Awakening (2 page)

As he reached down to scoop her up in his arms, he heard that voice calling to him again, small and quiet, no longer lost. He looked down at the woman in his arms, knowing that it still came from her. A frown rippled over his features; nothing should have remained of her; what was this
anomaly? And the child – was there any hope for it? Then he realized that the baby was coming and there was no time for hesitation; if it was a monster it would perish from hunger before the night was out.

Rushing through the hospital doors, he carried her to the front desk. “This woman needs immediate attention. I found her lying outside and her baby is coming.”

As the receptionist began paging the necessary faculty, the nurse on duty ran forward, pushing a bed for him to lay her on. “How far apart are her contractions?”

“Madam, the baby is coming,” he repeated, taking the
Calix
’s hand in his to offer comfort as they raced down the hall to the emergency surgery room.

“Are you the baby’s father?” the nurse asked, giving him a cursory glance and then looking
again, her gaze lingering. He grimaced, knowing that humans found him attractive but now was neither the time nor the place; the child was forcing its way into the world. “Are you?”

He hesitated another moment longer before answering, “No.”

“Then you must leave,” she said, almost grudgingly, hating to see him go.

“Gloria?” a doctor questioned as he walked into the room and saw the young woman lying on the table, unconscious. He hurried to her side, “Gloria? Where’s Stephen?”

The man watched but the new
Calix
never opened her eyes as her body shuddered with contractions, forcing the baby out of her before it was too late. No one noticed the bite marks at her neck, the lack of color on her much-too-pale face.

The doctor turned to one of the nurses, “Damn it, where is Stephen?”

“I will inform him of his child’s arrival,” the solitary man informed them, his voice rich and dark, compelling in its splendor.

The doctor looked at him, frowning for just a moment before returning his attention to the woman on the table and what needed to be done an hour ago. Rushing, he began ordering the nurses around, pulling off her sodden jacket, leaving on the open-backed hospital gown, setting up an incubator; preparing to get the woman to oncology as soon as the child was delivered. They never noticed
him as he left the room.

As he stood out in the hall, waiting to secure the woman once she was alone, after the child was removed from her, he silently called out to the father. Within a few minutes, a haggard man rushed past him and into the room where his wife lay unmoving. The man stood in the doorway and watched as the grieving husband took his wife’s hand in his, kissing it as tears fell from his cheeks. He watched as the husband suddenly stiffened, “Oh, God, Gloria, what have you done?”

He couldn’t bear watching the husband say good-bye to his beloved wife; it was too similar to what he was going through in severing the connection to the Hive, to the Queen. Turning, he left the hospital, waiting outside and allowing the woman some time with the child for whom she gave up everything. There was the slimmest possibility that the child would survive, but it wasn’t likely.

Leaning against the alley wall, he waited, unable to forget the poor, blighted
infant. Perhaps this mistake was a sign that he wasn’t prepared to leave the Hive. But then why did it feel as if the chains that were binding him were starting to weaken?

*****

Stephen cried out in anguish, seeing the bite marks on his darling wife’s neck, knowing that she traded her life in the hopes of preserving their child’s. She should have given the child up and gone through treatment; how was he going to be able to bear life without his love, his wife? And how was he going to raise their child alone? She should have taken the treatment. Resting his cheek against hers, wanting to feel the warmth of her breath, the beat of her heart, he felt neither. 

A loud wail brought him back to reality. A nurse was holding his child out to him, a
conciliatory smile on her face, “Mr. Lincoln, your daughter is so beautiful; do you want to hold her?”

He cringed, unable to look at the child who stole his wife’s existence. “I… I can’t, not right now. I have to make sure Gloria is all right.”

The nurse took a step backwards, towards the incubator, glancing at the dying woman on the table with pity on her face. “Very well; we’ll take Mrs. Lincoln up to oncology. They should be ready for her by now….”

“No,” the woman on the table finally opened her eyes, their shining darkness scanning the room for her child. Sitting up with surprising ease, considering the cancer eating away at her body and the recent delivery of her child, she held out her arms. “Let me hold her; just for a moment.”

The nurse smiled affectionately, turning from the distraught father to the young mother and handing her the bundle. Pulling the blanket back from the red and bewildered face of the newborn, exposing a thick head of dark hair, the nurse grinned, “She’s perfect, Gloria.”

Gloria smiled down at her daughter, grateful that the little girl was spared the destruction of transformation. Large, intense hazel eyes stared up at her and she knew that she
had done the right thing. Tears slid down her cheeks and without looking at the nurse or doctor, she whispered, “Can I have a few minutes alone with my husband and my child?”

“You don’t have a lot of time,” the doctor protested.

“I’ve already waited five months,” she flashed a grin at the man, unable to hide the despair that she felt at leaving her child behind. “What is another fifteen minutes?”

He returned the smile, mirroring her sorrow. “Ten minutes, and then you’re getting wheeled up to oncology to undergo surgery.”

“Of course, Phil,” she nodded, turning her attention back to her daughter.

As soon as the others left the room, Stephen grabbed his wife by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him as he talked to her. “How could you do this,
Glore?”

