Shattered: An Urban Romantic Fantasy Page 6

  “Take this. This is for you.” I wandered away, down the stream and out of sight. I tried to get a feel for the sensations around me. A tree groaned above me, but the forest wasn’t unnaturally quiet. The fae weren’t even here! Had they gone away for the winter?

  No no no.

  I could try one more thing. Something more personal. I’d have to sacrifice something meaningful.

  I had a locket, one that I didn’t wear anymore because it was too painful. One that showed a happier time I didn’t remember. I’d been too young, but my mother, my father, and I had been smiling in the picture. I must have been two. I wanted to keep this to show my child someday, to show her that she had the roots of a happy family. To show her that it wasn’t just the three of us—me, Mom, and baby.

  Because that’s all it would be if I didn’t find Cystenian.

  This had to be enough to entice the fae. I draped my locket around the candle and waited. After an hour of listening to the stream, with no heavy magic felt or giggling brats to be heard, I thought I’d go mad. Unbelievable, the little snots.

  I tried my abilities against the stone.

  With both hands on the rock, I shut my eyes and imagined the portal opening. That’s how I sprouted my hawk wings—sheer brain power. I mean, I was magical, right?

  I grunted and strained as I pushed, imagining myself falling through the rock. Eventually I stopped, afraid my straining might pop some veins in my swollen legs.

  “Ugh! What use is being an emrys if I can’t do anything?” Why hadn’t I asked Cystenian anything about what it meant to be an emrys? I knew nothing!

  I flopped onto my mossy mound and pawed through my treasure box while rubbing my belly. She was kicking, as she usually did when she was bouncing around in my belly on these hikes.

  The day was getting late. I was cold. I needed to leave, but I was getting too close to the end of my pregnancy and feared this would be my last chance to open the portal. I flipped through my notes—what had morphed into wistful love letters for Cystenian—and through the baby guide. I picked up my sonogram pictures. “Hang on, baby. I’m not giving up yet. I’ll make sure you have a daddy.” I just didn’t know how.

  Think. Think. I huffed out a breath. You are too impatient, Anerah. Calm down.

  I tried to still my mind. Tried to listen to internal intuition.

  Nothing happened.

  The loudmouth stream mocked me. I snatched up a stone and threw it angrily into the water. “This sucks!” Feeling rage burn up through my core, I whipped toward the rock. Without thinking, I stretched my arms out and flames flew from my palms.

  “Oh my heck!”

  I screamed as the flames engulfed the front of the boulder. “Holy hell!” I shook my hands, trying to make the flames stop. Afraid I’d torch the forest, I closed my palms and thrust them into the water.

  “Oh my gosh,” I panted, down on my knees, rounding over my belly. I tucked my head toward the ground, as much as my bulge would let me. I kept my hands in the stream until they were numb, but that didn’t take long in the frigid water.

  Tears started to fall. “Cystenian. I can’t do this by myself. You showed me this whole other me, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

  Reluctantly, as shadows fell over me, I knew I had to be going or Mom would send out a search party. I pressed my palms to the rock one more time. Even my flame had done nothing. As if I’d expected fire to open the portal.

  What power on Earth could open this?

  What power on Earth indeed? If my mother wasn’t the one with the power, then my father was. I’d already come to that conclusion. He was an emrys who lived on Earth. Had he come through this portal? He had to know about that other world, about that part of me. He could teach me how to control my powers. Maybe he knew how to open the portal.

  I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulders. With a somewhat steady step, I crossed the stream.

  “It’s time I sought him out.” I swallowed as I thought about what this would mean.

  Facing more than one fear.

  The hike to my car was a nuisance. My hips ached, and I was impatient to get home. This baby was all out front too. I was in the middle of J-term classes, and I hardly had time to mess with contacting my father. I didn’t know if he knew I was even expecting. Mom had severed all ties with him.

