Lover At Last: A Novel of the Black Dagger Brotherhood

by J. R. Ward

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  John was about three feet away, and lying in a contorted position that made Blay’s heart flicker—

  The guy subtly flashed a thumbs-up, like he was reading Blay’s mind.

  Thank. Fuck.

  Blay shifted his eyes around without changing the awkward angle of his head, and then discreetly exchanged a gun for one of his daggers.

  As an unhinged hum started to vibrate in his head, he calibrated the lessers’ movements, their trajectories, their weapons. He was nearly out of bullets, and there wasn’t time to reload from his ammo belt—and he knew that John and Rhage were in a similar situation.

  The knives that V had hand-made for them all were their only recourse.

  Closer…closer…

  When the four slayers were finally in range, his timing was perfect. And so were the others’.

  With a coordinated shift and surge, he leaped up and started stabbing at the two closest to him. John and Rhage attacked the others—

  Almost immediately, more slayers came from the woods, but for some reason, probably because the Lessening Society wasn’t arming inductees all that well, there were no bullets. The second round rushed across the snow with the kind of weapons you’d expect to find in an alley fight—baseball bats, crowbars, tire irons, chains.

  Fine with him.

  He was so juiced and pissed off, he could use the hand-to-hand.

  NINETEEN

  Sitting on the examination table, with a frail paper gown covering her, and her bare feet hanging off the padded lip, Layla felt as though she were surrounded by instruments of torture. And she supposed she was. All manner of stainless-steel implements were laid out upon the countertop by the sink, their clear plastic wrappings indicating they were sterile and prepared for use.

  She had been at Havers’s clinic for an absolute eternity. Or at least, it seemed that way.

  In contrast to the rushing ride across the river, when the butler had driven like he knew time was of all essence, ever since she had arrived herein there had been delay after delay. From the paperwork, to the waiting for a room, to the waiting for the nurse, to the waiting for Havers to present the blood test results to her.

  It was enough to make one mad in the head.

  Across from where she sat, a print framed in glass hung upon the wall, and she had long memorized the image’s brushstrokes and colors, the bouquet of flowers depicted in vibrant blues and yellow. The name underneath it read: van Gogh.

  At this point, she never wanted to see irises again.

  Shifting her weight about, she grimaced. The nurse had given her a proper pad for her bleeding, and she was horrified to realize that she was going to need another soon—

  The door opened on a knock, and her first instinct was to run—which was ridiculous. This was where she needed to be.

  Except it was merely the nurse who had settled her here, taken that blood sample and her vitals, and made notations on a computer. “I’m so sorry—there’s been another emergency. I just want to reassure you that you are next in line.”

  “Thank you,” Layla heard herself say.

  The female came over and put a hand on Layla’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

  The kindness made her blink quickly. “I fear I shall need another…” She pointed down at her hips.

  The nurse nodded and squeezed gently before going over to the cupboards and extracting a peach-wrapped square. “I’ve got more here. Would you like me to take you back down to the bathroom?”

  “Yes, please—”

  “Wait, don’t get on your feet yet. Let me get you a better cover.”

  Layla looked down at her hands, her tangled, knotted hands that could not be still. “Thank you.”

  “Here you go.” Something soft was draped around her. “Okay, let’s get you standing.”

  Sliding off the table, she wobbled a little, and the nurse was right there, taking hold of her elbow, steadying her.

  “We’re going to go slowly.”

  And they did. Out in the hall, there were nurses rushing from room to room, and people coming and going for appointments, and other staff going at a dead run…and Layla couldn’t believe she had ever been as fast as them. To keep out of the crush, she and her kindly escort stayed close to the wall to avoid getting mowed over, but the others were really quite nice. As if all knew that she suffered in some grave manner.

  “I’m going to come in with you,” the nurse said when they got to the facilities. “Your blood pressure is very low and I’m concerned you’re a fall risk, okay?”

  As Layla nodded, they went in and the lock was turned. The nurse relieved her of the blanket, and she awkwardly shuffled the paper out of the way.

  Sitting down, she—

  “Oh, dearest Virgin Scribe.”

  “Shh, it’s okay, it’s all right.” The nurse bent down and gave her the fresh pad. “Let’s take care of this. You’re all right…here, no, you’ll want to give that to me. We have to send it to the lab. There’s a chance it can be used to determine why this is happening, and you’re going to want that information if you try again.”

  Try again. As if the loss was already done.

  The nurse snapped on gloves and got a plastic bag from out of a console. Things were taken care of discreetly and with alacrity, and Layla watched as the name she’d given was written on the outside of the bag in black marker.

  “Oh, honey, it’s okay.”

  The nurse took off her gloves, snapped out a paper towel from the holder on the wall, and knelt down. Taking Layla’s chin in her gentle hand, she carefully dried cheeks that had become wet with tears.

  “I know what you’re going through. I lost one, too.” The nurse’s face became beautiful with compassion. “Are you sure we can’t call your hellren?”

  Layla just shook her head.

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind. I know it’s hard to see them upset and worried, but don’t you think he’ll want to be with you?”

