Crystal and Wand

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CRYSTAL AND WAND

by Tori L. Ridgewood

Lovers reunite, and are torn apart. Bloodthirsty fiends battle for control of an army of the undead. With the community of Talbot frozen under layers of ice and snow, the domination of the vampire coven seems certain, but in the eye of the storm, the witches and the vampire hunters search desperately for the means to bring an end to the violence that threatens to take over more than one small, sleepy town. Will Rayvin and Charlotte be able to work together, combining their skills in magick, to prevent the loss of more innocent lives? 

For lovers of magick, the paranormal, vampires,

and happy-ever-afters. Everywhere.

Prologue

The light stretched across the splintered wood floor in long narrow columns, blocky flat fingers sliding ever closer to Andrea’s corner of the attic. It was not as bright as it had been at dawn, when she’d used the sun’s early beams to free herself from her bonds. But even though it was pale, watery, and grey under the increasing cloud cover, the light filled the narrow, angular space at the top of her home, and kept her confined within a make-shift cave of cardboard boxes and blankets.

She grinned wryly against her folded legs, the burned skin on her face crackling as bits fell away. Remember when we made forts like this, Rayvin? Andrea whispered. Her throat was parched, and her tongue felt like old leather, but there was no one else to hear her pathetic attempt to talk.

The urge to sleep was growing stronger as the morning grew late. Leaning back against the corner, she clasped her right elbow in her left hand, trying to lock her limbs so she wouldn’t accidentally push away her wall of boxes when she relaxed. The raging pain in the stump of her lower right arm had dulled to a pulsing ache, and she’d wrapped it in a Christmas stocking pulled out of a nearby bin. She guessed the dressing wasn’t strictly necessary. It wasn’t as though she was going to bleed to death. The burning of the sun had cauterized her undead flesh and bone neatly, but like her face, small pieces of her skin continued peeling away like charred bark off a log. It was disgusting to look at, too. There would be time later to come up with a better bandage, once the sun went down.

But by then it would be too late.

Was Rayvin even still alive?

Had Jason had enough time before dawn to put his plan into motion?

She closed her eyes against the faint glow inside her shelter.

He’d tried to kill her. Jason Lucas, paraplegic for a decade before becoming a lethal supernatural predator, had tried twice to end her existence. Imagine what he might have done, had he not been crippled before. Was it the transformation that had made him this way? The virus, as he called it, or the magick—had becoming a vampire made him evil? Or had it always been his nature?

Andrea’s head felt fuzzy again, her thoughts spinning in a repetition she couldn’t shake.

If Jason had been a decent person before, then being turned into a vampire had corrupted him.

Andrea had been good, and yet look at the crimes she had already done in the name of her own survival. Each kill stood out vividly in her memory, making her throat convulse painfully in her dry prison. She’d reveled in her power, ravishing her victims with an urgency that had surprised her in the beginning, only a few weeks before. It was so much like sex: awkward the first time, but incredibly satisfying, and each experience following was even more so, until she found herself craving the next like a heroin addict craves a hit.

But she knew what Jason was like before. He hadn’t been a decent person, not in the slightest. She thought she understood why Rayvin hadn’t told the police about Jason’s assault on her. What chance would her foster-sister have had against the town’s golden boy? The things he’d said to her were humiliating, it made sense that she wouldn’t have wanted to repeat them or to relive the experience. Better to let people believe that it had just been an accident.

So maybe becoming a vampire hadn’t corrupted Jason. Maybe it had enhanced what he already was inside. But then, why had Andrea adapted so easily to being a killer?

She wanted to tear her hair out and beat her breast. These thoughts were driving her insane, as much as her terrible thirst. Only the fear of the weak winter sun forced her to keep herself in check.

I am not a bad person! she ground out, squeezing her stump until it raged in pain. I can make it right!

As soon as the sun went down, she would be able to find out what had happened overnight, and make everything right. God, what had happened to Damon?

She keened as her agony and fear overflowed, shaking uncontrollably.

Why can’t I let it take me? Her words rasped in the dusty air. Her shuddering breath sent motes of dust into a carefree dance around her, like tiny fairies mocking her pain. I need to die, I can’t do this. I can’t fight him. He’s won. I’m a vampire, I’m evil, just like him! God, why can’t I be strong enough to die now?

The dust motes seemed to pause for a moment, and then appeared to drift together until they formed a sphere no bigger than her thumb. An orb. Trembling, she watched as it floated close to her, swaying on air currents that Andrea couldn’t feel. She held her breath, curling into herself. The orb began to glow, gently, emitting a nonthreatening luminescence. It approached her face, rising to eye level, and then settling over her forehead.

