Wings of Fire (Guardians of Ascension #3)(98)
Author: Caris Roane

Parisa turned toward her. Alison had spoken evenly enough, but now her hand was on her stomach and her nostrils flared. Was she in pain all the time? “How’s the baby?”

Alison took in a deep breath. “I’m actually here for a sonogram in a little while, but I thought I’d check in with our latest arrivals.” After a moment, she seemed to relax, and she moved forward to put a hand over Fiona’s hand, which still held Havily’s. She smiled. “I like this. A real sisterhood. When I ascended I was alone except for Endelle. Believe me, that was no picnic.”

Parisa and Havily burst out laughing.

“What?” Fiona asked.

Havily chuckled. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“I hear she’s fashion-challenged.”

All the ladies shouted their laughter this time.

“To say the least,” Havily said.

Alison broke the spell and hissed as she once more pressed her hand to her belly. She stepped away from the bed then cursed, a very long string of words hooked together that made Parisa stare. She had never heard her talk like this, but Havily didn’t seem especially surprised.

Alison closed her eyes and breathed, her hand at the top of her belly as though trying to press the pain away.

“Okay,” she said. “Enough of this. I’m going to track the doctor down right now.”

She turned and hurried from the room. She headed to the right so that Parisa watched her pass in front of the glass windows that ran the length of the bedroom wall. Long vertical blinds ran the width of the window, but right now they were kept open just enough.

“God, I hope she’s okay,” Havily cried.

When Parisa glanced at her, she was dabbing careful fingers beneath her eyes. After a moment, she turned back in Fiona’s direction and said, “Her sonogram will take a while so how about we focus on you. I suspect you have a lot of questions about Second Earth and about Endelle’s administration, so if you feel up to it, fire away.”

Fiona blinked. “Well, who makes the best coffee in this dimension? All I’ve had for over a hundred years is tea. I’m sick of tea. I used to have coffee every morning in Boston.”

“Starbucks,” Parisa and Havily said in unison.

Parisa thought the lightness of her tone and of the question was the best sign yet that Fiona would adjust.

For the next hour, both she and Fiona pelted Havily with dozens of questions on all sorts of subjects—about Endelle’s administration, about the Warriors of the Blood, and about the organization of Territories. Spectacle became a lively discussion as well as horticulture, which was one of the highest art forms on Second Earth.

When another half hour had passed, Havily glanced in the direction of the hallway windows. She looked down at her watch then back to the windows. “I really thought Alison would be done by now.”

Kerrick suddenly appeared in the doorway, a crease between his brows. “Hey, Hav. Just to give you a heads-up, Alison’s headed this way and she’s crying.” He looked really worried.

Parisa knew that the bonding of the breh-hedden allowed Kerrick to know Alison’s external sensations, anything she touched or anything that touched her, but it didn’t translate into emotional understanding. No doubt he could feel the tears on her face.

But this so wasn’t good.

“Why weren’t you with her?” Havily asked.

“She was supposed to wait because I was out at the Militia Warrior Training Camps. Shit. I wanted to be here for her.”

He was just short of Antony’s height. He had dark arched brows over striking emerald eyes. He was built, too, and looked especially yummy in his battle kilt and weapons harness.

His expression shifted, a lift of the arched brows and widening of his eyes as he looked up the hall. He took a few steps so that Parisa could only see him through the hall window if she leaned backward, her gaze partially obscured by the blinds.

Alison came into view and the next second he took her in his arms, though her belly made it an awkward angle. Parisa felt tears touch her eyes. Alison’s chest rose and fell in what had to be a series of sobs.

Fiona whispered, “Oh, no.”

But it was Kerrick’s face she could see.

“It can’t be all bad. Look. Kerrick is smiling.” His laughter suddenly boomed up the hall. He pulled away from her and laughed some more, then he hugged her and laughed again.

Havily said, “Maybe she’s having twins. She looks big enough to be having more than one. She’s only seven months and she’s huge.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and turned her in the direction of Fiona’s door. Havily now stood at the end of bed.

The next moment, Alison appeared, wiping tears from her cheeks and grinning from ear to ear.

“What?” Havily cried. “Tell us right now or I’m going to throw my shoe at you this time, Lissy.”

That made Alison laugh. “Oh, that was so bad of me but I’ve already promised Kerrick I won’t do it again.” She compressed her lips and tried to restrain what was a combination of a new smile and the beginning of a fresh bout of tears. Her relief was obvious.

Kerrick tightened his arm around her shoulders and met Havily’s gaze. “Well, first, nothing’s wrong … at all. But you’re not going to believe this. The baby has wings.”

“Wings?” Havily cried. “That’s not possible!”

“Apparently, it is,” Alison said. “That’s why there’s been so much discomfort. The baby’s healthy and she’s right on schedule, but apparently the release of the wings has caused an increase in amniotic fluid in order to create more space and that’s been the problem all this time. Well, that and the movement. Essentially, the flying.” She wiped her eyes. “The baby has wings. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”

Parisa stared at Alison’s stomach. She tried to picture the fetus within, twirling, tumbling, practicing with wings. She couldn’t imagine a finer beginning for any human—ascender—vampire—whatever.

Havily turned toward the couple a little more. “But does this mean you have two more months of this kind of agony?”

Alison stood up straighter and wiped a little more at her cheeks. She folded tissues into her hand and wiped some more. “No. The good news is that the doctor thinks I can begin communicating telepathically with the baby to get her to start bringing her wings in and hopefully keeping them in. It’s a rare phenomenon for a Second Earth baby but there’s anecdotal evidence that says it occurs in the Upper Dimension all the time.” She drew a card from the pocket of her slacks. “There’s a woman whose specialty is telepathy and infants. Her name is Tazianne. Now, why does that name sound familiar?”