You are not alone, whispered the darkness.
As if you care, I spat, with venom and fear and loneliness roaring through me. I’m just the flesh, the flesh you want, and when you get me, I’ll be nothing. So shut the fuck up with the pleasantries.
I heard another whisper, but no words—I couldn’t hear anything past my screaming skin—but what I felt, what cut through the agony, was a soft bloom inside my chest, like an explosion of ink released by a squid in the dark sea. A cloud filled with tendrils, tendrils filled with night, the night soft and sweet.
My relief was obscene. I floated, cocooned from the pain. I could feel it, but all that agony was outside myself, a heartbeat away—and that heartbeat was enough.
You are not just flesh, whispered the darkness, all around me. You are not only the dream.
Shit, I thought, weary. What am I, then?
The spell broke. I fell through darkness, back into my skin—just as the boys finally ripped free. It was a straining burst, a pop that exploded every nerve ending with such brilliant, devastating agony, I felt like I had swallowed a lightning bolt.
If this was what giving birth was like, I was totally fucked.
I lay on my side, limbs twitching—drooling into the grass. I heard my name, but that was shit. I could see the boys, little lumps in the shadows, but couldn’t move to touch them. No strength. All pain. As if acid, bleach, and fire were being brushed tenderly across my skin.
Halfhearted hisses and snarls filled the night air. I rolled onto my back, staring at the stars. Even that exhausted me. My hands fell against my stomach and stayed there.
Baby, I thought. Daughter. Girl. Woman. Me.
Not me. Better than me. Better life, better heart. And even if that wasn’t the case, then at the very least—a chance. A life of possibilities, all for her. Something more than terror and death, and betrayal.
I turned my head. Zee was sitting up, and so were Raw and Aaz. All three swaying, digging claws into their heads. Dek and Mal barely had the strength to drape themselves over my neck; I fumbled for them, dragging their bodies close, tucking their bristly heads beneath my chin. Feeling their hot little bodies, hearing their purrs—however weak—was better than any drug. My boys were alive. We’d made it into the night.
But I still couldn’t move. Too much trauma, and only some of it was physical. I realized, reluctantly, that part of me had been afraid the boys would peel off my body, right into their own coma—like Grant. That everyone I loved, my entire foundation, would be entirely silenced.
And even though I was relieved that wasn’t the case, that small consolation was fraught with all the fear I’d refused to let myself feel. It rolled over me in a devastating wave, and I hugged Dek and Mal to my chest—so tightly their purrs broke. Zee and the others gathered against my back, solid and warm. We breathed together, held each other together, and if I could have folded them inside me, even deeper inside my heart, I would have. I was so frightened of losing them.
My pulse slowed from an eardrum-shattering pound to a slower, lighter thud inside my chest.
“Zee,” I whispered. “You okay?”
“Sweet Maxine,” he rasped. “Terrible dreams.”
“You’re sick,” I mumbled. “Hurting.”
“Yes.” Zee shuddered, closing his eyes. “But that not the dream.”
Dek made a sharp, keening sound. Raw and Aaz shook, burrowing their heads against me. Zee rocked, claws digging into his round tummy with such ferocity, I thought he might eviscerate himself. I smoothed his spiked hair, desperate to calm him. “What is it?”
“Fire.” Zee spoke so softly I could barely hear him, but even silent I would have felt his dread. I tried so hard not to think of that presence in the flames, but it had already crawled into me, and the only safe place was the darkness, which caught me so softly in its coils.
“What was it we saw?” I murmured, afraid of taking comfort in the dark—but more afraid of the fire.
The little demon shook his head. But the darkness whispered: A glimpse of what is to come, young Queen.
I swallowed hard and rubbed Zee’s spiny, sharp back. “Come on. We’ll worry about this later.”
He shot me a quick look—yeah, keep telling yourself that—but straightened up and rolled his little shoulders. “Alive. Staying alive.”
Raw and Aaz lifted their fists, weakly, in solidarity, while Dek and Mal began humming the Bee Gees song of the same name. Which I guessed meant they weren’t dying. Yet.
“Will get strong,” Zee added, for extra emphasis though he didn’t sound so sure. Guilt filled me. I couldn’t keep taking for granted that they were invulnerable. Not now. We might all be mortal, for however long this recovery took. I had to be careful for their sakes, as much as mine. I had to be careful for my baby.