by Zara Zenia
Everyone else is convinced that Eva will wake — everyone but the doctors and me, that is. Because I know I did this. I know I made a poor decision and now I’m being punished for it. Now I’ll never see Eva’s smile or hear her laugh again. I’ll never see her eyes warm with lust or her head thrown back in passion.
But we have the child, and he reminds me of her in so many ways.
The child gurgles and wobbles up to his feet, arms out unsteadily as he takes his first steps toward Lucas.
“Look at you!” he says, crouching down to welcome the baby with open arms.
“He wasn’t doing that this morning,” I say, shaking my head.
His quick development is posing quite the problem for us. No one knows what to expect next with him. He might wake up not able to crawl and by the end of the day, he’ll be running marathons. The kid is something else.
Literally.
We still haven’t been able to determine if he’s part Desergan or part vampire. Every test the doctors run is inconclusive and shows traces of both in his genes. But unless Eva is secretly a vampire or Desergan — and we know she’s not — that can’t be right. Our tests are just not able to give us an accurate result, it seems.
But we’ve tried not to let that bother us. As far as we’re concerned, the child belongs to all of us.
Lucas wraps him in a big hug and squeezes him while he giggles.
“Should we continue our story about Medusa and Perseus?” he asks, tickling under the child’s chin.
“Isn’t that a little dark for an infant?” I ask, a brow arched. I know the vampires and I don’t see eye to eye on everything, but surely we could find a story without monsters and murder. Maybe one that won’t give him nightmares. I think that’s what Eva would want.
“Hungry,” the child whines, squirming in Lucas’s arms.
“You just had lunch not twenty minutes ago,” I say, not even registering that these are his first words. At this point, it’s hard to be surprised by anything the child does. He’s clearly very special, the product of a prophecy, so what can I really expect? If he’s as powerful as the prophecy says, then this really is just a drop in the bucket.
“Huuuungry,” he says again, this time with an adorable little growl.
“He is growing quite rapidly. It takes a lot of fuel for that,” Lucas says thoughtfully.
I just shrug. I’m not going to argue about overfeeding the baby that no one even understands. All conventional child-rearing wisdom has already flown out the window. At this point, we’re just winging it. It’s the only thing we can do.
“Well, maybe we’ll get you a little snack while we read our story, huh? What do you say about that, kiddo?”
“Hungry!” the child says giggling as Lucas sets him down. He darts off out of the room, giggling as Lucas chases him. I just shake my head, chuckling through a yawn.
“You should get some rest,” Trylor says, appearing from the other side of the room. I haven’t seen much of him since the baby’s birth. Only in passing when handing off the child or visiting Eva to tell her the latest developments. But I’m glad to see him now, even if he is still angry at me. I don’t blame him. I’m still angry with him for the call he made in the hospital, but now that I see the child growing and thriving, I know it was the right choice. I just wish Eva wasn’t the one to pay for it.
“Maybe sometime,” I say back with a shrug.
“When she wakes up, you’ll want to be rested to see her.”
I don’t say anything back. Trylor already knows how I feel on the matter, but he refuses to admit defeat like I have. Of course, he doesn’t have the unbearable weight of guilt on his shoulders. He doesn’t have to live with the knowledge that he’s the reason his child won’t ever know his mother. For all his complaining about how he’s the one with the tough decisions, how he has to deal with the difficult tasks, it’s not Trylor that must bear this burden. That is on me alone.
“You can’t blame yourself forever, Brandt. You didn’t know it would happen like this.”
“I knew there was a chance it could go wrong. And any chance should have been too much of a chance.”
He nods. “It should have been, but we all know Eva. We all know what she’s like when she wants something. I’m not sure any of us can confidently say we’d have done it any other way.”
I know he’s just trying to make me feel better, but surprisingly, it kind of works.
“I’ve forgiven you, brother. And I know Eva forgives you too. And she will wake. You can count on that.”
I sigh, shaking my head at the fresh wave of emotion pushing up my throat. “I sincerely hope you’re right.”
Chapter Forty-One
Trylor
“Great job, buddy. Keep your shield up, keep your feet moving. If you let them see where you’re going, they’ll beat you there,” I say, lunging forward with my wooden practice sword. The child blocks it with his shield, parrying quickly just like I showed him.
“When are you going to teach me the bow?” he asks, his multi-colored eyes glittering with intelligent curiosity.
“It might be difficult for you to pull the string back. I don’t think we have any children’s bows anymore,” I say, watching his expression fall. We’ve been spending a lot of time together in the past few days. He’s grown remarkably fast, now the side of a young child, smart as a whip, too clever for his own good, and always hungry to learn more. I know he’s only a week old, but he seems much older, and when I was that age — or at least the age he seems like — I was already learning the art of the sword, learning how to defend myself and protect those I love.
Not that it’s done me much good in the last few years, but it’s something to share with the child. Something we can bond over. And he seems to love spending time with me. I don’t want to look too far into it, but I think he may prefer me to the others and it makes me wonder if he’s actually mine.
Up to this point, we’ve been treating the child as if he belongs to all of us biologically. And it works, but I know we’re all curious. I know we are each desperate to know who the father is. Not that it will really change anything.