  But I knew where to find him. A few hours away upstate. I told Mom I had to stay at college one weekend and cram for a test. Instead, I took a road trip.

  He lived in a historic town. Last I knew, my father had been on the town council and lived in a large refurbished Victorian. I parked my car out front and stared at the porch. He hadn’t remarried, to my knowledge. I’d pity any poor woman who fell into that trap.

  Would he be home on a Saturday afternoon?

  I hadn’t thought through my plan. What would I say? “Hey, Dad, do you perchance know how to open a gateway to another world? When were you planning to tell me I was special? Did you know I could fly? Oh, you see my belly? Yep, I’m carrying the child of this guy I met only once, while flying. He took me into his realm, and we got busy.”

  I leaned my head on the steering wheel and groaned, resisting the urge to bash my head into it. This was so hard because my father scared me. He’d only hurt my mother, but what if when he saw my basketball-sized stomach, he erupted and took his fury out on me?

  As I rubbed my belly, my baby rolled and jabbed me in the ribs. This little child was as impatient as I was. I couldn’t wait to see if she had Cystenian’s golden curls.

  “Okay, babe, I’m doing this for you, so you can see your daddy someday.”

  I opened my car door and pulled on a calm exterior.

  A brick walkway led to the front door. Several rocking chairs lined the white porch. This would be a good place to talk, where the eyes of the town could see any evidence of foul play.

  Three knocks. I waited.

  The door opened.

  TWELVE

  My father had wavy, brown hair, trimmed fairly short into a respectable businesslike cut. His skin was tanned, and his eyes dark brown. Dad still looked as if he were thirty years old. No gray hairs like Mom. Time held no effect on him at forty-two. He hadn’t changed in the two years since I saw him.

  Was this an emrys thing?

  “Anerah.” He stared at me—at my face, not my blossoming belly. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised.

  I shook my head, snapping with a sarcastic drip in my tone. “Dad.”

  “Why don’t you come in?” He opened the door wide and smoothed his hands down his slacks. He wore a suit vest, like something a 1950s gangster would. I had a hard time not picturing him as anything but.

  What did he spend his Saturday mornings doing dressed like that?

  I crossed my arms over my chest, above my prego belly. “I’m fine right where the world can see us.”

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He shut the door and stepped onto the porch.

  I backed up. “Shouldn’t I?”

  “I know what you’re thinking. Nothing you think you know is true.” He stood so stiffly, so uncaringly.

  I blinked. Really? “Such cryptic words.”

  “You’re safer here.”

  At his house? Then it occurred to me. “On Earth, you mean? I’m safer on Earth.”

  Dad gave the slightest nod.

  “So Emira is real. I wasn’t knocked up by some creep in the woods.” Thank heavens, because I had been starting to wonder.

  “I know you think you want to find him, but you can’t. He’s a danger to you.”

  How does he know who I’m talking about? “Why? Because he might beat me?”

  A muscle actually jumped near Dad’s right eye.

  “He’s not you,” I said. “Cystenian wouldn’t hurt me.”

  Dad closed his eyes for a breath. “Anerah, just stay away from the portal and stay away from Cystenian.”

  I backed away. “You gave up any right to parent me
when you slapped Mom.”

  “You’re too much of a child to understand.” His eyes were pleading.

  “Try me.” I gestured to my stomach. “I’m going to be a mother, in case you missed this watermelon under my shirt.”

  “Why’d you come here?” His tone was impatient, telling me that he wouldn’t take the time to explain.

  I wasn’t giving up yet. I could be impatient too. “To see if you’re like me! But you know what I realized?”

  He didn’t open his mouth.

  I seethed inside. “I’m nothing like you. Emrys or not. I don’t need your help for any of this.”

  His hand reached for me, just a fraction of an inch, but he drew it back, uncertain. “Despite what you think, I’m always here for you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Will you teach me to control my power? Will you open the portal?”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Did you open it with your power? How does it open?”

  “I can’t tell you any of those things,” he said.

