by Penny Knight
“Yeah, but you heard your dad. He wants her,” the bearded man argues.
“I agree. We take her to him. If it’s true, that’s the King’s baby. Best be with your father to teach it the right way,” the other man says.
“No, please,” I cry.
Milan curses. He swings his head to me. “How the fuck could you let him get you pregnant?”
“I will call thy lord now and see if commands have changed,” the bearded man says.
Milan’s eyes dilate. Instantly he grabs his head in his arm, snapping his neck. It’s too quick, my eyes can’t follow. But the second bearded man drops right beside his partner. Not moving.
“Stay down,” he yells, slamming the door, then jumps into the front seat. Burning rubber when it takes off.
He curses over and over at me. Like I have done something wrong. It makes no sense but another wave of pain hits me and I cry out again.
“Do not have that fucking baby here, do you understand me?” The car goes faster.
“I can’t help it. Something is wrong!” I say, but don’t expect sympathy.
“This is worse than I could have ever imagined,” he turns his head back to me. “Just hold on. I will take you as close as I can. That’s all I can do.”
I can’t answer him now or speak. Screaming through a torturous wave of pain.
There is something wet between my legs. Water? I swipe my fingers to see, and it’s warm and sticky. But it’s not water. When I see red staring back at me, I look up in horror.
Milan’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.
“Look, I will get you to him, ok? The baby will be ok.”
The pain has subsided, the throbbing still there from my injuries but the searing pain has dulled, for now.
“Why are you helping me?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“Because you went and got yourself knocked up.” He’s angry. Angry at me. It makes no sense. “Bringing you back to our dad is one thing. But giving another baby to him to control and fuck up is another,” he shakes his head. “How the hell are we meant to survive King Leonidas’s vengeance for not just taking his lover but his child? There’s no way that ends good for anyone. I’m so fucked.” He punches the wheel.
Dad.
Did he say our dad?
The pain kicks in again. And this time I know what it is. Contractions. I am losing or having this baby right now. I grip the head rest and scream my lungs out.
“Jesus.” Milan’s wide eyes keep flickering from me to the road. “Breathe, breathe. In and out,” he huffs and puffs, trying to coach me from the front seat.
And in the most bizarre moment in this entire ordeal, in unison we ride the wave together. He keeps my eyes locked on his in the mirror, helping me to control my breathing.
My head drops back once it is over. Exhausted.
“Keep your eyes open, ok? Try to keep them open.”
I lift my head and nod. The adrenaline that has kept me moving is slowly fading.
But I need to know.
“Dad?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “You really know nothing, do you?”
He opens the glove compartment and sifts through it. He finds what he is looking for and throws it in the back seat.
It falls in my lap.
A photo of me as a little girl, sitting on my mother’s lap. The same photo that was stolen from that man when he left. From one of the men my mother sold me to.
“How did you get this?” I sit forward wanting to know more but when I move it hurts.
“Stay still,” he looks back and growls. His eyes back on the road. He merges onto the highway. We are heading back into Adelaide, on the Northern Expressway. Not too long and I will be back.
“You were there? You were one of the men that Irina sold me to?”
He nods. “I’m the one that gives that wench money,” he says with disdain.
“To take me back to our father?” Oh God, I can feel it starting again, the dull ache increasing.
“Fuck no,” he laughs. “You were just a kid. I wouldn’t throw you into all of his shit. I had just learnt you existed. When I checked up on you, you were living in squalor.”
“Oh shit, oh shit!” I grip the headrest again and scream out as the pain grips me. No, not now. I need to know more.
“Fuck. Just hold on.” He cuts through traffic, the sharp turns not helping at all.
Again, he reminds me to breathe. And again, we both breathe through the contraction together.
This one’s longer and more painful. “I can’t do this.” My body drops on the back seat, white dots blurring my vision. My elbow slips from the leather seats, my clamming body cannot handle too much more.
I don’t want to have a baby in the back seat of a car.
I don’t even want to have a baby.
I have been pregnant for three days.
Out of all the unfairness in my life, this one I am pissed about the most.
I have so many questions for Milan, my brother, but the energy to talk is slipping away. I am slipping away.
“Ah, ah, ah.” He reaches back and hits my knee. “Eyes open. Come on. You must have more questions.”
He is trying to keep me engaged. He is trying to keep me alive.
I open my eyes.
“How come Irina never told me you existed? There were no pictures.”
“Because she was junked up. Or more so, because Dad enslaved her to never mention me to anyone. She just simply doesn’t know she had twins.”
“Twins?” I gasp.
“Yep, Dad wanted a boy so he could train me to become an Immortalie. He grabbed me and left you.”
That explains the ‘I wasn’t part of the deal’ Irina had been spouting.
“Is he that bad?” I ask. He looks at me through the mirror.
His face hardens.
“Yes, and no. There is too much hatred and history to reason with him. He couldn’t have known about you being pregnant. Because the small team that extracted you would have been an army,” he says. “When we found out you were the one to fulfill the prophecy, I had to tell him I lost you when you were eight.”
