The Last City, page 2
My baby kicks, as if on cue.
My hand moves to my stomach. “So while this is supposed to be a celebration, it is a pause. Today is merely a breath that we grant ourselves before we pick up the baton and resume the fight for equality.” I look out over the faces that have gone from celebratory to hardened with purpose.
Good. They will need that determination if the world is going to evolve.
My voice carries while my baby kicks again. “I have one question for all of you: Are you tired of the fight?”
“No!” comes the resounding gong of enthusiastic replies.
It’s a beautiful thing, the cries of the impassioned. I can only hope they last long enough to enforce the change we all crave.
“Then show me how you will protect the future. Show me how you will stand up against Senator Washburn and those like him. He is here today to cash in on being seen at this rally, but he votes against equal rights, like so many others! Show me that your minds and your hearts are open to change, and that you are ready to push forth the policies that must come if we are to call ourselves humane. I…”
I open my mouth, but at that exact moment, I feel something I am not supposed to experience for one whole month.
I was told I had a month. I’m not ready for what I am positive is my very first contraction. My belly hardens and the inside quakes like the echoes of something powerful approaching as it awakens.
Panic strikes my features. Before I can voice anything, Rome rushes to my side from where he stood behind me. His arm winds around my hips, bolstering me should I need it.
I don’t think he knows my labor might be starting early, but he knows the quaver in my voice, which is all he needs to hear to move quickly.
Still, I continue with my speech as best I can with Rome by my side.
“Maybe you all don’t have as much to lose. Maybe it’s not your child who will be silenced if this bill is not left unadulterated. But I like to believe that you are the kind of people who care even about children who are not yours, because that’s how big your hearts are. You don’t care if a person is a vampire or a human, a boy or a girl. You care that there is a chance for kindness in the world.” I stand my ground, willing my child to wait just a few more minutes. My eyes glisten with passion that is now mingled with fear.
I was supposed to have more time.
“I trust you all know how to give Senator Washburn a piece of your minds. I trust you know how to vote him out of office for attempting to silence those who deserve to be heard. He would make your protests and votes a struggle for nothing. He would take your voices and silence them if they don’t preach the bigotry that got him elected in the first place.” I rub my stomach. “My child deserves better, and so do yours.”
My child rolls in my stomach like the baby is trying to breakdance.
I gasp, letting my panic broadcast across my face.
I am not sure how long I can keep up the façade of everything being business as usual.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Governor Ingrid Mason is going to field any of your questions concerning how best to vote Senator Washburn out of office. She can walk you through how you can help those who have been ostracized and belittled under the guise of civilized behavior.” I rub my stomach near the bottom of the bump, worried that I somehow need to hold my baby inside of me for just a little while longer, and perhaps I can achieve this feat by pressing my hand to my stomach. “I expect you will have this amendment thoroughly dealt with before my child is born. I also anticipate your passion for justice will rush the necessary changes because I am pregnant, and I can’t do this all by myself. I need you to fight this battle for me for just a little while, so I can give birth and start a new legacy.” Emotions aren’t exactly a rare occurrence these days, but it still surprises me when I tear up, especially in public. “I need you to make sure there is room in this world for my child. I believe the world is big enough for us all, but you might have to prove that to yourselves, and to the policymakers who vote as if it’s not.”
Rome’s hand moves to my stomach, and as if on cue, my belly hardens and quakes again, tightening my insides with pain enough to take my breath away.
Rome’s eyes widen as all color drains from his face. “Was that… Are you…”
“Governor Ingrid Mason, everybody.” I introduce her to the stage and grip Rome’s hand tighter than a lesser man might be able to tolerate. We exit the stage at a leisurely pace.
Because I should have a month.
I’m not ready for this…
…Yet here we go.
2
The Elephant on Nico’s Lap
My brother is the perfect person to have with me while I grit my teeth through a scream as we pull into the hospital.
“Breathe through it,” Declan instructs. “You’re holding your breath to brace yourself. Don’t. Remember what the birthing coach said: breathing during a contraction will make for fewer issues when it’s time to push.”
I squeeze his hand tight while Rome races from his car to the hospital’s entrance, requesting help, I hope. He’s been gaunt and mute ever since we exited the stage of the rally to the tune of my contractions.
Declan opens the door for me, but I am afraid to let go of his hand, so he has to pause while I scoot to the edge and fold my legs out of the car, which isn’t the easiest thing to do.
When Rome races back to the car, an orderly follows behind with a wheelchair.
Everything in me tightens up, and I debate slamming the door in the orderly’s face. “No! I won’t touch that!”
Declan understands my refusal, but Rome reads my hesitation as denial. My boyfriend throws the backdoor open wider and reaches his unsteady hand inside. “The baby is coming, tré-sur.”
“No! I’m not going in that. I can walk.” Though, the speed at which I can get anywhere might not be up to par.
Declan takes my other hand, helping Rome extract me from the car. “She won’t touch a wheelchair, Rome. It’s fine. The contractions are six minutes apart. We have time to get her inside.”
Rome’s eyes close as he no doubt mentally kicks himself for not recalling a little-known fact about my past.
