To The Fairest

by Adrianne Brooks

  She nodded towards the unconscious girl and smiled.

  “Well it seems I’m short one sales girl. You can start this afternoon. Lockers in the back for your purse. Grab a broom on the way back. We’ll need to get these ashes up before the afternoon rush.”

  I whistled softly as she turned away. Talk about cold.

  The ambulance arrived a few minutes later and the girl was carted off with minimal fuss. Most of the women who had been here were able to give statements to the police and since most of them witnessed the same thing the cops didn’t have to interview everyone on the scene to get a full picture. Which was awesome for me, because I was busy getting acquainted with my new position. I learned that the girl who’d been hurt had been working for LaRue part time while going to school.

  “She was a thief.” LaRue grumbled, as she took me to the back where we kept most of our stock. “I would have replaced her anyway, this just sped things up a bit.”

  Ouch.

  Note to self: Never steal from bitchy Cajun.

  “What happened?” I spoke not only because I was curious, but to distract myself from the strange heat in my belly. I knew Sam said that the baby would be a firebrand but I hadn’t expected to start feeling the results so soon. LaRue shrugged.

  “Lillian was helping someone, poorly I might add, when something struck her.”

  “What was it?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see. But she jerked back and light filled her. That’s when her hair began to grow. Change.” She waved towards a picture over on one wall and I saw a smiling young woman standing before the store amongst the other employees I’d met thus far. In the picture Lillian had brown hair cut in a daring pixie cut that made her features even more sharply defined than they already were.

  “She’s a brunette.” I noted quietly.

  The coincidence between what had happened this morning and what had happened to Lillian was too obvious to ignore. There was no way to find out if the girl had a Fairy Godmother or not, but I was going to go out on a limb and say that she did. What if Lillian’s FG was MIA as well? If she was, what could any of this possibly mean? What the hell was going on?

  LaRue huffed and turned away. “Strange juju going on. I want no part of it.” She sent me a glared over her shoulder. “None.” She stressed, and stared me down until I nodded the affirmative. I wasn’t sure how much she’d seen earlier when I’d called the fire, but she had nothing to worry about. What was happening was strange, but I wasn’t going to investigate. Not when my body acting so strange. Not when Maleficent wasn’t around to bail me out of whatever trouble I got myself into. Even if I did know where she was, I had so much else to worry about. I couldn’t afford to play Nancy Drew and stick my nose where it didn’t belong. After all, it wasn’t as if I could help anybody. Let alone a bunch of missing witches and their endangered charges. I had neither the time, nor the skill, to help anyone but myself. I had to carry my baby to term without the both of us bursting into flame.

  Maleficent would understand.

  She’d be disgusted with me if I tried to help. She’d probably hit me, call me stupid, and take away my American citizenship again. I couldn’t afford to be deported a second time. Once was bad enough and no matter what Maleficent said, it wasn’t nearly as funny from my point of view as it had been from hers. It had been a bitch for Sam to sneak me back over the border and I was pretty sure I’d seen my face posted on a Mexican wanted sign. No telling what Maleficent had framed me for. Considering everything she’d done to me, I shouldn’t have wasted another thought on her or her well-being.

  The arguments all sounded good in my head, but they all rang empty despite their validity. As the day went on, no matter how many times I told myself to forget about the whole mess, I couldn’t stop my eyes from honing in on that picture of Lillian every time I wandered into the back. Looking at Lillian made me think of the moth girl from that morning, and thinking about both of them brought my thoughts unerringly back to Maleficent.

  This was bullshit.

  If the witch wanted to ditch me, she should be allowed to do so.

  But, I resolved, I’d have to hear the news from her.

  At the end of the day, it wasn’t much of a surprise to realize that I’d made up my mind. I was just giving in to the inevitable. When Sam pulled up outside of Style and Flair to pick me up, I grabbed my helmet and slammed it down on my head before planting my fists on my hips.

  “What crawled up your ass and died?” he asked?

  “Maleficent is in trouble.”

  He stared at me.

  “Maybe.” I amended. “Most likely.”

  “O-kay.”

  “We’re going to save her.”

  A longer hesitation.

  “Are you sure you wanna—?”

  I glared at him through my visor and his voice died off.

  “Also, we’re buying a damn mini-van.”

  “But—!”

  “I will not strap our baby into a sidecar. Understood?”

  He grumbled something rude, and feeling empowered and determined, I finally slipped onto the bike behind him. He revved the bike’s engine and with a roar we were off to pay a little visit to Clementine.

  Chapter Five

  Like other members of the clutch, Clementine lived out in the boonies. Wandering the woods, the dragon clutch living on this side of the veil more closely resembled nomads than an ancient, mythical race of beings. There were only about five or six members of the clutch living in the human realm. They couldn’t afford to lose any more of their kind, but they spared who they could to watch Sam’s back. Staying on the move to avoid the notice of other shifters or humans. Clementine lived in a rundown trailer with three other clutch mates. It was distinguishable from the other trailers by the simple fact that it had a mailbox out front with his name on it.

