The COMPLETE Witching Pen Series, Boxed Set (73 page)

She smiled, apologetically. “I haven’t made it easy, have I?”

“You want me to answer that?”

“No.”

He laughed for the first time since this morning. “Come here.” He tugged at the legs of her joggers. “Swivel around and lie back on the chairs. Put your feet up.”

I’ll be fine in a minu—”

“Just do it.”

She conceded, and groaned with relief when all weight came off her ankles.

Paul planted her feet firmly on his lap.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to ever get up again.”

“I’ll let you explain that to the doctor,” he smiled. He pulled the laces of her trainers undone before slipping the shoes off her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Just relax.”

“You don’t have to … Oooooohh!”

“Good?”

“Oh, it’s heaven!”

He chuckled. “Remember all those treks we used to take up and through the mountains?”

“I do. You were foot masseur extraordinaire.”

“Were?”

She giggled. “Feeling a little confident, are we?”

“Of my ability to massage feet? Yes. Yes, I am. Armageddon’s here and the one thing I know I can fall back on is my knack for bringing podiatric pleasure.”

Her giggle turned into a laugh.

“No demon or fallen angel will harm me because once they get a taste of
this
, they’ll all need my expert touch for relief after long days in battle, or whatever the hell it is they spend their days doing.”

She guffawed. “Stop! Oh, God, stop … I’m getting a stitch…”

“They’ll take moulds of my healing hands and sell them in Ann Summers, right next to the massage oil and the frolicking bunnies.”

“Oh, fuck,” she hiccuped, barely able to talk for laughing so hard. “They’re called Rampant Rabbits!”

“Aaaah… Well, I knew it had something to do with bunnies. You’ll have to excuse me – I’m not so up-to-date with such things. Shall I go on?” he grinned.

“Nnnnn…” was all she managed as she shook her head vigorously.

“Because I can, you know.”

She reached up to grab his arm in protest, her body still shaking from both howling and hiccuping.

He responded by leaning over and wiping the tears falling down the side of her face. “Hell, it’s good to hear you laugh.”

Amy clasped his hand before he could pull it away and pressed her face into it, just before she hiccuped again, and fought to suppress another onslaught of giggles.

They settled into a comfortable silence, her eyes resting on his. “It’s good to laugh… Can I tell you something that scares me?”

“Of course you can.”

“This baby’s grown so fast … I don’t feel … I don’t feel like a mother. I mean … what if I can’t bond with him? I was trying to feel all ‘mothery’ when we were out walking about and I felt nothing except heavy. It sounds so bloody awful to say this, but what if I don’t love my baby?”

She was relieved to find that he didn’t look reprimanding in any way – more surprised than anything else. “You’re seriously worried about this? Amy, I can’t think of anyone who would make a better mother. When Eleanor…” He hesitated. “Do you mind me talking about her?”

She shook her head and ignored the twinge of jealousy that arose out of nowhere at the mention of his other wife.

‘Other’ wife, Amy?
 

Shit.

Yes, somewhere in the past month she had accepted, even fallen into, her role as his wife, despite all attempts to the contrary.

Previous role, Amy. Previous.

“Eleanor had a hell of time when Katherine was born. I remember her struggling with breastfeeding – and she was determined to breastfeed – convinced she wasn’t bonding with her daughter, but she was, I could see it. And I see it with you now.”

“You do?”

“Definitely. The way you stroke your bump, the way you’re so protective over him … you’ll be a fantastic mother. I have no doubt about that.”

She wasn’t so sure, but it suddenly didn’t matter because the brown of his familiar eyes warmed her up through and through.

Don’t get close! There’s nothing to get close to…
Panic flared.

“Now can I ask you something?”

“Mm-hmmm.”

“Your mother hasn’t come down here to see you because of me, am I right?”

Amy let out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Crap it. She was hoping this wouldn’t come up. She had been to the Cotswolds once more since discovering she was pregnant to break the news to her mum who she had only just reunited with after twenty-three years.

