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“Just breathe,” I tell her, not knowing what else to say or do.

“You fucking breathe,” she snaps at me as she makes a pained groaning noise. Just as one contraction lets off another comes, and I sit on the bed beside her rubbing her legs.

“I need to go to the toilet,” she says, making me furrow my brows.

“What, now?”

“Yes!” she groans, the sound guttural and deep as she clutches the sheets, her teeth clenched so tightly I am sure they are going to break when I see her face turning red, a grunting noise escaping her lips.

I push her legs apart and nearly faint, she tries slapping my hands away when I force her legs back open.

“I don’t think you need to go to the toilet,” I tell her as I watch her face as she turns red again and I realize she is actually pushing.

“I need to push,” she groans as I watch her stomach tighten.

“Push then,” I tell her and her eyes snap open.

“Get Abbie!” she cries.

“I don’t think we have time for that, just push with the contractions,” I tell her.

“I am!” she snaps at me. She pushes with the next one and I see the head and nearly throw up. I should have got Abbie I think to myself, so much blood, I feel my face drain of color.

“Don’t you fucking faint,” she screams at me.

“So much blood.” I squirm at the sight.

“You’re kidding, right? You have killed people and you are worried about blood?” she breathes while groaning and pushing again.

“It’s different,” I tell her as I watch, catching a glimpse of something before it goes. I push her legs apart further as she pushes again to see the baby’s head crowning.

“I can’t, I can’t,” she cries sobbing as she waits for the next contraction. I watch her belly tense, and she holds her breath.

“Push Lora. He is right there.”

“I can’t, I can’t, you fucking push,” she cries. I grab her hand, placing her hand between her legs.

“Feel that, that’s the baby, push love,” I try to encourage her, her fingers barely touching the top of his head. Her eye light up and she suddenly pushes again more determined while screaming. Sweat is coating her skin when suddenly, the head pops out. Elora gasps and stops, catching her breath. Getting up, I rush into the bathroom grabbing some towels making it back in time as she starts pushing again. The slimy sucker spills into my hands as I grab him at the back of the neck, cupping his head while the rest of his little body glides through my hands, his arms splayed out in the air like he thinks he is falling as he screams like he is being murdered. His eyes are clenched shut tightly while he cries.

Elora sits up on her elbows looking down at him in my hands while I watch our screaming pink little bundle in awe. She holds her hands out for him.

“Hang on,” I tell her, using the towel to get the gunk off him and clean him a bit when I notice the cord. I place him on her chest and place a towel over him to keep him warm. Elora clutches him, cooing softly drenched in her sweat. She stares at him, just as amazed as I am. Getting up, I find some ribbon that Elora puts in her hair sometimes. Moving back to her, I slice the cord using my talons, quickly tying the ribbon next to his belly button.

“We had a boy,” she says looking down at him and I lean over pecking her lips softly.

“I need to push,” she says. Elora pushes again.

“Placenta?” I ask.

“Yeah, unless there is another one,” she says, and I tug on the cord as she pushes. The placenta comes out, looking like an oversized blood clot. I wrap it in a towel while peering around to find somewhere to put it, settling on the trash in the bathroom.

“That was nasty.”

“What?”

“Placenta, it looks like a brisket.”

“Well good, keep it, we’ll cook it later.” I nearly throw up at her words. “I’m joking Silas, though some people do eat them,” she says, shaking her head and I feel myself pale at the thought.