Misty
Cole doesn’t tell me I should get some rest, and for that I’m eternally grateful. I pace the cabin, watching as he organizes and takes inventory of his medical kit. I remember the day I found out he was a physician. It had been a shock. My arm had been torn to the bone by a rabid, cursed wolf, and this man–this stranger who I thought was evil–sewed me back together again.
That feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was, honestly. Sometimes I wonder if our weeks in Richard’s fortress actually happened or if it were a fever dream. But the glint of lantern light on the sharpened edge of a scalpel pulls me back into reality as he drops it into a pot of boiling water.
“Are you going with us?” I ask into the silence.
Cole’s mouth twitches with something unsaid. He shakes his head, glancing at me over his shoulder. “No. I’m going to stay here with Addy and be available to anyone who needs a healer.”
I wait for him to tell me I should try to get a few minutes of sleep, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to face me, leaning his weight against the counter with a sigh as his eyes pitched closed and he runs a hand over his face.
“I’m sorry, Cole.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for–”
“This isn’t what you expected it’d be. Coming here, to Silverhide, where it’s supposed to be simple and quiet.” I wave a hand around the rustic cabin for emphasis. “You thought this would be a much needed vacation for us, and instead, I unearthed a fucking–a fucking forge.”
“I’m used to this,” he says, laughing a bit. “I imagine this isn’t the last time a plan of mine goes awry because of your powers.”
I look down at my hands, which I’ve been ringing for the past hour. I’ve picked my nails to the quick, going over the plan in my head over and over again, and I’m exhausted. Exhausted, and ready to just… be done with it all.
“The Mystics in Moonrise have a way to get rid of powers. Some witches elect to do it from what I’ve heard. It’s not easy or comfortable but I could–”
“No,” he says sternly.
“But–”
“You’re not doing that.”
“I could. It would make things easier for us.”
“How would giving up a part of who you are make anything easier for us?” He steps toward me, frowning, his eyes narrowed. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I have,” I admit, trying to keep my voice down while Addy slumbers in the center of our bed only a few feet away. “I have lost my mind. Entirely. I left it on the battlefield the moment I watched you fall flat on your face–dead–because of me!”
He exhales sharply, nostrils flaring. “Misty–”
“I’m lost. Okay? I feel like I’ve been barely surviving for the past year. I just wanted us to have a chance. I wanted us to have a life where everything was perfect, and we were happy, and–and we come here and get thrown into the fire again. I’ll always be hunted for what I am. Someone is always going to want a piece of me–of us–of our children–and I’m so tired of it, Cole. I was tired of it back then, and I’m tired of it now.” I close my eyes, covering my face with my hands. Memories of the war sprint back to the forefront of my mind. Cole’s glazed, heartbroken look when he’d rejected me to force me away. The dead look in his eyes those first few weeks in the fortress. Georgia’s fear. The nameless faces and screams from the day the university was attacked.
“It’ll happen again,” I rasp, lowering my hands to look at him. Cole is closer now, having taken several steps in my direction, his face lined with concern. “I know it will. As long as I have power–as long as my family has powers–someone will come for us. They’ll challenge us. We will always, always, be at war.”
Cole reaches for me. I flinch away at first, and he hesitates but then pulls me hard against his chest, crushing me against his solid warmth. His scent wraps around my senses, squeezing tight, weighing down the turmoil and fear clogging my mind. His hand drifts up my back to my neck, holding me in place. I choke on silent sobs, torn between letting it all out and holding it in so I don’t wake up our son.
His grip on my body tightens. “You saved my life last year. I’m not talking about the battle, either. That night, at the party in the tunnels under the campus… when I finally got a real glimpse of you? You gave me something to fight for. And then you had him.” He takes a shallow breath. “You brought our son into the world, and it was the most miraculous thing I’d ever seen. You did that without using an ounce of your powers. You brought me back from the dead and gave him life.”
I shake my head as tears slip free, soaking into his shirt.
“You’ve never given yourself credit for what you did,” he whispers into my hair. “Not once. You didn’t give yourself a single second to grieve your grandparents. You didn’t go back to who you were before.”
“I can’t find her.”
“She’s still there,” he sighs, swaying ever so gently like he’s rocking an infant to sleep. “I see her in your writing, the interviews you’ve conducted. That’s what you should be doing, Misty. That’s your real power, and it always has been. Knowledge.”
Something finally clicks in my brain–something I’ve been waiting for, desperately reaching for, and missing by mere inches.
I start to pull away, to look up at him and blubber whatever apology I can think of, when heavy footsteps sound on the front porch.
I’m not surprised by the intrusion. Aviva and I are meant to be waiting for Kenna and Evander to arrive so we can go get the kids and bring them home.
But when my brother walks through the door, his face drawn and drained of all color, my heart immediately sinks.
Cole straightens, gripping my arms as he scans Sydney’s face. Sydney’s mouth moves, but no sound comes out. I’ve never, ever, seen him look like this, and real fear rushes through my veins.
