The Shifter's Secret Baby Girl

by T. S. Ryder

  “Sweetie, I have a life too.”

  “Yes, but why didn’t you tell me?”

  “That would have defeated the purpose,” she says.

  “What purpose? I thought you were busy being a head witch and all.”

  “Cyrene, my dear, you are a gifted young witch,” she begins. “But you have always tried to run away from who you are, never accepting yourself, never finding peace. If you focused on living a life instead of running away from who you are, your life would have been so much happier. I am a head witch and I do that well. But that has never stopped me from having a life in the world. I never stopped myself. And look at me now - I am a successful designer.”

  “You could have told me all this earlier,” I say.

  “Then you wouldn’t have learned your lesson,” she says, giving me another knowing look. “I know you, Cyrene. I have known you since you were a baby. You never listen and that’s okay. You learn your lessons yourself when you figure things out on your own. It is totally okay,” she wheezes, “but it takes longer.”

  “So, you were the one who made Fred be nice to me?”

  She nods in approval. “I couldn’t let a man change my most prized witch.”

  “You are talking to me like you are very fond of me,” I say forthrightly.

  “I have always been fond of you. You just filled yourself with so much hate that you couldn’t see. Hate blinded you.”

  “I still dislike you for those meetings,” I blurt out. “I mean, Skype, WhatsApp, FaceTime…we have all this technology and you force us out at midnight.”

  “One day, you will know why. You have much to learn,” she says.

  I open my mouth to speak again but she raises a hand. “Let what I said sink in.”

  “I just have one more question,” I say, joining my hands together, pretending to plead.

  She smiles and tells me to go on.

  “What happens when a witch falls in love with a dragon?”

  “What happens when an American falls in love with a Brit?” She says, gesturing around with her hands. “What happens when an African falls in love with an Asian?”

  “That’s different,” I say. “I have heard it is an abomination.”

  “Oh, you watch too much TV,” she says in a slightly scolding manner. “Love comes from here,” she says, pointing to her heart. “It is the same in all beings, whether they are dragons, werewolves, fairies, witches, or humans—Love is just love.”

  “So, I should go ahead with the dragon?”

  “Not if you are still calling him the dragon.”

  “His name is Dell,” I say.

  “Cyrene,” she says, straightening her back and getting serious. “I can’t tell you what to do or what not to do, not beyond what the coven demands of you. Your personal life is yours, has always been yours and I can’t make your decisions for you.”

  “I know, I know,” I say. “It’s just that I don’t want to fuck it up and make another mistake.”

  “If you don’t make mistakes,” she says, “you don’t learn. After all, it is only human to make mistakes.”

  “But we are not human, are we?”

  “Not if you keep telling yourself that you are not one,” she said. “Cyrene, you need to change, learn to adapt, for I see a storm coming your way. If you don’t utilize the sails, you will drown.”

  “So, I go ahead with Dell?”

  She smiles, gets up and leaves—just like she turns around on her broom and swooshes away.

  Chapter Twelve - Head In The Shitter

  Cyrene

  For about a week or two, Dell sent messages that I ignored. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him, but that I needed time. I told him that over a text message. He asked to meet me and I refused. What was the point? If I saw him in person, all my resolve would break. Something inside me had changed, I could feel it. Whether it was the night in the glade with Dell or the shocking revelation of Minerva’s other life, but something was different.

  Both things had made me think, especially what Minerva had said: “Let that sink in,” she had said, referring to her lecture. It was about time for me to turn my life around. Did I really love Dell? Had I fucked my life up too much? Minerva was right for the most part, I have spent too much energy on running away from who I am and now is time to focus on living and embracing. I need to slow down.

  Besides, I think I am coming down with a fever. Erin has given me a month off, both as the head of GMA and as the head witch of the coven. And I need to spend this time alone, away from Dell, to figure out how I really feel about him. I needed to know whether I feel the same way about him by the end of the month or not. Dell said he would wait, but that he wouldn’t wait forever. I am going to slow down…embrace who I am and go with the flow. My head has been in the shitter for far too long, now is the time to get it out of it.

