Agave Kiss

Dude, This Is Huge

Over the next few days, my life dwindled to what other people were doing to me. I ate when someone told me, slept, woke for various tests, and then went back to sleep. I barely remembered the corrective surgery where they sutured the tears in my thigh, but I sure felt the stitches. Visitors came and went, though they couldn’t bring Butch, much to my dismay. But the nurse was canny after that first time; she insisted on checking purses thereafter.

It was the third day after my arrival at the ER when Dr. Rosales came into the room. I was itching to be released, but from the look on her face she had news for me. Hopefully it wasn’t something dire, like I’d never again walk without a limp. She’d mentioned PT, of course, but not permanent disability. Still, I clicked the mute button on the remote and let her determine her approach.

“From our prior discussion, I’m positive you don’t know . . . but I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“What?”

“You’re approximately six weeks pregnant. Congratulations.”

I stared, unable to process this newest crisis. Me? A mother? Good gods. Though I managed well enough with Cami, any time I spent with her was influenced by the awareness it would end. My own kid wouldn’t be like that at all, no giving the baby back when it started driving me crazy. Maybe I should’ve been excited, ecstatic even, that part of Chance would live on through me, but cold terror coiled in my stomach instead.

Somehow I managed not to babble the usual denials and incoherent questions, but I think my silence alarmed her. The doctor studied me. “This was an unplanned pregnancy, I take it? I can’t make any recommendations, of course, but just remember that you have a number of options.”

“I know,” I whispered.

But no matter how scared I might be, that wasn’t an option. I ached, thinking about the life Chance and I had created. Gods, I hoped I hadn’t hurt it with all the crazy shit I’d done in the last six weeks. The poison magick spell I’d set off, oh, baby, I’m so sorry. But maybe the amniotic fluid filtered such effects. That wasn’t the kind of question a doctor could answer, but Eva might know.

“Is the peanut okay? I mean, I’ve had pain meds and there was anesthetic . . .”

“Yes, all your treatments are known to be safe for expectant mothers. No worries on that front, though you do need to take better care of yourself. Rest more, drink plenty of fluids, eat well, take prenatal vitamins, and see your regular practitioner for regular checks.”

“Yes, I will.”

A horrifying thought occurred to me. Not long ago, I’d been in La Rosa Negra with Booke—I searched my brain frantically—but I’d refused alcohol that day because I was driving. Oh, gods. At Twilight, I’d had one full Agave Kiss and part of a second one, comped by Jeannie the bartender, who thought I looked like I was having a rough night.

My panic must’ve shown because Dr. Rosales asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I had a few cocktails. Before I knew. Will it hurt the baby? I’m not normally a big drinker—”

“How many is a few?”

“One . . . and part of a second.” I told her what was in the Agave Kiss. Hopefully, I hadn’t hurt the peanut.

“That’s not heavy or binge drinking. Alcohol can lead to fetal cell death, but thousands of women have a few drinks before they realize they’re pregnant. Just . . . take care of yourself from this point. Your body will do its best to protect your child. It’s your job to make it easy.”

“I’m on the wagon from this point on,” I promised. “I just . . . I had no idea.”

She laughed. “You’d be surprised how often I hear that, sometimes from women who come in with severe abdominal pain and have no clue they’re about to deliver.”

“Really? I think the barfing might’ve clued me in eventually. The nausea hit hard for a few days, then it tapered off. Now it’s mostly triggered by certain smells. Is that normal?”

Dr. Rosales answered, “To be honest, every woman and every pregnancy is different. I’ve treated women who were so sick, the whole time, that they were malnourished by the time they delivered. And I’ve admitted those who never had a moment of discomfort.”

“I think I’m jealous. Do you have kids?”

She shook her head. “Too busy.”

We shared a smile. Then I said, “Not that I’m ungrateful, but when will you spring me?”

Her smile widened, telling me she had good news. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve already signed your paperwork, so if you want to call a friend to come get you, you’re ready for discharge.”

“Thanks. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

With a few words in parting, the doctor went on her way. I crawled out of the hospital bed and rang Shannon’s cell. “I’m out of here. Can you pick me up?”

“I’d be mad if you didn’t call. I’ll borrow Maria’s car and be right there.”

She didn’t have a job at the moment, as she had been gone a while, and retail managers didn’t waver when employees stopped coming in. People quit mall jobs just like that all the time; it was a simple matter to replace a clerk. If Shan had a vehicle of her own to drive, it would be easier. I resolved to do something about that, but it couldn’t be my top priority. Once everything else was squared away, I’d help her out.