  Sam parked his bike and as I gave the mailbox a curious glance as we passed it on our way to the front door. There was no way to tell if he were home or not but Sam knocked all the same. I saw curtains twitch and a moment later the front door opened just enough to reveal a stick thin main, with gray eyes and a neatly trimmed beard. He looked Sam up and down with haunted eyes, and I was painfully reminded that a lot of people had died to keep Sam alive. The members of the clutch that were left had gone through fair share of loss and not all of them were understanding about the sacrifices that had been made to keep him breathing.

  They understood their duty, but from what he told me they didn’t love him the way they used to. It was part of the reason why he had to work so hard to lead them. As his fiancé/mate I should have been introduced to the clutch a long time ago, but Sam hadn’t thought it was safe. These were special circumstances obviously, so I was understandably nervous. Clementine glanced in my direction, eyed me briefly, and the turned back to Sam.

  “What do you want?” a noticeable hesitation. “Sir.”

  “Can we come in?”

  Clementine looked as if he wanted to deny us entrance, but there was a tone to Sam’s voice that promised violence if we did so. The tall man sighed and rubbed the back of his neck before finally moving aside to let us pass.

  “I suppose so.” He grumbled finally.

  Sam smiled and patted him on the shoulder in thanks.

  The inside of the trailer was cramped, but neat and bright. In comparison, Clementine was rumpled looking and grouchy. He grabbed a half empty shot glass from the coffee table and sprawled on the couch. Eyeing us sourly he took a sip from the amber liquid before he spoke.

  “Care to answer my question now?”

  “We need some help.”

  A spark of interest before he scowled into his drink and took another sip.

  “Color me unsurprised.”

  “Alex is pregnant.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.” I agreed lamely.

  Clementine slammed his cup down onto the table and ran a hand through his hair.

  “How far along are you?”<
br />
  “Two months give or take.”

  His gaze dropped to my midsection and he raised an eyebrow.

  “Can I?” he asked softly, hand rising to make his intentions clear.

  I nodded and stepped forward to stand before him. His jaw tightened and he rubbed his palms together before reaching out to press both hands over my stomach. His hands were large and I felt dwarfed under his touch, despite the slightly squishy nature of my midsection. Note: Beneath about an inch of belly fat were abs of steel. I could work out and shed the pounds but was sure that I would eventually need it to survive the winter that Game of Thrones was always going on about.

  Clementine closed his eyes only to jerk his hands away with a gasp.

  “What is it?” Sam snapped.

  I grabbed Clementine’s wrist before he could pull fully away.

  “What did you see?” I asked quietly.

  He looked up at me and his eyes were bright with the first sign of pleasure I’d seen from him.

  “She’s beautiful.” He told me, and I shook my head. My hand tightened around his wrist.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  Clementine shook his head.

  “Nothing.” He said, then hesitated.

  “She’s just going to be…different.”

  “Different how?” Sam asked, eyes narrowed.

  “There’s something strange about the fire in her.” He shook his head. “She’s…she won’t be able to protect herself like others of our kind. She’ll be made of skin. Of blood and bone and weakness. No armor to protect her heart and keep her soul safe. But her dragon fire will be something of true greatness. Something of true power.”

  He grinned, looking ecstatic as he finally turned to look at Sam.

  “She will make a grand addition to the clutch.” His lips tightened suddenly. “If she lives.”

  “No.” Sam growled. Getting to his feet and shaking his head as he began to pace. “No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to talk about my unborn daughter and then tell me I’ll never get a chance to meet her.”

  Clementine sighed, looking just as miserable as he had when we’d first shown up. He jerked his hand from my grip and went for his drink again.

  “You must have known.” He said, between thirsty, greedy, gulps of alcohol. “You must have had some idea of what could happen.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “It’s part of the balance. Life must be bought with death. You can’t cheat the reaper and never expect him to come back for his pound of flesh.”

  Sam paled, growing very still, realization pulling the color from his face.

  “No.” He whispered it, and I glanced between the two men in growing desperation.

  “Sam.” My voice brought his gaze to my face. “Tell me.” I said simply.

  He shook his head and then looked away in something that looked alarmingly like guilt.

  “She’s got it.”

  “Got what?” But I knew. I knew.

  “The cancer. I gave it to her.” He shook his head and pressed his hands against his face. “I killed our daughter.”

  “We need to calm down and think.” I said, trying to breathe around the tightness in my throat. “Just because she’s going to be born sick doesn’t mean that it’s an automatic death sentence.”

  “In this case, it does.” Clementine interrupted. I’d gotten to my feet to grab Sam’s hands. I was trying to hold him still, hold him together around the helpless rage spiraling through his body and cracking his skin. He was shaking with it, the need to change, and at the sound of Clementine’s voice, his eyes, bright and burning, latched onto the healer with vicious intent. Clementine flinched beneath the attention before straightening in his seat.

  “You were dealing with one of the Djinn.” He said, referring to Zaran. “Their magic is all about exchange and balance. He healed you, but the only way Zaran was able to pull it off was by transferring that sickness, that death, onto someone else. Someone of your bloodline. Someone it would have affected anyway thanks to genetics.”

  “This is bullshit.”

