The Gypsy Morph (24 page)

He gave her a look. “I don’t have the right to judge you.”

“You haven’t heard what I have to say yet.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “You can say anything.”

“All right.” She gripped his hands again, held them tight. “When we stood before the judges at our trial in the compound and it seemed that everything was against us and we had no hope, I told the judges that I was bonded to you and carrying your child. I did so to save us, to persuade the judges not to have us thrown from the walls. But the judges didn’t care. They wouldn’t recognize the marriage or the child. They made that clear.”

Hawk started to speak, but she quickly put her finger to his lips to silence him. “You promised not to interrupt,” she reminded him. She took her finger away. “When we were on the walls afterward, you asked me if I had told the truth, if there was a child. I said that there wasn’t, that I had told the judges this just to try to save us.”

She paused. “I lied to you. There is a child. Our child. But I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t watch you die knowing that we had a child and that our child was dying with us. So I lied.”

She gave him a small smile. “That was why I couldn’t jump when you asked me to do so. I couldn’t make myself kill our child even if there seemed to be no hope left. I couldn’t do that.”

She looked at him, studied his face carefully. “Okay, it’s your turn. Now you can say anything.”

He shook his head in wonder. “Can I say how happy I am?”

She nodded, tears in her eyes. “That would be nice.”

“Can I tell you that I don’t care about anything—
anything!
—as much as I care about this? When you told those judges we would have a baby, when I heard you say that, I couldn’t believe it. But later, back in my cell, I thought about it. I thought it was sad and terrible and wonderful, and I wanted it so badly I could hardly stand to think about it because I didn’t believe it could happen. We were sentenced to die. We would never have a child. So I asked you on the wall, and I
was
relieved when you said there was no child.”

He exhaled sharply. “But now. Now, Tessa, I am so happy. I don’t care that you lied. I know you did it forme. I know that. But I want this child. No matter what else happens, I want it. The newest member of our family. Of the Ghosts. But not another Ghost that will haunt the ruins that our parents destroyed. Not that. This will be a child who will help rebuild the world. This child will be the beginning of something wonderful.”

“I’m glad you’re not mad at me,” she said.

“Mad at you? I could never be mad at you. I understand why you lied. I would have done the same. That’s in the past. We can forget all that. We have a new beginning.” He shook his head, still smiling. “I can’t believe it. A child. Our child.”

She leaned close. “A special child,” she whispered. “Born of you and me, of our two worlds, of our two bloods. A child who’ll be a leader, like you. I know it. I can feel it.”

He drew her against him and hugged her fiercely. He had never loved her so much as he did in that moment. He thought maybe he would never love her so much again.

A child.

S
PARROW STOOD IN THE SHADOWS
, her heart racing. She had heard everything. She had heard it all. There was to be a child. Hawk and Tessa were going to have a baby, and it would be the first of a new generation of children.

She had come looking for Hawk to ask him to speak with Candle, to reassure the little girl about her place in the family, knowing that it would mean more coming from him than from her. She had not meant to overhear but she had not been able to help herself. She had found them just as Tessa was telling him about the baby, and she could not help listening to everything.

She stood rooted in place, undecided about what to do next. Should she reveal herself to them? She felt like a spy, hiding in the shadows, hearing secrets not meant for her ears. How would they feel if she stepped out now and let them know?

Perhaps it was better to wait. If she said nothing, she could wait until they told the others, and then she could pretend she was hearing it for the first time. That might be better. More comfortable for everyone.

She backed away noiselessly, leaving Hawk and Tessa alone, wrapped in their joy and their love. She would like to have that someday, she thought. She would like to have someone to share her life.

The secret of the baby was hers to keep, but halfway back to rejoin the others she had already decided she was going to tell Owl.

SIXTEEN

T
HE SUNRISE WAS BLOOD RED
. Hawk had never seen one like it, and it disturbed him for reasons he could not explain. It was more than the strangeness of it. It wasn’t even that it felt ominous. It was that it signaled something, a shift in the order of things perhaps, that wasn’t apparent on the surface but that he could feel somewhere deep down inside where such things wedge themselves and refuse to be dislodged.

