by Amanda Milo
“You did it! Way to go, Mom!” Angie whoops as she very carefully scoops what feels like one of those “World Fair’s Largest Watermelons” out of an orifice that in a previous life barely allowed a pencil-thin tampon.
From the corner where she’s stayed mostly silent, a scrub-clad Gracie claps and wipes her eyes. “That was beautiful. Most creative uses of the word ‘cunt’ I’ve ever heard. Also incredible was your ability to string that many profanities into proper sentence structures. Again, and again. I approve.”
“Oh good,” I wheeze, my throat sore from grunting, growling, and shouting. “I was really worried there for a second.” My eyes are so blurry, I let my head fall back into my pillow and shut them.
This scares Zadeon, who must think I've passed out or died. I wearily pat his hand.
Angie oscillates between muttering to herself and commanding her pro tem nurse, Arokh. “Clamp! Okay; cord pinched. Scissors? Cord is cut… grab me the snot-sucker, please and let’s move to the exam table!”
“No,” Zadeon growls.
I open my eyes to look at him.
He’s staring at the bundle Angie has clutched to her chest. Don’t take the baby,” he pleads.
“I have to lay him down,” Angie explains, losing her patience.
It's a boy.
“And I have to do this fast, he’s not crying!”
She pulls him away from her front to show Z.
That’s when I see him for the first time.
His coloration stops me cold.
His scales are not the dragon scales I’ve learned not to fear.
And when he opens his mouth in a silent cry; two fleshy, pink protrusions run along the upper palate.
I know what those are.
I know all too well what those are.
Not dragon. Not sabertooth kitten. Viper fangs.
Oh my God.
He’s not half of me.
It’s one of them.
CHAPTER 44
ZADEON
“Callie?” Something is wrong. As soon as she saw him…
She’s panicking, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.
I see Gracie shake the empty ice chip cup before she swiftly leaves the room. She appointed herself refill duty, for which I am grateful.
I keep hold on Callie’s hand, and implore Angie not to take him out of my sight. I have to watch over him - but I cannot leave my Callie.
“Idiot,” Angie snarls at me, making sure I can plainly read her lips, then sets the baby on Callie’s stomach, making Callie flinch.
Not so much from pain, I don’t think.
From revulsion.
“Some aliens and their asinine instincts,” I think I hear Angie cursing, but I ignore her. I relax, seeing her clinical but kind care for the little one. She’s right though; he’s not crying. She sucks mucus from his nose and mouth, rubs him - but he remains silent. And he looks pitiful; he’s so small.
“Why is he so little?” I ask.
Angie looks worried, and she doesn’t snap at me this time. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s how, um, these are born.”
“But Callie’s belly has been so…” I glance down, thinking of how she made it clear a male had better not comment on the size of her anything - but she is still tensed, eyes closed, and acting as if she wishes none of this were happening at all right now.
“It seemed like there would be more to the baby than… this. Are there more inside?”
“Only one heartbeat,” Angie says, leaning her head sideways so that Arokh can wipe her escaping tendrils of hair away from her face and tuck them back into her paper cap.
Callie inhales and my head clears a little. Then Angie is facing Callie, and although I can’t hear what is said, I catch on that she is offering to help him nurse. It is supposed to help expel the placenta.
Her voice is hollow. “Can I do it without?"
“Sure…” Angie says slowly. “But it’s easier if-”
“Nooo,” she groans, already feeling the next contraction.
◆◆◆
I stroke Callie’s hair, but she has stopped responding to me.
My other hand is on our baby’s back, keeping him in place on her stomach.
He is so small that he fits under my palm. My thumb is almost larger than his head.
“All done,” Angie says as she places the last of the life sack remains into a pail. “And this is a lot of placenta. I don’t know what that means, but I’m going to hazard a guess and say it’s something to do with the non-human half and since the hob team wants to dissect it-”
“They will not,” I inform her. “It is to be buried. It is a rite I will have the honor of undertaking.”
She holds up red-stained gloves in surrender. “Above my paygrade.”
I use my tail to snatch the handle of the bucket and haul it between my feet.
I curl my tail around it and eye the various cameras around the room.
The cameras they refused to have removed.
They are lucky that Callie was in the right state of mind to accept being watched during this.
But a right state of mind is not one she is in any longer.
CHAPTER 45
ZADEON
My mate won’t nurse the pup.
She hasn’t even held him.
But now that he’s started to squirm around, she can’t take her eyes off of him. His little feet shudder, and his fists move up and down, fruitlessly glancing against her skin.
She opens her mouth - to breathe, I think, because her nose is running. Her eyes are glassy with tears, and she is fully focused on the miniscule form on her chest.
I mop her tears away with a cloth and swipe above her top lip to clean her face.
I start to sing to her - and he stops moving.
This make me smile. She is right. He kicks for attention.
My attention.
Carefully, my hand still splayed over his back, I use my thumb to make tender strokes to the back of his head.
He brings his hand up, and closes the smallest fingers I have ever seen around my my smallest finger.