  Over the next two weeks, I begin to embrace who I am. I clear some space in my storeroom and set the cauldron there. I clean up my broom and get another broom for cleaning the house—this broom is sacred, enchanted and I am going to respect it. I also start learning from the grimoire, brewing more potions, practicing more spells. During the cleaning process, I also find my wand—I had only used it as a teenager and then I’d put it away forever, running away from magic. Now, I decide to keep it in my purse, with me at all times. It is part of who I am.

  When the month ends, I text Dell.

  “Hi, I need to see you.”

  “If you want to breakup or something, just do it on text,” he says.

  “No, I need to see you.”

  “See you as in urgent need-to-see-you-right-now or see you in the non-urgent way?”

  “Stop screwing around, Dell. I just think we should talk, sort things out, before proceeding.”

  “Okay then, whenever you want.”

  “Free tomorrow?”

  “Yes, supper at my place?”

  “Perfect,” I reply.

  The next day, at around three in the noon, I wake up still feeling sick, but decide to go ahead with my date with Dell. I put on the same dress I had worn during the fashion show as the showstopper, the dress that had Dell drooling. I had borrowed it from Erin earlier. I leave my hair open, just as Dell likes it. I don’t put much makeup on, just the glossy lipstick and eyeshadow. I throw on dangly earrings, high heels and an ancient necklace from my grandmother, one that is the family heirloom.

  I leave early and stop by the pharmacy, describe my symptoms to the guy who gives me a few pills and suggests a test. I purchase the test but refuse to take it. It is a ridiculous suggestion, but he had insisted so I had bought it. I stuff everything in my purse and head to Dell’s house.

  ***

  I knock on the door and Dell answers instantly.

  “I cooked for you,” he says, swooping in and kissing me.

  “Aren’t you optimistic?”

  “Is there a reason not to be?” He asks, making a puppy face. I laugh and shake my head.

  “You look beautiful,” he says and takes my hand. As the sunsets in the background, he leads me onto the balcony where he has set up a small table and two chairs. There are two glasses, a bottle of champagne and scented candles. He pulls out a seat for me and I take it. He sits opposite me.

  “So, why did you need to see me?” He asks, reaching for my hand across the table.

  “I think you have that figured out already, haven’t you?” He squeezes my hand.

  Dell brings out supper, but it smells funny. He serves a dish with a steak and sautéed vegetables and baked potatoes. The smell is unbearably awful, but I don’t want to ruin our moment so I try not to show it.

  “Try it, tell me how it is,” he asks.

  I try the steak. It has a strange taste. Then I try the vegetables that taste even worse. The baked potatoes make me want to throw up. I almost make a joke about his cooking, but stop myself.

  “It’s absolutely delicious,” I say. “You’re quite a chef!”

  “When
you live for over seven hundred years, you pick up skills,” he says, beaming.

  I roll my eyes in my head. Seven hundred years and he can’t cook shit.

  He is about to pop the champagne bottle when my head starts aching.

  “Dell, I think I should go. I am not feeling so well,” I say after I finish eating.

  “I thought you were going to spend the night here,” he says.

  “So did I, but I really need to go.”

  He insists that I stay, tells me he has plans, but relents. He drops me home.

  Once he leaves, I remember what the guy at the pharmacy said. I do a calculation in my head, finding it hard to believe. “It can’t be,” I say aloud, shaking my head. Then the urge to throw up takes over me and I run to the toilet and throw up everything Dell had made me eat.

  Then I take the test, light a cigarette as I sit on the toilet seat and wait for the results to show. My head reels again, zooming in onto the two pink lines I see. The urge to throw up takes over me again, bringing me back to the present and I vomit. Then I read the instructions and description on the test to confirm the results:

  “One line means not pregnant.

  Two lines means pregnant.”

