and-Clark cognition shit ceased.
Impregnating his subconsciousness with a single goal, he let himself go into sleep and waited in his resting state until…
Wellsie came to him in shades of gray, in that barren landscape of fog and frigid wind and boulders. She was so far away now that the scope of his vision allowed him to see one of the crumbling rock formations up close—
Except it was not, in fact, made of stone.
None of them were.
No, these were the hunched figures of others suffering as she did, their bodies and bones gradually collapsing in on themselves until they were but mounds to be worn away by the wind.
“Wellsie?” he called out.
As her name drifted off into the limitless horizon, she did not look at him.
Did not appear to even recognize his presence.
The only thing that moved was the cold wind that abruptly seemed to marshal itself in his direction, blowing across the flat gray plain, blowing across him, blowing across her.
As it caught her hair, wisps formed around her—
No, not wisps. Her hair was ashes now, ashes that scattered on the invisible current and came at him, hitting him as dust that made his eyes water.
Eventually that would be all of her. And then none of her.
“Wellsie! Wellsie, I’m here!”
He called out to her to rouse her, to get her attention, to tell her he was finally ready, but no matter how much he yelled, or how much he waved his arms, she did not focus on him. She did not look up. She did not move… and neither did his son.
Yet still the wind blew, taking infinitesimal particles from their forms, wearing them down.
In a gripping fear, he turned himself into a great monkey, caterwauling and jumping all around, screaming at the top of his lungs and flailing his arms, but, as if the rules of exertion applied even in this other world, eventually he lost his energy and fell down onto the dusty groung in a heap.
They were sitting in the same pose, he realized.
And that was when the paradoxical truth came to him.
The answer was at once all about what had happened with Autumn and the sex and the feeding—and yet had nothing to do with her. It was about everything Lassiter had tried to help him with—and yet none of that. It wasn’t even about Wellsie, really.
It was him. All… him.
In his dream, he stared down at himself, and abruptly, strength came to him with a calmness that had everything to do with the seat of his soul… and the fact that the pathway out of his suffering—and hers—had just been illuminated by the hand of his Maker.
Finally, after all this time, all this shit, all this agony, he knew what to do.
Now, when he spoke, he did not yell. “Wellsie, I know you can hear me—you hang on. I need just a little longer from you—I’m finally ready. I’m just sorry it took me so long.”
He tarried for only a moment longer, throwing all his love in her direction as if it might keep what remained of her intact. And then he withdrew, yanking himself free with a herculean burst of will that had his body jerking out of its position on the concrete floor—
Throwing out a hand, he kept himself from landing on his face, and immediately got to his feet.
As soon as he stood, he realized that if he didn’t take a piss immediately, his bladder was going to explode and take no prisoners with it.
Striding down the ramp, he punched into the clinic and hit the first bathroom he came to. When he emerged, he didn’t stop to check in with anyone, even though he could hear voices elsewhere in the training center.
Up at the main house, he found Fritz in the kitchen. “Hey, my man, I need your help.”
The butler jumped up from the grocery list he was making. “Sire! You are alive! Oh, blessed Virgin Scribe, all and sundry have sought out—”
Shit. He’d forgotten there were implications to going off the grid.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ll text everyone.” Assuming he could find his phone? Probably down in the clinic, and he wasn’t going to waste time going back there. “Listen, what I really need is for you to come with me.”
“Oh, sire, it would be my pleasure to serve you. But mayhap you should go unto the king first—all have been so worried—”
“Tell you what. You can drive and I’ll borrow your phone.” When there was a hesitation, he dropped his voice. “We’ve got to go now, Fritz. I need you.”
The call to service was precisely the motivator the butler needed. With a low bow, he said, “As you wish, sire. And mayhap I shall pack you up some refreshments?”
“Good idea. I need five minutes.”
When the butler nodded and disappeared into the pantry, Tohr rounded the base of the stairs and took the red-carpeted steps two at a time. He stopped rushing when he got to John Matthew’s door.
His knock was answered immediately, John pulling open the way with a jerk. As the kid’s face registered surprise, Tohr put his hands out in self-defense, because he knew he was going to get hollered at for disappearing again.
“I’m sorry that I—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish. John threw his arms around Tohr and held him so hard, his spine cracked.
Tohr was right there with returning the favor. And as he held the only son he had, he spoke in a low, clear voice.
“John, I want you to get off rotation tonight and come with me. I need you… to come with me. Qhuinn can as well—and this is going to take all night—maybe longer.” As Tohr felt the nodding against his shoulder, he took a steadying breath. “Good, son. That’s… good. There’s no way I would do this without you.”
“How you doing?”
Layla opened her heavy eyes and looked up Qhuinn’s body to his face. Standing next to her side of the bed in his room, he was fully dressed, big and remote, awkward though not unkind.
She knew how he felt. With the intense fire of the needing having passed, those hours of straining and pounding and clawing were done and dusted, a strange footnote that appeared to be already fading in her memory like a dream. When the two of them had been gripped in the fist of the experience, it had seemed as if nothing would ever be the same, that they would be forever changed and transformed by the volcanic eruptions.
But now… the quiet return of normalcy appeared to be just as powerful, wiping the slate clean.
“I think I’m ready to get up,” she said.
He had been so good about feeding her from his vein and also bringing her food, and she had stayed on bed rest for at least twenty-fours afterward, as was the tradition up in the Sanctuary after the Primale had lain with a Chosen.
It was time to get moving, however.
“You can stay here, you know.” He went over to his closet and began to arm himself for the night. “Rest some more. Relax.”
No, she had done enough of that.
Pushing herself up on her arms, she waited to feel light-headed, and was relieved when she didn’t. If anything, she felt strong.
There was no other way to put it. Her body just felt… strong.
Shifting her legs off the side of the mattress, she put her weight on her bare soles and slowly rose up. Qhuinn came instantly to her side, but she didn’t need the help.
“I think I’ll have a shower,” she announced.
And after that? She didn’t have a clue what she was going to do.
“I want you to stay here,” Qhuinn said as if reading her mind. “You are going to stay here. With me.”
“We don’t know if I’m pregnant.”