The brush of the glowing orb against her scorched brow felt like a mother’s kiss.

Andrea’s breathing steadied. Her mouth was still hot and dry, her throat coarse, but the torturous thoughts settled into peace. Whatever had happened, she felt as though she’d been comforted in some way. I’m only trapped for a few more hours, she reasoned. I will make it. I’m strong enough to do this, for Rayvin and for Damon.

Settling back against her corner, Andrea felt her body relaxing at last. Even the gnawing pain in her belly was bearable now. Her mind was catching up with her nonhuman senses.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

There was hope.

November 19

Chapter One

No-one ever suspects a Canadian, eh?

Pike’s head pounded as the gloating resumed above him. He opened his bleary eyes with effort.

Jason was grinning at him. He finished squeezing a plastic pouch of hot blood into a tall glass beer stein, and tossed the empty over his shoulder. Want to drink a toast with me, buddy? He waved the mug of blood slowly in front of Pike’s eyes.

Every cell in his body wanted to drink with Jason. He felt his body moving toward the heated plasma, his facial bones tingling pleasantly as they rearranged and hardened into features not his own. A newly sharpened fang cut into his lip, and the trickle of his own blood into his mouth unleashed an animalistic hunger that threatened to overwhelm his senses. He clutched at the silken covers on which he was lying, and in a massive effort, threw himself back further on the bed.

Hey, watch it now! Jason cursed at him. You’ll waste it, first of all, and secondly, I went to a great effort to cart this bed over from the motel. Blood stains are the devil to get out of silk, and I don’t want to wreck the mattress.

Beside him, high-pitched giggles mocked his pain. He focused on thoughts of his wife as three lithe, half-naked eighteen year olds draped themselves over his body, toying with his hair and running their hands along his arms and legs.

It’s the perfect plan. You’ve got to wake up, man, and get with the program! This is just the start of it!

Pike clenched his jaw. He pictured Charlotte’s eyes willing him to be strong.

The tacky round mattress and its expensive red comforter shifted as Jason lolled next to the girls, commanding some of their attention. De Sade’s mistake was starting small. He was wasting time. He thinks he’s paid attention, but he really doesn’t know a thing about the world, not anymore. Now me—I’ve got a real target. I’ve a complete and specific agenda on the go and I know how to organize people. This is what I was meant for. I can feel it. Can you feel it, baby?

There was an answering moan of delight. The bed shook for a long moment.

Oh, yeah, that’s it, right there. This is our moment, Pike. Jason groaned, his voice muffled. I couldn’t believe it. It was like fate when you showed up. And to think, de Sade wanted to kill you as soon as you got back to Talbot. You’re lucky I’m in charge, now!

Listening to the erotic sounds next to him, Pike felt his body moving out of his control again. He steeled himself as best he could, trying to see every detail of Charlotte’s body in his mind, but the unfamiliar hands caressing his abdominal muscles suddenly felt like Charlotte’s slender palms and fingers. The cooing voice in his ear, pitched much higher than that of his beautiful wife, softened and lowered in tone. A tongue slowly and deliberately licked the curve of his ear in just the place he preferred, driving his arousal painfully higher. The moving hands found the bulge in his jeans and began rhythmically circling, tickling the zipper. It moved lower, tooth-by-tooth, and his engorged member quivered in response, begging to be set free. If he kept his eyes closed, it would be almost as though Charlotte were there with him...

He bit down on the side of his tongue, almost hard enough to draw blood. The pain was enough to bring him back to reality. Breathing heavily, Pike reached past the soft waist of the girl on his right to find the edge of the bed. She squealed as he hefted himself over her. For a long, awful moment, her pliant body and open legs squirming beneath him, he nearly gave in and followed his instinct. Then the moment ended. With both a pull and a shove, he was off the bed and on the floor.

Everything had gone so wrong, so quickly.

For weeks, Charlotte had been suffering from such horrible nightmares, and he’d been convinced it was just post-traumatic stress disorder. It didn’t seem possible that she would still be affected by the bastard vampire who’d attacked her a year earlier. He’d taken her half a world away after they’d gotten married, and for a while, everything had been fine. He cursed himself for not leaving someone to keep watch, although how he would have explained exactly what to watch for, he didn’t know.

