“Apparently, it is,” Alison said. “That’s why there’s been so much discomfort. The baby’s healthy and she’s right on schedule, but apparently the release of the wings has caused an increase in amniotic fluid in order to create more space and that’s been the problem all this time. Well, that and the movement. Essentially, the flying.” She wiped her eyes. “The baby has wings. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”

Parisa stared at Alison’s stomach. She tried to picture the fetus within, twirling, tumbling, practicing with wings. She couldn’t imagine a finer beginning for any human—ascender—vampire—whatever.

Havily turned toward the couple a little more. “But does this mean you have two more months of this kind of agony?”

Alison stood up straighter and wiped a little more at her cheeks. She folded tissues into her hand and wiped some more. “No. The good news is that the doctor thinks I can begin communicating telepathically with the baby to get her to start bringing her wings in and hopefully keeping them in. It’s a rare phenomenon for a Second Earth baby but there’s anecdotal evidence that says it occurs in the Upper Dimension all the time.” She drew a card from the pocket of her slacks. “There’s a woman whose specialty is telepathy and infants. Her name is Tazianne. Now, why does that name sound familiar?”

Havily gave a brisk shake of her head. “Oh, I know why. She’s the talented horticulturalist who designed the magnolia centerpiece on Medichi’s foyer table.”

“That’s right, I remember now. Well, looks like she has more than one gift. Anyway, I’m going to give her a call ASAP and get Helena to calm the hell down.” She chuckled. Kerrick hugged her again and kissed her forehead. They looked at each other for a long moment. Parisa knew they were communicating telepathically, and it was a beautiful thing to see the love on their faces, one for the other.

Parisa’s heart hurt looking at them. She thought of Antony and of having spent the night in the guest room. For a sudden hard moment she longed to have exactly that kind of relationship with him.

***

Fiona didn’t know whether it was Parisa sitting on the side of the bed next to her, or that Havily and Alison and even Warrior Kerrick were in her room with her, but somehow she started to relax. Tears touched her eyes. The sight of Warrior Kerrick so tender with his breh was so normal that she felt maybe, maybe, everything was going to be okay.

The disaster that had been her life for over a century, the suffering she had endured, began to fall back into the past. She could take a step forward now, maybe two. She knew this sensation, but it took her a moment to realize that what she felt was hope, that her life even after so many horrendous decades, could start making sense again, could be something she could manage, perhaps even direct, even enjoy. What would that be like, to be able to direct her steps, to order them, to choose her path, to decide when she arose and when she went to bed, to never again be at the mercy of monthly needles, tubes, bags, and the presence of Rith and his medical staff?

She drew air into her nostrils and she smelled coffee. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee right now. When I kept my house in Boston, I had my housekeeper bring me a cup first thing. It was decadent, I know, but it was so lovely.”

“We can certainly get you some coffee,” Parisa said.

Fiona looked past Alison through the long window onto the hall. The blinds made it a little difficult to see, but she couldn’t mistake the man who came into view: Warrior Jean-Pierre. Her fingers moved to the gold locket.

She shouldn’t do it.

She really shouldn’t do it, but for someone reason she had to know his thoughts. Did he ever think of her?

She lowered her shields, just a little. At first, all she could hear were the thoughts of the women closest to her. Havily wondering if she should purchase the new Ralph Lauren skirt she saw online and Parisa trying to figure out how to save all the D&R slaves. Alison needing Kerrick to take her home. Fiona pushed past all these thoughts, shutting them down.

Her telepathy moved into the hallway and as she let Jean-Pierre’s mind flow over her, his eyes lifted to meet hers. She is so beautiful, belle. Mon dieu, I cannot breathe. Sex. All I can think is sex, wanting to be inside her now. How lovely she is, her lips parting. I want to kiss her. Ça suffice! No more.

He tore his gaze away and started walking up the hall. Jean-Pierre, she sent, panicked for some reason. Don’t go. Please don’t go! You calm me. Stay with me. She had no hope that he would hear her. No one ever heard her telepathic messages.

But he froze, his back stiff where she could see it through the blinds. Oh, God, had he heard her? She hadn’t meant for him to hear.

Did you really speak to me, Fiona, into my head? I am here, if you want me. I will stay, if you need me. Did you really speak to me?

Yes, she whispered.

