wrinkling its face into a mask. He placed it back onto the damp robe and rubbed his thumb across the flushed forehead.

“This one. He has my eyes,” Magpie whispered.

Laurent wanted to protest, even if in silence, but when he saw the color blinking at him from beneath the newborn’s eyelids, it became clear it wasn’t Beast’s pale blue but a kaleidoscope filled with sapphire shades.

Laurent let out a trembling exhale and sat closer to the endless tangle of limbs. He’d never felt as helpless. Not in William Fane’s basement, and not when Baal had almost taken him away from Beast.

He sniffed, forcing himself to focus on those final moments he could share with family. “He does. I hadn’t really wanted to acknowledge it, but there is no denying it. There is a piece of you in them as well. I can’t even blame you for not knowing how the pact would work. I am both happy, and the most devastated I have ever been.”

Magpie was at such a loss Laurent pitied him. But then Magpie blinked at Malachite, his face tensing. “Don’t just stand there. Sit here with us and watch over each one as if your life depended on it.”

The man didn’t hesitate. He released the parasol, which got carried off by the sulphuric wind, and kneeled by the robe, watching the babies twitch from behind his tinted glasses.

A future that would never happen flourished in Laurent’s mind like a flower opening its petals to the sun. A family of nine. He, Beast, and their seven boys on a camping trip, gathered around a fire. A life in which Laurent was a part of something so much grander than himself, where he cared not only for his husband and friends, but for these children of his blood.