Heir of Night (The Thorne Hill)

Taking another few seconds to recover, I run my hands down Lucas’s chest. I can sense my familiars nearby, still refusing to leave my side but giving me space to be alone with my husband. We stay close to the house, and my heart jumps when something moves through the woods. I’d know if a demon or a Horsemen were nearby since they’d trigger the warding. It would do little to keep them out, but at least we’d know.

Freya chases the bunny away, and Lucas and I turn back around, walking down the cobblestone path that leads to the front door. We’re going slow, and he has a steady hold on my hand. Only four or five minutes go by before I have another contraction, this one just as intense as the previous one but lasting nearly seventy seconds, according to Lucas.

“I’m fine,” I tell Lucas, though he didn’t ask. My voice comes out shaky, and a dull ache is starting to form in my lower back. “I’m fine.” I put my hands on my hips and sway a little, blowing out another breath. These breathing exercises don’t do shit to alleviate the pain or keep me calm. Lucas moves behind me and massages my shoulders. I lean over, hands on my knees.

“Are you still doing all right?” Lucas asks when I straighten up.

“Yeah,” I pant. “I’m thirsty.”

“Eliza,” Lucas calls, turning his head toward the front door. “I know you’re listening. Bring Callie a glass of water.”

“With ice,” I add, raising my voice a bit so she can hear me. “I got like a hot flash with that last contraction.” I take another breath and reach for Lucas’s hand. He helps me up the porch steps, and we sit on the porch swing. I wince as it rocks under our weight, and Lucas puts his feet down to keep it from swinging. Leaning back, it feels good to be off my feet.

Eliza brings the water only a moment later and stands back, saying she’s going to wait for me to finish so she can take the glass inside. I take a few small sips and watch my familiars wrestling around the yard, acting like normal cats.

Five minutes later, I get another contraction. Eliza is practically bouncing with excitement as she hurries inside to tell Tabatha so she can relay the message to Maryellen.

“It could still be a while,” I tell Lucas.

“I know,” he says calmly, rubbing my back. Once I’m able, we get up and start the slow shuffle around the yard again. The contractions hurt worse sitting than standing, and I spend the next twenty minutes alternating between hanging onto Lucas during contractions to squatting down to relieve some of the pressure.

We go inside when Maryellen gets here, and it takes me forever to get up the stairs and into the bedroom. Tabatha comes with, helping Maryellen get everything ready for delivery. Then she checks me, and I can’t deny I’m not actually in labor anymore.

“You’re about seven centimeters dilated,” she tells me, and I sit up on my elbows, peering down at her. “You’ve thinned out and the baby is engaged.”

“Seriously?” I ask, and both she and Tabatha laugh.

“Seriously,” Maryellen says, standing up and taking off her gloves. “I can’t give you an estimate of time. I’ve had moms go from a four to crowning in under an hour, and I’ve had moms stay where you are for hours.” She picks up the doppler and checks Juliet’s heartbeat. “Everything is looking good with the baby. Now let me check you.”

My blood pressure is up but not high enough to cause alarm. Maryellen mixes up a potion for strength and then gives me a big bottle of electrolyte water.

“Move while you can,” she tells me. “Stay hydrated and rest when you need to. Are we still getting in the tub when your contractions get about two minutes apart?”

“Yes,” I say right as another contraction rolls in. I’m still on the bed, and I reach for Lucas, wanting him to pull me up. Lying down makes my back hurt so much worse. Going on instinct, I roll to my side and let Lucas pull me up.

“It hurts worse when I’m lying down,” I grumble.

“It’s not a natural position for birth,” Maryellen reminds me. She checks the baby’s heartbeat again and encourages me to get up. Walking around the house is making me anxious for some reason, and since my contractions are still five minutes apart, Lucas and I go back outside.

“Are you tired or hungry?” I ask him. “You have time to rest, and Eliza brought blood, right?”

“I ate,” he reminds me. “Which means I don’t need much sleep. What about you, my love?”

“I’m tired,” I admit. “There’s no way I can sleep right—oh, fuck.”

Lucas holds me up, and I curl my fingers into fists, nails digging into my palms. My eyes are closed, yet I can tell a bright light is glowing around us. Teeth gritted in pain, I look up and see streaks of blue magic sizzling through the air. They get brighter and brighter as the pain ripples through me, exploding into a million tiny pieces, looking like our own private galaxy hanging in the night sky above us.