I awoke alone and felt the emptiness of the whole apartment weighing on me, as if it knew of the tragedy and mourned. A soft glow rose in the darkness as I sat up, the candles on my nightstand magically coming alight and illuminating a note addressed to me. I shook my paw to rid myself of spare rock chips and lifted the note. I opened it and recognized Gabriel’s script in the few sentences the page held. It read simply and sadly,
“I love you, but right now my family has been dealt a serious insult. You and the child are safe here, and I will be back when I have dealt with the matter at hand. I cannot commit myself in marriage to you until I have seen this through.
-Gabriel”
My heart burst anew and tears flooded their way down my cheeks and neck. I sobbed for Lichen, who may not live, for the pain her family was in, for Gabriel and his rage, and then for myself, alone, pregnant with a new hybrid, and for our future.
I fell into a depth that rivaled the oceans deepest crevice. My life was naught but sleep, awaken, grow my small innocent, and eat when the guards forced me. The apartment was magicked clean, and I felt no need to make a mess regardless. Everything that Gabriel and I had used and destroyed were gone, but I felt it fresh in my mind, my body. I was four or five months pregnant when Lou returned with her brood, her sorrow writ and wreathed in her features. She fell into me and felt the answering nudge. Lou’s eyes were wide with surprise, her lips parted. Her children were quiet and withdrawn. We all stood or sat in various stages of pain and sadness.
One night Lou and I spoke at length, and she was angry at Gabriel. She ignored my quiet protests and attempted to shame him home, to no avail. He was in the wind, and I in all my power could not nor would not find him. I left him to his devices, and I dreamed. I had a vivid and powerful dream, sensual and primal, in which he starred. I awoke out of the dream at dusk, only to find that I was no longer turning to stone at during the day, just falling into a deep trance-like sleep akin to vampire solar hibernation. I was so deep in grief that I thought nothing of it, and instead buried myself in prepping for my child. I wasn’t sure how to lay it as an egg, and so by default kept it in my womb. I was still slim, barely rounded, but it was strong. It kicked and twisted more and more. Lou and the children were delighted and helped as they could. I was beginning to come out and share in the expectant familial warmth. Hanlan had begun a true courtship, and we were all often together. I was shocked to hear with them that Gabriel was alive. Not just alive it seemed- he had found his father’s clan, denounced and challenged him, then Gabriel delivered a resounding defeat that cursed his father to only know what Lichen felt before slipping into the Eternal Shade.
The bearer of the news also looked at me and my barely noticeable expectation, gulped, then very quickly dealt his painful blow- Gabriel was rumored to have married a girl from his new conquest. I was empty of emotion, in such a state of shock was I, and in that emptiness the words rebounded. I had an image of his body working into another rock troll, like Jessica, and I shattered. I shrieked and hurled myself at the window closest to me, Lou and the children’s voices angry and frightened behind me. The window parted accommodatingly and I dropped down, falling into the clouds and thunder.
I let my wings snap open, twirling and allowing myself to be battered and buffeted by the storms’ winds. I let it guide my course in my haze before the babe lashed out. I was snapped out of it, and realized what I had done. I cradled my belly in both paws and corrected my flight. I fought to get below the cloud line, beating my wings against the air current until I exited the roiling clouds. I looked for shelter, for I had learned that no matter if the sun is covered or shining, I would still be asleep and virtually dead to the world until night. I was wiping rain from my eyes, my nightgown soaking and heavy, and I “felt” a gentle nudging. It was warm, sparkling in a sea- blue path. I followed it in my minds eye and found myself at the same apartment where I saved…Her. I altered my wing angle, gliding to a nearby building, then leapfrogged miles at a time to reach the eaving I was offered. When I finally arrived, I found the balcony covered and the door open. A towel sat on the table, a fuzzy robe that looked warm, and a mug of a still-steaming liquid. I toweled off my hair, removed the gown, and toweled myself off. I put the robe on, picked up the mug, sniffed it, and drank deeply. A rich mead flavor met my tongue, as well as light mint and heavy chocolate suggestions.
She stepped out onto the balcony, collected the sopping wet nightdress, then looked me in the eyes. Her eyes were a deep, rich blue. Her hair was a warm strawberry-gold, and her lips were perfection. A small spackling of freckles settled on her nose, and I felt a surge of sexual need that shocked me, gratified to see her eyes widen with the same emotions.
