Chapter 758: Bursting At The Seams
Book Twenty: The Last Call
I couldn't see my feet. Who was I kidding? Knees, either. Thing was, it was probably for the best.
Considering I'd blown up to the approximate size of a zeppelin on steroids with a healthy dose of hippopotamus thrown in for good measure, I felt certain I wouldn't recognize my own feet even if I could lay eyes on them.
Grunt.
Everything was an effort. Walking. Standing. Talking. Breathing.
And if I had to pee one more freaking time, I was going to choke someone.
Lula Kennecott's smiling face appeared over the ginormous mound of my belly, her healing magic retreating as she folded down the hem of the only dress I had left that fit me-affectionately referred to as "the pup tent"-and gently patted the nugget making my life miserable.
"You're doing amazingly well," she said, nose wrinkling as she helped me up, freckles scrunching across the bridge and out over her round cheeks. Her hazel eyes sparkled with good humor as she brushed back a stray lock of brown hair, fallen loose from her ponytail.
"Thanks." My bladder protested as I sat erect. Peanut's foot or hand or something hard pressed fiercely in every which direction. Including my spine. My liver. And, I knew, any day now, he'd find a way to tap-dance on all of my major organs at once.
That would be just delightful.
Grumble.
At least I was over my embarrassment. The first time Lula wanted to have a little look-see at some very private parts of mine, I almost freaked out. Almost. Now, I was happy to whip up my skirt in the hope she would just reach in there and pull him out already.
Would have paid her whatever she wanted.
"Can you tell if he's ready yet?" Mom's question made me think of roasted chickens. Which made my mouth water. And my stomach roll. Alternating between starvation and nausea had grown old so long ago I could only sigh and bear it.
Meanwhile, my mother hovered, smiling and twitching, one hand patting my shoulder, the other stroking my hair, but on autopilot. As though it wasn't me she soothed.
Sheesh.
Lula shrugged her thin shoulders, making me want to kick her. Hard. Somewhere painful.
"He'll come when he's ready."
Don't get me wrong. Lula was awesome. I adored her down to the ground.
But right then, at that moment?
I. Hated. Her. So. Much.
"We could just take him out now, right?" I tried to stand, leaning on Mom to support me as I fought to rise from the edge of the bed. Hoping Lula's answer would be different from the last ten times I asked her.
Immediately pressed both of my hands to the small of my back as the massive weight in front tried to sever my spinal cord in three places. My vertebra groaned in protest.
And women did this multiple times?
We were cracked.
Lula's energy reached out, slid inside my back, eased the pressure until I sighed in relief and actually found I could smile after all.
She was kind of forgiven. For now.
The young healer took my hand in hers, massaging the palm with strong fingers. Energy radiated outward from her touch, soothing muscles I didn't know were tense. "We could encourage him to come early," she said, "but, as you know," nice of her to chide me with a smile on her face, "part of his proper development is his own choice of freedom. I know you don't want to risk even a tiny detail when it comes to your son's birth."
Damned witches and our stupid magical needs. Nice of them to tell me long after I was pregnant and blowing up like a balloon with too much air in it, unlike normal babies, ours had to be allowed to emerge on their own. Only under the most dangerous circumstances did witches have cesarean sections. Part of our power emergence came from the desire to be an individual, to be free.
Sucked so much. Besides, the nugget was more Sidhe than anything, right? And, from the feeling of him, as sweet and easy going as his father-
Choke.
I pushed down the flare of tears rising when I thought about my dead husband, Liam-
Reached for irritation. There it was, waiting on the sidelines. My favorite.
My salvation, most days.
"I know, I know." I grumbled as I shuffled away from Lula, heading for the door, my bare feet scuffing over the carpet. Mom and Lula followed me into the hall. Charlotte waited at the top of the stairs, already reaching for me as I neared the landing. The weregirl's firm grip on my arm and stoic expression told me she was in protectoress mode.
Who was I kidding? Four months into the Sydspansion she moved back to the house full time and her new, happy self disappeared in favor of her old, silent, and grim demeanor. The only times she laughed or smiled was when she didn't see me looking. Usually while staring at my growing belly.
Charlotte continued to guide me down the stairs while I tucked one hand under my ginormous protuberance and begged the nugget to just freaking hurry up already.
Gram sat, knees bouncing, at the kitchen table, faded blue eyes bright, a tight grin on her face. Shenka stood next to her, arms wrapped around herself, also smiling. They would have been in the room with us, if I allowed it. But after being examined countless times by the kind-hearted Lula while a gallery of anxious family tried to hover and watch, I put my foot down.
One at a time. That was it. And today was Mom's turn.
Like it was the first time any of them had seen a pregnant woman.
Galleytrot lifted his big head from the floor, red flames lighting his black eyes as his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. "Is it time?" His big tail thudded on the ground twice, only falling still when Mom shook her head with a smile so tragic I felt like I'd failed.
Give the knocked up chick a break, would you?
Sassafras licked one paw with careful attention as he spoke. "The boy is too nice to make demands," he said. "Just like his father."