Finally, with Charlotte so stressed over her dreams that she was getting sick, they’d ended their honeymoon early and headed back to Talbot. When their flight had landed in Toronto, they’d met two members of a secret society who were vampire hunters. He supposed that, having fought a vampire and gotten married to a woman who could do real magick, learning other supernatural creatures existed shouldn’t have surprised him. Marcy and Siobhan, a wood-nymph and a gargoyle, looked perfectly human at first glance, too. He wondered what had happened to them. The last he’d seen as he was being carted off by Jason’s thugs, the women had morphed into powerful beings the likes of which belonged in fairy tales, or horror stories, or myths. Before he lost consciousness completely, he’d also seen how effective they were at dispatching vampires.

It tore at him that he’d been so easily caught, himself. At least Charlotte had escaped, though. Of that, he was ninety-nine percent certain. And it was most likely that de Sade was no more than ashes drifting on the wind, so at the very least, she was safe from him at last.

Charlotte had gone to find this other witch, Rayvin Woods. Marcy and Siobhan’s information had included her name as a contact in their files. He knew that she was holding onto the grief of losing her mother, though the body of Alma Fanning was still out there, somewhere, waiting until nightfall to resume its insane attacks on the living. He’d waited as long as he could for his wife to call him, to tell him she’d found Rayvin. He’d hoped that she would just show up at the door. Finally, he’d gotten a weapon and gone after her himself.

The photographer’s house hadn’t been hard to find.

He just hadn’t expected to find a host of vampires waiting for him outside.

Five had fallen on him as he’d knocked on the door, wrestling the gun out of his hands and pinning him to the ground. One of them slapped a cold hand over his mouth when he started to shout. Then Jason Lucas had stepped out of the door, that self-satisfied smirk on his face, followed by another team of bloodsuckers holding on to someone else with a bag over his head.

Look at this! I come looking for one, and I get two for my troubles! No, don’t bite him, Lucas quietly ordered his thugs. He’s mine. I’m going to use him for an object lesson with the rest of the crew. It’ll be perfect. We’ll find the witches, don’t worry about that.

His balls shrivelled and his hair stood on end. The rest? There were twelve around him, including de Sade and the man he’d last seen in a wheelchair. Christ, he’d been a guest at their wedding. He was a hospital administrator. How the hell had Jason Lucas become a walking, talking member of the undead—and their leader—and when? It couldn’t have been very long before, or it would have been in the news, wouldn’t it? How far did Lucas’s control reach? The reality and potential horror of the situation made him sick to his stomach.

He’d brought Charlotte home to a goddamned nest of vampires. How much of the town had already been turned? She had to be alive, still, somewhere, or else Lucas would be gloating over that triumph as well. He hoped she’d found Rayvin and they were hiding together.

Jason’s minions had dragged Pike along with their other prisoner downtown to the main street, where a gathering of vampires was clearly underway along with a bonfire. He caught a glimpse of the crowd before he was taken into a building; there had to be fifty people on the street, whooping it up in the cold night. Kept in the background while the maniac rallied his troops, Pike closed his eyes and prayed for a way out so he could find Charlotte and make a quick exit. Let one of his guards relax just for a moment. They were slim, teenage girls; young women he’d normally hesitate to strike, but nothing about these circumstances were normal. They kept him on his knees with supernatural strength, cold wrists pinning his own arms behind him and his head forced down, until Lucas finished shouting clichés about a new order for the world and the need for warriors. None of it sounded promising, particularly the bit about people having to make the choice between joining the vampires or feeding them.

Pike spat his distaste on the ground just as his guards hauled him forward to be presented to their sire. Given the chance to be back on his feet, he pulled his strength together to struggle against their iron grips. It was most likely he was about to die, but he wasn’t going to go out without fighting first.

The bag had been taken off their first captive. When Pike saw who it was, all of his fear, shock, and confusion focused on the source of the disaster. How ironic it was that Malcolm de Sade, Charlotte’s former stalker, had been forced to bow to his creation—the thought flashed in his mind for a fraction of a second before he lunged for the bastard’s throat, surprising the young women holding him.

Jason pulled him off, handing him to a few big men who forced him back onto the ground and stuffed a rag into his mouth. Then while the crowd jeered and shouted their approval, Lucas had bared Pike’s neck and bitten him.

When his fangs had pierced Pike’s skin, a wave of sick terror nearly made him pass out. Jason let the blood trickle for a few minutes while his army worked themselves into a frenzy, before fastening onto Pike’s throat like a leech and sucking hard. Pike tried to pull away, desperately arching his back, and then attempted to tilt his head down to cut off Lucas’s access, but the vampires’ hold on his body redoubled and the assault continued, until his hearing became muffled and stars flashed in front of his eyes from blood loss. By the time the former paraplegic lifted his mouth from Pike’s ravaged neck, his hands and feet were numb. He sagged in the arms of his captors, unable to even keep his head up.

