Harmony exhaled slowly. “It means that if you manage to carry the baby to term and deliver it, at birth he will take your soul, which will kill you. Then, when your soul fails to support him long-term, the baby will die anyway.”
Em met her sister’s gaze with a wide-eyed, urgent one of her own. “So, basically, the only way for you to survive an incubus pregnancy is for your baby...not to.”
Traci nodded. Then she stared at her hands, sitting idly in her lap, obviously thinking. Hard. When she finally looked up, I was impressed by how calm she seemed, and I wondered how much of that was because of what Harmony had put in her drink. “So, what are the chances that the baby is actually an incubus? I mean, I’m human, so the baby could be human, too, right?”
I nodded, but Harmony shook her head. “Traci, hon, your baby is an incubus. I can tell that from looking at you. At how sick you are. You’re sick because your baby is sharing your soul at the moment, just like it’s sharing your blood and everything you eat. All of that puts a huge strain on you, and, frankly, you’re older than anyone I’ve heard of who’s successfully delivered an incubus.”
“But I’m only twenty-two.”
“The younger, the better. Evidently,” I said. Which was why Beck had posed as a high-school math teacher—for virtually limitless access to underage girls. The bastard.
“Okay.” Traci took a deep breath and stared at her hands. Then she took another deep breath and looked up, her mouth set in a firm line. “I’m not ending my pregnancy—I don’t care what kind of baby I’m carrying. I don’t care who or what his father was. I care that this baby is mine and I want him. So...what do we do?”
Harmony frowned, and I recognized the worry lines in the center of her forehead—the only sign that she might be older than the thirty-year-old she looked like. She got those same lines every time she saw Nash and Sabine together.
Emma exhaled heavily. “Trace, you’re not thinking this through. If you try to have this baby, you’re going to die. That’s, like, ninety-nine percent certain. You can’t do that to Mom and Cara. Not after the funeral.”
“Who are you?” Traci’s eyes flashed with anger, and in that moment she looked so much like Emma—the old Emma—that I caught my breath. “I don’t even know you!”
Em’s eyes filled with tears again. “Traci. It’s me.” She waited, searching her sister’s face for some sign of recognition, and when she found none, she turned to me, heartbreak drawn in every feature on her face. “I thought she’d be able to see it, at least in my eyes.”
I got up to sit on the arm of Emma’s chair so I could put one arm around her, hating how helpless I felt in the face of her pain. “Traci, this is Emma. Your sister. She didn’t really die. Well, she did. But...it’s complicated, and now she has a new body.”
Somehow, even as the words fell out of my mouth, that part sounded much less believable than, “Hey, Traci, you’ve inadvertently taken on the role of human incubator for a demon’s spawn.”
Traci blinked at me. Then her gaze hardened. “What is wrong with you? My sister—your best friend—just died, and I don’t care whether you can make yourself disappear, or run at the speed of light, or fly to China with no airplane, it is never going to be okay for you to joke about that.”
“It’s true,” Harmony said. “There was an...accident. I’d appreciate it if you don’t make us explain every little detail, because it’s complicated, and we don’t have all night. What you really need to know is that this is Emma. Your sister. Her death has been just as hard on her as it has been on you and your mom and sister.”
“I can prove it,” Em said before Traci could start arguing or get more upset. She leaned forward in her chair, obviously desperate to have her say before her sister kicked us out. “I know things no one else but you and I know. Like...I know what flavor bubble gum you stuck in Cara’s hair the night before picture day when she was nine. It was that horrible watermelon flavor. The kind that’s green on the outside and red in the middle. Only when you chew it, it turns brown and looks as gross as it tastes. And I know about the time you accidentally took nighttime cold medicine instead of daytime cold medicine and you fell asleep in first period, and some jackass wrote all over your face with permanent marker. I guess there’s probably a whole class full of people who remember that, and Mom and Cara know, but why would any of them tell me? I know because I was there while Mom tried to scrub four-letter words off your forehead with rubbing alcohol, and I was with Cara when she went out to buy stage makeup to cover up the ghost of the F-word on your cheek, when the alcohol didn’t work. I saw you cry into the mirror every day for a week, waiting for the ink to wear off.”