Still flushed with the news of Tessa’s pregnancy, he had risen in the best and most hopeful of moods. No matter the odds, no matter the obstacles, no matter anything that might lie ahead, he and Tessa would overcome it because they had a child to nurture and protect. He knew little of babies, but everything of children, and he was ready to see that his was given every chance at growing up strong and healthy. Even in a world that was all but destroyed. Even in a world he was trying to leave. Hawk wanted this as he had wanted little else in his life. His child, his and Tessa’s. Its birth would be the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to him. It gave him hope; it made him feel that everything he had gone through or might go through in the days ahead was worth it.

His euphoria was dimmed but not overwhelmed by the odd sunrise, and when they set out that morning he was still smiling inwardly at the thought of his secret. A baby. What could be more wonderful than that?

He went to Tessa while she was still sleeping and woke her, hugging her close, kissing her and telling her how much he loved her, how pleased and excited he was. She hugged him back, and for a few moments the oppressiveness of the sunrise faded behind the bright veil of their happiness.

“We’ll tell the others at breakfast,” he whispered to her.

“Not until tonight,” she urged. “I want to tell Owl first. I want her to know before anyone else.”

He was quick to agree, and he went about the business of rousting the others and preparing for them to set out with such enthusiasm that more than a few looked at him as if he had lost his mind. He ignored the looks and the mumbled comments and all the rest, caught up in his own celebration.

“Try to get a grip, Bird-Man,” Panther grumbled at one point, his minimal patience with such euphoria quickly exhausted. “You look possessed or something. Real scary-like.”

Owl, wheeling herself over to the AV, overheard the comment. She stopped long enough to tug on Hawk’s sleeve. “Don’t listen to him.”

Hawk glanced down and shrugged. “Don’t worry. He’s just being Panther.”

“I know. But nevertheless.” She grinned. “What you look like is someone who has a secret that he ought to share.”

He gave her a sharp look, caught the satisfaction reflected in her eyes. “You know, don’t you?”

“I might.”

“Tessa told you?”

“Sparrow. She overheard you talking last night.”

He shook his head. “Jeez. Why don’t we just post a big sign for everyone to read?”

“Why don’t you just tell everybody and get it over with?”

“Tessa wanted to wait until tonight.”

Owl nodded. “It might not keep that long. You know how this bunch is with secrets.”

He wheeled her over to the AV and helped her inside, where Candle and River were already waiting. He called Tessa over and tried to put her in the vehicle, too, but she waved him off. “You ride for a while,” she told him. “You never ride.”

“Yeah, you must be exhausted, what with all that baby-making and stuff,” Panther sniffed, walking by.

Just like that. He didn’t slow as he said it, didn’t even look back as he strolled on. Hawk stared after him, openmouthed.

River leaned forward from the backseat. “What are you going to name the baby, Hawk?”

“Is it going to be a little boy or a little girl?” Candle wanted to know. Her blue eyes were bright and eager. “I’m going to have a little brother or sister. Sort of. Almost. I can pretend, I think.”

“As I was saying,” Owl declared softly.

Hawk rolled his eyes and walked away, calling for Fixit to take the wheel of the Lightning and Chalk to keep him company. So much for secrets and surprise announcements.

They rolled east into the mountains, winding through a pass that took them away from the banks of the Columbia and up into the higher elevations. For a time, it looked as if they were going to cross quickly and be back on the flats beyond. But by midday, they had encountered a section of roadway riddled with rockslides and sinkholes too wide to be avoided, and they were forced to abandon the hay wagon, pack what supplies they could atop the AV, and continue with half their number afoot. Progress slowed, and the day seeped away like water through cupped hands.

By nightfall, they were still only midway across, still high in the passes and forced to sleep on ground virtually empty of grasses and littered with rocks. Owl, River, and Candle slept in the AV, but Sparrow turned up her nose at the idea, declaring she was as tough as any boy, and Tessa slept with Hawk, curled up against him, sharing her warmth and the promise of their future.

