Pirate's Alley

He laughed. ’Cause I’m just that funny.

 

“The baby will be able to communicate with both of you, but especially with the father since Randolph is a pure-blooded elf. Your magic is a wild card. If you were human, you’d probably sense the baby’s feelings but not as strongly. But the kid’s half wizard, don’t forget. Your pregnancy might be more like that of a wizard.”

 

Which was exactly like a human pregnancy, since magical skills weren’t evident until a year or two after birth.

 

For the next half hour, I talked with Adrian about everything I could think to ask, and by the time I formed a transport and let him go on his way, I was exhausted. Eugenie could expect to be in labor at least seventy-two hours, and the labor would be both mental and physical. I didn’t envy my friend any of this.

 

The baby might or might not be able to influence her moods or actions closer to term. I prayed that wouldn’t happen. Things would be difficult enough with his or her manipulative ass of a father trying to control everyone in sight.

 

I filed Adrian’s musings about the elven-wizard genetic mix in my brain’s hope-I-never-need-to-know category.

 

Some of the information was positive. Other than weird smoked-meat cravings, which Adrian thought was specific to the fire elves, there were no bizarre physical symptoms to expect. And the elves revered their young. Their species had dwindled in number through the eons, and the Tan were the smallest of the four clans. This child would be celebrated.

 

I just had to make sure Eugenie didn’t get trampled in the process.

 

Speaking of trampled, I needed to talk to Alex. I wanted to find out what Zrakovi had said about the pregnancy, but even more, I didn’t like the way we’d left things this morning. The longer we let things ride, the more apt they were to blow into major problems. We had enough real issues without developing new ones.

 

He answered on the fourth ring, just as I was sure the phone was going to voice mail. From the noise in the background, I deduced that he was either at a restaurant or bar—lots of overlapping voices and clanking dishes or silverware.

 

“You’re back from Lafitte’s?” Never one to waste time on niceties like saying hello, my Alex.

 

“I’m at the hotel. Are you at a place where you can talk? I want to hear how things went with Zrakovi.”

 

He paused, and I heard a voice in the background yelling, “Two gumbos up!” Restaurant then. “You mean you’re speaking to me?”

 

No, he was imagining this phone call. “Sounds like it. How’d the conversation go?”

 

“Let me finish up here first. The enforcer team’s at the Napoleon House, dividing up assignments. I’ll come by your room. I have other news you need to hear.”

 

Joy. News I needed to hear rarely turned out to be news I wanted to hear. He wouldn’t say more, though, so I left him to his business and lay down with the room service menu. It was never too early to plan tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast.

 

I dozed off somewhere between French toast and bagels with lox and cream cheese.

 

“Tell Eugenie to answer her goddamned phone.”

 

I had to be having a nightmare, because Rand was yelling at me. I tried to ignore him.

 

“We need to discuss my baby and it’s too damned cold to walk over there. But if she doesn’t answer her phone, I will be on her doorstep and she will let me in.”

 

Definitely a nightmare.

 

With a disgusted groan, I opened my eyes. I still wore the Hotel Monteleone robe with nothing on underneath, and my hair was damp and curling uncontrollably. Rand wore at least two sweaters and cords, and had a blanket draped over his head. We sat on white-painted wooden benches inside an ornate gazebo.

 

I recognized it; the structure sat in the corner of the greenhouse area of Plantasy Island. The last time we’d sat in it, it had been no dream. Rand had kidnapped me, taken me to Elfheim, and I’d been mind-raped by Mace Banyan and his merry band of elves.

 

I knew this was a dream; dreamwalking was an elven skill, and I’d been dragged into enough unpleasant dreamwalks by my late father to recognize the difference.

 

Rand had hijacked my nap. I tightened the white bathrobe around me so he also didn’t get a free dreamwalking peep show.

 

“Go away, I’m sleeping.” I couldn’t throw him out of my dream, but I didn’t have to talk to him. Except … wait. What he’d said finally sank in.

 

“What baby?” I could play dumb. How the hell did he know about the baby?

 

“Zrakovi told me. You’re my mate; you should have been the one to tell me.” His voice took on a wounded edge. “After all, we’ll be the ones to raise the child. You’ll be a beautiful mother.”

 

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