C3 Chapter 3

Lying in bed, Rain asleep in her crib in the corner, I slowly come to. I can’t have slept much, my body and brain ache for rest... but it’s impossible to ignore the conversation going on right outside my bedroom.

I still don’t have a concrete idea of who - or what - Darius, Zev, and Rune are, but I know they are different. Not just in the obvious ways, like being grossly good-looking and able to help a first-time mother safely deliver a baby on the floor of her bar, but in larger, more cataclysmic ways.

For starters, they’re not from America. If I had enough to drink, I’d very quickly tell you they aren’t from Earth, but my brain still isn’t ready to make that leap. Nevertheless, they talk of places I’ve never heard of before and know things they should have no way of knowing. And while those particulars could be explained with a little con artistry, other things seem... magical.

It takes a lot of effort to get past my cynicism. On more than one occasion I’ve made a magician cry by yelling “bullshit!” until he or she pulled back the curtain to show me how the trick worked. Mysterious men, hot as they may be, don’t immediately have me believing in the paranormal.

And yet, things just seem... otherworldly. Everything from the timing of their arrival to the ways they dress, talk, and move makes me feel like these men can’t be explained using traditional terms and ideas.

I nodded off a lot during birthing classes because I didn’t think I was learning anything, but I’m starting to wonder if I slept through the part where they tell you that the pain of labor causes the most vivid hallucinations imaginable. Though, if that were the case, wouldn’t other women be talking about how they thought their doctors and nurses morphed into exceedingly sexy strangers?

These thoughts are keeping me awake, as well as the conversation my possibly hallucinated companions are having.

“Of course we can’t arrange a deal, Darius,” Zev says in a hushed tone. “We all want the child for the same reason. What are you prepared to offer that’s equal in value to being eternally allied with the Fates and saving your people from extinction?”

“I haven’t thought that far, friend,” Darius responds. It’s getting easier to distinguish their voices, and I’m still solidly pretending I’m asleep.

Growing up above a bar with very little privacy in our tiny two-room apartment, I learned the best way to get information the grown-ups didn’t want you to have was to fake sleep. I’m a pro.

“There must be something in the prophecy to use as a guide,” Rune says. “An impartial detail to determine who is the rightful courier.”

“Don’t be foolish.” The condescension in his tone lets me know this is Darius. “The entire point of the prophecy is that this last step is undecided. We, in this room, are the final sentence of the scroll.”

“Our version wasn’t written, only spoken amongst elders and royals.” Zev speaks with a tone that’s calm, sophisticated, and gruff. His voice alone gives me goosebumps.

“You relied on an oral translation of the Fate’s declaration?” Darius says snidely.

“Got me here at the same time as you, friend.”

I know I need sleep, but I can’t stop listening, and I don’t want them to stop talking. Also, for three beings who may or may not have superpowers, they are doing a crap job at noticing how loud they are and how nearby I am. Or maybe they just recognize that I’m vulnerable and powerless and they don’t really care what I hear.

I shift slightly on account of the ever-present throbbing throughout my body, and the movement immediately shushes the conversation. This is as good a time as any to join in on the Sexies’ little pow wow.

“What are you three talking about?”

There’s a beat of silence, then the Sexies slowly shuffle into my doorway, looking like teens caught coming home after curfew. Look at me, only a few hours into motherhood and already commanding respect.

“You should keep resting, Bern-”

“Neeee,” I jump in, knowing Zev is about to go with the full name. I’ve hated it since I was a kid and I’m not about to change my tune. Zev can deliver as many of my babies as he pleases, we’re still not going full Bernadette.

“Yeah, I know I need rest. Thing is, there are three guys in my house that I don’t remember asking to stay, and it’s making it a little hard to sleep.”

“We’re only keeping an eye on you and the baby... Bern-E.” I applaud Darius for the awkward attempt, even if his face looks ridiculous while he tries to make an E sound.

“Your health and safety is our chief concern,” Rune picks up where Darius left off. “We can assure you of that.”