But the child’s affinity for me and my teachings in particular fill me with male pride unlike anything else.
I just wish Eva was here too.
One of us is always keeping a constant vigil at her bedside, telling her how the child is growing and learning so fast. Every day, I tell her the stories of what happened that day, hoping that some of it gets through. I know Eva would be a remarkable mother if she was here with us right now, but just because she’s not doesn’t mean she deserves to miss anything.
“We can try, though. You’ve gotten a lot stronger today already.”
“Yeah?” he asks, his eyes brightening.
“Sure, why not.”
“Is it really necessary to teach the child your barbaric ways?” Morgan drawls from the side of the practice ring. He’s been watching us spar for the better part of an hour without having anything to say, so his sudden comment takes me aback.
“We can hardly expect the child to fight if we don’t prepare him for battle.”
Morgan frowns, crossing his arms. “I’m not sure this is the kind of fighting we should be preparing him for. He is only one boy.”
“Our father taught us when we were young,” Brandt says, stepping to my defense. He’s currently rummaging around in the equipment cabinet, testing out bowstrings.
“What a ringing endorsement,” Morgan says, rolling his eyes.
“I like learning,” the child says firmly, gleefully taking the bow from Brandt.
“There you have it,” I say smugly, ruffling the child’s hair.
It still feels strange to refer to him as ‘the child,’ but with Eva still in her coma, none of us felt it was right to name him. She should be a part of that process. Brandt says he dreamed of a name, but none of us wanted to hear it. Eva will name her child. Not any of us. Because she is going to wake up. I�
�m sure of it. I just don’t know when.
I do hope it’s soon.
We’ve put a hold on the plans to leave Desergan. Ever since the child’s arrival, the evil has been waiting, not advancing, not attacking. Just waiting. I think it can sense the danger to its way of life, but doesn’t yet know if it’s real. There’s no way it can cross the palace barrier. We have been protected here for centuries, but no matter how much we studied, we have been unable to find a way to extend the protection. For now, the Desergans who have not fled are in the palace, safe from harm, in a wing secluded from us. Really, it’s more that we are secluded from them. After all, there are only six of us with the child and a hundred or more of them. I don’t mind giving up my palace to my people, I’m only sorry I didn’t do it sooner.
“All right,” I say, crouching down to the child’s eye level as he raises the bow. “You want to keep your arms like this, your elbow bent, and keep your face far enough away from the string that it doesn’t snap you in the eye.”
“Eva’s going to awake to her son being blinded by this nonsense,” Morgan grumbles.
“What nonsense is going on?” Lucas says from the doorway. He’s apparently left Eva’s side for the moment to join us. He’s probably as smitten with the child as I am. In the early days, it was hard to peel Lucas away from him, always trying to read him stories and tell him the wonders of the universe. But now that he’s older, the child wants to learn practical things, and that’s where I come in.
“Trylor’s teaching me to shoot a bow!” he says excitedly, pulling the string back like I showed him. He lines it up with the target and it goes a little wide, but still strikes near the center.
“A natural,” I say proudly. “Not that there was ever any doubt.” Of course there wasn’t. He’s been a natural at everything he’s tried his hand at. In only a week, he’s walking, talking, discussing complex mathematics, and fighting with the skill of an apprentice. He’s a prodigy in every sense, in every aspect of life, and again, I’m sad that Eva’s not here to witness the miraculousness.
“You could at least teach him something practical if you insist on teaching him to battle,” Lucas says, and there’s no mistaking the hint of jealousy in his voice.
“I’m teaching him what he wants to learn.”
“Just because your father didn’t care to teach you how to defend yourself,” Brandt intones.
“Not everyone has a king for a father,” Morgan growls back.
“Stop it!” the child cries, tossing the bow aside. “Why are you all fighting?”
We all exchange sheepish looks, suddenly ashamed by our behavior.
“We all just want what we think is best for you,” I say gently. “But we have different ideas about what that is. And since we don’t know who your father is, we all have to compromise.”
The child looks at me like I’m talking nonsense and I realize we’ve never actually discussed his parentage. We’ve mentioned his mother, and taken him to meet her, but for the most part, it’s too painful for us, so we just avoid the whole topic.
But then a smile crosses his lips and he laughs the most genuine laugh. “That’s so silly! You’re all my father.”
Brandt shakes his head, stepping forward. “That’s not how it works, buddy. Everyone gets one mom and one dad.”
The child laughs harder. “I am not made from two. I’m made from five.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Brandt
“You’re…?” I ask, as bewildered as the rest of them.
The child nods sagely. “I am made from all of you. And I think it’s time to wake Mom up. She’s been asleep for too long.”
My heart stops and I don’t want to believe it. We all know the child has special abilities, but could he know that Eva’s ready to wake up? I look over to Lucas, the last one to visit her, and he just shrugs.
“Come on,” the child says, marching out of the practice ring and out of the gym. For a long moment, we’re all frozen in place, exchanging glances with one another.
“Do you know…?” Morgan asks.
Trylor shakes his head. “Not a clue.”
