SEVENTY-THREE
Wrath saw his mother for the first time in three hundred and thirty years that following day.
On some level, he knew it had to be a dream. He had been blind for too long to be seduced into thinking that reality had suddenly changed.
Plus, hello, she’d been dead for centuries.
And yet, as she came to him out of the darkness, she was as alive as he could have wished her to be, moving with ease, wearing a red velvet gown in the old style.
“Mahmen?” he said with wonder.
As he lifted his head, he realized with a shock that it was from his pillow. And shit, this was his room—he could tell by the subtle twinkling of the walls.
His first instinct was to flip over and find—
Beth was right beside him, lying safe and sound under the blankets, her face turned toward him, her dark hair all over the pillow that matched his own. And he could tell by the shape of her belly that yes, she was still pregnant— Jesus Christ, he could see her.
“Beth,” he said roughly, “Beth! I see you, leelan, wake upIseeyouIseeyou—”
“Wrath.”
At the sound of his mahmen’s voice, he wrenched back around. She was right beside the bed now, her arms crossed, her hands tucked into the voluminous sleeves of that dress.
“Mahmen?”
“I do not know if you shall recall this, but you came to me once.”
God, her voice was so gentle, just as he’d remembered—and he almost shut his eyes just so he could memorize the sound. Except no, he wasn’t going to get cheated out of one nanosecond of sight.
Wait, what had she said? “I did?”
“I was dying. And you came to me from out of the mist of the Fade. And you told me to follow you home. You made me stop and return with you.”
“I don’t remember—”
“It is a debt I have owed you for a very long time.” Her smile was peaceful as the Mona Lisa’s. “And I shall repay it the now. Because I love you so very, very much—”
“Repay? What are you talking about?”
“Wake up, Wrath. Wake up right now.” Abruptly, that voice changed, becoming urgent. “Call the healer—you must call the healer if you wish to save her life.”
“Save her—Beth’s life?”
“Wake up, Wrath. Right away, call the healer.”
“What are you—”
“Wrath, wake up.”
In a sudden rush, like he’d been catapulted out of REM sleep, Wrath shot upright. “Beth!” he screamed.
“What-what-what-what—”
As he twisted around to his wife, he cursed at the blackness all around him. Goddamn fucking dream, teasing him with what he didn’t have.
“What?” Beth cried.
“Shit, sorry, I’m sorry.” He reached out and soothed her, soothed himself. “Sorry, fucked-up dream.”
“Oh, jeez, you scared me.” She laughed and he heard her hit the pillow as if she’d let herself collapse. “Good thing we sleep with the bathroom light on.”
Frowning, he turned to the side of the bed where his mother had stood and … “No, she wasn’t really here.”
“Who?”
“Sorry.” Cracking his neck, he threw his leg over the side of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
He gave things a good stretch, and as his spine let out a snap, crackle, pop, he thought fondly of the conversation he’d had with Payne as soon as he’d gotten home. They were going to start sparring again—and not because she was a female.
It was because she was a helluva good fighter and he wanted to get back in the game now.
In the bathroom, he petted George, who was curled up on the Orvis dog bed Butch had given him for Christmas—and then took a piss and had a face wash.
When he got back in bed, he intended to return to lights-out land. Except as he lay flat, he frowned. “Ah, listen … are you feeling okay?”
His Beth yawned. “Yeah, absolutely. But I’m glad I headed back here when I did—the sleep helped. And lying down feels better—I’ve got a stiff back from that mall crawl still.”
Trying to sound causal, he asked, “When’s your next appointment with the doctor?”
“Not till Friday. We’re going weekly now. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
As he fell silent, she curled in against him and let out a sigh like she was re-settling for the duration. He lasted about a minute and a half.
“What do you think about calling the doctor?”
“Calling as in—wait, you mean right now?”
“Well, yeah.”
He could feel her recoil. “But why?”
Yeah, like he could tell her anything along the lines of, My dead mom said so. “I dunno. Just, maybe she could give you a checkup or something.”
“Wrath, that’s not appropriate. Especially considering there’s nothing wrong.” He felt her playing with his hair. “Is this about that civilian? Who lost his wife and baby?”
“It wasn’t during childbirth.”
“Oh. I thought that—”
“Maybe we could just call her.”
“There’s no reason to.”
“What’s her number?” He reached for his phone. “I’m calling her.”
“Wrath, have you lost your mind?”
Fuck it, he’d just do 411.
Beth kept talking at him as he waited for the operator to come on. “Yeah, hi, in Caldwell, New York. The number of Dr. Sam—what’s her last name?”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“I’m going to pay for the visit—no, not you, Operator.” As the last name came back to him, he said it and spelled it twice. “Yeah, connect me to the office, thanks.”
“Wrath, this is—”
Just as the call went through, Beth went quiet. “Beth?” he asked with a frown.
“Sorry,” she said. “My back let out a twinge. You know what? I’m wearing running shoes next time I go walking like that. Now will you hang up and—”
“Yeah, hi, this is a medical emergency. I need Dr. Sam to come to our home, my wife’s a patient of hers … thirty-six weeks … Symptoms? My wife’s pregnant, how much time have you got?”
“Wrath?” Beth said in a small voice.