Blood of Time: Book 18 of the Witch Fairy Series

by Bonnie Lamer

  I nod and instantly regret it. My head is still spinning a little. “I’m fine,” I assure him, placing a hand on my temple in an attempt to make my brain stop swirling. I may not be as convincing as I hoped to be.

  Confirming my poor delivery of the words ‘I’m fine,’ Kallen murmurs, “Your pale cheeks belie that statement.” He kisses each cheek in turn to emphasize his point.

  “Sorry about that, Mom,” Xavion says a bit sheepishly. “You’ve told us that being pregnant with twins made your morning sickness twice as bad.”

  To my dismay, he actually seems to feel badly about that. Good lord, am I a mom-guilter? That’s a horrifying thought. Well, at least I’m not pale anymore. So much color rushes back into my cheeks that my skin puts up a ‘no vacancy’ sign to ward off any more red blood cells who may be seeking shelter there from the embarrassment storm.

  “I am certain you told them that in the form of medical education,” Alita chuckles, putting an arm of camaraderie around my shoulders.

  Zyla rolls her eyes and says to her brother in a stage whisper, “I thought they were friends. It’s as if she doesn’t know her at all.”

  Xavion scowls at his sister. “Considering it’s your wild magic making her sick right now, you might want to be a little more compassionate.”

  Hands on her hips, Zyla shoots back, “I’m not the only one in there with magic. Yours was just as vomit-inducing as mine.”

  Raising a hand to stop their argument, I protest, “Could we not talk about vomiting right now, please?”

  Looking contrite, one more so than the other I note, both Xavion and Zyla nod and murmur, “Sorry.”

  “Definitely her children,” Taz mutters as he jumps back up on the bed and plops himself on the blanket in a dramatic fashion. “All they do is yap. They don’t care at all about how I’m feeling after witnessing such a traumatic scene in there. I’m scarred for life now.”

  “Oh Taz, you poor baby,” Zyla begins, her voice oozing false sympathy. “If you keep whining, I’ll tell Mom where your bacon stash is in here.”

  My mouth drops open. “You can understand him?” But then her words sink in. Whirling on Taz, I accuse, “You’re still bringing bacon up here? We talked about that. Bugs, remember? We don’t want bugs in our bedroom!” I’m so annoyed that the thought of bacon doesn’t make me even a little bit nauseated this time.

  If Tasmanian devils could incinerate someone with a look, my daughter would be toast about now. “Have you always been a tattletale?” he growls.

  “Yes,” Xavion chuckles. Apparently, both kids understand him.

  A fact my husband does not appreciate. Clearing his throat, Kallen barely hides the annoyance in his voice as he says, “If you’re all done arguing with the beast, we should head downstairs.” It’s obvious by his tone that he is not pleased to be the only one in our immediate family who can’t understand the Familiars.

  Then a flush of guilt washes over him. Turning to me, my husband’s tone becomes gentle again. “If you’re not feeling up to it, we can tell the others while you rest.”

  I would have to be at death’s door to send them off for that conversation alone. I don’t need to see the future to know how difficult this is going to be, and I refuse to hide behind morning sickness like a coward. I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.” When it’s obvious that Kallen doesn’t believe me, since I was so unconvincing the last time I said it, annoyance creeps into my tone now. I growl loudly, “I’m fine.” There’s a finality in my tone that keeps him from asking again. He simply puts his hands up, palms forward, and takes a step back.

  Turns out early pregnancy can make you a little cranky. But on the other hand, I could get used to no one arguing with me for fear of waking my hormone-fueled wrath. Likely, the memory of how many times Alita sent Kegan sailing across the room when he annoyed her while she was pregnant is flashing through Kallen’s mind right now. I can already see how pregnancy may have its advantages, even if morning sickness sucks. At least when it comes to winning arguments.

  Clearing his throat, Kallen changes the subject. “I notified Dagda a bit ago that his presence is needed immediately. He should be here any minute.”

  I nod and turn to the kids. “You three should stay up here until we’ve explained things to everyone else.”

  Not a popular decision around the room. “Sure,” Zyla says, flopping back in the chair and waving her arms toward her brother and cousin. “It’s not like we have pressing information or anything.” Both boys nod, cross their arms over their chests, and glower at the rest of us.

  “News no one will listen to if they don’t believe you are who you say you are,” I remind them between clenched teeth. “We need some time to convince them before we launch into the other pressing information.” My words are met with a dramatic eye roll and a loud sigh from my daughter, but the boys relax their stances a bit.

  “Oh, they’re going to be a lot of fun to watch,” Taz snickers. Felix, being the smarter of the two, puts a little distance between himself and his Tasmanian doppelganger. Good thing, because if he didn’t, Felix would also be caught up in the blanket trap Zyla creates. Taz now resembles a Tasmanian blanket monster flailing around on the bed as he uselessly searches for a way out.

  “Let me out of here!” Taz shouts, feverishly clawing at the blanket he can’t escape from. At least Zyla left him plenty of room to breathe. She could have wrapped him up tight like a burrito.

  “Zyla, let the beast go,” Kallen instructs in a voice that’s firm but also more patient than I could have mustered right now. We don’t have time for these childish games. No, the irony of me thinking this is not lost on me.