Milan grazes the scar on his lip, his eyes darkening.
I swallow.
“Are you going to get in trouble for helping me?”
Silence hangs after the question.
“I am not a good person, Elita. I will get what I deserve.”
I don’t know how to argue the point when the only other time I have seen him, he was seconds away from killing Topher. I decide not to.
I lay my head back again. I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m tired. My head lulls to the side, just closing my eyes for one second.
“If you take me back to Leo, he will not let you go.” Even if he is helping me now, I’ve heard him talking about what is in store for Milan once he’s caught. It’s not good. Could I beg on behalf of my brother to excuse the crimes he had committed? I doubt it. “You can’t take me back there yourself.”
He laughs. “You want to protect me?” He shakes his head. “Did you smoke some of Momma’s crystal pipe sissy?”
Eyes still closed, I smile. The build-up is starting again. I think I would have liked a brother. No, I would have loved a brother.
No time to worry about that.
Another contraction is starting, and this one has me in tears. This one Milan cannot help me breathe through.
This one has the blood seep out between my legs, the same feeling as before but more.
Something is deathly wrong.
When Milan pulls to a stop, we’re outside the skirts of the city. He turns to face me. “If I take you further, I won’t make it out alive.”
His face is fading in and out. Every time I blink it takes longer and longer to open them again.
“Fuck.” He pulls out his phone.
The pain hits again, I don’t scream, my throat is too dry and sore. I sink, my body contracting and my tears falling.
“P
ut me through to your boss. Tell him I have what’s his,” Milan says over the phone. “If you don’t want to lose your job, find a way to put me the fuck through to him. Now.” His eyes are still on me. He grabs my hand and I squeeze. Hard.
He takes it with ease I crush his fingers with all my might through the pain.
“Corner of Roberts and Park Lane. Black Mercedes AMG,” is all he says before he hangs up. Lifting my hand to his mouth he says, “He will be here soon.”
“Thank you.” I’m crying like a child, scared and relieved.
“I gotta go.” I nod even though I don’t want him to. “I will be in touch when it’s safe.” He kisses my hand and is out the door without waiting for me to respond.
I am alone.
In the back seat.
Having a baby.
The contraction subsides just as the door I’m leaning on opens. And I fall into waiting arms.
I look up.
Leo’s face is racked with horror as he looks at the bloody scene in front of him.
“I’ve got you,” he says. And like a baby I cry harder with relief, nodding.
He moves us back in and slips underneath, not letting go. The car starts, Broderick hits the pedal, and we’re on the move.
“I am so sorry.” He brushes hair off my face. A tear falling down his chiselled cheek. His comfort is soothing until the sharp pain hits again. The contractions coming hard and fast now.
I scream in response.
He offers comfort as much as he can, but the white spots are taking over.
“She’s having the baby?” Broderick cries out.
“Doc is waiting. Drive,” Leo says. “Elita. My love. The doctor is waiting. Hold on for me.” Leo’s hand finds mine offering the same support my brother was giving me just moments ago.
“I can’t.” I squeeze his hand. “It hurts too much,” I whisper, no energy to talk.
“You can, I know it.”
I shake my head as sharp knives stab at my stomach. “Something is wrong. Leo, the baby, something is wrong. I am sorry. I am so sorry.” Delirious now. I don’t want to do this. I just want it to be over.
The car halts at the Chancellor hotel. Back where it all began.
In the underground carpark Leo makes quick work of lifting me out of the car.
My heavy eyes close. They open again in the lift, my blinking slowing.
The pain hits again and I give into it leaving my eyes closed. My body and mind opting for the solace of the darkness.
The next time I open them, I’m in a bed. Leo’s bed. Surrounded by faces. Topher, Leo, the doctor, and some other woman hooking me up to a drip.
“You’re crowning Elita, it’s time to push,” the doctor says. Peeking up from in between my legs.
I drop my head to the pillow.
No.
I am done.
The pain rips through me, and my screams fill the room. Worse than ever before, I feel the sensation to push, but I can’t. The only thing I want to do is give up.
I don’t want the pain.
I don’t want the sorrow.
I am done.
Voices and faces fade in and out. But a familiar voice whispers in my ear.
“Don’t leave me, E. You can do this.” Topher’s sobs and plea have my eyes opening. I look to him and feel his hand in mine. Tears falling on both our faces. “Don’t leave me please,” he begs.
“It’s time to push. When you feel the next one Elita, push,” the doctor tells me.
This is it. I won’t have the energy or the strength to keep going much longer. When the pain hits. I squeeze my eyes and push.
I push and I push. When the pain subsides, the doctor encourages. “Great job, you’re nearly there, one more time.”
“No!” I cry. “I can’t!”
But I do.
The pain is back, and the pushing begins. Ripping through me, I scream as I feel the pressure and the relief when finally, the baby is born.
Immediately I open my eyes, breathless and panting.
It’s small. Tiny.
And purple.