There had been no way to avoid telling her about Paul being the father (or one of the fathers), and consequently, her history with him in her previous life had also come up – something which she had resisted explaining to her before, given the delicacy of the whole situation.

And delicate it still was for her mother. She had phoned Amy almost every day to check in on her, but had refused to come to London to stay with them.

“I’m so sorry. I tried to explain it to her, but—”

“Please don’t apologise. It should be me apologising. I don’t blame her at all after everything… I wouldn’t want to see me again either.”

His vague attempt at humour belied his sorrow. She affectionately tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. “You know that’s forgiven on my part, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he smiled at her, “but I don’t know how. I haven’t forgiven myself.”

The door to the waiting room swung open. “Excellent. You’re here. Come through, come through.”

Paul swung her legs down and helped her up.

They made their way into his office for the second time that day.

Dr Jefferson sat down after they did. The guy looked exhausted, as if the past few hours had taken their toll on him somehow.

“Thanks so much for doing this,” said Amy. “We can’t tell you how much we appreciate it.”

“After what you both filled me in on earlier, how could I not? And to put your minds at rest, none of what you told me has been recorded under your names.” He looked at them, inquisitively. “Although, I suspect I’m not privy to your
actual
names.”

They said nothing and he didn’t push.

“Very little has been recorded at all in fact – I’ve merely taken down the aspects I need to remember for tests and so on, and committed everything else to memory.”

Paul nodded his gratitude.

“Right, good news first: the baby is healthy and currently in human form.”

She exhaled in relief. “And the bad news?”

“Well, this can’t be one hundred percent accurate without testing the baby’s blood, which I don’t want to do, but the tests taken from the amniotic fluid indicate that he’s able to shift while in the womb, and there’s no telling – from a scientific perspective, anyway – if or when that might happen.”

Paul leaned forward in his chair. “We were told that my presence and magic would ensure that he remained in human form when birthed.”

The doctor nodded. “And that may very well be why he’s in human form now.” He turned to Amy. “You said it’s been weeks since you’ve had contact with his other father?”

She blushed, that familiar guilt that surfaced when both men were in her immediate thoughts, already making itself known. “Yes.”

“I would say he’s adapting to your nearness, Mr May.”

“And what happens when his other dad comes back?” she asked. “He’s got to be present for the birth. We believe that I’ll need to … er,” she blushed harder, “feed from him in order to keep up my strength and prevent blood loss.”

“I would agree. You’re blood count is a bit low, by the way, and it seems your son’s got quite an appetite – I should imagine he’ll take more and more from you towards the birth itself… Which brings me onto the next issue.”

He paused as if uncertain, and they waited for him to continue.

He cleared his throat. “The baby is bending time.”

The tick of the clock on the wall grew astronomically loud over the silence.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Paul, his voice tight.

“Your son is bending time
inside
the womb. That’s why you’ve expanded so rapidly in such a short space of … well, time.”

“Wh…wh – er – why would he do that?” There was a pinch on her thigh, and she realised Paul was gripping her tightly as he took in the information. She slipped her hand under his, partly to relief the pressure, and partly ‘cause she was about to lose it.
Bending time?
 

“That’s something I just can’t say. Time and energy work in such abstract ways… Usually, time is pulled
towards
something for it to be able to bend – it works to align itself with something: a point in history or in the future, a person, an object…” He trailed off and shrugged helplessly. “My feeling is that if you find what the baby is trying to align himself with, you’ll know when to expect the birth, which seems to me to be fairly imminent. He’s fully formed. I’m guessing he’s just waiting for the right moment.”

“The right moment?” whispered Amy.

“The Dragon.”

Both pairs of eyes fixed on Paul.

“He’s aligning himself with the Dragon. He wants to be born when it rises – a new era, a new Messiah. It has to happen together.”

Amy stared at him, a little shell-shocked. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I’ll ever be on this. I can’t think of any other reason. Dr Jefferson’s right about time needing a pull to bend in a certain direction. It’s why time magic often uses blood – the blood becomes the source of the pull. Time can hone in on it with the help of a little magical direction, the same way a hound might hone in on a scent.”

“And the baby’s honing in on the Dragon?”