“Oh my...” Traci’s eyes were huge and her cheeks were pink, but I saw no sign of doubt on her face now. “Emma?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” Em smiled bigger than I’d seen her smile since the day she woke up in Lydia’s body. “Death sucks. I mean, I’m still alive, but everything’s different, and I hate my new hair, and my old clothes don’t fit now, and the world looks different when you’re only five foot two, and I don’t have a car anymore, and... But I’m taking Toto with me. He’s all I have left now.”
Traci stood so fast I got dizzy just watching. She launched herself over the coffee table and threw her arms around Emma, squeezing her harder than I would have thought possible, considering how frail the expectant mother’s frame looked. “I can’t believe it. I don’t really understand what’s happening here, but this is real?” She sounded half-choked, like she was speaking through tears, and we all nodded. “I thought you were dead.” Traci pushed Em away and held her at arm’s length, suddenly as furious as she’d been relieved a moment earlier. “I thought you were dead! How could you do that? How could you let us think you died?”
“I didn’t have any choice. Don’t be mad. What was I supposed to say, ‘Hey, guys, I died, but then Kaylee got me a new body, but you’re still gonna have to bury me, and pretend you don’t know I’m still here’?”
“I guess not.” Traci sank into her seat again, but she couldn’t stop staring at Emma. “You look so different. Except your eyes...”
Emma glanced at me with her brows arched. “Oh, now she notices my eyes.”
“Girls, I truly wish we had time for the reunion this moment deserves. But we’re running out of time on this dose.” She gestured to Traci’s empty teacup. “And I’d rather not risk Traci still being under the influence of a second dose when her mother comes home. I’d hate for her to forget something she needs to remember.”
“So, I’m really not going to remember any of this? I won’t remember about Emma?”
“I’m afraid not. However, you may subconsciously remember that she’s alive, and that could make it easier for you to move on, even if you still believe on the surface that your sister is dead.”
Traci nodded, and I privately wondered how many good uses I could find for a vial of Netherworld forget-me water if I had one.
“But as sorry as I am for everything you’ve been through,” Harmony continued, “we really need to get back to the matter at hand. Do you understand what we’ve been telling you?”
“I think so.” Traci’s eyes narrowed in thought. “My sister’s still alive, but my baby’s going to die. Or else I will.”
“No. You’re not going to die.” Harmony looked...heartbroken. She leaned toward Traci on the couch to emphasize the importance of what she was saying. “We came here to tell you the truth, so you can do what needs to be done. To save your life.”
“Well, I won’t do it.” Traci leaned back against the cushion, one hand on her small belly, as if the matter was already decided. “I’m not going to kill my baby.”
“Traci...” Em said, but her sister shook her head firmly.
“No. He’s sharing my soul. My soul, Emma. That means he’s part of me. How am I supposed to kill part of myself? I can’t live with myself, knowing his death was the price for my life.”
A storm of horror and
empathy collided within me, trapping me between that figurative rock and hard place. The decision was Traci’s to make—but I wasn’t sure she fully understood the choice she was making. Or the consequences of letting an incubus baby live.
“But, Trace, he’s probably going to die anyway!” Emma insisted. “You can’t carry him, and if you try, you’ll both die. You’re already sick, and it’s still your first trimester!”
“There’s another problem, Traci,” I said quietly, and Harmony’s attention settled on me like a comforting hand on my back, silently encouraging me to say what had to be said, even as waves of nausea rolled over me at the very thought. I took a deep breath. When I was sure I had Traci’s full attention, I continued, “Your son isn’t human. The male offspring of an incubus is always an incubus, so...you need to understand that even if you could carry and deliver this baby, and even if you both survived, you wouldn’t be raising a normal little boy. You’d be raising a predator.”