Clearing her throat she stepped to one side and swept a hand towards the door.
“Welcome. I am Amaya. Come in, please, out of the rain.”
I stepped further into her apartment, accepting the towel she held out to me. AS she closed her French doors I took in my surroundings. My first thought of her home was spacious for an apartment, yet warm and cozy at the same time. I felt relaxation stealing across me, as well was exhaustion. I collapsed onto a plush armchair and was pleasantly surprised when an ottoman inched towards me. Amaya had followed me in, waving her hand and muttering what was clearly a locomotion spell to accommodate me. She instructed pillows to help ease my tense muscles, caused a warm comforter to glide over me, encompassing me and my small girth. A mug of hot chocolate hovered carefully over to me, and I gratefully accepted it. I was surprised as a coated burst of mint drifted lazily into my mouth, and connected the taste with the suggestions I had tasted in the mead, and felt in Amaya's aura.
My thoughts returning to her, I frowned at her, easily reclining on her Futon, and asked, “Do you remember me?”
“Yes.” She wore a smile, warming and charming. “You saved me from being date r-raped.” She stumbled over the last word, but I knew better. She was powerful, now that I could sense her more clearly, and knew she was not any sort of desperate damsel. So why had she been that night?
“How have you been?” I asked slowly, trying not to let suspicion flavor my tone.Amaya smiled still, and exuded soothing emotions. I was slowly allowing myself to relax, using only minimal psychic barriers. I needed to do so, for my young one.
“Well, the dating scene as has been a bit difficult, and I was in the hospital for quite some time. Whatever I was given, it was potent. It had been working on me for some time, it seems. Mark confessed to the arresting officers that he had been dosing me for months to make me feel calm around him, to give him a better chance at me.” She ducked her head, a pretty blush spreading high on her cheeks. “My coven mistress was… unhappy, to say the least. How could I not see how dark the drug was, the kind of aura it gave off, but he…” she gestured slowly, gently, waffling with her hand. “He was clearly able to mask it with his own, and used some sort of black spell to give him a charming, light aura. Anyways, he sang like a bird and kept muttering about a gargoyle. I had never heard anyone so desperate for people to believe them.”
I had a flashback, one of me begging for forgiveness, trying to prove something existed when no one else had felt or seen it. I knew his pain, but refused to be sympathetic. Amaya was watching me, and I nodded my head. “And?”
She shrugged, the smile that had left her face returning. “I work in a spice and herb shop, mind my own, and shop for books at the Friends of the Library sales each month. I was able to find books on your kind, and kept an eye out for you, to thank you.” She hesitated, and leaned until her forearms were on her knees.
“I saw you are with child. Are there any special preparations I can do for your, or…?” I felt suddenly very weary, sick for my own kind. I was curious about her books about Gargoyles, and felt compelled to say, "No. I do not know what to expect..." she jumped up with a breathless "I do," before hurrying to a locked cabinet and, with a twist of the key in the lock, pulled out three books and brought them back to me. I eyed them and asked, "Do you mind if I stay here for a while?" Amaya looked shocked, then pleased, and quickly agreed. She hurried her way into the kitchen, and I picked up a book at random. I opened its time worn cover and fell into the history and lore of part of my world, the Gargoyles.
How long I stayed there, reading and translating from several other languages, I don’t entirely remember. I know the sun came up, and I fell into a dark sleep. When I woke, I stretched and found a fresh stack of books on the coffee table near me. Amaya was asleep on the unfolded futon, red-gold hair ablaze in the final rays of sunset light. Warmth came over me, and a feeling stirred in my chest above my child-swell. I recognized the tired, bruised feeling of tenderness and stifled it, irritation making me growl. Amaya woke at the sound, rising on one elbow to blink blearily at me, smiling once again. I wondered nastily if she had a perfect, permanent Barbie smile, then dismissed the odd ugliness, reminding myself that she had taken me in, for now at least.