“I think it must be.”

“If the Dragon exists at all,” threw in the doctor. “I don’t mean to play devil’s advocate, but there are plenty who don’t believe the so-called Dragon exists.”

“But plenty who do.”

He shrugged again. “There always will be believers and fanatics.”

“Oh,” she raised her eyebrow at him, “is that what you think we are? Fanatics?”

Dr Jefferson laughed. “No. I’ve seen what you carry inside you with my own eyes, and I’ve seen plenty of patients, both human and demon, in the past three weeks to know what’s fact. I’ve studied and practised magic for years, yes, but always strived to find the logic behind it – energy
has
logic. I’ve seen nothing to indicate dragons are real, or even possible, and a couple of million people around the world waving banners with ancient Chinese symbols on them isn’t proof enough for me, I’m afraid. I know your baby is unusual – unique. I
don’t
know he’s the Messiah.”

“I suppose that’s fair enough,” smiled Paul. “What kind of doctor would you be if you didn’t follow the path of logic?”

“Indeed.”

“Okay,” Amy’s palms were getting sweaty with apprehension, “what do I do now?”

“Prepare for the birth, Mrs May.”

“Prepare for… How? Oh, God, I thought I’d have a few more months to think about this. What about you? Can you help with the birth?”

“Not my area of expertise, I’m afraid, but I can refer you to the hospital. The only problem, is not knowing exactly when the due date is – there’s a chance you’ll be in the emergency ward. I only know one midwife equipped to deal with demon births—”

“
Not
a demon,” stated Amy, angrily.

“Well … not exactly a human either.”

She scowled.

“That midwife I mentioned – she left when the shit hit the fan. The maternity ward – the whole hospital in fact – is short-staffed. That includes a shortage of staff on security, and I don’t mean short-staffed in the ‘union protest’ kind of way, I mean short-staffed in the ‘we’re in an apocalypse’ kind of way – it’s all but deserted. If I were you, for health and safety reasons, I’d find a more … ‘magical’ solution to your birthing plan, and consider the hospital the absolute last resort.”

~*~

What did you fall back on when the last resort was gone?

The last resort was never
supposed
to be gone. Elena’s last resort was never going to be ‘suck the souls of the living’.

Well, that was too bad.

Four men went flying metres across the building site before she could even register that her succubus was physically strong enough to break the freezing spell. Or maybe that was down to the both of them. Maybe it was because she had given the demon permission.

She wasn’t sure. Her identity had merged with the Shanka’s, her human half reclined to the recesses of her being where it sat and observed with a strange detachment. Her emotions no longer ruled anything – they ceased to exist at this moment in time, subdued to the overpowering hunger that demanded all of her.

She leapt into the air and pounced on the leader, who had taken a second to come to after head-butting the ground, and now scrambled to get his trousers on and make the hell out of there.

Elena landed on his back, winding him as his front hit the dusty concrete. “Leaving so soon?” How curious that the demon’s voice, now that she’d let it out to play, sounded so much more dry and raspy than her own. “But we were just getting to know each other.”

He whimpered and clutched madly at his trousers to get them up.

She effortlessly wrenched his hands free and pinned them behind his back, then whipped him over with one fluid movement and sat on his chest.

Bones crunched under him.

“YAAARGH!”

“Broken wrists. Such a shame. Guess you won’t be using those hands for a while.”

He eyes widened now he could see her – widened in horror – and she wondered, in that disconnected way which actually felt quite freeing, if her features had changed that much. She’d never seen herself, or any Shanka demon for that matter, in the throes of hunger, and even though her love-making with Karl fed her, it also calmed the succubus every step of the way – he had never left her starving before.

Had her skin cracked all the way through to bone? Could this pathetic excuse for a human see parts of her skull? Were her green eyes more monstrous than before?

She didn’t know. But she did know this wasn’t love-making. This was as far removed from love-making as you could possibly get, and the demon soared with delight at the promise of the taking. Being fed was satisfying, but
taking
would be a gratifying completion she’d never experienced before – this is what she was
born
to do.