  Oh, however was she going to tell Qhuinn? He had seemed so sure of everything, as if he had already looked into the future and stared into the eyes of their young. This was going to be a shock.

  “Will I know if I ever was pregnant?” Layla mumbled.

  The nurse hesitated. “The blood test may tell, but it depends on how far along you are with what’s happening.”

  Layla stared at her hands again. Her knuckles were white. “I need to know whether I’m losing a young or this is just the normal bleeding that occurs when one does not conceive. That’s important.”

  “It’s not for me to say, I’m afraid.”

  “You know, though. Don’t you.” Layla looked up and met the female’s eyes. “Don’t you.”

  “Again, it’s not my place, but…with this much blood?”

  “I was pregnant.”

  The nurse made a hedging motion with her hands, her lips pursing. “Don’t tell Havers I said this…but probably. And you must know, there is nothing you can do to stop the process. It’s not your fault, and you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just, sometimes, these things simply happen.”

  Layla hung her head. “Thank you for being honest with me. And…in truth, that is what I believe to be occurring.”

  “A female knows. Now, let’s take you back.”

  “Yes, thank you very much.”

  Except Layla struggled with getting her panties in place as she stood up. When it became clear she couldn’t get her hands coordinated, the nurse stepped in and helped with enviable ease, and it was all so embarrassing and frightening. To be so weak and at the mercy of another for such a simple thing.

  “You have the most gorgeous accent,” the nurse said as they rejoined the traffic in the hall, sticking once again to their slow lane. “It’s so Old Country—my granmahmen would approve. She hates how English has become our dominant language here. Thinks it’s going to be the downfall of the species.”

&n
bsp; The conversation about nothing in particular helped, giving Layla something to focus on other than how long she was going to be able to go until she needed to make this trip again…and whether things were getting worse with the miscarriage…and what it was going to be like when she was forced to look Qhuinn in the eye and tell him she had failed….

  Somehow they made it back to the exam room.

  “It shouldn’t be much longer. I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  The nurse paused by the door, and as she went still, shadows crossed the depths of her eyes, as if she were reliving parts of her own past. And in the silence between them, a moment of communion was struck—and though it was unusual to have something in common with an earthbound female, the connection was a relief.

  She had felt so alone in all this.

  “We have people you can talk to,” the female said. “Sometimes talking afterward can really help.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Use that white handset if you need help or feel dizzy, okay? I’m not far.”

  “Yes. I shall.”

  As the door shut, tears watered up her vision, and yet even as she ached in her chest, the crushing sense of loss seemed disproportionate to the reality. The pregnancy was only in the very beginning stages—logically, there was not much to lose.

  And yet to her, this was her young.

  This was the death of her young—

  There was a soft knock at the door, and then a male voice. “May I come in?”

  Layla squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. “Please.”

  The race’s physician was tall and distinguished, with tortoiseshell glasses and a bow tie at his throat. With a stethoscope around his neck and that long white coat, he looked like the perfect healer, calm and competent.

  He closed the door and smiled at her briefly. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine, thank you.”

  He regarded her from across the room, as if assessing her medically even though he did not touch her or use instruments. “May I speak frankly?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  He nodded and pulled over a rolling stool. Sitting down, he balanced a file on his lap and stared into her eyes. “I see that you haven’t listed your hellren’s name—nor your father’s.”

  “Must I?”

  The physician hesitated. “Have you no next of kin, my dear?” When she shook her head, his eyes registered true sadness. “I’m so sorry for your losses. So there is no one here for you? No?”

  When she just sat there, saying nothing, he took a deep breath. “All right—”

  “But I can pay,” she blurted in a rush. She wasn’t sure where she could get the money, but—

  “Oh, my dear, do not worry about that. I need not be renumerated if you are not able.” He opened the file and moved a page out of the way. “Now, I understand that you have gone through your needing.”

  Layla just nodded, as it was all she could do to keep from screaming, “What is the test result?!”

  “Well, I have looked at your blood results and they have shown some…things I didn’t expect. If you so consent, I would like to take another sample and send it to my lab for a few more tests. Hopefully, I’ll be able to make sense of it all—and I’d like to do an ultrasound, if you don’t mind. It’s a standard exam that will give me an idea how things are progressing.”

  “As in, how much longer I have to miscarry until it is complete?” she said grimly.

  The race’s physician reached out and took her hand. “Let’s just see how you are, shall we?”

  Layla took a deep breath and nodded again. “Yes.”

  Havers went to the door and called for the nurse. When the female entered the room, she rolled in with her what appeared to be a desktop computer mounted on a cart: there was a keyboard, a monitor, and some wands mounted on the sides of the contraption.

  “I shall allow my nurse to do the draw—her hands are far more competent than mine in that regard.” He smiled in a gentle way. “And in the meantime, I’m going to check on another patient. I shall return imminently.”

  The second needle stick was far better than the first, as she knew what to expect, and she was briefly left by herself when the nurse departed to deliver the goods to the lab—wherever, whatever that was. Both of them returned shortly.