  I put the cigarette out, run to the pharmacy and buy three different pregnancy tests, just to be sure. I take all three of them but the result remains the same.

  I am pregnant, with a dragon no less. And it is Dell’s fault.

  Chapter Thirteen - The Storm

  Dell

  I am left a little disappointed and confused by Cyrene’s sudden departure. Everything seemed to be going well when she suddenly took off. I wonder if it is wise to continue with her. It probably isn’t, but she seemed different today. She was still Cyrene, but a more toned down version. When I went to drop her off, she had remained silent all the way, her eyes closed, her head resting on the headrest. Had I done something? Had she changed her mind suddenly? Or, was she genuinely not feeling well?

  I turn off the lights and get in bed. The second I fall asleep, I am jerked awake by heavy banging on my door. I rush out to the door and open it to see Cyrene standing there.

  “Are you drunk, Cyrene?” I ask, annoyed. “I am really starting to think—”

  “You did this to me,” she howls.

  “I did what? Come inside and talk, don’t make a scene.”

  “You impregnated me!” She points an accusing finger at me.

  “I…what?” I am at a loss for words.

  “I am pregnant,” she barks.

  “Are you sure?”

  She throws four pregnancy test strips at me. I pick them up, two of them have two pink lines, one has a plus sign, and one says ‘pregnant.’

  “Is it mine, are you sure?”

  She comes to attack me, but then suddenly lurches forward, pushes me aside and runs to the bathroom. I hold her hair as she pukes. When she is done, I ask her to calm down and take her to my bedroom.

  “Here,” I hand her a glass of water. “You are probably dehydrated.”

  “I am pregnant, Dell,” she says. “My life is over, my career ruined.”

  “Nothing is over or ruined. Are you sure the baby is mine?”

  She looks at me accusingly. “No one has fucked me bare in years. I haven’t had sex in months. It is most definitely yours.”

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “What do you want?” She replies, looking at me seriously.

  “I think you already know what I want, but I won’t force you either way.”

  “What do you mean? It’s your baby.”

  “And yours too, but it’s not that simple, so you have to decide what you want first.”

  She remains silent and ponders, then reaches for her purse, brings out her phone and dials a number.

  “Erin, I am pregnant,” she says.

  “Yes, the father is Dell…No, I am sure,” she replies. “You have no faith in me,” she barks into the phone.

  “Cyrene, calm down,” I say, patting her on the shoulders.

  “Erin, how is this even possible, isn’t this an abomination?” I start laughing as she says that. She shoots me a pissed-off look.

  “Okay, I’ll talk to him,” she says, snapping the phone shut.

  “Erin says I should talk to you,” she tells me. “Well, I am talking.”

  “It is not an abomination,” I tell her. “You aren’t the first, this hasn’t happened for the first time. It is quite normal,” I say.

  “So what, my baby will be a witch dragon cross-breed?”

  “Your baby can’t be a witch,” I remind her. “It skips one generation.”

  “So it will be a dragon,” she asks.

  “Yes,” I nod. “But you can’t have the baby unless you become a dragon first.”

  “What the fuck,” she flails her arms around.

  “To lay a dragon’s egg, you have to be a dragon first. And you are not a dragon, Cyrene.”

  “What if I don’t become a dragon?”

  “Then you die.”

  “How do I become a dragon?”

  “You need a mate, someone to turn you, but it has to be someone you want to spend an eternity with. Dragons are bonded forever.”

  She pauses to think, then looks at me. “I think you already know the answer.”

  “Cyrene, with you I never know anything. That’s what draws me to you and keeps me on edge.”

  She smiles and I get my answer.

  “Besides,” I add, “dragon blood has strong magic. Your witching capabilities will be greatly enhanced, coupled with dragon powers.”

  “Let’s do this, then.”

  “Not here,” I say. “And not now.”

  “What now, then?”

  “Now,” I say, pulling the straps of her top down, “we make love.”

  ***

  I pull down her skirt and she shimmies out of her panties. I unhook her bra and she pulls down my pants. I push her against the wall, holding her hands and a feeling of Déjà vu hits me. Only this time we are both naked.