Her uncertain frown deepened. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“When your son reaches puberty, he’ll develop an appetite—a need—to feed on lust, in any form. If he doesn’t, he’ll starve to death, just like he would without food.” I scooted forward in my chair. I could practically feel her taking in every word I said, studying them for truth and, beyond that, for meaning. “Your son will grow up to do to other girls what Beck did to you. He will bowl them over with a desire he exudes—and won’t be able to control without practice—then he’ll take what he needs, when he needs it, from whoever is convenient at the time. Like you were convenient for Beck. At best, he’ll try and fail to control his appetite, unintentionally victimizing girls who don’t even know they’re victims. Girls who won’t understand why they slept with a strange boy and might think of themselves as sluts because of something they had no control over. I can only imagine how damaging that kind of self-image will be for the rest of their lives. At worst, your son will be a flat-out rapist and murderer, like his father.”
I could see her horror growing with every word I said, but I continued because she needed to know all of it. She needed to understand.
“Either way, he will be the most dangerous thing on the middle school playground, and that will only get worse the older he gets. He’ll be a sexual predator, Traci. There’s nothing any of us can do to change that. That’s what incubi are. It’s how they survive, and their survival is in direct opposition to the free will of every woman in their path. You know that even better than we do.”
Traci’s hands started to shake in her lap, and her gaze lost focus beneath the tears now standing in her eyes.
“And it’ll be even worse than that when he feels the need to...reproduce, about once a century,” Harmony added. “During each of those spawning periods—for lack of a better term—up to a dozen young girls could die trying to carry his child. Which is the same risk you’re facing now. Do you understand?”
Please, please let her understand. Somehow, telling Traci that her child would grow up to be a monster was even harder than telling her that the conception was a crime of convenience committed against both her mind and her body. I hated myself for having to tell her either of those things, and suddenly I understood why some people might be inclined to shoot the messenger.
“You’re telling me that my son will be a psychological rapist, right?” Harmony nodded, and for the first time since we’d arrived at Emma’s house she looked uncomfortable to be there. “Well, I don’t accept that,” Traci continued. “You may know what this baby will be, but you don’t know who he’ll be. You can’t possibly know how much nurture can affect his nature, and you don’t have any right to judge him now for crimes he may commit sixteen years from now. And you don’t have the right to judge the kind of mother I’m going to be. The kind who would never let her child turn into the monster you’re describing. He deserves a chance. I deserve a chance. And he’s mine.” Tears filled her eyes again, and she sniffled, trying to hold herself together.
“Trace—” Emma started, but her sister interrupted.
“No! You can’t just come in here and tell me that this thing happened to me. This thing I couldn’t stop and didn’t even understand. You can’t tell me that this murdering bastard came into my house and got into my head and scrambled everything up, and made me think I wanted him to do what he did, and that none of what I felt about that was real. That the whole thing was...corrupt.” She gestured angrily at the front door and at her own head as she spoke, and my heart beat so hard my chest ached from the pounding. “You can’t come in here and tell me all that, then tell me I can’t keep the one good thing to come out of the most horrible thing that’s ever happened to me. He might have taken a decision away from me, but you’re not going to. This is my choice. This is my baby.” Traci stood, staring boldly down at the sister she’d just rediscovered. “I’m not going to end my pregnancy. If that’s what you expect me to do, then...get out. Thanks for coming and telling me all these horrible things, but now you need to go. All of you. Now.”
“Wait.” Emma stood. Unspent tears trembled in her eyes. “Wait.” She turned to me. “We have to help her.”
“Em, there’s nothing I could do.” I’d rarely felt more helpless. More useless. But we were way out of my league.
“She just needs a soul. You can get her a soul. I know you can. You’re a bean sidhe, and you’re a reclamationist. Or whatever. Right?”
Traci looked so suddenly hopeful that my heart broke for her all over again. “Can you?”