Hawk did make the baby announcement that night at dinner, but by then it was old news to almost everyone but Fixit and Chalk, who were always the last to know everything. Cheers and smiles greeted the news anyway, even by those who had known all day, and only Cat kept pointedly aloof from the celebration.

“Sort of silly, all this celebrating about a baby not even born yet,” Panther sneered quietly, sitting down next to her when things had quieted down.

“I don’t think it’s silly,” she replied.

He looked at her. “Well, your face says something else.”

“My face, huh?”

“Sure.” He sounded less certain. “Says different.”

She looked him full on, her mottled face set in a hard glare. “Says different, you think?”

He didn’t say anything this time, just nodded.

“You’re awful quick with that mouth of yours.”

He dropped his eyes. “Sometimes.”

“Here’s the thing, Panther. When you look like me, you don’t want to hear about other people’s babies. That kind of happiness isn’t ever going to be yours. You don’t want to even think about it. You just want to hurry up and get on with your life.”

He stared back at her, his dark face flushed. Then he shrugged away his discomfort and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean nuthin’ bad. I was just talking.”

“Well, don’t,” she snapped. She stared at him a moment longer, anger reflected in her green eyes. Then she reached up suddenly with her hand and stroked his cheek. Her voice softened. “Just don’t.”

The next day was another slog through the passes under skies turned dark with clouds and the air grown thick with dust and ash. Where this weather had come from was anybody’s guess, but it wasn’t friendly and it wasn’t conducive to good thoughts. The Ghosts walked all day, navigating a roadway littered with rocks and debris, some of which had to be removed by hand on numerous occasions to permit passage for the AV. It rained at one point, a thick spattering of heavy droplets that barely dampened the concrete of the highway and the earth of the surrounding countryside before being absorbed. The air turned hot and cold by turns, and the haze came and went.

Hawk, walking point with Bear, had never seen anything like it. He wasn’t sure if it was a quirk in the weather pattern or a reaction to all the pollution, poisonings, and chemical warfare. Or if it was generated by a deeper, more pervasive climatic change that had been building for much longer than he had been alive. What he did know was that it made him uneasy. It made him want to gather up everyone whom he was supposed to lead to safety and get to where they were supposed to go.

When the earth rumbled later in the day, a violent shake that sent those walking to their knees and caused the AV to skid sideways so far it almost went off the road, he thought maybe this was a prelude to something much bigger. He glanced at Bear, down on his knees beside him, and shook his head.

“Smell the air,” the other boy said quietly.

Hawk did, taking a deep sniff. “Sulfur,” he said quietly.

Bear nodded. “Bad stuff, sulfur. We had a pool of it back on the farm, down by the south pasture. The smell was so bad that no one went near it. It could knock you out, make you real sick.”

Hawk glanced at the sky. “Maybe it will blow away by dark.”

It did, but the haze remained, thick and clingy, a visceral feeling to it. The Ghosts hunkered down in their coats and tried to breathe through parts of their clothing. The twilight was raw with its presence, the sky colored metallic and the surrounding countryside flat black and gray, as if there were no depth to anything.

They were passing through the hill country below the peaks, expectations of reaching their destination beginning to crowd in on their discomfort, when they saw what appeared at first as a soft glow against the horizon. But as the little company drew closer, the light became a glare, one that all of them instantly recognized.

“Watch fires.” Bear said it first. “All across the roadway ahead.”

Hawk nodded. “Someone’s blocking the way.”

“Militia,” Catalya declared, coming up beside him. “Wait here while I have a look.”

Without waiting for his permission, she bounded off into the darkness. Panther was slow coming up or he would have gone with her, Hawk thought, hearing the other boy mumble a low curse as he realized what had happened.

“You should’ve stopped her,” he snapped.

Hawk glanced over. “Don’t think that was possible.”

“Shut up, Panther Puss,” Sparrow muttered, shoving him aside as she shouldered her Parkhan Spray and stood braced and ready, facing out toward the fires. “Save it for those who need it.”