Somehow, even as the words fell out of my mouth, that part sounded much less believable than, “Hey, Traci, you’ve inadvertently taken on the role of human incubator for a demon’s spawn.”
Traci blinked at me. Then her gaze hardened. “What is wrong with you? My sister—your best friend—just died, and I don’t care whether you can make yourself disappear, or run at the speed of light, or fly to China with no airplane, it is never going to be okay for you to joke about that.”
“It’s true,” Harmony said. “There was an...accident. I’d appreciate it if you don’t make us explain every little detail, because it’s complicated, and we don’t have all night. What you really need to know is that this is Emma. Your sister. Her death has been just as hard on her as it has been on you and your mom and sister.”
“I can prove it,” Em said before Traci could start arguing or get more upset. She leaned forward in her chair, obviously desperate to have her say before her sister kicked us out. “I know things no one else but you and I know. Like...I know what flavor bubble gum you stuck in Cara’s hair the night before picture day when she was nine. It was that horrible watermelon flavor. The kind that’s green on the outside and red in the middle. Only when you chew it, it turns brown and looks as gross as it tastes. And I know about the time you accidentally took nighttime cold medicine instead of daytime cold medicine and you fell asleep in first period, and some jackass wrote all over your face with permanent marker. I guess there’s probably a whole class full of people who remember that, and Mom and Cara know, but why would any of them tell me? I know because I was there while Mom tried to scrub four-letter words off your forehead with rubbing alcohol, and I was with Cara when she went out to buy stage makeup to cover up the ghost of the F-word on your cheek, when the alcohol didn’t work. I saw you cry into the mirror every day for a week, waiting for the ink to wear off.”
“Oh my...” Traci’s eyes were huge and her cheeks were pink, but I saw no sign of doubt on her face now. “Emma?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” Em smiled bigger than I’d seen her smile since the day she woke up in Lydia’s body. “Death sucks. I mean, I’m still alive, but everything’s different, and I hate my new hair, and my old clothes don’t fit now, and the world looks different when you’re only five foot two, and I don’t have a car anymore, and... But I’m taking Toto with me. He’s all I have left now.”
Traci stood so fast I got dizzy just watching. She launched herself over the coffee table and threw her arms around Emma, squeezing her harder than I would have thought possible, considering how frail the expectant mother’s frame looked. “I can’t believe it. I don’t really understand what’s happening here, but this is real?” She sounded half-choked, like she was speaking through tears, and we all nodded. “I thought you were dead.” Traci pushed Em away and held her at arm’s length, suddenly as furious as she’d been relieved a moment earlier. “I thought you were dead! How could you do that? How could you let us think you died?”
“I didn’t have any choice. Don’t be mad. What was I supposed to say, ‘Hey, guys, I died, but then Kaylee got me a new body, but you’re still gonna have to bury me, and pretend you don’t know I’m still here’?”
“I guess not.” Traci sank into her seat again, but she couldn’t stop staring at Emma. “You look so different. Except your eyes...”
Emma glanced at me with her brows arched. “Oh, now she notices my eyes.”
“Girls, I truly wish we had time for the reunion this moment deserves. But we’re running out of time on this dose.” She gestured to Traci’s empty teacup. “And I’d rather not risk Traci still being under the influence of a second dose when her mother comes home. I’d hate for her to forget something she needs to remember.”
“So, I’m really not going to remember any of this? I won’t remember about Emma?”
“I’m afraid not. However, you may subconsciously remember that she’s alive, and that could make it easier for you to move on, even if you still believe on the surface that your sister is dead.”
Traci nodded, and I privately wondered how many good uses I could find for a vial of Netherworld forget-me water if I had one.
“But as sorry as I am for everything you’ve been through,” Harmony continued, “we really need to get back to the matter at hand. Do you understand what we’ve been telling you?”
“I think so.” Traci’s eyes narrowed in thought. “My sister’s still alive, but my baby’s going to die. Or else I will.”
“No. You’re not going to die.” Harmony looked...heartbroken. She leaned toward Traci on the couch to emphasize the importance of what she was saying. “We came here to tell you the truth, so you can do what needs to be done. To save your life.”
“Well, I won’t do it.” Traci leaned back against the cushion, one hand on her small belly, as if the matter was already decided. “I’m not going to kill my baby.”
“Traci...” Em said, but her sister shook her head firmly.
“No. He’s sharing my soul. My soul, Emma. That means he’s part of me. How am I supposed to kill part of myself? I can’t live with myself, knowing his death was the price for my life.”
A storm of horror and empathy collided within me, trapping me between that figurative rock and hard place. The decision was Traci’s to make—but I wasn’t sure she fully understood the choice she was making. Or the consequences of letting an incubus baby live.
“But, Trace, he’s probably going to die anyway!” Emma insisted. “You can’t carry him, and if you try, you’ll both die. You’re already sick, and it’s still your first trimester!”
“There’s another problem, Traci,” I said quietly, and Harmony’s attention settled on me like a comforting hand on my back, silently encouraging me to say what had to be said, even as waves of nausea rolled over me at the very thought. I took a deep breath. When I was sure I had Traci’s full attention, I continued, “Your son isn’t human. The male offspring of an incubus is always an incubus, so...you need to understand that even if you could carry and deliver this baby, and even if you both survived, you wouldn’t be raising a normal little boy. You’d be raising a predator.”
