Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Phoenix screams louder than I’ve ever heard anybody scream as our second son is born into this world, covered in blood and goo and also so completely perfect.
My first son has started crying. Loudly. I lay the second on Phoenix’s chest and am about to move up to her side so I can sit behind her back while she cuddles both our newborns who are still growing, now fat cherubic babies. Children. I have children. I can hardly believe it, but there’s no time to really take in all the emotions I’m feeling. Especially when Phoenix’s eyes fly up to mine, tears squeezing out.
“Oh god, Layden, it’s not over.”
Fucking fuckity fuck my whole fucking life—
Her face contorts in pain, and she clutches our one crying sons to her breasts as I drop down again between her legs, where, indeed, a third head is crowning.
“I can’t,” Phoenix cries. “I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can,” I say with determination, even though I’m terrified because the two babies that are out have already grown so much. “Push now. Don’t wait. You’ve got this. You’re a badass goddess who can give birth to this last baby because there’s nothing in the world you can’t do. I believe in you. I love you. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and—”
Her animalistic scream breaks off my stream of encouragement. I reach down and catch our daughter, who, unlike her brothers, has snow-white wings.
Phoenix collapses back after passing the placenta, and I pull out the pocketknife I always keep on my belt to cut each child’s cord. Our firstborn has continued to grow and looks like he’s a toddler at this point. I use the pocketknife to cut swaths from the blanket where it’s still clean to wrap around each child’s shoulder like a long, hanging toga with room for expansion, especially considering how fast they’re growing.
I’m about to turn to Phoenix and ask what she wants to name them when my father suddenly strides forward and produces a glowing halo from the pocket of his cargo pants. Before either Phoenix or I can react, he snatches our first son from Phoenix’s breast and snaps the glowing ring around his throat. “You are named Asmodeus.” My son immediately stops crying and gets a distant, faraway look in his eyes.
“Go stand outside the circle,” my father orders. I stand up, holding my little girl. I lunge for my firstborn as he obeys, walking on chubby little legs toward the outside of the circle. But I slip in the afterbirth and barely catch myself before dropping my slippery daughter. He makes it out of the circle to stand beside his other grandfather, Vlad.
“This one will do nicely,” Vlad says, smiling down at the little boy, who’s growing taller by the second. His brother and sister are also continuing to grow, but at the moment, I can’t care about that because my father is walking toward where Vlad stands.
“You are happy with our bargain then?” my father asks.
Vlad nods. “If I continue to get the firstborn of every yield, our deal shall continue.”
My father also nods his head, but by the glint in his eye, I can foresee what is about to happen next even if Vlad can’t. No, oh shit—Vlad feeding is necessary for Phoenix to be healthy because of their twisted blood bond thing.
“Vlad, don’t, he’s going to double-cross y—”
But before I can even finish my sentence, my father has produced a glowing blade, again seemingly from his pocket even though there was no natural way it would have fit there, and swings it in a killing blow, lopping off Vlad Dracul the Second’s head.
“No!” Phoenix cries. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s losing the source of her energy and health or because, in spite of his betrayals and the fact that he never gave her a reason to deserve it, Phoenix loved the old man.
My firstborn stands silently, looking on as Vlad’s head spins on the floor not far away from him. He now looks to be a kindergarten-aged child. Our second-born clings to Phoenix’s neck but is similarly growing, so much that I can see it’s hard for her to continue holding him like that. But still, she clutches him to her as dearly as I hold our growing daughter in my arms.
My father turns back to us.
“We’ll find you,” I say with all the hatred in my heart. I have no secret chamber of love for the being in front of me. If I could see him burn in the fires of hell right this minute, I’d send him with a one-way ticket there myself. “There’s no place you can take my child that I won’t find you.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Father says. “Why would I leave you behind when this worked out so well? I’d be a fool to leave the production factory behind, now wouldn’t I? No, the two of you are coming with me.”