  There’s a fire in her eyes and a thirst, a hunger, a need for passion. She wants to be controlled. She gets on the bed on her back and waits for me with her legs open. I know how to please her in ways she doesn’t yet know of.

  I lube up my cock, pour lotion over her shaved pussy and push in very slowly. Her pussy is tight, enveloping my cock in its warmth. I push in a little deeper, moving around with my hips, searching her face, going deeper, pulling out, trying again and again until she gasps.

  I hit her G-spot. A little in and a little up and I have her in a frenzy, going wild, wanting more. She orgasms and I shoot just looking at her, as her pussy tightens around my cock and her body relaxes.

  Chapter Fourteen - The Dragons

  Cyrene

  I sit with Minerva in her posh loft in LA, enjoying the beautiful view. We sit at a table as her butler serves lemongrass tea that she insists I drink.

  “Minerva, I can never picture you living in a place like this,” I say.

  “Where do you picture me?” She asks.

  “Somewhere in a forest, in a treehouse maybe, brewing potions and stuff,” I say, laughing at my own stupidity.

  “Look at you,” she says. “You are laughing. Looks like you have learned to sail through the storm. I never expected that, I am so surprised.”

  “I suppose,” I say. “I am still afraid of this whole dragon mate thing. I have barely learned to accept myself as a witch and now I am on the way to being a dragon and a mother.”

  “I always knew you would do great,” she says. “Becoming a dragon, having an eternal mate is really one of the best things one can ask for and from what I can tell, you have quite a good mate.”

  “But turning into a dragon, the conversion, all that bloodshed…”

  “It’s overrated, really,” she says. “Call Dell over and I will do it for you now.”

  “What?” I say, unable to believe. “Really, Minerva, you?”

&n
bsp; “I have done that a lot of times,” she says. “I know quite a lot of dragons, have performed many conversions.”

  “But Dell said he needs to cut my arm, mix his blood with mine, do a bathing ritual to purify me…”

  Minerva waves her hand dismissively. “Those are just rituals, all you need is the blood transfer and given your state, the sooner you do it, the better.”

  “I thought I’d do it in the end, you know, before the babies are born.”

  “Cyrene, you see, carrying dragons isn’t easy for a human body. It takes quite a toll. Dragon eggs are to be carried by dragons only. Only a dragon body is capable of that. Human bodies are too fragile.”

  “Say no more,” I say. “This stuff is haunting. I’ll call him now.”

  I dial Dell’s number and ask him to come over. He shows up within the hour and when I tell him Minerva can do the conversion, he tells me about his rituals and all, about doing it properly in the dragon kingdom. Minerva shushes him.

  “There is no need for all that drama, Delindor.” Dell looks up as Minerva calls him by his dragon name. “Don’t look so surprised, I know your parents as well.”

  “So, how do we do this your way?” Dell asks.

  Minerva brings a syringe and shows it to Dell, speaking to him like talking to a baby. “I draw your blood with this and inject it into her arm. It is that simple and you can do your own rituals later. In her state, you know as well as I that we should have done it a month ago when her second trimester began.”

  “She wanted to wait,” says Dell. I nod in agreement.

  Minerva draws Dell’s blood and the syringe fills up with a dark, viscous liquid.

  “Okay, you need to lie down for this,” she says to me, urging me to lie on the sofa. “This is going to hurt.”

  I cradle my belly protectively with my right arm, my instincts warning me against it, but I tell my instincts to shut up as Minerva pushes a needle into my left arm.

  “This goes straight to the heart,” she says.

  I feel it instantly, the second his blood mixes with mine. My body starts growing warmer as a pain begins to shoot through my arm. I feel my babies become restless. I look at my arm and see my veins become suddenly visible, turning black as if filled with ink. It starts going up, all the way to my neck, reaching for my heart. Then it starts hurting more, my head throbbing. I try to get up and fall back down.