Cole, however, takes a steady breath, stepping away from me and sweeping his medical kit off the counter, ignoring the pot still sanitizing the precious tools I can’t even begin to name.
“When did her labor start?” he asks Sydney in his doctor voice–so calm and cold it could cause ice to form on the windows despite the unseasonably warm night.
“It hasn’t–I don’t understand,” Sydney says, unable to catch his breath. “There’s just–too much blood.”
Cole brushes past me and grabs Sydney by the shoulder. They run off into the night, turning to shadows against the silver glow of moonlight. I grip the doorframe wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now. Seeing Sydney like that was so incredibly unsettling that it’s impossible to think past. I turn back into the house and quietly gather Addy into my arms, wrapping us both in a blanket before turning off the stovetop and shoving the pot of boiling water to the far back of the stove. Then, I dart into the night as fast as my feet can carry me, trying my hardest not to wake Addy up.
Sydney and Sarah were supposed to be staying in one of the empty, newly built cottages in the village square, but it’s empty.
By some miracle from the Goddess Herself, I whirl, catching a glimpse of Freya hurrying out of her house with a basketful of linens. She sees me, sighs with relief, and waves me over.
“Where are they?” I ask hurriedly, catching up to her in a few quick steps.
“Ryan and Aviva’s house,” she says, setting the basket down and motioning for me to hand Addy to her. “Let me take him. Lexa’s already with Mercy.”
“Have Kenna and Evander arrived yet?”
She shakes her head, looking pale as she adjusts Addy’s weight in her arms. “No, they haven’t.” She takes a deep breath. “Did you know she was having twins?”
“Sarah?”
Her nod is solemn and shakes me to my core. I pick up the basket and sprint to the house, panting, my legs burning with the effort of running up the stairs leading to the porch. A low, guttural moan echoes toward me before my feet have even landed on the porch, followed by the sharp cry of a newborn.
Relief floods my body, but it’s brief. Sarah cries out, and Sydney–he’s desperate. I can taste his emotions as he says, “I don’t have enough power for this. Why is she bleeding so much, Cole?”
I shove through the door. Aviva’s standing in the kitchen looking pale as she ravages the cabinet, but her eyes light up when she sees me with the basket of linens. “Thank the Goddess.”
I glance at the living room where Cole, Sydney, and Ryan are blocking my view of Sarah… and maybe it’s a good thing. Ryan turns to look at me, his shirt stained with blood and his arms cradling a bundle–a blanket.
His eyes are heavy with worry.
“Hold onto her leg,” Cole says without an ounce of emotion in his voice. He hisses out a breath, his shoulders rigid as he kneels. I can’t see what he’s doing, but Sarah groans weakly, and I feel my healing powers ignite for the first time in… a year.
“The second baby is stuck,” Aviva whispers before passing me with the basket. I watch her set it on the ground beside Cole. Ryan hands her the first baby. Aviva cradles the infant, making small, sad shushing sounds as she turns back in my direction.
I’m frozen in place. My powers simmer beneath my skin, but my legs refuse to move. I watch the scene as if in slow motion–Cole trying to deliver the baby. Sarah’s leg slumping at his side. Sydney leaning over her, begging her to wake up while his healing powers skitter over the leg he’s holding onto for dear life, barely enough to breach her skin.
“Is she all right?” Aviva shows me the first baby. “Misty? Misty–”
I snap out of it and look down, smoothing the blanket away from the baby’s face and chest. The baby squirms, her face twisted in fury and confusion. She lets out an angry whine before bursting with life–her wails filling the house.
The men aren’t even looking in our direction. Aviva hurriedly wraps the baby back up in the blanket and fumbles with her shirt. “She needs milk, right?” Panic flares behind her eyes.
I nod, in a haze, torn between Aviva and Sarah. “What happened?”
Sarah lets out a weak sob, but Cole grunts with effort, and then the second baby makes her entrance into the world.
It’s a silent one.
“No,” Sydney rasps, clutching his mate’s leg. “Sarah? Sarah, look at me!”
The world stops spinning as my feet carry me across the house. Cole is desperately trying to save Sarah’s life, but the bleeding won’t stop. Sydney holds his daughter. She’s very small–and quiet. Born in a beam of moonlight against a sea of stars.
It’s not fair. None of this is fair.
I fall to my knees next to Cole. He’s in over his head. Two empty vials of precious tears–likely the very last in existence–lie beside the top of Sarah’s head as she takes a shallow breath, her skin a mottled gray.
I realize what happened. Sydney has healing powers like I do, but not nearly as strong. His powers are a flicker in comparison, but enough to save a single life.
He saved the first baby, didn’t he? Not realizing how bad things were going to go in a matter of moments?
I brush Sarah’s hair away from her face, clutching her cheeks between my hands. Powers I refused to acknowledge–the same powers Grandma used to save an entire kingdom–shoot out from my palms.
The entire house erupts in pale blue light for a heartbeat… and I’m alive again.