“No! I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work like that. I don’t get to keep the souls I reclaim! I have to turn them in. And it’s not like I have extras lying around.” But as soon as I’d said it, I realized that might not be true.
“What?” Em’s gaze narrowed on me. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing. Just...maybe. It might be possible. But I can’t promise anything.”
Harmony stood, her hands opening and closing at her sides like she was nervous. Like we were making her nervous. “Girls, this won’t work. It’s not our place to...give people souls that don’t belong to them. That’s beyond what a bean sidhe can do. It’s beyond what we’re supposed to do.”
“But Kaylee did it! She put my soul here in Lydia’s body, so I know she could do that for Traci’s baby. If we had a soul for him.”
Harmony blinked. She opened her mouth like she’d make another objection or tell us how dangerous that idea was. But nothing came out.
“But finding a soul for your baby will be a moot point if you don’t survive the pregnancy,” I said, and Traci’s expression fell so far I thought her jaw might actually drop off her face.
Emma turned to Harmony. “You have another vial in your purse, don’t you?” Her voice was quiet. Sad. Thoughtful. “What does the other vial do?”
“It’s a mixture of some plants and roots from the Netherworld. For Traci. For if she decides to end her pregnancy.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a second plastic vial a quarter of the way full with a pale yellow liquid. “This is the safest way.”
“If you can do that...” Em’s voice broke, and I realized she was crying. “If you can help her lose the baby safely...can’t you help her keep it safely? Isn’t there some plant or root in the Netherworld that can...I don’t know. Boost her immune system, or give her a superdose of vitamins, or somehow make her healthy enough to carry the baby to term?”
“Emma, Traci, I know this is hard, but the chances of this ending well are so small,” Harmony said.
Em swiped one arm across her eyes angrily. “No. This is my nephew we’re talking about. And my sister. She’s lost enough already. She can’t lose the baby, too. If you can help her, you have to.”
Harmony sighed. She closed her eyes, and her lips moved without making any sound. Like she was praying. When she finally looked at us again, her blue eyes were swirling with...sadness. Or maybe regret. I couldn’t tell for sure. I’d never seen her unable to control the swirl
ing before.
“I can’t promise anything. I can help, but...there are no guarantees. The chances are still slim—”
“I’ll take them.” Traci wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’ll take those chances. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll pay you. Just please do whatever you can for my baby.”
“Oh, honey...” Harmony took Traci’s hand and pulled her closer. “I would never charge you. I just need you to understand that I have no idea whether or not this will work. We’ll have to take it day by day. And your baby may come early. We may have to make him come early, if your body starts to fail you.”
“Fine. Whatever it takes.”
“Okay.” Harmony sat, and Traci sat next to her. Em and I sank into our seats, fascinated and a little scared. “First, let’s put this away.” She slid the yellow vial back into her purse. “Second, you’ll need to eat healthily. Exercise, but don’t overdo it. Get plenty of rest. And...I’ll be back tomorrow with something for you to take every day. With tea or water. No coffee.”
Emma frowned. “Harmony, is she going to remember this?”
“No.” Harmony glanced at the ground for a second, thinking. “You’ll have to introduce me to her again, Kaylee, and I’ll give her the mixture as a prenatal supplement.” She turned back to Traci. “Are you sure you want to do this? You won’t remember what we’ve told you. You won’t remember the risks. You won’t remember...so much of this.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Traci insisted. “I would never give him up, no matter what I know or don’t know about this pregnancy. If you tell me tomorrow that I need whatever you’re bringing, I’ll believe you. I’ll take it.”
“If she doesn’t, Nash can help, right?” Emma leaned closer to whisper.
I nodded. “Nash, or Tod, or my dad.” Any one of them could Influence Traci into wanting to take what she needed to take to help her keep the baby. And I was only willing to let them do that—to play with her mind—because we’d all seen how badly she wanted to keep her baby.
Soul Screamers Volume Two Page 10