Don’t worry, Jason had told him, his breath hot in Pike’s face and smelling of rust, You’re at your peak. The change shouldn’t take more than a day, maybe even a few hours if you’re really lucky. Once you get your first chug of living blood, you’ll feel like a new man. Trust me.

Cold air rushing past the torn flesh above his shoulder made his body want to clench again, but he couldn’t even open his eyes. Big hands lowered him to the ground while Lucas turned back to the crowd to direct them once again, and music cranked loud enough to drown out the futile pounding of Pike’s heart. The world was spinning around him. His chest felt tight and every breath was a flash of pain. But when the vampire turned back to offer him words of smug reassurance, he had enough strength to work up a glob of spit to hawk in Lucas’s face.

Moments later, the ecstatic screams of the celebration turned into shrieks of fear. As his sight dimmed, he could see vampires scattering before two massive figures, one brown and one grey.

He had dim memories of being hauled into some kind of vehicle. De Sade had been there, too, he knew, and then they had taken him out.

He didn’t know what time it was when he’d awakened. Coming to in a brightly lit, windowless room, his mouth cottony and throat raw inside and out, the first thing he’d seen was his tormentor putting on a fresh grey shirt with the help of one of those young women, while another brushed grey ashes out of his hair. Noticing that Pike was awake, Jason had left it unbuttoned and moved forward to spew more propaganda while waiting for the change to complete itself in Pike’s body.

The smell of blood tortured him now, while Jason enjoyed his foursome on the round bed. His body shook uncontrollably when he tried to raise himself onto his hands and knees. Lights flashed in his eyes and his ears roared with a rushing wind that no one else could hear. Just shock, he told himself. Shock and blood loss. But the truth was that something unnatural was taking over his cells, altering his DNA, through magick or biology as yet unidentified and unknown to science. He was becoming ‘un’. The thought was ridiculous, and yet it seemed to articulate his feelings so perfectly, that Pike wanted to laugh. What came out was a feeble choking just loud enough to gain the attention of the figures writhing a few feet away.

Stop fighting it, Pike, Jason’s voice murmured. His voice was thickened with arousal and amusement. The sooner you give in, the easier it happens. You’ll stop hurting. We’ve got some time to kill before we kill, if you know what I mean. Have something to drink, and join us. I only have two hands...

Someone unseen—Jason? One of his women?—lowered a white saucer of coagulating red fluid onto the floor in front of Pike’s face. Mocking laughter filled his ears. It was magnetic, the pull he felt. Like finding an oasis after weeks in a desert. He could feel his arms raising him forward, as feebly as a kitten toward its first bowl of milk.

Yes, Pike, feed. A feminine voice spoke gently in his ear, while a soft hand patted his head and fingers stroked his hair. Go on.

Feeding meant accelerating the change. Changing meant never seeing Charlotte alive again.

Charlotte was life.

Pike shook his head trying to remember what he knew about vampires. There was something about not feeding... Something about reversing the transformation, if only he could hold onto his humanity and avoid drinking the blood.

With a mighty effort, he threw his left arm out to shove the dish away, and in the next movement, rolled half under the bed. The temptress cried out indignantly, and then he heard the muffled sounds of sucking and slurping.

Hah! Yeah, you might want some mouthwash after you finish cleaning that patch of carpet, honey, Jason laughed. Don’t worry, girls. He’ll come around. Give him another couple of hours, and he’ll be begging us to save him with just a few drops. Time is on our side.

Chapter Two

Rayvin’s palms were moist when she released Charlotte’s hands.

We’ll have to try again later, she muttered, looking away from the tears on the other woman’s face.

No! Just give me five minutes, and then we do it again. Charlotte’s voice was firm, wavering only a little on the last word.

Rayvin had woken up after a few hours of sleep and found herself nestled in the vampire Malcolm de Sade’s cold arms. He hadn’t stirred when she quickly slipped out from under the thin motel quilt and noisily vomited into a nearby wastebasket. She wanted to throw the quilt over his face so she wouldn’t even have to look at him, but it was better to know whether he was going to awaken from current state of being dead to the world.

Pregnancy sucks, she’d told the others. They had stopped whatever they were doing to watch, in silent shock, as she threw up again, and then Grant had brought her a glass of water.