  “Aren’t you a healer? Can’t you help us?”

  Clementine sighed, and when he looked at me there was a grudging understanding about him.

  “Healing, a real healing, can only do so much. Aches, pains, viruses and broken bones. Those are the standard. This…this runs deeper than all of that. I can’t help you little Widow.” He inclined his head towards Sam. “Just as I wasn’t able to help you, Rom baro. Though, with your Demon’s Heart you’re probably better off than the rest of us in the long run.”

  Sam growled and turned away, shoving open the front door hard enough to make it slam against the side of the trailer. I moved to follow him, but Clementine stood and grabbed my arm. I hesitated as the sound of Sam’s motorcycle came to growling life, and finally looked up to meet his eyes.

  “This is as it should be.” He told me.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Our kind are nearly extinct, all thanks to that man. He should have let himself die a long time ago. It would have saved a lot of lives. Maybe this—?” He jerked me forward and pressed his hand against my stomach again. “—is karma? To finally right the wrongs. To bring about balance.”

  “My daughter,” I began, speaking through clenched teeth. “doesn’t deserve to be punished to appease the sensibilities of a bunch of shifters.” I pulled my arm free so that I could shove him with both hands. He barely moved and that pissed me off even more. “She doesn’t deserve to die to justify anything. I’m sorry if you’ve lost someone, I’m sorry if you feel cheated, or if you think that Sam hasn’t suffered enough to deserve the life your clutchmates paid for in blood. But the next time you mention death and my daughter in the same sentence, I will take it as a threat. I will see you as a threat, and I will take. You. Down.”

  The muscles in his jaw and shoulders tightening, he took a deliberate step back and lowered his gaze. A sign of submission and grudging respect. I went for the door again but his voice made me pause. I didn’t bother to face him as he spoke, understanding that keeping my back to him was a sign of disregard for the kind of danger he might represent.

  “The child is a creature of flame.”

  “I get that.”

  “As a widow, the babe will lack the protection an egg would provide. You’ll need to let her fire run free whenever you feel it growing in your womb. To deny it would leave you both a pile of ashes.”

  “Kinder maybe, than giving birth to a stillborn.” I said thickly. I ached. That was the only way to describe it. A deep, inescapable ache.

  “No one knows what the future might bring little Widow.” I never expected to hear kindness from him. But there it was. Nearly unheard beneath the gruffness of his voice. “If you fight for the child, maybe the Fates will have mercy upon you. Only time will tell.”

  I didn’t bother responding. I felt as if I had swallowed bits of broken glass, the shards were digging into my windpipe, catching in my lungs. They stabbed at my insides and I felt tears fill my eyes. I hurried from the trailer, head lowered, and practically threw myself onto the back of Sam’s bike. My arms had barely tightened around him before we were off. Driving, speeding, running from that trailer, from Clementine, and from the terrible knowledge that left us both with heavy hearts and heavy souls.

  * * * *

  We never made it back to the apartment.

  Sam started swerving as we sped along the backstreets and I dug my nails into his chest.

  “Slow down!” I screamed, but I couldn’t be sure if he could hear me past the turmoil in his mind. I could see his skin beginning to break apart from beneath his helmet and above the collar of his shirt. His dragon shining through. I saw the yellow road sign whip past and I turned my head to try and read it to no avail. It didn’t take long for me to realize what it must have depicted however. We hit the curve in the road going almost 90 miles an hour. The curve w
as too sharp and we were going too fast to avoid what happened next.

  The bike skid and Sam grabbed for me. We hit the blacktop in a roll and I the world tilted and rolled crazily. I couldn’t scream. At first it was disbelief that kept me from making a sound, then terror and general breathlessness. My mind went blank and all I could do was hang limply in Sam’s grip until we rolled to a halt. He held me still and I flinched as the bike spun to a stop beside us on its side. His arms tightened around my waist and shaking, I folded myself around his hands and forearms.

  “I can’t do this.”

  I whispered the words only to jerk when he buried his face against the back of my neck. He was breathing heavy, I could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the rapid beat of his heart, against the curve of my spine and I shook my head and buried my face in my hands.

  “We can’t do this.”

  Sam had been hot to the touch before as his dragon fought for supremacy, but when my quiet weeping reached his ears, I felt him cool down almost immediately. He struggled with it for a moment, but then his breathing calmed, and the grip he had on me became comforting rather than crushing.

  “Maybe we don’t have to.” He said, hesitant to speak the word we were both thinking. “Even if we find a way to heal her, what’s to say that the same thing won’t again, only to someone else we love. We dodge a bullet once already. Maybe we aren’t meant to do it again.”

  Maybe he was right.

  It would be safer, easier, to let the cancer take the baby. But even though I’d only known about her for a day or so, even though I had no idea what fighting for her would entail, I wasn’t willing to just write her off. It was true that Sam and I had never really taken the idea of children seriously, but we had one now. She was there. Waiting, growing. Sam could hear and feel her. She was growing from my body. Taking pieces of me, pieces of him, and making someone whole and perfect.

  Whole.

  Perfect.

  Nothing like her parents.