“We should follow him,” I say, finally propelling myself into action. I’m already sprinting down the hall after him when I hear footsteps following me and I know the others aren’t far behind.
We’ve only taken the child to visit Eva a couple of times and only when he was much younger, so it should probably be surprising that he knows the way to the palace hospital, but then again, nothing about this child can surprise me at this point. He’s a miracle in every sense of the word and now I can only hope that he’s able to perform miracles, too.
I wind up at Eva’s bedside gasping for breath, and I have to do a double-take with the boy standing next to her. It’s still our child, but he’s grown since he left the gym. He’s now nearly as tall as me, probably taller than the vampires. He’s got the look of a lanky teenager, but his eyes shimmer with age-old wisdom.
She’s still laying in the bed, in the same position she’s been in for over a week, her arms crossed lightly over her chest which rises and falls in soft breaths with the assistance of a breathing machine. Her skin is pale, so much so that it’s nearly translucent, her veins visible enough to cast a blue tint on her pallor.
I reach out instinctively to take her hand, my eyes filling with fresh tears.
“Eva, I’m so sorry I did this to you,” I say, my voice breaking.
“It’s okay,” the child says, patting my shoulder. “She’s going to be okay.” He looks toward the doorway and the others are all crowding into the room, making it feel fuller than it was probably ever meant to.
“What do you know?” Trylor asks, stepping closer.
Morgan and Lucas crowd around the bed too, all four of us hovering over Eva, holding her hands, stroking her hair, trying to tell her how much we care even though she’s not awake to hear it.
The child grins and places his hand over Eva’s forehead, not touching her, but hovering about an inch from her skin. He slowly begins to move his hand down, over her face, waving it down the length of her entire body. I look to my brother, confused and concerned, but he doesn’t pay me any attention. He’s watching the child and Eva like they’re the only things that exist.
The child reaches Eva’s feet and steps back from the bed, still smiling with a knowledge he’s not sharing with the rest of us.
And then, Eva’s eyes flicker open and she takes a breath on her own.
Suddenly, the noise in the room is deafening as monitors and machines beep and squawk and doctors and nurses rush in. Panic grips me, not knowing what’s happening. She opened her eyes, but the doctors seem worried. They seem frantic, and I can’t help but worry it’s the last time I’ll ever see those gorgeous hazel eyes.
They shove us out of the room while they work, but it’s not long before they’re out again, looking just as confused as the rest of us. Not the child of course. He still looks pleased with himself as he glances toward the door, but he also looks tired.
“Well?” Trylor demands, his voice nearly a roar. We’ve all been waiting for something to change for so long, but now there’s the chance that the thing we’ve been waiting for went the wrong way. We all just wanted something to happen, but no one gave consideration that the something could be the wrong thing.
Of course, I’ve been prepared for the worst since the beginning. Because I know that this is my punishment and I deserve it for risking the thing I care about more than anything.
“She’s…” The doctor seems speechless, shaking his head.
My throat closes up tight, my heart seized in my chest, all my blood like ice.
“She’s what?” Lucas asks through clenched teeth.
“She’s awake!” the child says, running into the room past the doctor.
That seems to shock everyone more than the doctor’s hesitance, but not me. Suddenly, I’m buoyed. I feel like there might be a glimmer of hope for me. For Eva.
I dart in after him and I’m immediately greeted by one of Eva’s glorious smiles, brighter than the summer sun.
My knees give out from under me and I fall to the floor by her bedside, her hand cradled in mine, kissing it feverishly while tears stream down my face.
“What?” she asks, frowning and confused. Then the other three are in the room too, and we’re all lavishing her with attention and love and just completely in awe.
“What happened?” she asks, a frown creasing her brow.
“Hi, Mom,” the child says with a sheepish wave.
Her eyes go wide as she takes in the child that’s as tall as any of us, walking, talking, a grown man, practically.
“How long was I out?” she asks horrified.
I chuckle, shaking my head, kissing her forehead.
“There’s a lot to explain,” I say, “but all in due time. I’m just so happy you’re back… We all are,” I say, seeing the same relief in every pair of eyes.
“Right now, I have work to do,” the child says, determination ringing in his voice.
“Work?” Trylor asks.
He nods, moving to the window in the room. It’s large enough that we can all join him to look beyond to the ruins of Desergan, the destruction and loss surrounding us. There are guards surrounding the perimeter of the gates, at the doors, posted all over the grounds. They look exhausted, burdened by remaining here. So many have already fled, found safer places to hide, to live life without fear. We’d turned over our list of suitable planets and given Desergans the means to leave if they desired. But the people who have stayed all seem to be wondering if the sacrifice is worth it.
I don’t blame them. How could I? There’s no food on the planet, their homes have been destroyed, and our kind are dying because the women are infertile. What incentive is there for anyone to stay other than loyalty to the crown?
But now, the child lifts his hand and waves it across the view outside. Suddenly, green shoots burst from the ground, trees growing in the blink of an eye. Light falls where there have been only shadows for too long and the people outside are taking notice, elbowing each other in shock and surprise, their expressions now awed and hopeful as they turn to see us all looking out the window.