  With a heavy sigh, Zyla does as she’s told. She releases a sputtering Taz from the blanket. I expect to have to break the two of them up again, but Taz decides to pout instead. He gives Zyla a wary glance before moving farther up the bed and plopping down in an angry, embarrassed heap. It’s one thing for me to do such things to him. Quite another for a child he doesn’t know yet to do it.

  A child who radiates enough magic to have every one of us in the room on edge even though none of us have acknowledged that fact aloud yet. It’s not just Zyla who’s powerful. All three children carry enough magic to give even me pause. I hate to admit it, but I can understand to some degree the concerns of the council. That does not change the fact that I will die before the council harms even a toe hair on any one of them.

  “We should hurry,” Kegan says. “Before someone else in the house figures out that the extra magic they’re sensing is not ours.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. Everyone in the house can sense magical beings. Even me if I’m paying attention. The magic radiating from the kids is enough like Kallen, Kegan’s, and mine that it hasn’t raised any alarms yet, but that probably won’t last. Especially with Isla.

  After giving our daughter a stern look meant to keep her from wrapping Taz up again when we leave, Kallen turns to me. Holding his hand out, he says in a voice that holds as much enthusiasm as I feel at the prospect, “Let us get this over with.”

  I take his hand and we walk to the door with Kegan and Alita following close behind. Over my shoulder, I tell Felix, “Keep an eye on them. Don’t let anyone get hurt.” I give Taz a pointed look. “I suggest you watch what you say while we’re gone.” It’s a good thing that I can’t quite hear what he’s muttering under his breath as I walk out the door. I suspect if I did, I would be the one putting him back in a blanket trap.

  Downstairs, we find our family gathered around the kitchen island waiting on breakfast. Isla is drinking coffee and reading some papers. Garren is next to her doing something with a fishing rod and reel and ignoring the sidelong glances he’s getting from his wife over doing this at the kitchen counter. Tabitha is busy at the stove cooking up something that should smell delicious, but to my hormone warped olfactory senses it might as well be roadkill smothered in rotten fish gravy. And now I’m regretting even thinking those words since I
need to swallow back the bile that immediately starts to climb my esophagus as that mental image dances around in my brain. Mom and Dad are enjoying cups of coffee while chatting pleasantly with Adriel and Raziel. My little brother isn’t with them. Zac has likely already left for his lessons at the castle.

  Two are still missing, and a part of me is relieved to not have to dive right in. But, as if on cue, the outside door opens wide and Dagda and Tana enter the kitchen. They always have impeccable timing. Makes me wonder if the Fairy King waits outside until he senses my magic so he can make a dramatic entrance.

  “I specifically requested at least a month before the next disaster,” Dagda growls by way of greeting, making my dramatic entrance conspiracy theory gain even more traction in my mind. He’s been practicing that line.

  With a raised brow, I retort, “Good morning to you, too.”

  Looking up from her papers, Isla’s mood is no better. She says coolly, “I have a meeting in half an hour. Can we please speed this along?”

  “They’re so cheery this morning,” I mutter under my breath to no one in particular.

  Kegan pats me on the shoulder and says out of the side of his mouth, “Give it a minute. It is bound to get worse.” I glare at him even though he’s right.

  Okay, so much for my hopes to work our way up to the conversation. I consider how to broach the topic of time traveling kids. Ultimately, I decide I need to be my usual tactless self and just blurt it out because there isn’t a delicate way to break the news. Taking a seat at the counter, I square my shoulders and glance at each of them to be certain I have their undivided attention before announcing, “We have great news, interesting news, and really, really bad news. Which would you like to hear first?” Okay, I still need a little time to work my way up to it.

  Startled, Dagda frowns. “Great news? You never have great news when you insist that I drop all my Kingly duties and rush over here to be at your beck and call.”

  I almost laugh at the implication that we do this just to make his job as King more difficult. I open my mouth to argue that every time we’ve called him here, there have been serious threats involved. But Kallen entwines his fingers with mine and winks at me. “Then this is certainly an exception,” he smirks. Unlike me, he’s more amused than insulted by Dagda’s words.

  Rolling an impatient hand toward us, Dagda says, “Then by all means, start with the great news.” Even Tabitha has stopped bustling around the kitchen, her attention directed solely at us. That’s a rare thing indeed.

  I glance up at Kallen, a question in my eyes. He nods slightly. I take that as I sign that I’m elected to tell everyone the great news. Something we didn’t have a chance to discuss, and he may have wanted to be the one to tell his grandmother and Tabitha. This is one of the many reasons that I love him. I’m excited to be able to share happy news for a change instead of being the bearer of bad news as I usually am. Kallen recognizes this.

  I turn back to the others. With a smile so wide I’m impressed it doesn’t knock the people on either side of me off their stools, I announce, “I’m pregnant.”

  Dead. Silence.

  Not the reaction I expected. My smile beginning to falter, I add, “With twins.”