  “You’re useless.” I gnashed at him and stomped off the porch.

  This trip was an absolute waste of time.

  I could have been studying for Monday’s test.

  THIRTEEN

  My final hike.

  It took me an hour to waddle through the woods. With two weeks left until my due date, I doubted I’d return to the portal before then. I stopped several times to lean against a tree or sit on a log. This was foolish. I rubbed my aching back and took a swig of my water. I had to pee. The baby had been pressing on my bladder for weeks. She was low. Her head was lodged downward, and she had no more space to flip.

  She was ready to come out.

  I arched my back and then rounded forward, stretching before standing. When I walked, I didn’t waddle much side to side. My movements were more like a graceful swagger. But I was careful as I moved, placing every foot around the rocks and on solid ground so I wouldn’t fall face first into the stream.

  My heart pounded, and sudden nervousness caused me to break into a sweat as I approached the rock. I would find Cystenian. Today. I knew it. The mossy mound was bright green with new spring growth. My plastic tote box stood sentinel. Most likely untouched.

  Be open. I rushed forward as fast as my awkward body would allow and thrust my hands onto the rock.

  Solid.

  Tears erupted. “Just open for me this one time! Fae! Unholy minions! Open it!”

  My calls went unheeded.

  Then an odd feeling crept over me.

  Icy fingers—strong, invisible strokes—raked my spine.

  I gasped and recoiled, stumbling forward and falling to my knees. Sharp pain wrapped my abdomen. Tight, lasting. Then it finally released.

  The pain had to have been a contraction.

  A wretched giggle filled my ears, like a little child calling from the beyond in a horror flick. Laughter all around me, of many voices.

  Now they made themselves known.

  They had been biding their time—until I was ready to rupture.

  “You sick, sadistic freaks!”

  Another contraction ripped through me.

  Once it was over and I’d caught my breath, I dug through my backpack for my cell phone. I punched in Mom’s number and waited. Nothing happened. No call went through, just a few annoying beeps. I held my phone up. It had a signal. What was going on?

  I tried again. Nothing. I tried texting Mom, Chloe, our neighbor a half mile away, and 911.

  The phone was as good as dead, even though it had power and reception.

  No. Hysterical laughter shook me. This would happen. Damn my stubborn foolishness.

  Who hiked in the woods when they were thirty-eight weeks pregnant?

  I hoisted myself to my feet and tripped forward. I had to get out of here. I couldn’t have the baby in the woods. My feet were almost to the stream when my stomach tightened. This time I fell back onto a fallen tree and braced myself against it.

  I screamed and shook my phone, and the pain relented. “This can’t be happening!”

  A thickness in the air made me wonder if the fae had something to do with my dysfunctional cell phone.

  “I’m going to need help!” I gasped. “Are you going to leave me here with just nothing?” How could these creatures be so cruel?

  My answer was another blinding contraction. As I crawled to the comfort of the mossy mound, a heaviness filled my pelvis. Had my baby just dropped, like all of a sudden? I knew she was head down and low, but not this uncomfortable, unrelenting-pressure low.

  My months of reading didn’t say the contractions would come this fast. I thought I would have several minutes between each early pain. I tried to breathe and relax while perched on my hands and knees, but it was impossible with how hard and painful my stomach had become.

  When that contraction subsided, I crawled to my box. I tore the lid off and pulled out my pregnancy book. I had read the chapters on labor and delivery, but I was searching for reassurance. Mom had frequently told me stories of laboring mothers. She’d told me what to expect, but I thought she’d be with me in the hospital. My fault for hiking in fae-infested woods when I was nine months pregnant.

  I blindly turned the pages. I couldn’t think straight. What was I looking for? I found a picture of the cardinal movements. The baby would come out face down. Clamp the cord. Clear the mouth and nose. Keep the baby warm.

  I rolled over, onto my wide butt, and reached for my hiking boots.

  Another pain. Harder. More agonizing.

