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“I’m pregnant.” I smile back at her. “Don’t fuck with me.”
“Willow!” Mom chides. “There are children present.”
“Like you haven’t dropped the f-bomb many times, Clara.” Nan rolls her eyes. “Now, are we going to stand here and argue all day, or are we going to celebrate?”
After some low rumblings, the Wildblood clan agrees we’re here to celebrate. Then Azrael and I are quickly ushered to a loveseat, where we’re treated like a King and Queen all afternoon.
After eating entirely too many sweets, I nearly fall into a food coma and have difficulty focusing as I unwrap all the presents. Azrael doesn’t pitch in, seemingly content to watch me do all the work, much like I did this afternoon on my knees. When I mutter as much beneath my breath, he grazes the back of my neck with his fingers and leans in to whisper in my ear.
“What happened to your willful submission, Little Witch?”
“It comes and goes,” I grumble. “I ate too much, and now I’m cranky.”
He laughs, and all my sisters take notice, the room falling quiet like they just witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime event. But it’s my Nan who seems to be smiling too broadly, like some evil master plan she made is finally falling into place.
The afternoon wears on, and we receive everything we could ever need for a baby and then some. At some point, when my pregnancy fatigue becomes too much, Azrael pulls me onto his lap, and I have a little cat nap against his chest while my family engages him in conversation, keeping him busy as he strokes my back.
Raven rouses me an hour later, forcing me to participate in all manner of ridiculous games. But, really, it isn’t so bad. We all laugh until we’re blue in the face when Azrael is forced to let me feed him baby food while I’m blindfolded, and I end up smearing it all over his face.
“Whoops.” I offer him a sweet smile when the blindfold is removed.
“You don’t look all that sorry,” he observes wryly.
“No, but I’m sure I will be later.”
His expression tells me he already has some ideas about that, but our conversation is interrupted by Aurora, who’s apparently still prickled over our earlier bickering.
“Willow, have you even considered that you’ll be giving birth to Gigantor’s baby? You better take this stuff seriously. That kid’s probably going to come out a twenty-pounder.”
“Shut it, Aurora.” I glare at her, horrified by the prospect.
Azrael sees the panic in my eyes when I look at him, and he does the worst thing he could do.
He laughs.
“She’s not going to be that big,” he assures me.
“Have you seen the size of you?” I whisper-hiss.
“She’ll be perfect,” Nan tells us. “No need to worry.”
Her reassurances do nothing for me, and as we pack up all the gifts and prepare to say our goodbyes for the afternoon, something occurs to me. It isn’t until my Nanna hugs me that I get a chance to ask.
“Did you do all this so we had a chance to experience it before something happens to us?”
“Of course not,” Nan chides me. “Willow, you looked so happy today. You were glowing. That’s all I wanted.”
I nod, forcing a smile, even though I’m still wondering if this is all just for show. Will we even have the chance to see this baby born?
“I love you,” Nan whispers. “We all do. And we are so happy your husband loves you as much as you deserve.”
“Thanks, Nan.” I hold back my tears as I hug her tight. “For everything.”
After twenty minutes of goodbyes, we finally make it out the front door with Bec in tow. She’s been quiet all afternoon, not as relaxed as she usually is with my family, and I’ve been wondering why. It isn’t until we’re in the car that I’m considering how to bring it up. But to my surprise, Azrael beats me to it, proving that he’s been taking a more active role in his sister’s life.
“What’s wrong, Bec?”
She blinks up at him, her face slightly panicked as she pulls her sweater over her wrist, but not before I notice a fresh bruise there.
“Bec?” I ask. “What is it?”
“I’m sorry,” she blurts, her eyes filling with tears. “Grandmother knows about the baby.”
22
AZRAEL
I stare straight ahead at the road but drive on autopilot. Every muscle is tensed, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. Willow stares at the road too, but now and then I see her turn to me and even in my periphery, the shadow of that cross healing and hidden by makeup seems to shine bright, as if I need reminding our future isn’t clear. As if I didn’t already know.
And now, this, Salomé knowing about the pregnancy. The bruise I glimpsed on Bec’s wrist. This on top of the Disciples coming for her, for us all. And ultimately, the curse, the sacrifice that will be made after it all, it’s enough. It’s fucking enough already.
