Chapter 11

C hristmas came and went without notice or celebration. The villagers’ God was not yet born. July would be their season for celebration. In January, the days grew dark, the nights longer. The winter blew in with a force burying the village in snow. People kept to their homes, hunkered down. Waited for spring. As the new year passed, the baby grew bigger, Grace’s belly expanding. Hawes now left her at home on his trips to the underworld. She was grateful at his absence. A respite from his insatiable appetite.

In March, she sat before a flickering fire, wistful, thoughtful. Wondering if anyone in her world before the nightmare that was Hawes, missed her, questioned her absence. Was Eric’s body ever found? Her heart twisted when she though of her professor. Tall, handsome, dimples when he smiled, which was often. He was never going to be her one and only. She knew that before she left on this trip. But he had sparked her interest, made her hopeful.

Tears slipped from her eyes as she folded her hands across her belly. What would he say about this prophecy? He would logically refute it, but would he believe if he’d witnessed her behaviour during the Hunter’s Blood Moon? Would he have embraced the truth after being dragged to the underworld and held there? And what was the truth anyway? That her womb held a God? No, not a God, a demon. A mixed breed of three different races – what would that produce? What if he inherited her latent wolf gene? Mersin said no, that would not happen, biologically could not happen. And Cordea, all-knowing seer, also denied this possibility. This boy, her boy, would grow and be great. He would be strong like his father in both mind and physicality.

Grace dreaded this, knew it was wrong. This boy would rule three worlds – and if he was like Hawes, the human race, her race, would suffer. The baby kicked out at her as if he knew her thoughts. She rubbed her belly gently, a lullaby for an innocent. He wouldn’t stay innocent though, not under the tutelage of Hawes. The child would grow up hard, difficult. Authoritative, impatient. Who would his mate be? Human, werewolf, demon? Or one like her, a mixed-race? Would the child’s seed produce another God? Would there be many Gods, with their frailties and faults? Incestuous, tumultuous, fighting among themselves, Bacchian. How would it impact their worshippers, their people, their flocks? Would they destroy the world with their need for power, their petty betrayals and jealousies?

She’d thought this often as the winter wore on. Little by little, she realized that this God could not be. This God need not be. She could hide him from the world, keep him from knowing his heritage, keep him from claiming his thrones. It was time, Grace thought as she struggled to her feet. The child inside her, six months now, was growing fast, her time was growing near. She had to act.

She reached for her fur coat and wrapped it around her, her feet encased in flat leather boots laced above her calves, just under her knees. Her hounds were outside, one on each side of the door. They hated it here – they were hellhounds. They belonged in the warmth of the underworld.

“I need you to fetch Hawes,” she said to them as she stood in the doorway. “I’m unwell. The birth might be too soon.”

“We can’t leave you, my Grace,” Epitah said. He was her favourite of the pair. Articulate, smart. If he had fingers, he could play chess with her. He called her ‘my Grace’, always. Not understanding that Grace was her name, not her title. Or maybe he did. The other, Odigar, rarely spoke, but was solicitous nonetheless. She hated lying to them. When Hawes learned of her deception he would surely destroy these two for falling for it. It was Machiavellian of her, but three worlds were at stake and so a few must die to save many.

“If you don’t fetch Hawes and I die or this child dies, Hawes will surely kill you.”

“I could get Cordea or Mersin.” Epitah offered.

Grace shook her head. “They’re old and the cold is making their bones brittle. Neither will be of much use if I go into labour. And do you not think that Hawes will wish to be here for the birth of his child?” She held her hand to her stomach and let out a groan, as if a pain had struck her.

Both hounds backed away from her, tails between their legs.

“If we leave –” Epitah argued, but Grace shushed him.

“You are here to guard my well-being. There are no threats to me except this imminent birth.”

Odigar nodded. He understood. “We need to get Master Hawes.” He nudged Epitah, then turned and bounded away. Epitah threw her a last look of concern, confusion, perhaps suspicion. But he followed the path Odigar had forged.

Once Grace was sure they were gone, she stepped outside and closed the door firmly behind her. She didn’t look back as she plunged into the forest. There was no nostalgia, nothing she would miss. Her body would miss Hawes, but that would pass. She’d find a new lover. She made her way easily through the trees, her feet deft and sure on the snow-packed earth.

She’d learned the forest since the Hunter’s Blood Moon. On the pretence of walking to keep her strong, she and her two guards walked often, almost daily. On one of their walks, they found the clearing where her would-be rapists had died. Nothing left of them but a few bones. Scavenged, eaten. What they deserved, she thought bitterly. But there were still tangible signs, the skull from one of them, dried blood on the tree that had impaled another. Her guards recognized the death of humans. Epitah said as much.

She stood there now. This had been as far as she’d wandered with the hounds. She didn’t want them to know about Eric or the camp. So now, in late March, she had to gather her bearings, try to retrace her steps. If the camp was still there, then she could flee in Eric’s SUV. As long the keys were still where Eric left them. As long as it started.

It took hours to find the camp, even with her heightened senses, because the traitorous snow obscured the trail. She was frantic when she finally stumbled upon it. The hellhounds would have talked to Hawes by now. He would know she was gone. He would follow her trail and find her. Panic was making her clumsy and stupid. She had to move quickly.

Like the bikers’ remains, Eric’s body was nothing but a pile of bone and bits of fabric. She choked on a sob, swallowed it. Crying could come later. The camp was as it was in October, untouched. The SUV parked off to the side. A tent – just one, caved in on itself now, but the keys would be there. She remembered Eric telling her that he put them in the pocket of the tent. Told her not to forget or they’d be stuck here forever. She’d laughed and felt a ripple of satisfaction when he said, “That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

Her heart thudded in her chest as she crawled into the tent. She was so close now. So close to freedom. The keys were still in the pocket, freezing her fingers as she grabbed them. The SUV unlocked. Why not? Who was there to steal from them in this isolated wilderness. She slid into the seat and her trembling fingers fumbled the key into the ignition. Nothing happened when she turned the key. The battery was dead. She tried several times, her stomach dropping to her toes. The baby kicked.

That was it then. Two plans, the first failed. The second one could not. She touched her hand to her womb and whispered softly. “I’m sorry, child.” She slid out of the SUV and trudged away. Not in the direction from which she came, but west, uphill. Towards the setting sun. There was little time now and she started running as fast as her girth would allow. She knew where she was going, what she needed to do. And her hearing, sharpened now, picked up the sounds of pursuit. Hawes would be on her in minutes. But she was close. She could make it.

Then she was there, the trees opening up for her, a clearing and a cliff. She approached the edge at a dead run and then stopped and turned around as Hawes burst into the clearing. In wolf form. He stopped too, his eyes shocked as he saw her teetering on the ledge. “What are you doing, Grace?” Heat and ice stoked his voice – anger and fear. He was in a crouch, his body taut, ready to leap.

“We can’t allow this to happen, Hawes. I can’t let this happen. It’s wrong to make a God.” She stepped closer to the edge, loose rocks and dirt crumbling under her feet. She swayed. Hawes leapt and wrapped his arms around her, but it was too late. They were falling.

They landed hard, 20 feet below, on a solid bed of rock. But Hawes cushioned Grace in his arms, his wolf absorbing most of the impact. They lay stunned as Hawes shifted to human form grateful to be alive, grateful they were both alive. In that moment he forgot about the child in her womb. The boy was secondary to Grace’s life. In that moment of almost losing his mate, he knew love and understood Grace’s fear of the future.