  I wailed, letting my voice rip through the trees.

  This was happening now. It would not wait.

  I needed to take my boots off, and then my pants.

  I couldn’t even reach my boots over the bulge of my belly. I attempted to kick them off. I just needed to reach the laces—something to tie off the umbilical cord.

  The effort was too hard.

  I gave up and concentrated on the next thing—my pants. How would I get them past my boots? I squirmed my pants and my underwear down around my ankles and opened my legs into a diamond shape.

  My bare butt was on the moss. This couldn’t have been more awkward.

  I knew, just knew, this was it. There would be no hiking out.

  I paused and took a deep breath. You can do this, Anerah. Focus.

  Pain again.

  I tried not to scream, but after I-don’t-know-how-many seconds in, a scream roared from me anyway.

  How did women do this?

  I spent the time between contractions focusing on the next step. What else did I need?

  I took off my sweater. I could wrap the baby in this.

  My feet felt as if they were buried in cement. Each pain made them feel heavier and heavier. I kicked and thrashed. Get these boots off! Between contractions, I made another attempt. With my legs in their diamond shape, I barely reached my feet. After I worked the laces loose, I worked the toe of one boot against the heel of the other. A boot came off. Then the other. My pants followed.

  Pantsless in the woods again. Back where I started. One full circle.

  I was tired, but this was just getting going. How would I last much longer?

  I started panting.

  Laughter jarred me, making me screech. They were jeering at me!

  “You’re no help! I couldn’t get my stupid boots off or my pants. If you’re going to make me have this baby alone in the forest, you could at least lend a hand!”

  My body was tense. How could it not be?

  I cried, and I groaned. This was going on for a long time. I cried for Cystenian as I curled on the ground in agony.

  “Someone help me.” It came out in a whisper.

  Anerah…

  The voice startled me. Soft, subtle. But I knew the voice. Dad. Somehow he was speaking through my mind.

  Is this another emrys thing?

  “I don’t want your help,” I growled.

  Anerah, you need to relax. Your body
is too tense.

  “You try relaxing!” How was he doing this?

  You wanted someone to help you through this. I will.

  Something inside me ached. I desperately wanted help. I desperately wanted to trust Dad, but how could I? “You don’t want to help me.”

  I do. You’re my daughter. Close your eyes. Remember when you were a hawk. This works the same way. Take control.

  “How do you know about that?”

  I couldn’t put my trust in him.

  But I had no one else.

  I listen to you, he said. I know your heart. I am like you. I want you to be safe.

  “You never kept me safe. You were a monster to Mom.” Tears were blinding me. Why was he reaching out now?

  Why hadn’t he loved me and Mom instead of destroying us?

  My body tightened through another pain, and I let the scream fill me. Warm fluid seeped down my legs and between my butt cheeks.

  Look in yourself. Focus on your body. What do you see? Use your power. You can see.

  How? I didn’t know how to use my power. “See what?”

  Envision your body opening. You need to dilate more before you can push. Relax and see it.

  This was crazy. And how did he know how far I was dilated?

  Despite my reservations, I pictured my baby in my belly. She would have to travel down the birth canal, but she would be stopped, her progress impeded. It was weird, but I swear I could see her head pressed against my cervix.

  The opening needs to be bigger, I thought. Open. I tried to float myself toward it. Open. Tensing up would not help. I remembered reading that somewhere.

  I lay back on the moss, enjoying the cushioning on my body. Somehow my pain wasn’t as great. Somehow I could breathe and see and get lost inside myself. Open. Come out, little one.

  I pulled my knees to my chest. The resistance melted away. My baby’s head softened the opening as she pushed against it. Come out.

  That’s it, Anerah, Dad said. You’ve done it. Now push down. Push.

  She was ready. I listened to my father and squeezed my abs tight as I bore down. My screams returned. I was outside my body, seeing nothing but my bulging belly, my swollen legs, and the moss between them.