A Circle of Crows (13 page)

At last, they had the child they had been striving for after a year of infertility, albeit not in the way they would have expected.

Eva scooted closer to him and covered his large hand with her tiny one, and a sensation of warmth spread across his tightly clenched stomach, then he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

Raena sat at her rolltop desk in her dimly lit bedroom as she continued her search on the net for the next blue moon and lunar cycles. Becoming obsessed since her sister did not escape from the cave with the rest of the family, she now suffered from insomnia. Her drinking was getting worse as well. She did not even try to fool herself that she didn't have an alcohol problem, she knew it to be true. She also knew it was situational—she was trying to drown the pain which threatened every day to keep her in her bed, nevermore to rise.

She decided that it was futile to attempt sleep, so she left her room and went down the staircase. She went out the back door to avoid the silver bell which would alarm Rachael she was going out. She knew her twin would probably wrestle her to the ground, fully aware of where she was headed. As she walked around to the front of the inn on the wraparound porch, the wind chimes tinkled gently in the warm June breeze, and the Adirondack rocking chairs moved ever so slightly.

Raena could feel the night air thicken, as if a storm were approaching and the air crackled with static electricity. What she saw next chilled her blood and she felt herself sway on the spot as unconsciousness threatened to overtake her.

Filling all of the branches in the crimson maple tree to her right were the birds. By her estimation, there were at least five on every limb of the tree.

The birds had been conspicuously absent since their return through the mirror, and the mere sight of them filled her with a hatred so terrible and large, it frightened her. The portals had not opened since then either.

The magpies stared at her, frozen to the branches of the tree. One of them held something in its beak. It was white and swaying gently in the night breeze. Rae stared and screwed up her eyes in the dim light to try and make out what it held. It was a sock—a
newborn's
sock. Rae felt as if she would vomit all over the porch as the faces of the children they had seen came swimming back to her.

"I'll kill all of you!” she screamed and rushed the tree, wielding a spade that had been left at the bottom of the stairs. It connected with one and the bird fell dead to the ground.

The flock rose and began to fly low in a circle, dangerously low to Raena's head. She did not care; all she knew was these macabre creatures were somehow responsible for her family's suffering, and she'd had enough of it.

The flock began to caw simultaneously and Rae heard the door of the cottage slam open, then she saw Sam striding across the courtyard. He brandished his shotgun in his hand.

"Shoot them, Sam!"

Without a glance at Rae, Sam said, “Step back."

He took aim and fired directly into the flock of birds. At least six fell to the grass in a heap of crumpled feathers and blood. In the middle of them lay the tiny white sock, now covered in blood.

The remainder of the flock assumed the Y formation and headed east.

Sam bent his head toward the mound of dead carcasses and felt his insides go cold. He squatted and picked up the sock and held it in his hand.

He looked at Rae and said, “It can't be."

Rae could not reply, she was thinking the same thought as her brother-in-law, hoping like mad that she was wrong.

Sweat poured from Marisol's head; the midwife continued to swab it from her forehead. Bella stood by her bed, awaiting further instructions.

Marisol's huge belly visibly hardened as a contraction hit her, and she yelled in pain again.

Colin paced outside on the porch. Although he knew little of the mechanics of women's bodies, he had been present for many a birth in his years. So he was aware that Mari had been in pain far too long.

He walked across the porch and kicked the bowl they used in the water barrel. It flew into the air and made a hollow, tinny sound as it struck the earth.

"I am helpless,” he muttered. The familiar feeling he associated with the deaths of their families seeped into his mind like a poison.
To have to stand by helpless, while someone I love suffers, has to be the greatest test of will that exists. Give me a battle, where I can face my enemy head on over this anyday.

Christian, who had been sitting silently on the steps watching his commander, and friend, now spoke. “Colin, is there anything you would have me do?"

"No, Christian. All there is to do, cursedly, is to wait. Nature has its own hourglass, separate from our wishes."