Whether it’s the constant chatter or it’s actually feeding time, Rain starts to fuss. I’m sure she’s hungry, but I’ll use this as an opportunity to shame my trio of midwives.

“Well, you seem to be overlooking the importance of the baby sleeping, so maybe you can take the conversation to the living room while I feed her?”

I may have scored a small victory here, as the three turn to leave. Each moves differently, yet all possess the same silent grace that makes them so hard to look away from. A growing cry from my baby finally breaks my trance and I shuffle over to her.

Walking doesn’t hurt the way I’d expect it to, and I take a moment to examine my nether regions. Jesus, Mary and Joseph... which one of them stitched me up? And when? Maybe that happened while I was first holding Rain, but you’d think I’d remember a hulking man running a needle and thread through my... you know. Again, I push thoughts of my visitors aside as my gaze lands on Rain.

She was perfect the first time I saw her and she’s somehow even more incredible now, all swaddled up and clean. She’s so beautiful in her little crib, more precious than I ever could have imagined.

“Come here, sweet little peanut. Momma’s got you.”

Her cries taper off as I pick her up and move her to my breast. I’m still scared of feeding, no real idea if I’m doing it right and no real advisor other than some of the wives of my drunken regulars. Still, she looks like she’s eating, so I’ll keep doing what I’m doing.

I ease into the rocker by the crib, going as slowly as possible because I’m still a little suspect of the stitch job downstairs. Just as I lean my back into the chair, three figures careen through the room, moving at a pace that makes them a literal blur.

In my state, I can’t confidently describe what happens, but I’ll swear on my mother’s grave it didn’t involve humans. Rune comes into the room first, but he doesn’t enter, he appears. Like, out of thin air.

Before my brain processes that, a shadow travels along the ceiling, though nothing’s there to cast it. The shadow is flying solo, and I know that’s not how shadows work.

Just as this dark enigma is landing by my side, Zev explodes next to me. Explode doesn’t sound right, but neither does the manner in which he arrives, because all I see out of the corner of my eye is a mix of fur and legs and face.

As fast as the dizzying movement starts, it ends, and now the guests I kicked out of my room thirty seconds ago are back.

“What in the flying f-”

“Move an inch and I’ll rip your heart out through your back.”

I’m sure Zev’s not talking to me, but I still glance his way to see where his eyes are trained. He’s clearly locked in on Darius, and he’s got one of his enormous hands hovering centimeters from Rain’s head. It scares the breath from my lungs, but that’s as much as I dare to move.

“I’m standing between the fae and the baby, fool,” Darius spits back. “He moved to come back in here the second he stepped into the living room.”

“The wolf flinched first, not I,” Rune hisses defensively.

“I smelled aggression on one of you, and clearly, I was right,” Zev says, a low growl in his throat.

Wolf? Fae? The little corner of my brain that’s been warning me we’re no longer in Kansas finally has the microphone. This shit is different.

“Move your paw away from the baby, Zev.” Rune speaks in a tone that seems less about commanding Zev and more about protecting Rain, which is finally something I can appreciate in this excruciating standoff.

The three men say nothing, each tense from teeth to toes as they wait to see if the other might move. I finally decide to speak, though I’m half expecting I’ll startle Zev and get swallowed whole.

“Each of you,” I start, talking as quietly and slowly as possible, “step to the center of the room and sit in front of me. Do it now, or I’ll find a way to murder all of you, so help me God.”

I feel their eyes on me as they consider my pitch. While I know they don’t fear for their physical safety, it does seem they either respect me or need me for something, so my words carry a little weight. After a few more seconds of stillness, they do as directed, and the feeling of getting these three to follow instructions is borderline orgasmic.

As he moves to sit, I notice a small smirk on Rune’s face. It might be the first emotion I’ve seen other than indifference and white-hot anger.

“Something funny, Runey Toons?” When in doubt, go schoolyard nicknames.

“Funny? I suppose, in its way. You say God. Singular. I always forget the simplicity of the earthly deities.” His answer elicits a slight nod from Zev.

