Baby, come back to me. Wake up.
I want to tell her that I’m already awake. I’m flying through the clouds, wheeling and diving. A deep sense of peace flows through me. I never want to land.
More voices echo through the air. This time it’s Elder Faustina herself.
There is nothing-a more I can do.
My hazy brain remembers that I love Lincoln and he was sick. Is he better now? I want to land and find out, but I can only keep soaring through the skies, feeling the rush of air against my feathers.
Little fingers twist into my hair. It’s Maxon, my baby. Someone tells him he has to sleep.
I won’t sleep until everybody wakes up.
His tiny hand wraps in mine. “Wake up, Mommy. Wake up.”
Memories fly back into my mind. We were in Hell. Maxon was captured. I have to find out if he’s safe. Screw all this flying around. I need to wake up and find my son. With all my focus, I force my larger hand to tighten around Maxon’s little one.
My father’s voice sounds in my ears. “She’s waking up. Get Lincoln, Cam.”
My eyes flutter open. Maxon stands beside my hospital bed, his eyes red and bleary from crying. “Don’t worry, baby,” I say, my voice hoarse and croaking. “Mommy’s awake.”
I scan the room. Dad and Walker stand nearby, beaming from ear to ear.
“I woke you up,” announces Maxon with pride.
“That you did. Thanks, baby.”
Lincoln bursts into the room, my mother on his heels. He rushes to my side, leans over the bed, and kisses my forehead. “Myla, you’re awake. We were so worried.”
Mom, Dad and Walker say their hellos as well, before Cissy shows up and shepherds them all out of the room. Cissy always knows when I need time alone with my guys.
Maxon crawls onto my lap, his little hand twirling in my hair. “We missed you, Mommy.”
Lincoln points to Maxon’s head and mouths two words. “Not sleeping.”
“How’s my little man?” I ask.
“You wouldn’t wake up,” says Maxon. “It was scary.”
“Is that why you haven’t been sleeping?”
He nods and curls into my chest.
“Can you sleep now, baby?”
“Not until Hildy’s awake, too,” explains Maxon. “I keep calling to her in my head. She can’t forget about me or she won’t wake up.”
I wrap my arms around him more tightly. “How could anyone forget about you?” He curls his little hands about my torso and I smile.
“Maxon has the right idea here,” says Lincoln. “Scooch over.”
The hospital bed is small, but I make some room for him. “That enough?”
“Perfect.” Lincoln slides in next to me, and it’s a comfort to feel his warm, solid body beside mine.
I make a yummy noise and cuddle closer. “And why am I here, exactly?”
“You were infected with the Leech Guard’s venom.”
I nod slowly. “Oh, yeah. It sure did hit me with a wallop, like you said.”
“We caught you just in time.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Little over a week.”
“What?” My mouth falls open with shock. “That was some wallop.”
“It was.”
“And how’s your back now?”
“Fine. I have some new scars to add to the collection. Maxon says it makes me look tougher.”
Reaching up with my free hand, I gently brush my fingertips along the stubble of his jawline. His eyes are red and swollen. “You could use some sleep, too.”
“It’s an idea at that.” He looks down at Maxon and smiles. “You have the magic touch.”
Following Lincoln’s gaze, I look down to see a very asleep Maxon in my arms. He cuddles into my side, making little ‘puh’ noises as he exhales. A welcome mixture of joy, satisfaction and relief warms my chest.
Lincoln shifts his position to lay down beside me. With gentle movements, he guides my body to recline beside his. Maxon lies between us. It’s a squeeze, but it’s lovely.
“Should we be doing this?” I ask.
“Absolutely not. Against regulation.”
“The hospital won’t like it.”
“Good, I hope they hate it. We haven’t caused trouble in Purgatory in ages.” Lincoln chuckles and pulls me closer against him. “Damn, I missed you.”
I nestle into his shoulder, feeling my own eyes grow heavy. “Lincoln?”
“Mmmm?”
“We did it, didn’t we?”
“Yes, Myla.” He gently kisses the top of my head. His voice cracks as he adds: “We got our family back.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I stand at the doorway to Dad’s study in Arx Hall. Actually, both my parents use this place to work when they’re visiting, but right now, he’s the only one around. Candles dot the room. Flickering light dances off the leather bindings of books lining the walls. Dad sits hunched over his great wooden desk, scribbling away with a feather stylus on a fresh sheet of parchment.