“I had no choice, my love,” she smiled sorrowfully, looking at him with her unnatural eyes; eyes of polished onyx.
Eyes of a
Calix
. He missed her hazel eyes already. Bending her head, she kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Look at her, Stephen. She is everything that we are together….”

“She’s not you,” he grieved, refusing to look at his child, intent on burning the image of his wife into his memory. “She cannot replace you.”

“Oh, Stephen,” Gloria comforted, lifting a hand and cupping his cheek. “I did what I had to do. It worked, honey, look at her, she’s perfect.” She shrugged her shoulders in a negligent manner, already more
Calix
than human. “Now we both shall live.”

“The price is too high,” he protested, refusing to admit that his wife was right; not when it cost him so much.

“I’m naming her Celeste,” she said, ignoring his objections. Smiling at the baby, she ran her finger along the smooth skin of her daughter’s tiny face before placing it in the baby’s small hand. She smiled when the baby wrapped her teeny tiny fingers around her own much larger one. “Celeste Gloria, after her momma.” She looked up at Stephen, her finger still in Celeste’s little hand, “Take care of her for me; love her.”

Closing his eyes and tightening his jaw, he nodded stiffly, “I will. Of course I will.”

“I must go,” she whispered, feeling the pull, stronger now, tearing her heart into two. Pressing her lips against the baby’s cheek, letting the tears fall onto the baby’s skin, she whispered, “I’ll see you again, baby; my Celeste. I love you so much.”

“Gloria,” Stephen cried out as she handed him the bundle, rose from the bed and began moving towards the exit, away from him. Away from the life they were supposed to have together.

She looked over her shoulder when she reached the door and smiled at him. “I love you, Stephen.”

“Don’t leave me,” he implored, falling to his knees with the baby in his arms.

“I have no choice,” she said, though there was no regret in her voice. Pausing, she tilted her head to the side as if remembering something. “The Ramsey’s will help you; they’ve just adopted a daughter, not quite six months old. Kim; the child’s name is Kim,” she said, smiling to herself. “They will be arriving shortly to offer comfort.”

“Gloria,” he mouthed as she disappeared. He bowed his head and cried in earnest.

A nurse walked in a few minutes later, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Lincoln, I am so sorry for your loss; it was just too much for her to handle.”

He didn’t answer, he couldn’t answer. He just nodded his head, handing her the wrapped bundle as he stood up. Clenching his jaw, he watched as they moved the empty gurney from the room, even as her body was projected within everyone’s head. He knew she wasn’t there and he hated the
Apocritae
; in that moment he hated them more than anything. He was going to destroy every last one of them.

The doctor came up to him, glancing at the illusion of a dead body on the bed they wheeled from the room, “I know your wife does not regret her decision, Stephen. I hope you will be able to forgive her.”

“Where are you taking her?” he asked, tilting his head towards the empty doorway, unwilling to look at the child still in the nurse’s arms.

“The morgue,” the doctor answered softly. “The baby will be in the nursery; she should be ready to return home in a day or two, after we make sure everything checks out.”

“Whatever.” Stephen shook his head and walked out of the room, shock numbing him to the pain and reality.

*****

“Why did you not tell me?” the man, no the
Apocritum
, asked, grabbing Gloria’s arm as she came to a stop in front of him, a serene smile curving her lips.

“I knew the risks,” she said, feeling the strength flow through her newly whole body. “It was the only way to survive long enough to bring her into the world.”

“Then there were no disastrous consequences?” he asked softly, hopefully.

“Nothing,” she beamed, laughing out loud for the life she now embraced as they began walking out of the alley and back to the
Adytum
where she would be living.

“You will not be allowed to contact them,” he warned.

“I have no desire to do so.” The time would come when her daughter would seek her out, but not for many years. Her grin widened; she was so grateful for her prior knowledge of the
Apocritae
; of her temporary ability to ensure secrecy. She glanced up at her
Apocritum
, admiring his strong profile, the color of his dark blond hair and the blackness of his eyes, his straight nose and his lush, sensual lips made for sin. His beautiful face.

“What is my savior’s name?” she asked,
closely watching the gorgeous man, knowing he hadn’t learned of her biggest secret; or rather, Celeste’s secret.

“
Adam,” he answered simply, focusing on the path they traveled, his jaw set.

Nope, she had no regrets. There was no more pain and she couldn’t help but to laugh.

23 years later….

Celeste Hamilton stood outside the Louvre, her dark brown hair pulled back in a long, thick braid as tendrils curled around her oval face. Her hazel eyes sparkled with vibrancy as she chewed on her lower lip, excited to finally be inside the famous Parisian museum. A long, demure skirt and a loose, dressy
blouse covered her slender body as she eagerly waited to explore the beautiful building. Her best friend Kim stood next to her, quite a bit less interested in exploring the Louvre but out of love she volunteered to go along. Her slightly taller, thinner frame was covered by a straight skirt and a tight sweater that left very little to the imagination. She had big, baby blue eyes and short blond hair that was a mass of riotous curls. With a white robe, a pair of wings and a halo, Kim could have passed for an angel.

“I should have gone shopping with Mary and Claire,” Kim jokingly protested, glancing around the museum as they walked through the doors. “Why did I ever let you talk me into this trip on our next to last day in Paris?”