After cleaning up in the washroom, she, Charlotte, Marcy, Siobhan, and Grant had sat together on the bed and chairs nearest the door, away from the bed occupied by Malcolm de Sade. Though none of them particularly cared about disturbing the fiend, they kept their voices low on the off chance of being overheard by someone not in the know.

The re-assessment of their situation was quick, but painful.

So much that had happened in such a short amount of time, it made Rayvin’s head ache.

About two weeks earlier, the malevolent vampire de Sade had been freed from the rubble of a collapsed mine in Talbot, just when Rayvin had moved back to her hometown to start her life again. She’d reconnected with her high school crush, (disastrously at first, just about losing her beloved cat Samantha in the process), and managed, through no small sacrifice and terror, to convince him that the undead were more than Hollywood fantasy and the fruit of novelists’ dreams. Pulling him into the fight against evil had been a mistake, though—Rayvin and Grant’s efforts to stop de Sade from building a coven had fallen short.

Her magick had redirected itself outside of her will to protect Grant from being turned into a vampire by transforming the police officer into a werewolf, capable of assuming the form of a massive Arctic wolf whenever needed. While he’d been learning this, he had met with another shapeshifter, a little man named Solomon, who’d turned out to be Rayvin’s father.

Samantha, where are you? Please be okay.

But before last night, when Grant and Solomon had arrived just in time to combat the supernatural rave happening right outside her building, Rayvin had kept searching for a means of stopping de Sade’s takeover of the town. It didn’t matter how many times her spells and rituals failed; she simply refused to admit defeat, even when he distracted her with seduction. Meanwhile, Charlotte had detected Malcolm’s predation on innocents from the other side of the hemisphere. Joining up with the team from the Society of Hunters and Investigators of the Paranormal was a happy accident, though it hadn’t prevented more casualties. Marcy Richmond’s father, Charlotte’s mother, and now her husband as well—either dead or worse than that, turned into members of the massive undead coven now controlled by Jason Lucas. They’d managed to destroy a good number of his vampires, but no one knew exactly how many had been staked, or how many remained after the previous night’s battle in the heart of the small, northeastern Ontario community.

Marcy’s wood-nymph abilities had been limited by the damage to her acorn pendant, a charm meant to link her to her home tree in Halifax. She’d found the pieces after the previous night’s battle in the heart of the small northern Ontario community, but she had less than a day before she would have to remain as human or sink her roots into the ground as an oak tree. Already the willowy black woman’s eyes were appearing sunken, her lips pale, and her hands less steady than they’d been a few hours before.

Siobhan O’Connell, the slight blonde Irishwoman who was Marcy’s partner in all ways, was still at full strength. Her gargoyle form had proved invaluable, and she was capable of carrying a passenger, but she couldn’t maintain her shift for long.

Then there was Charlotte. Like Rayvin, she could manipulate energy, move matter without touching it, and sense the thoughts of others—works of magick, in the traditional sense. While Rayvin proudly displayed her heritage as a natural witch, while keeping her more shocking talents under wraps, she’d noticed that Charlotte was barely able to speak the term without blushing. Rayvin, a petite redhead, felt rather eclipsed by the taller woman in many ways. Malcolm had made it clear in the short weeks of their relationship that he was only using her while he waited for the true object of his affections, though he planned on keeping Rayvin as his main concubine. She despised him, but that didn’t make his comments hurt less. Charlotte had clearly been able to keep a rein on her magickal talents in a way that Rayvin had not yet mastered another problem.

They were opposites in so many things, but they’d discovered that combining their powers led to astounding results. Concentrating their energies in the thick of a fight, Rayvin and Charlotte had conjured a devastating wind that had saved all of their little group from being overrun by vampires, though not in time to rescue Pike.

Nor were any of them able to save Solomon from the vampire assassin left for them at Deep Water Tower, where they had been compelled to retrieve de Sade from his intended death by sunrise. Condemned by Jason Lucas, usurper of Malcolm’s position as the head of the coven, the elder vampire had been able to reach Rayvin through their psychic connection. They were hoping he would be able to tell them where to find Lucas and, if possible, Pike Mahonen, when he woke from his day’s sleep.

Then together they would end the vampiric terror before it grew any worse. Talbot was not yet lost, though time was short.

So as far as assets go, we’re not much better off than when I was by myself, Rayvin concluded. I mean, we’re a good group of allies, but we’re outnumbered at least five to one.