He turned around and started moving again, slowly, until he appeared in the doorway facing her. His eyes were wide, stunned. So he had heard her. She wasn’t imagining it.

“Allo, Kerrick,” he said, as the warrior turned in his direction. The word sounded like Kareek. He didn’t meet Fiona’s gaze. “The nurses have been talking. Congratulations to you both. Having wings, quite extraordinary.” Oh, the way his accent caressed that last word.

Both Kerrick and Alison shared the news with him in turns, but Fiona couldn’t exactly hear them. Instead, she felt strange ripples pass over her, like icy bits of water that left her shivering yet not cold, more like … desire … oh, dear.

After the happy parents finished explaining their latest news, Jean-Pierre moved up beside Kerrick. He met Fiona’s gaze. “I was wondering if I could get you something?” he asked.

She met his gaze and for just a moment saw no one else. But she nodded and said the only thing she could think of. “A really hot cup of coffee with sugar and cream, but just little of each. All right?”

He smiled and the heavens seemed to part. He had the most beautiful smile. His eyes seemed to dance with life. His hair was wavy and in parts curly, almost unkempt, but it gave him such a look. Most of his hair was light brown but there was an outer layer of sunny-blond streaks that made her think of summers at the beach. Charming, she thought. The man radiated charm in every way.

“Mais oui. But yes, of course. I will bring you coffee.” Then he smiled, inclined his head, lifted his arm, and vanished.

“Wow,” Fiona said, but she wasn’t certain if her reaction was to his sudden dematerialization or to him.

She became acutely aware that all three women, and one powerful warrior, were watching her, their expressions wary, thoughtful, although Havily smiled.

“What?” Fiona asked.

“Nothing,” Havily said, but her smile flowed into a grin. “He’s very handsome.”

Fiona shrugged. “They all are, even the Militia Warriors.” Her fingers plucked at the thin blanket on her bed.

“Well,” Alison said. “We’re going to take off. Again, welcome home, Fiona. If you need me for anything…”

Fiona smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Alison. You’ve been so very kind.”

Alison gave a little wave before she turned away. When she reached Kerrick, he gathered her closer still and kissed her flush on the lips. Together they vanished, still kissing.

Fiona gasped—not because of the fold, but because Kerrick had been kissing her when they left. The tenderness brought tears to her eyes. Her husband had been tender like that, so kind, so protective. He hadn’t wanted her to go shopping that day, all by herself. They’d had many disagreements over her independent spirit, but she had felt it absurd not to do her shopping alone. The streets of Boston, in their part of town, had been perfectly safe. That is, until she’d come across what she now knew to be a pair of death vampires, two glorious creatures shrouded in mist that only she’d been able to see.

Her natural confidence, which she now considered her supreme stupidity, had caused her to approach them. Despite all the strange looks various passersby gave her—she must have appeared to be speaking to the air like a madwoman—she had carried on a conversation with the monsters. But how could she have known what they really were? A few moments later, before she knew what was happening, she met Rith for the first time.

She blinked and forced the memories away.

Havily’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Alison has suffered for weeks. I’m just so glad she has some answers now.”

She glanced from one woman to the next. “Do either of you have children?” she asked.

Parisa shook her head, but Havily couldn’t quite hide a sudden stricken look.

“I’ve caused you pain,” Fiona said quietly. “I didn’t mean to.”

Havily smiled and shook her head. “It was a long time ago. I guess all this trouble with Alison’s pregnancy has brought it back to me.” She turned to face Fiona. “I had three little girls when I was a young wife on Mortal Earth. They died of scarlet fever, my husband as well, but that was at the turn of the last century. Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

Fiona looked away and suddenly her heart hurt, maybe because Havily would understand. “I don’t know when my children died. I know nothing about them or their lives, how they grew up, if they grew up, whether they married, had children, grandchildren. They were ten and eight when I was taken from Boston. There is something hideous in not knowing, and of course after all these years neither of them would still be living.”

“We could find out for you,” Parisa said.

Fiona sighed. “I’ve thought about it, probably one minute out of two since I arrived at Madame Endelle’s palace. Now I’m afraid that I’ll have to live it all over again.”

Havily moved to the side of the bed opposite Parisa and put her hand on Fiona’s, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Nothing has to be done today. Look, Jean-Pierre is back.”

Fiona turned toward the doorway.