“Simplicity?” I respond, a little incredulous. “If religion here is simple, I’d hate to see the complex version. How do things work where you’re from, pal?”

Rune stays silent. So do the others. It seems like my prying questions are going to get a little resistance, so I opt to go all in. It helps my confidence that they are sitting criss cross applesauce like children in front of me, all lined up in a row. I smirk at that and straighten my spine as I speak.

“You clearly need something from me, and none of you are happy with the others being here. So, if you want to get on my good side, one of you assholes better tell me what the bloody hell is going on.”

I notice a feeling of safety creeping in, like my body trusts the people nearby and has released some tension. It’s probably just the oxytocin from nursing flooding me with a happy hormone cocktail, but it’s giving me the self-assurance to make demands, and hopefully that will help me keep a little control in a life that otherwise has gone way the hell off the rails in the last few hours.

Darius clears his throat, the first to man up and answer my damn question. Rune and Zev both look at him, apparently as eager to hear what he’s got to say as I am.

“There’s a prophecy, one you know not of, though it exists in your world.”

“Great stopping point,” I barge right in, needing clear answers in a hurry. “If this is my world, where are you from?”

“A different realm, I’m not sure you can understand it.” His dark eyes flick away, like he’s already bored with this conversation.

I narrow my eyes at his condescending tone. “Try me.”

“We’re in the same spheres of time, but a different world altogether,” he says, and then adds under his breath, “One safe from the plague of humanity.”

I’ll unpack that plague of humanity bit in a minute. “Zev, Rune, this is true?” I ask for confirmation like I’m cross-checking the alibis of three kids who cut school. Talking like a principal is one of the few ways I can fake authority when I don’t feel like I’ve really got it. The others nod and don’t offer anything new, so I look back to Darius, prompting him to continue.

“The prophecy speaks of your child: when it would be born, the star that would guide its spirit, and the incomparable importance of its soul.”

He lets those words hang as though they mean something, and clearly they do, but only to a person who’s in league with these whackjobs.

“Okay,” I shrug. “And?”

This time Zev butts in before Darius can continue. He seems to read the room a little better than his counterpart.

“Rain must leave this realm. Her soul is needed in another kingdom, for a purpose you’re not ready to hear.”

“Yeah, well, that’s fine, because we’re not going anywhere so it doesn’t matter if I hear it or not.” To punctuate my sentence, I quickly move my nursing child from one breast to the next, immediately regretting the decision as she nearly rips a nipple clean off.

When I get her settled and look back up, I’m met with three very serious, very stern sets of eyes.

“No, you’re not going anywhere, that is true,” Darius says. “Rain must come alone to the vampire’s kingdom.”

Zev snorts. “The vampires are at the root of these problems, dear Darius.”

“Don’t act as though the wolves are innocent, dear Zev,” Rune interrupts. “Only the fae, with our connection to nature, can truly right this.”

“Hold up, so Darius, you’re a vampire?”

I’m waiting for someone to pop out of a corner and tell me I’m being pranked. But when no one does and Darius gives an imperceptible nod, I shift my gaze to Zev. “And you?”

“Werewolf, or wolf spirit, or wolf shifter, we have many names,” he says, as if explaining his dad’s half German.

“And I am fae,” Rune says with a lofty pride the other two clearly don’t care for.

I’m about three seconds from unleashing some serious mother bear energy on these three psychos, when a knock at the front door interrupts me.

All three guys turn their attention to the intrusion, and I stand with Rain clutched to my chest. Who could possibly be coming for the visit right now?

Darius looks unwilling to let me pass, but the pounding on the door gets louder.

“Bernie? You in there?” a voice calls from outside. “Joe called the station, said you might be in labor. I got here as soon as I could.”

I glare at Darius, then share the glare with the others. “That would be the Chief of Police and a longtime family friend. If you don’t let me answer that, you’re going to have a much bigger problem to deal with very soon.”

I mean what I say--if he thinks I’m in trouble, Chief Roland will try to give these guys hell without regard for his own safety. The question then becomes, what will these strangers do to him? And after that, what will they do to me?