  “Are we ready?” Havers asked.

  When Layla nodded, he and his nurse conversed, and the equipment was arranged close to where she was sitting. The physician then rolled back over on his stool and pulled out two arm-like extensions from the sides of the examination table. Flipping what looked like a pair of stirrups free, he nodded to the nurse, who dimmed the lights and came around to put her hand on Layla’s shoulder.

  “Will you lie back?” Havers said. “And move down so that you’re at the end of the table. You’re going to put your feet here after you remove your undergarments.”

  As he indicated both of the footrests, Layla’s eyes peeled wide. She’d had no idea that the examination was going to be—

  “Have you never had an internal exam before?” Havers said with hesitation. As she began to shake her head, he nodded. “Well, that’s not uncommon, especially if this was your first needing.”

  “But I can’t take off—” She stopped. “I’m bleeding.”

  “We’ll take care of that.” The physician seemed utterly sure. “Shall we get started?”

  Layla closed her eyes and leaned back so she was lying flat, the thin paper that covered the padded surface crinkling under her weight. With a lift of the hips and a quick shuffle, she did away with what covered her.

  “I’ll take care of that for you,” the nurse said quietly.

  Layla’s knees locked together as she patted around with her feet for those forsaken stirrups.

  “That’s it.” That rolling stool squeaked as the doctor closed in. “But move down farther.”

  For a split second, she thought, I can’t do this.

  Curling her arms around her lower belly, she squeezed them in, as if she could somehow hold the baby inside of her at the same time she kept herself from flying apart. But there was nothing she could do, no conversations she could have with her body to calm it down and keep what had implanted, no loving pep talk she could impart to her young so it would keep trying to survive, no strain of words to calm her total panic.

  For a split second, she longed for the cloistered life she had once found so stifling. Up in the Scribe Virgin’s Sanctuary, the placid nature of her existence had been something she had taken for granted. Indeed, ever since she had come down to earth and tried to find purpose here, she had been rocked by trauma after trauma.

  It made her respect the males and females whom she had been told were beneath her.

  Down here, everyone seemed to be at the mercy of forces outside of their control.

  “Are you ready?” the doctor asked.

  As tears rolled out of the corners of her eyes, she focused on the ceiling above her, and gripped the edge of the table. “Yes. Do it now.”

  TWENTY

  Holy shit, Qhuinn was completely out of control.

  Almost no visibility. Plane wobbling back and forth like it had the DTs. Engine cutting in and out.

  And he couldn’t even check on Z. Too much wind to yell over, and he wasn’t taking his eyes off wherever they were headed—or more like wherever they were going to crash-land—even though he couldn’t see a damn thing—

  What in a million years had made him think this was a good idea?

  The one thing that appeared to be working was the compass, so at least he could orientate himself to where home base was: The Brotherhood compound was due north and a little east, on the top of a mountain surrounded by the invisible, defensive boundary of V’s mhis. So directionally, he was right on, assuming that N-S-E-W dial was in fact more operational than, oh, say, everything else in the tin-can shit box.

  As he looked to his right, the unrelenting wind coming through the half-shat
tered windshield slammed into his ear canal. Out the side window, he could see…a whole lot of dark. Which he took to mean they had passed through the suburbs and were out over the farmland. Maybe they’d already hit the rolling hills that eventually turned into the mountain—

  A sound like a car backfiring got his attention in a bad way—but what was worse?

  The sudden silence that followed.

  No engine clatter. Just the wind whistling into the cockpit.

  Okay, now they were really in trouble.

  For a split second, he thought about dematerializing out. He was strong enough, aware enough—but he wasn’t leaving Z—

  A strong hand landed on his shoulder, scaring the balls off him.

  Z had dragged himself forward, and going by the expression on his face, he was having trouble staying on his feet—and not just because of the bucking and weaving.

  The Brother spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the din. “Time for you to go.”

  “Fuck that,” Qhuinn hollered back. Reaching forward, he went to try the ignition. Couldn’t hurt, right?

  “Don’t make me throw you out.”

  “Try it.”

  “Qhuinn—”

  The engine kicked back on, and the din reintensified. All good news. The trouble was, if the bastard’d gone out once, it was going to go out again.

  Qhuinn shoved his hand into his jacket. As he snagged his cell phone, he thought of everyone they were both leaving behind—and he passed the thing to the Brother.

  If there was a hierarchy in the reach-out-and-touch order, Z was at the top of the list. He had a shellan and a daughter—and if anyone was going to make a call, it was him.

  “What’s this for?” Zsadist said darkly.

  “You can figure it out.”

  “And you can leave—”

  “Not leaving—gotta fly this deathtrap until we hit something.”

  There was some further arguing at that point, but he wasn’t moving from the driver’s seat, and as strong as the Brother was under normal circumstances, Z wasn’t in any condition to muscle around so much as a loaf of bread. And the convo didn’t last long. After the talk dried up, Z disappeared, no doubt ducking back into the rear so he could make that last contact with those he loved.