I watched as Amaya sat up fully and stretched, her small breasts pushing against the fabric of the silky top, and the hem sliding silently out from under the blankets covering her lap. I still was silent, reaching for a book when I was reminded that I had bodily functions to attend, a shower being one. Being pregnant changed my body’s natural patterns, and things were ones I could happily and did once happily live without. I glanced at Amaya, then at my swell. Amaya’s soft voice came through my thoughts, “The bathroom is down the hall, past the kitchen. First door before the front door, like in a hotel. I will make some breakfast for us. I found those,” standing she nodded at the stack of tomes, “At an old, old, out-of-print bookstore in Santa Fe. The were put aside in an arcane section that was clearly rarely visited. I hope there is something in there that can help.” Padding out, she veered into the hall and I heard things clattering in the kitchen. I rose unsteadily, as sleeping in a chair for several hours was not the most comfortable of positions and stalked as gently as I could to the bathroom. I used her shower soap and wash, cleaning my hair and letting the hot water run down my body. My breasts were swollen and full, ready to give milk, as if I were a true mammal. My child swell seemed larger without clothing, and I watched the light and water play on the surface of my belly, my child in the womb twisting a bit. I smiled and crooned a human lullaby as I finished cleaning myself, thoroughly and carefully rubbing with one of Amaya’s towels to dry off. I wrapped my hair in the same towel, mindful of my horns, and wrapped a robe around me. It was awkward, but the robe was large enough that it worked to cover and protect my wings. I was without any other clothing.
My head snapped up, staring at my face in the mirror. I had no clothes. What had I been thinking?! I couldn’t go anywhere without clothes, and mine had been destroyed in the rain. I was filled with a sharp shock and self-reproach. I was acting irrationally, which, I thought bitterly, was common for pregnant women, more so for ones with a horrible shock in their lives. At the mere suggestion of a thought of Gabriel I turned and opened the toilet, dry heaving violently. This was not good. I would not and could not keep being ill at the thought of, well, Him. He left me, and I cannot put my baby through Hell because my emotions rule my bodily functions. Well, I thought wryly, as the baby pushed against my bladder again, most of them, at any rate. I straightened, did my business, flushed, closed the lid, and sat. I was in a stranger’s home, and I had no clothes. I had brought my wallet, but I wasn’t sure where it was. I stood again, my stomach settled, and opened a new toothbrush left on the counter, brushing my teeth and fangs delicately. As I was returning the toothbrush to the plastic packaging it came in, Amaya knocked.
“You alright in there?” she called through the door. I took a deep breath and opened the door, a small and hesitant smile on my lips. Her eyes played in the hall and bathroom lights, a ring of astronomical blue holding a sea of cornflower blue. I hadn’t remembered her eyes being quite so enchanting, but I brushed it off as being in shock.
“I’m fine. I just remembered I have no clothes. I think I brought my wallet, but I don’t remember where it is.” Amaya smiled, kindly but sympathetically, and said, “I put it on the coffee table, with the books. I made coffee and tea, so whatever you like is yours. I also ordered French toast and bacon, eggs, and fruit. It should be here soon.” Her smile widened and deepened. “I wasn’t sure if blood of your enemies would be welcomed, but if so, I think I have Mark’s number, you could eat him.”
Her wickedness made me laugh, and the baby squirmed. My breath cut short, and Amaya’s face became concerned. I waved her off and went to the living room, debating on asking if I could adjust the robe to become a dress to wear. Amaya trailed after me, and asked, “Do you have a doctor or midwife?” I shook my head, and she nodded. “I know a woman, like us. Her name is Arachnae, and as her name suggests, she is a spider-shifter. She owes me a favor, and she is discreet. She is well known for her talents as an OB and Midwife. Should I call her?” I hesitated, then shrugged. “I do not know how much time I have, so that is a good idea. Do you have orange juice?” “I’ll get it.” I settled into the comfy chair as Amaya went to the kitchen and got me a glass of juice. She returned with a tumbler with an image of Stitch on it and handed it to me. The sweet citrus smell made my fangs elongate and mouth water.
Amaya stared nervously at my fangs as she lifted her phone to her ear. “Are you hungry?”
I shook my head and smiled more fully. “No, the tang of certain things makes them pop out. Citrus foods in particularly seem to make my fangs want to play. You’re safe, you gave me haven.”
Her understanding nod and smile made both of us relax, and her attention became centered on the person on the other line. . “Arachnae? Hi. Yes, I know you are busy. I have a pregnant gargoyle in my home, and we have no idea how close she is. Can you make an exception and come over and take a look? I..” she looked at me, “We will give you all the pertinent information then. Ten? Perfect."
Comments (0)
See all