Everyone in the room held their breath. I felt them freeze, turn to stare at me with fear and worry. Like Sass bringing up (my dead husband) Liam would make the world explode. Their collective concern was so heavy I shrugged my shoulders in an effort to free myself of it. While I smiled and, with Charlotte's silent help, bent to kiss the top of Sassafras's head.
"With you, Gram and Mom feeding him power and your influence," I said, "I'll be surprised if he's not more Hayle than O'Dane."
Exhale.
How funny, my family. So protective.
I loved them for it.
And yet, the ache of Liam's loss had faded with time, mostly thanks to the little person I carried around. As Charlotte eased me into a chair, I began to worry maybe once the peanut was born my pain would return.
"The baby is perfectly fine," Lula said. "And although you're now two weeks overdue, I have to assure you such timing is completely normal for a first pregnancy."
I nodded. Heard this before, too, fell silent myself. Maybe he'd just stay in there forever. And keep me from my grief.
But no. I had to birth him, let him out. If only so I could finally be free to go after Ameline Benoit. And pay her back for making me a widow. Just before I went after Max, my supposed drach friend and gave him a piece of my mind-and magic. Then, Iepa. Light Fate.
So many people to thank for their participation in the loss of the man I loved.
I sank into my fury, feeling it tighten my body, my tension rising so swiftly I choked on a breath.
Nugget chose that exact moment to wake up and begin babbling.
Nonsense stuff. An endless stream of chatter. Muttering, giggling, cooing. Which drew Mom, Gram, Galleytrot, everyone, like a herd of nosy cats, all their power reaching for him at once.
And instantly dissolved the hate growing in my heart.
He'd started communicating after the first month, mind touches, mostly. As he developed, however, he seemed to grow mentally and emotionally much more quickly than physically.
Lula assured me this was normal, though even she seemed surprised the first time he talked to her in his silly nonsense. We had to simply chalk it up to the influence of Cian, the Sidhe soul my son carried. I was half tempted to contact Sonja O'Dane and ask Liam's mother if she experienced the same thing, but decided against it. I hadn't seen her since Liam's funeral when she slapped me in grief and blamed me for his death. Though she was my baby's grandmother, the thought of coming face-to-face with her in my condition made my whole body shudder.
Later. As unfair as it seemed. Once the baby was born.
Maybe.
The only problem with my peanut's magical activity? Every time he woke up, everyone knew about it. I almost protested my family's eagerness to embrace the baby, their need for him so powerful I felt like I carried a rock star in my stomach and I was just his groupie holding back the masses.
My son needed his space, didn't he? And I never seemed to have him to myself. But the love pouring out of him, the welcome he always greeted everyone with, grew with each contact until I had to just sit back and allow it.
Lula's mind touched mine as my crazy family interacted with my unborn son. Nope, not a groupie. An organic bassinet.
He will be remarkable, she sent, her power soft and sweet. He already is, Syd. I think you're going to have a very powerful child on your hands. Tempered with the kindness of his father.
I think so, too. Stupid tears. Beat it. What if-
Yeah. I was the Queen of Blurts.
You will be an excellent mother, Lula sent, firm and supported with a surge of magic. You don't have it in you to be otherwise. And with all the support, she grinned like it was freaking funny or something, you have around you, I know the child will never want for anything.
He already had a collection of baby clothes and toys so big it took up most of my bedroom closet.
My egos wriggled and whispered to the baby even as Mom and the others retreated. Nugget spun sideways abruptly before going back to sleep with a contented mental sigh. The girls had been amazing, thankfully, keeping watch over him as they'd done for me, allowing me to sleep, knowing he always had a guardian with access to power watching over him. Aside from the ones outside my body, that was.
"I'll be back tomorrow." Lula stepped away, heading for the door. Waved to me. "But I'm at your call if you need anything."
I waved back in thanks, wishing my fingers didn't look like sausages attached to a slab of ham, wondering at my own vanity at a time like this. Mom turned back, beaming, hands clasped under her chin.
"Let's go for a walk, shall we?" She was convinced exercise was the key to encouraging the peanut to leave my body at last. Had read it in some baby book for normals. Despite knowing the only thing we could do was wait for him to want to come out.
Just thinking about stumping my way around the block with my over-protective werefriend and the trail of Persian, black hound, grandmother in fuzzy socks and various other assorted coven members who popped up out of the woodwork with fake surprise on their faces made me wince.
Not to mention the fact I didn't think I'd make it without my knees giving out.
"I'm good," I said. I really didn't mean to be surly. And felt bad Mom's face fell. How they all stared at me, waiting.
Expecting me to pop. Right. Then. And. There.
Argh.
When Gram and Sassafras's magic reached out to the baby, I had enough. Shoved myself out of my chair with a groan. Shook my head when Charlotte tried to take my arm.
"I just need a few minutes alone," I said. Growled, actually. Spun-not gracefully, but I managed-toward the basement door and waddled toward it. A heavy, furry body pressed to my side, Galleytrot glaring up at me.
Fine. Whatever. I leaned on him as we descended into the darkness.
Trying not to resent every step.
***