The what-ifs hung in the air among them, clear yet unspoken. Solomon, in particular, weighed heavily on their thoughts, she knew. Her heart felt a little emptier, knowing that she’d only been able to speak with him for a few short hours before he’d died protecting her. An experienced shapeshifter on their side would have given them so much more of an advantage, as well. But there was nothing to be done about it now.

What about S.H.I.P.? Grant’s voice rumbled low in his chest. He moved to put an arm around Rayvin, but she shook her head at him. She glanced at Charlotte, who seemed to have closed in on herself. He blinked his understanding, and continued, Siobhan’s been getting updates every half hour or so. We can count on them, right?

Siobhan nodded. Yes. The only problem is the weather. The ice storm that hit us yesterday is moving south. I tried calling again just before Rayvin woke up, but the phone lines are cut.

We’ve lost the signal on the TV as well, Marcy added. We’re basically cut off. The highways are closed, and we’re looking at another forty centimetres of snow over the next twelve hours, in addition to the ice that’s already hit us.

As if on cue, the lights in the room flickered ominously.

So that means we’re looking at potential hydro outages, Charlotte said quietly. Wonderful.

The last time we had an ice storm this bad, there was no travel in or out for at least three days, Grant told them, his expression grave. Eventually the military had to come in with provisions and generators.

Oh, gods, Rayvin inhaled. Her scalp prickled. That can’t happen while Jason still has control. Imagine if he starts attacking military personnel, turning them, making them part of his coven...

It’s our fault, Rayvin, Charlotte reminded her. We did this. When we held hands, when we made that wind happen—we changed the storm, or its direction, or something. This is on us. We have to fix this.

Of course we do, Rayvin snapped. Don’t pussy-foot about it. We did something incredible, but we didn’t know how or why and now we’ve made a fucked-up situation even worse. Way to go, us! I think it’s pretty clear now what we do next. But guess what? I’m not at my full strength, either. Not that I ever had great mastery over my magick, it’s gotten even worse since I got pregnant. I have to do something about it if I’m going to be able to do this with you.

Siobhan cleared her throat. There’s something else. I screwed up, too, Rayvin. I let it slip to the Society that you might be carrying de Sade’s child. They—um—they want you to keep it.

What?

All eyes were on the little Irishwoman. Her face flushed.

I’m sorry! I’m accustomed to reporting every little thing. I’m honest to a fault. Normally Marcy does the talking because she’s better than I am at choosing what to say.

Marcy blinked, her expression miserable.

So now I’m not just his experiment, I’m yours, too! Rayvin gestured sharply. Just fucking great! And what if it’s not de Sade’s after all? I’m a slut, don’t forget, ’cause I slept with Grant, too!

You’re not a slut, Ray, Grant told her, taking her hand. Nothing is positive about any of this, but what she’s saying is that you have a window before this group comes in and pretends to have any say about it. I’m with you on this. You have to do what you have to do.

Although... Charlotte’s voice was so soft now, and hesitant, that Rayvin wasn’t sure at first whether she was even speaking. Maybe you should consider, just a little longer, that it could be Grant’s baby after all? How would you know, unless you carry it to term?

Rayvin stared at her. Where is this coming from all of a sudden?

Charlotte shifted, picking at a cuticle on her thumb. The longer we have to wait to go after Jason Lucas and get my husband back, the weaker my connection to Pike gets. I keep telling myself to stay hopeful, because I’d feel it if he were dead. I know I would. If he does—if I lose him— Her voice cracked. I would give anything if I were pregnant with his baby right now. I really would. Even if there were the chance that it wasn’t his, I’d take it, so that if the worst happens, a part of him would go on. But I don’t have that luxury. You do.

This is not a luxury. Rayvin spat out the words. This is a goddamned prison sentence. You’re suggesting that I just wait and see? On the off chance that it won’t end up tearing itself out of my stomach like something in a sci-fi movie?

Now there were tears in Charlotte’s eyes. This isn’t some romantic vampire fiction, Rayvin. You’re not showing any signs of accelerated growth or unusual biology. You just look like a normal woman going through the beginning of a normal pregnancy. You love Grant, that’s obvious. What if something happens to him, in all of this? What if you lose him? Do you want to take that risk of never having a piece of him for yourself, at all?

Grant squeezed her hand. She opened her mouth to respond, and then spoke slowly, choosing her words with care.

Being exhausted, and out of control, puts Grant, and you, and everyone else at even greater risk. I want us to have a future together, yes.

Wait just a little longer, then. Now Charlotte was pleading, her hands outstretched. "Let these Society people do some tests to make sure before you do something