After hanging up, I got dressed, which took me ten minutes. I was tired and shaky by the time I got my skirt on, and I was grateful someone had thought to bring me one with an elastic waist and flowing lines. The T-shirt wasn’t elegant, but it covered me. At this point, I only cared about the latter, not the former. I shoved my feet into some sandals and waited for Shan, all my other possessions in a plastic bag beside me.

It was half past the hour when Shannon arrived and another fifteen minutes to find an orderly to wheel me down. This was for insurance reasons, but honestly, I wasn’t sure if I had the fortitude to make it to the car on my own anyway. Things felt like they were such a mess, important matters unresolved, and I was in no condition to fix them—now more than ever.

When Shannon had to repeat herself for the fourth time, as she drove me to Chuch and Eva’s place, she finally asked, “What is with you today? Are you stoned?”

“Not anymore. But there’s something major on my mind.”

“Chance,” she guessed.

“For once, no.”

“Kel?”

“Colder.” I wasn’t trying to be annoying; I just didn’t know if I was ready to share such fresh, earthshaking news.

“Just tell me already. What?”

I pressed both hands to my abdomen. “Baby.”

The car slung sideways as she slammed on the brakes, as she’d nearly run a red light in gawking at me. “No way. You’re knocked up?”

“Yep. Apparently.”

“Dude, this is huge.”

She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know; my skull still felt too small for my baffled brain. I mean, I could ask Eva for practical advice, but down the line? All of this rested squarely on me. If I had eaten more of the gross hospital food, just the worry could make me upchuck, forget about morning sickness.

“I know.”

“Is it . . . does it change your plans any?”

I understood what she was asking; maybe it was too risky to keep trying to bring Chance back—and I’d wrestled with the question as I sat on the hospital bed. “I’m still considering,” I said softly. “This is . . . there’s no road map for where I am, you know?”

Shan nodded. “Yeah, it’s not like there’s a self-help book for this.”

“Common sense says I should stop. Take this no further and start making plans for the baby. But . . .” I shook my head. “I don’t think I can live with myself if I do that. He gave up everything for me. I’ll be careful, play it safer than I have been, but . . . I think I have to try. No matter what.”

“I’ll back you up . . . but trust I’m not letting you take stupid risks anymore. That’s my future niece growing in your belly.”

“Niece? You’re sure of that, are you?” Inwardly I smiled over her assumption of an auntie’s role, but it was true. Shan was the closest I’d ever get to a sister.

“I can hope, anyway. A boy would be cool, but less fun for shopping.”

A few minutes later, we pulled up at the Ortiz house. I was thinking about how to break the news, but Shannon saved me the trouble. The girl could run like the wind, even in platform Mary Janes. By the time I hobbled out of the car and into the front room, she’d already told everyone. So it was just as well I hadn’t planned to keep it secret. Eva and Chuch hugged me while Booke studied me with equal measures of awe and a single man’s terror of reproduction.

They were all asking questions faster than I could process them. I swayed on my sore leg, and Kel scooped me up, carried me toward his favorite armchair. Weird that a half demon would have such strong preferences in furniture, but there you go. Oddly it made him seem more human to me; that he enjoyed small comforts and watching TV Azteca while curled up with my dog. But even though his wounds had healed, the sorrow hadn’t left his icy eyes. I wasn’t sure it ever would.

“I think she’s feeling a bit overwhelmed,” Booke observed. “Let’s give her some space, shall we?”

To my relief, the others took him at his word. Kel knelt beside me, offering Butch like a gift, and I huffed out a choky breath. Gods, pregnancy hormones—no wonder I was tearing up over the smallest thing. But it felt like a century since I’d cuddled my dog. The Chihuahua settled into the crook of my arm after spinning around multiple times. Good to see some things didn’t change.

Kel asked, “Are you well, Corine?”

“Mostly. Are you hiding from Barachiel?” I didn’t ask if he had been crashing at the Ortiz house this whole time.

“Not hiding. Planning. This can only end in his death . . . or mine. I can’t think of any other way I’ll ever be free.”

“Kel,” I started to say, but he held up a hand.

“This isn’t your concern any longer. I’ll handle it.”

“Like you handled him before?” As soon as the words came out, I wished I could swallow them.

Kel flinched, dropping back onto his haunches as if I’d kicked him. “You’re right to remark upon my weakness.”

“No. I didn’t mean it like that. Look, Shannon just bitched me out for taking too much on myself . . . for forgetting I have friends to help me out. That’s all I’m saying to you in turn. There’s no need for you to be a lone wolf. Maybe we can figure something out together.”