Her uncertain frown deepened. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“When your son reaches puberty, he’ll develop an appetite—a need—to feed on lust, in any form. If he doesn’t, he’ll starve to death, just like he would without food.” I scooted forward in my chair. I could practically feel her taking in every word I said, studying them for truth and, beyond that, for meaning. “Your son will grow up to do to other girls what Beck did to you. He will bowl them over with a desire he exudes—and won’t be able to control without practice—then he’ll take what he needs, when he needs it, from whoever is convenient at the time. Like you were convenient for Beck. At best, he’ll try and fail to control his appetite, unintentionally victimizing girls who don’t even know they’re victims. Girls who won’t understand why they slept with a strange boy and might think of themselves as sluts because of something they had no control over. I can only imagine how damaging that kind of self-image will be for the rest of their lives. At worst, your son will be a flat-out rapist and murderer, like his father.”
I could see her horror growing with every word I said, but I continued because she needed to know all of it. She needed to understand.
“Either way, he will be the most dangerous thing on the middle school playground, and that will only get worse the older he gets. He’ll be a sexual predator, Traci. There’s nothing any of us can do to change that. That’s what incubi are. It’s how they survive, and their survival is in direct opposition to the free will of every woman in their path. You know that even better than we do.”
Traci’s hands started to shake in her lap, and her gaze lost focus beneath the tears now standing in her eyes.
“And it’ll be even worse than that when he feels the need to...reproduce, about once a century,” Harmony added. “During each of those spawning periods—for lac
k of a better term—up to a dozen young girls could die trying to carry his child. Which is the same risk you’re facing now. Do you understand?”
Please, please let her understand. Somehow, telling Traci that her child would grow up to be a monster was even harder than telling her that the conception was a crime of convenience committed against both her mind and her body. I hated myself for having to tell her either of those things, and suddenly I understood why some people might be inclined to shoot the messenger.
“You’re telling me that my son will be a psychological rapist, right?” Harmony nodded, and for the first time since we’d arrived at Emma’s house she looked uncomfortable to be there. “Well, I don’t accept that,” Traci continued. “You may know what this baby will be, but you don’t know who he’ll be. You can’t possibly know how much nurture can affect his nature, and you don’t have any right to judge him now for crimes he may commit sixteen years from now. And you don’t have the right to judge the kind of mother I’m going to be. The kind who would never let her child turn into the monster you’re describing. He deserves a chance. I deserve a chance. And he’s mine.” Tears filled her eyes again, and she sniffled, trying to hold herself together.
“Trace—” Emma started, but her sister interrupted.
“No! You can’t just come in here and tell me that this thing happened to me. This thing I couldn’t stop and didn’t even understand. You can’t tell me that this murdering bastard came into my house and got into my head and scrambled everything up, and made me think I wanted him to do what he did, and that none of what I felt about that was real. That the whole thing was...corrupt.” She gestured angrily at the front door and at her own head as she spoke, and my heart beat so hard my chest ached from the pounding. “You can’t come in here and tell me all that, then tell me I can’t keep the one good thing to come out of the most horrible thing that’s ever happened to me. He might have taken a decision away from me, but you’re not going to. This is my choice. This is my baby.” Traci stood, staring boldly down at the sister she’d just rediscovered. “I’m not going to end my pregnancy. If that’s what you expect me to do, then...get out. Thanks for coming and telling me all these horrible things, but now you need to go. All of you. Now.”
“Wait.” Emma stood. Unspent tears trembled in her eyes. “Wait.” She turned to me. “We have to help her.”
“Em, there’s nothing I could do.” I’d rarely felt more helpless. More useless. But we were way out of my league.
“She just needs a soul. You can get her a soul. I know you can. You’re a bean sidhe, and you’re a reclamationist. Or whatever. Right?”
Traci looked so suddenly hopeful that my heart broke for her all over again. “Can you?”
“No! I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work like that. I don’t get to keep the souls I reclaim! I have to turn them in. And it’s not like I have extras lying around.” But as soon as I’d said it, I realized that might not be true.
“What?” Em’s gaze narrowed on me. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing. Just...maybe. It might be possible. But I can’t promise anything.”
Harmony stood, her hands opening and closing at her sides like she was nervous. Like we were making her nervous. “Girls, this won’t work. It’s not our place to...give people souls that don’t belong to them. That’s beyond what a bean sidhe can do. It’s beyond what we’re supposed to do.”
“But Kaylee did it! She put my soul here in Lydia’s body, so I know she could do that for Traci’s baby. If we had a soul for him.”
Harmony blinked. She opened her mouth like she’d make another objection or tell us how dangerous that idea was. But nothing came out.
“But finding a soul for your baby will be a moot point if you don’t survive the pregnancy,” I said, and Traci’s expression fell so far I thought her jaw might actually drop off her face.
Emma turned to Harmony. “You have another vial in your purse, don’t you?” Her voice was quiet. Sad. Thoughtful. “What does the other vial do?”