I spent a good portion of my teen years in a wheelchair, hidden away from public view. I lived with my nurse full-time, who took care of me when I could not walk or bathe myself.
I will not go backward. I worked too hard to get on my feet again.
Rome frets at my slow pace as we make our way toward the hospital’s entrance. “It would be faster if we used the…”
My growl comes out far more aggressively than I usually permit. “I would sooner give birth in the middle of the sidewalk than get back into that thing. Never, you hear me? Never put me in one of those, no matter how feeble I get.”
Rome would promise me the moon right now if I asked him, so he nods and focuses on moving me slowly into the hospital.
Orlando pulls up behind our car. Nico drags his body out of the passenger’s side window and sits on the ledge to call out to us. “Um, use the wheelchair, dummies! Get her inside now! The reporters aren’t far behind. Paulo and Liesl are dealing with them as best they can.”
I turn my head over my shoulder, readying to give Nico a piece of my mind. “Shut up, you…” But that’s when a contraction overtakes me, cutting my insult short.
I double over, pausing our progression so I can howl through the pain that I know will only get worse.
It’s good that I can feel it. That means the baby is coming, which is what the baby is supposed to do.
At least, that’s the pep talk I give myself as my belly hardens and shakes me so roughly, I worry I will fall if Declan or Rome releases either of my hands.
The orderly insists I get into the wheelchair, but then backs off when I gather my bearings enough to cast him my most vicious look of death. “Get that thing away from me.”
Rome and Declan move me slowly forward, once my contraction passes and I can stand upright again. It’s an arduous task, but they manage to get me inside, check me in and aim me toward where the baby magic happens.
Only we aren’t taken to the floor where the other moms are located. Part of the governor’s plan for my safety was to keep my location separate from the world while I gave birth. So we are escorted to a different wing of the hospital, which feels like a football field away.
One step at a time, we walk toward our destination, pausing for my contractions when they come.
“That’s four minutes,” Declan says in a forced calm that I know means he is freaking out. “This baby is coming today, Coco.”
Orlando and Nico parked the cars for us, but we are moving so slowly that I can hear their rushing footsteps catching up easily.
Orlando’s disapproval is clear in his authoritative tone. “Why is she walking? Nico got her a wheelchair. Here.”
I glower at Orlando, gearing up to give him the same belligerent speech I gave the others. “I was in a wheelchair for years in Lonmure. I will not get back into one. I worked too hard to stand.”
Orlando takes my temper in stride, his mind racing to fix the problem instead of leaving it be. “Fine. Nico, get in the wheelchair.”
“What?” But even as he questions Orlando, Nico obeys.
Man, my childhood bestie sure has come a long way.
Orlando takes my hand from Rome and leads me to the wheelchair, which is not occupied by Nico. “You’re going to sit down on Nico’s lap. You’re not in the wheelchair. See? You’re technically sitting on Nico’s lap.”
Nico throws his head back. “Anyone want to trade places?”
I want to argue this plan, but a contraction hits me harder than I expect. This one takes my breath away. My knees give out through my howl of pain.
I am grateful for the three men who catch me. They lower me onto Nico’s lap while I try to breathe through the tail end of the contraction.
Orlando kneels in front of me, getting in my eyeline while sweat beads on my forehead. “You are not in a wheelchair. You’re on Nico’s lap. I hope you hate sitting on Nico’s lap so much that you realize the wheelchair is necessary when you’re in labor.”
“I hate this!” I growl, gripping the armrests.
Nico lets loose several dramatic grunts. “Oof! What have you been eating?”
“I’m pregnant! There are two of me sitting on your lap.”
“Two elephants?”
I gape at Nico as Declan takes the reins and races the wheelchair down the corridor. “I can’t believe you just said that! I weigh a normal amount. I’m carrying a baby.”
“A baby elephant.”
I should be appalled, and part of me is, but I know Nico is teasing me like the jerk he is. “You’re an ass,” I tell him, a smile quirking the corner of my mouth.
“You’re a fat ass.”
“You’re a jackass!”
Rome doesn’t know if we are joking or serious, but he holds my hand all the same as he runs beside the wheelchair.
Nico holds me on his lap as best he can. “Don’t fart on me. I hear elephant farts are deadly.”
I snicker but then smack one of his hands that are wrapped around my belly. “Don’t make me laugh! I’m terrified!”
Nico changes his tune as he rubs my belly. “It’s going to be fine, Coco-bear. I’m right here.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Nico strokes my stomach. “Vampire women have been giving birth in their homes since forever. You’ve got an actual hospital with doctors and medicine. It’s going to be one lousy day, and then you get a toy.”
“Do not call my baby a toy.”
Nico chuckles into the back of my shoulder. “I meant I’ll bring you a toy. Something fun that’ll make you smile.”
“A big toy?” I ask, sounding childish, sure, but also I crave the distraction of this ridiculous conversation.
“Depends on how cute the baby is.”
“Hilarious. I want a good toy, Nico. I’m holding you to that.”
