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I plan to confront Molli the next time we stop to let the wolves hunt ahead, but Elena beats me to the proverbial punch.
“My sister’s preggers, Mol. Just come out and say it.”
Molli’s opal eyes cast a furtive glance my way. “Lena …”
“Fuck! I knew it!” Elena throws her hands in the air and stomps away, followed by My four Sons. Likely they seek to comfort her in her distress, though why Callie’s pregnancy would be distressing is beyond me.
I turn to Molli now that we’re more alone. “Please, Molli. Just tell me, so I can know for certain. You don’t know what it’s doing to me, not knowing.”
She glances at her three fae mates, who stand off to the side exchanging battle tactics with some of the demonic generals. “I think I kinda do, actually.” She sighs. “Fine. You guessed it: she’s pregnant, and it’s Yours.”
“‘It’?”
Another sigh. “She. She’s Yours.”
A new child. A daughter. With Callie. “It’s a miracle …”
Molli twists a lock of white hair between her fingers. “Yeah. If she survives this. I’m worried about Callie. First, she wasn’t sleeping at all; now it’s almost all she does.”
My brows raise in surprise. “You can see that?”
“Yeah. It took me a while to fine-tune it, but I can see a soul’s life and health through its lifeline. So, since her soul is tied to Yours, I see hers. She’s alive—definitely alive and being well-fed—but she’s fading a bit. It’s like she’s giving up.”
A strange wetness forms in my eyes, and hot liquid spills down my cheeks. For the second time in my long life, I’m crying. “She has given up?” Given up on rescue. On me.
Molli shakes her head. “Not quite yet. But she’s on the way there, I think. We’ve gotta get to her quick. Her soul is miserable, with very little hope left in it.” Her pierced lips turn up in a small, reassuring smile as she reaches up to wipe the liquid from my scaly demon cheeks. “Don’t cry, Asmodeus. She’s still out there. Still our Callie that we all know and love. Still fighting.”
Small, pale, delicate hands laden with silver rings encircle my own, and Molli gives me a sympathetic squeeze.
“Your soulmate is trapped by an enemy. She’s pregnant with Your Child, and she’s in danger. No one would blame You for crying.”
Turning away from her, I wipe my eyes until they’re dry, trying to hide the view from My Armies by folding my wings around myself. Nohumanwould blame me for crying, but the demons? They’ll vilify me if they see or sense weakness. This Realm is not Earth; sympathy is not valued here.
A torrent of emotions swirls within me. Grief. Sorrow. Frenetic worry. The ever-present rage focused on Leviathan and His sick plot. They roil around in chaotic waves, mixing and melding into a virtual hurricane of feeling, with me at the epicenter of the storm.
My Armies react to the maelstrom in varied ways. My torment seems to act like a unifying force for the Children of Satan, making them even more eager for the coming battle. My Children, on the other hand, are sobered by my rage, their focus on coming to Callie’s aid razor sharp. The Earth beings and Elena’s mates don’t seem as affected by my mood, but their determination is no less for it. Their combined love and dedication for My Callie fills my demon heart with hope.
I don’t know how soul bonds work, but I do my best to send that hope along our bond, to share my hope with Callie across the vast hellscape. If there is even the smallest chance that my hope can bolster hers, it’s worth the effort. I visualize a glowing thread of light connecting our hearts, and the heart of the unborn child in her womb.
Hang on, Callie, My Love. Don’t lose hope. I’m coming for you, for you and our daughter.
I will rescue you both or die trying.
Chapter 23
Callie
If I knew where one day ended and the next began, I’d scratch tally marks in the coral walls of my prison. As it is, all I have to mark the passage of what passes for time here is the ever-expanding bump of my belly. By my calculations, I’ve gotta be in my third trimester at this point. I’ve slept through most of it by now since Leviathan doesn’t show up anymore. What’s the point in staying awake? I don’t even know if Az is coming for me yet. It’s just me and the kiddo, the little karate master itself.
The reality of having an actual, factual life growing inside me didn’t sink in until it started to kick.
For Lena, Ben and Niki’s first kicks were moments of pure joy. I, however, am simply reminded that my baby is going to be taken from me the moment it’s born. Like the old game says, “Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”
The kicking revs up whenever an envy demon comes to feed me. I pray that it’s a Pavlovian response to food arriving and not a reaction to envy demons in particular—unless my kid is trying to fight them off and confusing my bladder for an enemy, in which case, good instincts, kiddo. Your aim is off, but your intentions are pure, and that’s what matters.
The baby gets so feisty sometimes that by now my whole abdomen feels bruised and sore. Kidneys, liver, bladder, stomach … no organ is safe. It’s gotten to where it does somersaults too, sometimes shifting position to rest up against my diaphragm. Doesn’t do a thing to help my breathing, but I can’t bring myself to be mad at it for just trying to get comfortable.
Speaking of comfort, I think Leviathan did more research into the human species. I woke up one day in a king-sized bed with a pillow-top mattress and high thread-count sheets. The black commode seat, once cold beyond cold to sit on, became heated. My “clothes,” or lack thereof, don’t change, though, still the same old musty sheet. I guess He doesn’t want me getting too comfy here. Even when I steal a new sheet from the fancy set, some kind of magic intervenes and puts me right back in the rags. It’s gotta be Leviathan. Bastard.