Mari's body was finally ready to deliver her child. Bella was positioned at the foot of the bed between Mari's spread legs, ready to assist in the birth. Mari's massive belly became hard as a rock as she screamed. “Push, Mari! Push now!” commanded the midwife, whose name was Ellena.

Mari lurched forward and pulled her legs up and beared down with all her might. The baby's head slid out a bit, then went back. Mari fell back in exhaustion, but as she did, her great belly flexed again in its own attempt to expel the child and she howled in pain again.

Ellena gave Bella a meaningful look and shook her head. Feeling ill, she protectively put a hand over her own large stomach, although admittedly not as large as Mari's.

"Get up, Mari. You have to finish this; it isn't good for the baby to be immobile."

Ellena got onto the bed and leaned Mari's trunk against her.

"I'm scared. Things do not feel right. I feel like ... ow!” As her thought was cut off by the relentless contractions.

"Enough talk. Push! Now!” commanded Ellena, as she placed her palms on Mari's stomach and gently pushed down.

The baby's head again appeared and Bella was ready to catch it.

"It's halfway out!” said Bella excitedly. “It has dark black hair like Colin, Mari."

Mari rallied at the thought of seeing her child and beared down again. He slid out into Bella's outstretched arms and awaited blanketing.

At the midwife's direction, Mari removed the mucous from his mouth and slapped him. His wail was mighty and his face flushed red as he filled his tiny lungs with air.

"Give him to me,” said Mari weakly, and Bella placed the infant into Mari's arms. The door to the cottage opened and Colin strode in smiling. Kneeling down beside the bed, he stared at his young wife and new son. Tears were streaming from his eyes and falling silently into his newly acquired beard.

Bella looked on from beside the midwife with tears of her own. She was wondering if her husband would miss the birth of their child; if she would be able to find her way back.

"Aaah!” Mari howled in pain and clutched her belly and slid the infant into Colin's arms.

Ellena looked grim. She was staring directly at the steady stream of blood flowing from the foot of the bed onto the wooden floor. Mari's stomach clenched again.

Ellena walked forward and palpated Mari's abdomen. “There is another child, much smaller than the first, Mari. Colin, take the boy outside, I will need Bella's help in here."

Colin's face froze as he took the infant and started for the cottage door. He momentarily lost his footing as he did so. He looked down and stared, horror-struck, at the slick of blood responsible for his momentary loss of balance. Mari's blood, his wife.

He strode out the door and quietly shut it.

"Alright now, Mari. Let's see if your boy has a brother. Push, lass,” said Ellena.

Mari beared down in time with her body's cue, her torso flexing into an arc.

"I can see the baby's head now,” said Bella, who had assumed her place at the foot of the bed again.

Mari stopped and her eyes darted to Bella's in a moment of complete lucidity, despite the haze of pain. “Promise me, Bella. Promise me you will help my husband care for these babies and find him someone to help him. I know my time in this land is coming to an end ... I can feel it.” Her face was urgent and all her features tensed, awaiting a reply.

Ellena made eye contact with Bella from behind Mari's outstretched form, and grimly shook her head .

"I will do my very best, Mari. I won't let anything happen to the babies.” Her voice cracked, though she willed it not to. She was determined to show strength for her newfound friend.

"Push now, girl!” said Ellena, whose sharp eyes had never left Mari's abdomen, monitoring her contractions as they spoke.

Mari bared down and gracefully, the second baby slid into Mari's arms, along with a deluge of blood. Too much blood. It covered Bella's arms and poured over her feet.

"Oh my Word,” she said in spite of herself.

"Go get Colin, Bella. Straight away. Her minutes are numbered now."

Colin opened the door, however, feeling loss before it even arrived, as he'd always been cursed to do. He was already shaking, and his face was its own death mask.

He knelt beside Mari and took her hand in his own. Bella stood by the crack in the open door, mortified at the scene unraveling before her. A life unraveling before her.

"Oh, Mari,” was all he could manage.

"Colin, you will carry on. You must. You will always have part of me with you. Both of them are wailing outside; I can hear them. I will always be with you. Remember when we were children and you cut off my braids? You were an evil boy.” She smiled and looked dreamily peaceful. “They are in the top drawer in my room. I will see you again. I will not be alone."