Callie makes a noise.
When I look at her though, she doesn’t repeat it.
She’s staring at him.
As I look down at his face, a miniature of her delicate features, his tiny grip stronger than I would have believed possible; I know she will regret this if he doesn’t thrive.
He needs her.
And she needs him too.
“Don’t be afraid of him, Callie. Please.” I stroke the side of her face.
Then I gently lift her chin, the angle making her tears track to her ears. I wipe them before they make it. Her eyes break from him only once, meeting mine so that I see the longing there. The pain. The desperation.
And the fear.
“This isn’t their baby, Callie.”
I lean down and lick away her fresh tear tracks. “You are a good, and kind, and loving female. If I thought you would never love this baby… ”
He yawns and her eyes snag on his mouth.
“But you do love this baby. You have nurtured him for suns cycles - you care very much for this pup.”
“It's a baby,” she corrects softly.
“YOUR baby. My baby.” My voice catches, causing her eyes to bounce to mine.
She bursts into harder tears. “But it isn’t your baby!”
“HE IS.”
Carefully, I use both hands to lift him.
Callie makes an outraged noise that freezes me in place.
She looks confused - but she doesn’t lower her hand from where it now rests against his back.
“I just want to show you something,” I try to tell her softly.
She lets me move her hand to his belly as I settle him in the crook of my arm.
Now it is her thumb that strokes him.
She’s so tired. She’s not thinking clearly. She sees his scale markings, and some of his features, and she’s scared. Rakhii believe there is a critical time aft
er birthing, where a special connection of souls takes place. If she rejects him now, will she regret it later? It would destroy her if she damaged this baby in any way - I know it.
If time is truly so critical, I will state my case now, and hope she hears me.
“I have been here through everything. Everything. Before I even knew what was causing your smell to turn sweeter, I loved it. I loved him. This little face,” I bring up my elbow, shoulder jammed into my ear to tilt him up carefully so as not to jostle his neck. “This looks just like you - look at that winsome nose. Those big soft eyes are your eyes.” And look at that mane-”
That might go too far. Whatever is on his head is no mane. Yet. It could grow.
Or fall off.
It’s hard to tell.
Finally - she holds out her arms, her fingers flexing as if the power of her movements will make me place him in her arms faster.
And when I do, she sobs.
“Callie,” I soothe, running nose my along her ear. “It’s alright.”
Instantly, he begins to root around her paper-gown covered chest.
She claps a hand over her nipple and flinches when his mouth meets the back of her hand.
I get on my knees at the side of the bed. “What is wrong?”
Her eyes look terrified. “He has fangs, Z.”
“Here,” I grunt, hating that she has to worry about her own baby. Rakhii do not drop their fangs until they are weaned; I had assumed this little one would be the same but the repercussions for an incorrect presumption are not ones I would ever wish Callie to endure.
She already knows better than anyone about Dendro fangs versus breast tissue.
I tilt him in my direction, intending to pop my finger in his mouth to check if his fangs are in yet - but I can’t.
Even if my finger was small enough to fit in his mouth, my claw certainly won’t.
I hiss in frustration.
A tap on my shoulder has me glancing to see Dohrein.
“Allow me.” And he waves his hand.
He’s filed his claws flat.
“Why would you…” I start, before I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. I’m shocked that he had the foresight to prepare for this.
“He trims his nails for me,” Gracie says. “But don’t worry; he washed his hands like ten times for three minutes at a time, I swear.”
“Why would he trim his nails for you?” I question, my curiosity swirling.
Callie pats my arm and my chest lightens to hear her voice is amused. “Not now, Zadeon.”
Dohrein’s throat moves like he’s humming. While the venom of a full Dendroaspis has little effect on me, I’m not immune - and neither are hobs, for which a hit of venom would be extremely unpleasant.
It’s anyone’s guess what a little scrap of a half-Dendro could possess.
Apparently, thankfully - for now at least; none. “I don’t even feel pricks. You know, like you might if they were waiting to come down. Just pockets. Who knows? Maybe he won’t develop fangs. It’s possible he’ll just expel venom without being able to actually envenomate.” Carefully, he sets the wobbly little head back down on his dam’s chest. “From what I learned, he shouldn’t produce venom for suns cycles though.”
“What do you mean what you’ve learned?” I ask.
Gracie squeezes in, one of the tenderest smiles I’ve ever seen on her face as she watches Callie. And uncharacteristically, she stays quiet.
Though, she has managed unobtrusive quiet for these last hours as she lent mostly silent support to Callie.
I marvel at this.
“Nothing that can’t wait but you both will want to hear of it,” Dohrein says. There is a ferocious light in his eyes that has my tail swaying intently. “Yes. We will.”
Then my eyes are drawn to the infant nuzzling for his mother’s breast.
This time, Callie guides his mouth, and this time - she encourages him to latch on.
◆◆◆
CALLIE
My heart leaps when his large, slightly unfocused eyes find me.
They’re soft. And bright. And the pupils are big, and round; Thank you God not like theirs.