  “Twins!” Mom exclaims, the first to come out of her shock. She jumps off her stool and rushes around the counter so she can give me a bear hug. Her voice even, she declares, “Oh honey, that’s great news. Really, it is.” Is she trying to convince us or herself? Mom answers my question with her next words. “Are you sure you two are ready for this?” From her worried tone, it’s apparent that she doesn’t think we’re ready for this.

  The memory of what happened when Alita embraced me earlier flashes through my mind and my stomach roils even though Mom isn’t twirling me around. Pushing Mom back as gently as possible, I complain, “Not feeling my best right now. I need a little space and air.” I also need a little more excitement over our news. I’m disappointed by how underwhelmed the room is.

  Sympathy fills Mom’s eyes at my morning sickness reference, and she chuckles. Taking a step back, she muses, “I remember those days.” She cups my cheek and kisses my nose. “Congratulations.” This time, I believe she means it. Glancing up at Kallen, she adds with a smile, “To the both of you.” I guess she’s warming up to the idea of grandkids. Good thing.

  It’s as if Mom’s approval sent a silent signal to the others that they should be happy for us, too. Suddenly, the room breaks out into a chorus of voices congratulating us. Dad comes over and gives me a gentle hug, backing off quickly before I complain about needing air again. Tabitha is next. She gives me a bone crushing hug but assures me she will whip up something that will take care of the morning sickness. If she can do that, she can give me all the bone crushing hugs she wants.

  Kallen gets his share of the congratulations, too. Garren slaps him on the back and shakes his hand. Mom and Dad both give him hugs. My husband also gets the bone crushing treatment from Tabitha. Even Adriel comes around and gives us both a quick hug.

  Despite the clamor in the room, I can’t help but notice that two voices are decidedly silent. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Raziel and Isla exchange a look. The former is wearing deep creases in his brow.

  Tuning out the others in the room, I focus my attention on my Archangel friend. “What are you keeping from me now?” I demand. I can feel my hormone-fueled wrath knocking at my brain’s door, wondering if it’s time to come out again.

  The room quiets down and all eyes turn to Raziel. He squirms a little in his chair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him squirm. Archangels don’t squirm. Whatever he’s hiding, I have a feeling I’d rather have a year’s worth of morning sickness than hear it.

  “Xandra,” he begins, but falters.

  “Yes,” I prompt, growing annoyed with his hesitation despite my certainty that I don’t really want to hear what he has to say.

  Clearing his throat, Raziel meets my gaze. There’s something in his eyes that concerns me even more. Is that? It is! It’s pity. Why is there pity in his eyes? My heart clenches, and I expect a dire warning to fall from his mouth. After all, he must know what’s going to happen with the kids. Is he going to tell us that we lose against the Council? It would be strange of him to let something like that be known. But maybe he just can’t help himself this time since it involves children.

  Beginning again, the Archangel is finally able to push words through his lips. “Xandra, you are not pregnant.”

  Raziel’s voice is firm but kind. Yet, I still want to punch him in the face for his arrogance. With my magic, of course. I couldn’t take him in hand to hand combat. How dare he tell me that I don’t know my own body? Then again, he is omniscient. Does he know my body better than I do? Doubt is trying to sneak in around the certainty I entered the room with just a few minutes ago.

  My eyes and my hands immediately go to my lower belly as I consider Raziel’s words. A warm, supportive hand firmly covers mine and eases my worry. Omniscient or not, Raziel is wrong this time.

  After giving me a reassuring squeeze, it’s Kallen who responds to the Archangel. My husband’s voice is firm and decidedly less kind than Raziel’s. I suspect Kallen wants to punch Raziel in the face, too. Without the use of magic. “I believe my wife is capable of determining whether or not she is with child.”

  Raziel’s eyes shift to Kallen. The pity they hold is starting to leak out in the form of one solid tear threatening to spill from his left one. He is so convinced I’m not pregnant that he’s crying. What the hell is going on? My hand tightens on my belly protectively, but Kallen’s hand doesn’t react at all. Raziel isn’t convincing him or making him doubt his convictions.

  The Archangel clears his throat again. He says to Kallen, “Xandra may feel as if she is pregnant, but I’m sorry. She cannot be.”

  Kallen is so angry now, he’s vibrating. Slamming his free hand on the table, my husband rises from his stool and demands, “Why is that? Because you do not want her to b
e?” Old animosity and jealousy that I thought had been long forgotten rises to the surface of Kallen’s emotions, and the two males glare at each other. This could get ugly fast.

  The rest of the room is so silent, I’m afraid that everybody else has stopped breathing. Great. Not only do I have to convince an omniscient Archangel that I’m really pregnant, I may also have to perform mass CPR. However grudgingly. Despite my level of annoyance with this whole group at the moment, I don’t want my kids growing up without grandparents. This just isn’t the morning I expected.

  First things first. As much as I appreciate Kallen coming to my defense, my mind is still stuck on one fact. Raziel is omniscient. He knows everything about the past, the present, and the future. However miniscule the chance may be, he really could be right despite the certainty that the four of us new parents shared when we walked into the room a few minutes ago. Feeling Kallen’s hand tighten over mine again, I glance up at him. As if understanding where my thoughts have gone, my husband says softly, but still with no trace of doubt, “We have proof, remember. Undeniable proof.”