“After all the harm I’ve caused,” he said humbly, “I don’t deserve your friendship. But I treasure it.”

“Bullshit.” I tried on a do not argue with me look, and it worked.

Kel didn’t say any more about his inadequacies, which was just as well. I didn’t feel emotionally equipped to reassure anyone else; at the moment, my psyche was held together with duct tape and baling wire. But I did give him a hug, as those I could offer freely. He returned it fiercely, burying his head in the crook between my neck and shoulder. I stroked his back, feeling maternal toward him, possibly because he was so very broken.

Eventually, he whispered, “I can’t fight him and win . . . but I think I can grant you time to do what’s needed.”

Though I had no idea what that meant, Eva interrupted the conversation by asking how I felt. The others tiptoed around me that night, though Chuch was adorable, bringing me food and beverages, standing in for Chance, as he put it. I kinda loved him in a nonsexual, utterly platonic fashion.

That night, I called Tia to check in, and she seemed delighted to hear my voice. “Hola, mija.”

Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how much I missed her . . . and Mexico. We chatted a little about how she was doing, she promised to wire me some more money in the morning, and then she said, “Are you coming home soon?”

Five words, but they broke my heart, because I had to answer, “I don’t know when. I’m still following some leads here, looking for Chance.”

Feels like I’m totally Cat-in-the-Cradle-ing her. I hadn’t told her exactly what happened or how I ended up stranded in the U.K., but her tone became sympathetic. “You don’t come home without that boy, okay? He’s the one for you.”

“Si, claro,” I promised, hoping I could make the words true.

Once we hung up, I struggled with the pit opening in my stomach, sadness wrapped around despair. I beat them both down because that couldn’t be good for the baby. Oh, gods, from this point on, that refrain would haunt my every moment. Part of me wondered if it was okay to be this conflicted, so ambivalent about bringing a life into this world. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Chance’s baby, more that I doubted my ability to raise a kid properly. Shit, what did I know about anything?

The next day, Kel disappeared. He didn’t say good-bye, and I hoped like hell he had sense enough not to go after Barachiel a second time on his own. There was no way I could cut him free again. Not now. Between a bun in the oven, a bum leg, and an impossible quest, I had too many other chainsaws to juggle.

That night, I found a note from him in my purse. Corine, he wrote in perfectly elegant calligraphy. Where I’ve gone, you must not follow. For while Barachiel chases me, he cannot hunt you. The time I can grant you is limited; eventually, he will find me, and I do not know if we will meet again. Yours always, Kelethiel.

I pressed the note to my heart, trying to stem a pang of pain. Fear for my friend tightened my chest. And so I brooded while my other loved ones gave me a wide berth. Though it hurt, I couldn’t go after him this time; my priorities had changed forever.

For the next week, my life consisted of sleep and food. It couldn’t go on in that fashion, however. Once I started physical therapy, the crew had to admit I was well enough to get on with my mission, regardless of how crazy it sounded. To their credit, my friends didn’t argue with me, and I half suspected it was out of a desire not to enrage the pregnant lady. They’d learned that lesson with Eva.

Booke approached me when the others didn’t dare. “Are you recovered enough to get on with saving Chance?”

I stared, astonished that he seemed to understand how driven I was. Physical pain didn’t matter. Nor did obstacles. If there was a brick wall between Chance and me, I’d demolish it. “Where do we start?”

“I’ve been reading on Area 51 . . . and it seems that there’s one place we can start looking.”

“Oh?” I hauled myself out of the chair. The stitches pulled, but I could walk if I took it slow. I wobbled a bit, despite the tight wrap on my upper thigh. This was both to protect the surgical work and to provide extra support. If Eva caught me, this mission would end in an argument.

He answered, “It’s an arcane library in San Antonio, and like most gifted places, the actual purpose is concealed from the public.”

“So where is it exactly?” I asked, pushing to my feet.

“You’ll see.” Booke could be annoyingly mysterious. “First, we need to see about a home base while we’re in San Antonio.”

I nodded. “It’s too far to drive back and forth.”

While Eva and Shannon were occupied with the baby and Chuch was in the enormous garage, showing Jesse the rebuilt 440 Magnum engine he’d dropped into the car recently, I limped back to the guest room to gather up my stuff. I hoped to sneak out without it becoming a big deal. Which would mean stealing a car from my friends.

Dammit.

I had just realized my getaway plan had a fatal flaw when Eva said, “Just where do you think you’re going?”