Not quite human, but… somehow… perfect.
And his smell! Not rot.
Not death.
Not snake.
Just clean, sweet-smelling baby.
I want to bury my nose in his hair and the urge to kiss his head overwhelms me.
I do it.
I press my lips into his… scales.
Zadeon has been my exposure therapy. The little bumps of scales barely register to me - and they don’t disgust me or terrorize me like I was afraid they would.
This close, I see his scales are mottled, but they’re darker too. Almost black. A little bit of shine - not the dull deathlike finish that still haunts through my nightmares sometimes. Not the same.
He’s not the same!
As I help him latch on, I finally believe it.
He isn’t their carbon copy. He’s not them. He is a little being all of his own.
I explore his skin with a light touch. As he dries, he’s getting a sort of down covering on his head.
Gracie bends to examine him with me. “Is that peach fuzz on his head or a piece of lint? Geez, he’s tiny.”
“It’s hair. He’s going to have hair,” I tell her.
My voice is rough from emotion.
Relief.
He’s not them.
He is mine.
Zadeon’s giant hand lands on him, covering him from shoulders to his itty bitty feet.
He is ours.
I stiffen when I feel his tongue split and rest on either side of the underside of my nipple.
He has a forked tongue.
It’s okay, that’s okay, it’s okay…
“Tell me when you’re hungry again, alright?” Gracie leans in to say. She’s got a small canvas tote clutched in one hand, and a strange looking stick in the other.
I tip my head. “You know what? I’m… sort of starving. I might fall asleep on my plate, but I could eat.”
Gracie grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She wheels the table - the one our baby was supposed to be examined on before Zadeon put the kibosh on that plan - to the side of the bed.
Then she starts pulling out ingredients.
I start to cry again.
She assembles the stick just-so, then turns to Zadeon. “Dad, could you do the honors and light this puppy up?”
He looks a little alarmed - at the use of ‘puppy’ in the same sentence that alighting is called for, I think - but he blows a soft pop of flames and the marshmallow crisps to a black outer shell instantly. The chocolate bar on top loses its shape and oozes along the sides, coating it all in a layer of hot goodness.
Gracie blows on it and cups a hand underneath of it - a graham cracker in her palm.
“Hurry and enjoy - the chocolate is melting right off,” she warns before she pinches the blackened confection off the stick using a top cracker.
And on an adorable little paper plate that reads, ‘Congratulations, MOM!’, there sits the most perfect, charred s’more I’ve ever seen.
“That scent is making me hungry,” Z says to Gracie. “May I have one too, please?”
I bite into mine, and smile when Dohrein smiles at me - even as he turns the lightest shade of green.
CHAPTER 46
ZADEON
I hold it up - close enough he can focus on it but far enough away he can’t reach it. “And this one is a caltrop. It is extremely painful on an enemy’s feet. Debilitating to our kind, with our soft foot pads. If you disperse a couple of these and they cross them; you’ve won. But remember,” I caution. “What you put in the ring is equally as dangerous for you as your opponent. If he isn’t taken down by them, now you have to watch him and what you’ve introduced.”
I feel her watching, not hear her.
But when I look, she is covering her mouth and laughing.
Maybe
that is why he started smiling.
He heard her. “I think he likes your laugh,” I tell her, grinning like a idtrek.
Callie grabs my ear - the one with holes - and kisses the scarred skin there. “You are the most adorable dad ever, you know that?”
I sigh and nod. “My mate has told me so. Not fierce, not intimidating; I am adorable.” I tsk.
She laughs harder. “Oh, no, you are very scary as you teach a baby about all your scary alien gladiator weapons.”
“We could teach him about all the scary human weapons,” I offer and hold up the caltrop to show her too. “This is a-”
“I heard,” she interrupts, her smile a huge thing. “And we have something murderous on the feet too.”
“Really?” I say excitedly.
“Umhmm, we call them Legos.”
“Legos,” I repeat slowly, liking the sound of this fearsome creation.
“If you think your little toy hurts when you step on it, you should see ours. You know that scar you love so much on my foot?”
Ahhh so that line is a scar.
“That was a Lego. Human children are raised with them. We scatter them on the floor for fun.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “Really! I had no idea Earth trained their youth to battle.”
I hadn't heard this about humans.
“We start ‘em out young. All children go through the Gauntlet of Legos.”
I can tell she’s teasing me. Legos could be as harmless as a stack of washcloths for all I know, but I carry on with her all the same.
“I admire you even more. And,” I bring her face to mine and lick her nose. "'I told you so'?"
Her brow furrows. "You 'told me so' what?"
"I told you you were a Warrior.”
◆◆◆
CALLIE
“What about… Baskian? It means protector. It is an old, noble name.”
“I like it,” I say softly.
I blow out an apologetic breath and lift my head off his chest and repeat my words for him to see.
The back of his claw brushes my cheek affectionately and his smile is so warm my insides turn to mush.
“Why are you deaf?”
I clap a hand over my mouth. What an insensitive-