Nico trills his fingers down the length of my stomach. “I know you will. An elephant never forgets.”
I try to elbow Nico through my snicker, but I’m too big and awkward to do any real damage.
The twist does something that confuses me. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a sensation of release I did not control. The bottom of my pelvis twinges, and in the next breath, I know there is no turning back.
Any hope I might have entertained of this being false labor is a thing of the past.
Nico shifts in his seat. “Is that… Did you just pee on me?”
I breathe through gritted teeth. “I think my water just broke!”
Nico howls his disgust. “On me? Gross! If this is your revenge for me beating you up, then we’re even, okay? I’m sorry!” He throws his head back. “Faster, Declan! I’m going to lose it if I don’t get out of these clothes soon!”
Rome lets out a bleat of fear. “We’re not to the doctor yet! Hurry, Declan!”
Declan belts out a string of unexpected laughter. “I didn’t think anything would be funny in this situation, but that was amazing. Well done, Coco. Well done, baby.”
“I didn’t mean to, Nico,” I offer sheepishly. “It’s not something I can control.” I motion to my body. “And for the record, this doesn’t make us even. You still owe me several coffee dates.”
Nico holds me tighter. “Fine. Big present, it is.” He buries his face into the back of my shoulder. “I’m burning these pants.”
Declan gets us to the closed-off wing of the hospital that has been prepped only for me. I wonder if this is the same treatment my mother received when she gave birth to us. There is a security guard at the door, who lets us in and then locks the entrance behind us.
Whatever my life before this moment was, I know that very soon, the world will be forever changed.
3
My Baby
I am greeted by a team of doctors and nurses the moment Declan wheels me into the sealed-off wing meant only for us. The professionals all have “let’s do this” expressions schooling their faces. Even though I am a month early, they are scrubbed in and organized, ready to make history.
Declan did a thorough search on every medical professional here, so we know we can trust them not to harm me or my baby. My doctor from Lonmure is to appear by video so he can instruct them, should anything go wrong when things get going.
Nothing can go wrong. Though truly, I know very little about giving birth, other than the books that Rome read to me every night. If something does go wrong, there is precious little I can do to correct the error. I’m not a doctor. Right now, I feel like a cow meant to push out a calf without regard for dignity or safety.
I hold up my hands when the nurses reach for me. “I don’t know what I’m doing!” I feel compelled to announce.
One of the nurses offers a compassionate smile. “That’s okay. We do, and your body does. Together, we’ll get your baby out of your stomach and into your arms.”
I take a deep breath and nod, finally allowing them to help me off Nico’s sopping lap.
The dance is seamless, no doubt because they have done this countless times before. My clothes are removed, and my arms threaded through a hospital gown. I am hooked up to machines to monitor myself and the baby.
I don’t think I breathe until the doctor gives me a thumb’s up. “Everything is stable. It’s early, but I’m not worried. The heartbeat is steady, and you are healthier than ever.”
Panic climbs up in my throat as confessions spill out of me. “I ate a pint of ice cream last night! That’s not healthy! And I ate three helpings of pot roast two nights ago. Three! No, three and a half, because when Orlando didn’t finish all of his, I ate the rest while I was loading the dishwasher.”
The doctor presses his lips together through his laughter. “I’ll be sure to add that to my file in case your baby comes out shaped like a pot roast. That will explain the mystery.”
I gasp, for a second worried that might be a true possibility.
Declan covers me with a thin, scratchy blanket. “He’s joking. Deep breaths, sis. We made it. It’s all downhill from here.”
“For you! I’m the one who has to give birth still!”
Declan’s neck shrinks. “Right. I’m sure that will be a piece of cake.”
At that moment, a contraction hits me so hard that I scream out. Rome’s panicked face does nothing to quell my nerves. Even Declan can’t seem to school his features enough to cast a smidgen of calm my way.
Nico and Orlando are in the hallway, but when I gather up enough breath for a second scream, the door flings open and Orlando stomps inside. He rolls up his sleeves as if gearing up to go to war.
When the contraction crests, I lean back into the pillow. “It hurts!”
Orlando anchors his bulky body to my bed, squeezing in beside me so that half my body is leaning on his. Orlando’s legs kick up and he gets in my face, his nose an inch from mine. “I’m right here. Say it.”
“Orlando is here.”
“That’s right. There’s nothing scary at all if I’m around.” His arm coils beneath me so he can cradle me in his arms. “I’m your mate, so I’m not leaving your side until this passes.”
Though Orlando cannot take the pain of childbirth away from me, the serenity his mere presence brings settles a little of my fear that I will be bad at this.
That I won’t live through this.
Though the doctor, two nurses, Declan and Rome can hear us, I whisper as if the two of us are alone. “My mother died giving birth to me. I shouldn’t be doing this!”
I can feel several sets of eyes watching us. I know the newcomers to our strange friendship are looking on in curiosity and borderline horror, seeing the formidable Orlando cuddling up to the Last Deadblood.
Orlando kisses the tip of my nose. “Your mother didn’t have me as her mate.” Then he nuzzles his nose to mine. “Tell me who I am to you.”