Colin grasped her hand to his bowed head and said, “Without you, my world will be a dark place. I do not think I can survive in this world without you."

Bella shut the door and sat on the steps of the cottage next to the midwife, who held the little boy, and cried openly.

She stared down at the tiny bundle in front of her, and realized for the first time it was a girl. She reached over and placed her hand protectively on the boy and thought,
No harm will come to either of you. If I must die to accomplish it, so be it.

Chapter 25

The queen sat shivering in front of the hearth fire. Her clothes were torn and tattered, but her face was as determined and grim as ever.

"Maximus, what is the total count of the loyal guard whom have returned to service?"

Outside around the small stone cottage were various campfires, where her soldiers were coming and going about their military business of the day—cleaning weapons, knapping arrowheads, and carving longbows. Some had returned from fear, and others from greed—knowing full well their loyalty would be rewarded when the regime was restored. To go to the other side—the resistance—would mean starting from the very beginning, with hard work and no power whatsoever; thus, the men drawn to evil had returned to the queen's service.

"The count thus far is five hundred, and I suspect more are on their way. My source tells me the men are anxious to act; Colin has been immobilized. His prized possession has been removed."

"What might that be? I know of no such possession that could immobilize Colin McCullough,” she stated, her eyebrows raised in genuine interest.

"His wretched wench. She died in childbirth. He has been mourning her for several weeks; he is useless to his men."

"Spawn? That is our answer, Maximus. We must obtain those children. Forget the stupid smoldering creature for now; he is almost well as it is. That will surely be Colin's downfall, his capacity for empathy, the fool. Organize a small band of your most cunning men, and alert me when they are prepared to embark."

"Yes, milady. Nothing will give me greater pleasure than to complete the destruction of that clan,” replied Maximus, baring his increasingly blackening teeth.

The queen returned her attention to the ancient book on her lap, opened it once more and whispered, “Now, to complete the removal of free will..."

Bella looked out the window at Commander McCullough. He was staring out at the rising sun, his expression indiscernible. The tears had stopped, though he wasn't aware she had seen them. She had been caring for the infants day and night for the past few weeks, which had gone by in a haze of sleeplessness.

Around his belt and next to his pack was a circle of braids. Red highlights were visible against the coal-black in the morning sunlight. Colin had barely touched the twins since their arrival, which was extremely disturbing to Bella. Also, he had not yet named them, and it had been weeks since their birth. He did not seem like the sort of man who would abandon his own children. It was a sharp contrast to the character he had displayed to her.

She remembered something her mother had once told her,
When you experience extreme adversity in life, it can be a defining moment. It will end the person you once were forever. What resurfaces will either be a withered shell of what you once were, or a more resolute, indomitable sort of character.

For years, Bella's mother had volunteered with abused and abandoned children, sometimes to their adulthood, so her words were always sage to Bella.

Staring at Colin on the porch, she prayed he would not falter. More than just the lives of two young children were sitting atop his shoulders.

As if sensing her eyes upon him, he turned and faced her. He strode toward the door and opened it softly, so as not to wake the sleeping pair in the bassinet.

"Bella, I need a moment alone, if you please,” he said softly.

She nodded and went outside.

Colin sat with his head in his long-fingered hands next to the bassinet. As he looked at his children, he was forcibly reminded of his own father, and one of the man's hearthside lectures. A learned man, his father had possessed a love of language and other cultures. He had purchased a book at a dear price from one of the Porticos. Porticos used the portals for regulated exploration before the regime change. The lecture of that date concerned love—and how many different types of love existed. The book, translated from a language called Greek, he had said, described a few accurately:
Eros
—the visceral love he had felt for Marisol, this surprisingly, did not upset him further since he was already quite numb.
Phileo
—the tender affection type of love he was experiencing now staring at the wee ones; and
Agape
—the love of principle, which was what was forcing him to speak the words he had been dreading.