“It’s a mixture of some plants and roots from the Netherworld. For Traci. For if she decides to end her pregnancy.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a second plastic vial a quarter of the way full with a pale yellow liquid. “This is the safest way.”
“If you can do that...” Em’s voice broke, and I realized she was crying. “If you can help her lose the baby safely...can’t you help her keep it safely? Isn’t there some plant or root in the Netherworld that can...I don’t know. Boost her immune system, or give her a superdose of vitamins, or somehow make her healthy enough to carry the baby to term?”
“Emma, Traci, I know this is hard, but the chances of this ending well are so small,” Harmony said.
Em swiped one arm across her eyes angrily. “No. This is my nephew we’re talking about. And my sister. She’s lost enough already. She can’t lose the baby, too. If you can help her, you have to.”
Harmony sighed. She closed her eyes, and her lips moved without making any sound. Like she was praying. When she finally looked at us again, her blue eyes were swirling with...sadness. Or maybe regret. I couldn’t tell for sure. I’d never seen her unable to control the swirling before.
“I can’t promise anything. I can help, but...there are no guarantees. The chances are still slim—”
“I’ll take them.” Traci wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’ll take those chances. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll pay you. Just please do whatever you can for my baby.”
“Oh, honey...” Harmony took Traci’s hand and pulled her closer. “I would never charge you. I just need you to understand that I have no idea whether or not this will work. We’ll have to take it day by day. And your baby may come early. We may have to make him come early, if your body starts to fail you.”
“Fine. Whatever it takes.”
“Okay.” Harmony sat, and Traci sat next to her. Em and I sank into our seats, fascinated and a little scared. “First, let’s put this away.” She slid the yellow vial back into her purse. “Second, you’ll need to eat healthily. Exercise, but don’t overdo it. Get plenty of rest. And...I’ll be back tomorrow with something for you to take every day. With tea or water. No coffee.”
Emma frowned. “Harmony, is she going to remember this?”
“No.” Harmony glanced at the ground for a second, thinking. “You’ll have to introduce me to her again, Kaylee, and I’ll give her the mixture as a prenatal supplement.” She turned back to Traci. “Are you sure you want to do this? You won’t remember what we’ve told you. You won’t remember the risks. You won’t remember...so much of this.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Traci insisted. “I would never give him up, no matter what I know or don’t know about this pregnancy. If you tell me tomorrow that I need whatever you’re bringing, I’ll believe you. I’ll take it.”
“If she doesn’t, Nash can help, right?” Emma leaned closer to whisper.
I nodded. “Nash, or Tod, or my dad.” Any one of them could Influence Traci into wanting to take what she needed to take to help her keep the baby. And I was only willing to let them do that—to play with her mind—because we’d all seen how badly she wanted to keep her baby.
But... “Traci, there’s one more thing.” I’d never hated myself as badly as I did for what I was about to say. She nodded for me to go on, and I could see in her eyes that though she might not have anticipated the wording, she knew at least some of what I was going to say. “If you can’t do this...” I took a deep breath, then started over.
“If it turns out that nurture can’t trump nature and your son becomes dangerous, I’ll have to...stop him.” That wasn’t in my job description, strictly speaking, but I already felt responsible for whatever this theoretic incubus might do later in life, because I’d agreed to help bring him into the world. Against my better judgment. “I can’t let him hurt people, Traci. I’ll be watching him. And I won’t be alone. Your son will get a chance, but he’ll only get this one
chance. And the next tough decision on his behalf won’t be yours to make.”
It would be mine.
And I would damn well make the right one.
Chapter Eight
“You know, there were times when we were little when I would have done almost anything to be an only child, but now all I want in the world is to be her sister again.”
“You’ll always be her sister, Em,” I said as we backed out of the drive, wishing I could see her face from the backseat. “Even if she doesn’t remember that.”
I’d never had a sister. I’d had Sophie for thirteen years, but she never let anyone labor long under the impression that we were anything more than cousins. Emma was the closest thing I’d ever had to a sister, and I knew exactly how Traci felt having lost her, because I’d lost Emma twice before, and both times I’d found a way to bring her back from the dead.
And even if she died a dozen more times, I would move heaven, earth, and the Netherworld as many times as it took to bring her back.
But it would be much easier if I could figure out how to keep her from dying again in the first place.
“Girls.” The tone of Harmony’s voice told me I wasn’t going to like whatever she had to say next. “I can’t explain how badly I hate to have to say this, but I think we need to consider the hard truth here.”
“No.” Em crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the passenger’s-side window. “We’re not killing her baby.”
“Of course not!” Harmony stomped on the brake and the tires squealed as she pulled to a stop two full feet from the curb. She shifted into Park, then twisted in the driver’s seat to face us both. “I would never suggest anything like that. Whether or not to end her pregnancy is your sister’s choice. But you both need to understand that even with my help, there’s every chance in the world that Traci will still lose this baby and maybe her own life in the process. In fact, whatever help I’m able to give her may make that more likely.”
“What? Why?” Em looked almost as confused as she was clearly terrified.