Air doesn’t make it in my lungs, as I watch the doctor flip the baby onto its stomach on his arm. He pats the baby’s back and we wait in silence, with only the beeping of medical equipment in the background. Finally, the sweet sound of an infant crying filters through the room.
I lose it.
My sobs are uncontrollable.
“Congratulations,” the doctor announces. “You have a beautiful baby boy.”
I did it. He’s ok.
With what energy I have left, I smile and watch Leo cut his cord. Until a familiar feeling of the dreaded pain simmers again.
The machines beep in an erratic rhythm, the pats on the back and the joy that was here moments ago fades.
I seem to fade.
It comes back tenfold. Worse now than ever. The pain.
My screams overpowering the cries of my son.
“What the fuck is happening?” Leo demands to know from the doctor, who is already assessing.
The feeling to push is back.
This time I know the relief after it’s done.
The white dots are tunnelling my vision as I push and push.
“There’s another baby,” the doctor says.
I’m already pushing.
“What?” Leo bellows.
With the only bit of strength inside of me, I push one last time. Until the blackness takes over and I fade away.
"Her blood pressure is dropping." The doctor calls out whilst he holds the crown of my second child.
The first was placed in my arms after he was born, when we realised there were two.
I look down at the extremely small child. Smaller than normal.
"I need my emergency kit over here," the doctor says. Elita passes out. A loud continual beep sends chills in the air.
I hand the heir, my son, to the kid. His face goes white.
"Sit," I order. I know exactly what the doctor needs. Her body going into shock.
I'm back with the shot of adrenaline before he asks again. Pulling the cap off, I jab it in her leg.
A long gasp and she's back.
"There was only one," I tell the doc. He needs to get this baby out before it wears off.
I'm by her side, whether or not she wants me there.
"You can do this." I hold her hand.
The adrenaline has her eyes wide.
She nods and pushes.
And pushes.
With astonishing courage, she gives me another child. The doctor holds an even smaller child.
But it's the doctor's face I see. With a small shake of his head he says, "I'm sorry sir. She didn't make it."
She?
A daughter.
A not unfamiliar feeling, but one that sends the room back into hysterics. Her hand goes lifeless in mine.
The adrenaline is fading.
And she slips into unconsciousness again.
"She has lost too much blood, King Leo," the doctor says. “Her pulse is still there, she is alive but her body has shut down. Only using the blood where it is needed. Keeping her brain alive.”
"We will do everything we can. But if you could secure some blood, we can improve her chances. Do you know what blood type she is?"
I look to the kid.
He shakes his head and looks down at our son.
"Leave it with me." I need a problem I can fix to stop me from this pain. I will get her blood.
"I will need to finish up some procedures here with her. Then we will move her to another room."
I look at the bed. It's crimson. "The one across the hall."
He nods.
I don't wait, and I don't look back. I walk out of the room. Broderick stops the door from closing and follows me out.
"Leo?" he appears beside me. "Where are you going?"
"You heard the doctor, she needs blood."
"I can get the blood. You have somewhere you have to go." He stop
s me by grabbing my arm.
I slam him against the wall. My forearm holding him up, his toes just touching the ground.
He does not say a word or move his face. "You have to take him across the border, brother."
"I know." I let go, dropping him to the floor. "She will be up soon, and I will tell her then." The implications of just leaving now are unacceptable.
I outstretch my hand, there is no time for talk. Broderick accepts my help, and he rises.
"Once I am gone, you have to be ready to be Regent." I place my hand on his shoulder. "I will only be able to be back for a short time."
Once I'm back in our realm, I can't leave our son for too long. Time moves very differently there.
Broderick nods.
I know he doesn’t want the job. His been around me long enough to know all the glory comes with the weight of a million souls. But he needs to rule now.
Nothing left to say, I turn pulling out my phone as I walk into the war room. Tonight, is a night Adelaide will remember forever. The events at the Port docks taking over the news feeds, shock and worry for this usually peaceful city.
The information I want comes on my screen.
Regent Arcade, Grenfell street.
The closest Red Cross Donor Centre. The hospital will have too many innocent people. I just need blood and I need it now.
I prepare to use my speed, but before I do, my emotions cause an obvious error. I cannot be seen; I came here for a reason.
My bronzed helmet. The one I take with me, to wherever I call home. The full helmet covers my face, a small slit for my mouth and two carved holes for my eyes. It was the only way I could hide the lack of ageing after returning from the veil as a Spartan. Not just any Spartan. One of the many Kings.
It fits as usual.
I stop in the alley behind the Donor Centre, still unseen. My strength kicks the door down with ease, and I listen for the persistent humming of the refrigerators. I use it as my compass.
She needs to wake soon. The Oracle said as soon as he is born. But I didn't expect what I came back to. She was gone. Taken. The house in shambles.
If it weren't for Milan leaving her almost at my doorstep, I would have lost her and my son. Just like I lost my daughter. The price I pay for my absence.
I will take that, but must she, as well? How much can one person suffer and fight for a cause that isn't her doing? The anger boils wretched and deep with the injustice. My father, too, for so heartlessly telling me to discard her so easily. For the greater good.
