‘Wake up.’ Michael loomed over the bed; short, dark and sinister.
I tensed under the bedclothes, eyes open enough to take in the grey early-morning sky and hear the high winds whipping around my turret bedroom.
Wedding brochures were stacked on my bedside table – something to keep me occupied after Cat’s visit.
It hadn’t worked. I hadn’t slept well since Cat turned up. Annalise leaving so suddenly was bugging me. I hadn’t questioned it much at the time because I was too busy counting my blessings. And her stomach – the fullness hadn’t looked like a bundle of jumpers. Not at all. She’d been wearing a very thin dress and I’m pretty sure I saw her sticky-out belly button through the cotton.
Then there was the fact that Michael had suddenly got preoccupied with the cottage. He’d often stay out there all night, claiming to have some amazing musical inspiration.
‘Lorna,’ said Michael, his voice urgent now. ‘Lorna, wake up. I have something for you.’
Michael’s voice sounded weird. Not drunk. Not angry. Just weird.
I pretended to stir even though I was already wide awake.
Michael was holding something in his arms: a bright-blue Adidas hoodie.
‘It’s for you,’ said Michael, leaning forward with the bundle.
At first I was confused. Then I saw what was wrapped inside the royal-blue cotton and sat bolt upright.
‘Jesus. It’s a baby.’
‘She’s for you,’ said Michael, pushing the bundle into my arms. ‘A little girl.’
I saw a dark-haired, tiny child, little white milk marks on her cheeks, soft sunken diamond shape in her skull. She looked so much like Michael. And she was covered in blood.
I sat bolt upright. ‘Shit, Michael, what’s going on?’
Michael paced the room, white-faced.
‘Michael, this is your baby. Where did she come from?’
‘She is a blessing from God,’ said Michael.
‘She’s … Michael, where is this baby’s mother? Why is the baby all bloody?’
Michael started talking about life and death, pacing back and forth, rambling about the universe, God and continuation. There was a streak of blood on his forehead.
The baby blinked at me, a little bit cross-eyed. I breathed her in. I checked around her blankets, but couldn’t see any cuts or injury.
‘Has she … has the baby just been born?’
‘Yes.’ Michael stopped pacing. ‘This little baby is going to do great things. She is Reign Janis Michael and she’ll heal the sins of the world.’
I held baby Reign as Michael paced and jabbered. Maybe he’s taken a shitload of drugs, I thought. Either that or he’s losing his mind.
‘Michael. You really need to tell me what’s going on. Where is this baby’s mother?’
‘Her mother doesn’t matter,’ said Michael. ‘Reign is yours now. You’ll take care of her. You always wanted a baby. It’s another Michael miracle.’
Michael paced and rambled a little more, then stooped to kiss Reign’s head in a disconnected, jerky way.
Reign started crying then, but Michael’s eyes stayed blank like a shark.
My handsome rock god crumbled into dust, lies and propaganda. In his place stood a short, mad toad.
‘Where is her mother?’ I demanded.
‘You’re her mother, Lorna. I’ve decided that you will have the honour of taking care of her. A baby. Just like you always wanted.’
‘You can’t just take a baby from one person and give her to someone else. You need to tell me who her mother is. And where her mother is. Is she here?’
Michael turned to me then, his dark eyes flashing and angry. ‘Don’t you realize what an honour this is?’
There was blood in his white-blond hair too, I realized.
I shuffled against the wall, holding on to that little bundle for dear life. ‘I’m … uh, am honoured.’ I glanced at the door, working out if I could get past him.
‘This is it now, Lorna,’ said Michael. ‘The world will change forever. This baby is the second coming of Christ.’
Okay.
So he really had lost it.
As Michael paced and rambled, I shuffled to the edge of the bed and scanned the tall gates out of the window.
‘I need to call my sister,’ I said.
Michael stopped pacing then. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’
‘I don’t want to leave,’ I lied. ‘I just want to call my sister.’
‘You don’t need to call that press whore.’ He went to take Reign from me, and for a moment I thought we’d have to fight. There was no way I’d let him hold this fragile little bundle. He’d was clearly on something. But I was saved by a thin, guttural female scream from outside.
I tensed, holding Reign close to my chest.
Michael went to the window, and I saw him in profile, nose long and hawk-like, eyes blacker than ever.
‘Stay here,’ he said.
Michael left, and I started shaking uncontrollably.
‘I’ll get you back to your mother,’ I told Reign, sniffing back tears. ‘Okay? I know he’s lost it. I’m not going to let him take you.’
I headed to the rain-splattered window, holding Reign close to my chest, looking to see Michael. Under a bright full moon, at the edge of the woods, below spooky dark tree branches and pouring rain, I saw a lone figure, ghostly white.
A first I thought Michael had magicked himself out of the house at lightning speed, but then details floated into place. The figure was curvy and female and watching the house, an anguished look on her face.
My teeth started to chatter.
Annalise.
She stood half naked in the rain, soaking wet in a black Michael Reyji Ray T-shirt, thighs white, feet bare. When she saw me at the window, she let out a scream that could shatter glass. Then she started shouting something, but I couldn’t hear her. I opened the rickety little turret window.
‘Pleeeeease,’ Annalise screamed. ‘Give me back my baby. PLEASE! I won’t try to run again. I promise. I’m sorreeee.’
Michael appeared then, striding over the moat bridge. He had a shotgun under his arm.
‘What are you doing out of the cottage?’ he shouted. ‘I told you what would happen if you left that cottage.’
‘Give me my baby.’
‘I warned you. I’ve been warning you for months. I told you about the other girl, didn’t I? The one who got out. She’s chopped into pieces.’ He held up the gun and took aim.
Annalise ran then, disappearing into the trees. Michael followed.
I was frozen to the spot. Utterly frozen. Run, a voice said. Don’t wait here, a sitting target. But I just couldn’t move.
Then there was a cracking sound, like fireworks.
That’s when I ran. I bounded down two sets of stairs, baby Reign held tight to my chest. I ran straight down the path and into the woods, hardly seeing or hearing as rain lashed down.
On the winding woodland path to the gate, baby Reign squirmed and whimpered under the rain, flinching and grimacing as cold drops fell on her brand-new skin.
Please. Please don’t cry.
As we neared the gate, Reign let out a long, loud howl.
Then I heard Michael. ‘Lorna.’ His voice was fifty layers deep with anger. ‘Don’t you move an inch with my baby. Stay right there.’