Magic and Loss

“Now you tell me!” I grunted.

“Stay right here and let Aloysius and Clarence look after you—I’ll go upstairs and pack your overnight case, and then I’m taking you to the Temple of Nana.”

“The Temple of who—?”

“The Kymeran goddess of childbirth,” he explained as he hurried out of the kitchen. “Her priestesses are trained as midwives. Nearly every Kymeran child in Golgotham is born in her temple.”

“Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Timmy?” Clarence asked solicitously.

“Yes, you can call my parents and let them know what’s going on.”

“Are you sure you want me to do that?”

“My mother may be a massively insecure, social-climbing racist, but she is my mother and she does care about me, in her own weird, fucked-up way. Besides, you’re probably still advising my father over the phone as to which tie he should wear.”

“You know me too well, Miss Timmy.” Clarence’s smile disappeared as I grimaced in discomfort as yet another wave of pain radiated through my body. “There, there,” he said as he patted my hand. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

I looked past him to where Mr. Manto sat, still sipping his tea. “Is it?” I asked anxiously. The oracle did not answer, but instead simply smiled, his pupils so dilated they eclipsed the whites of his eyes.

Chapter 29

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Tate,” Hexe said as he helped me into the hansom. “The Daughters will see to everything—it’ll all be over soon.”

“Where to, Serenity?” Kidron asked.

“The Temple of Nana—and watch the potholes!”

The centaur snorted his understanding, breaking into a brisk canter.

“How do you feel?” Hexe asked, eyeing me cautiously.

“Like I’m trying to lay an egg,” I grunted. “Honey, I should have said something before now—but I thought we had more time than this. There’s something I need to tell you about the baby. When I had an ultrasound . . . I found out our baby is human. He only has ten fingers and toes. I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner . . . but I was afraid. . . .”

Hexe merely laughed and wrapped his arms around me. “It doesn’t matter to me if our child is human or Kymeran. I don’t even care if he’s born a norlock. The only thing that really matters to me is that he arrives in this world safe and sound. That’s it. I surrendered my right hand because trying to keep it would rob me of the woman I love; you gave up your inheritance because keeping it meant giving up everything that makes you happy. So what if our child doesn’t have magic? He’s not going to have a million dollars, either. That just means he’ll be like every other kid that comes into this world. And you know what? I’m good with that.”

“You know why I love you?” I managed to smile, despite the contractions. “Because you can make chopping off your hand and getting disinherited sound like the best decisions we’ve ever made.”

* * *

The Temple of Nana was located, appropriately enough, on Maiden Lane, home to Golgotham’s self- segregated female communities, such as the Amazons, Valkyries, and fauns. It was a neoclassical rotunda, its facade of brick covered in stucco, with a roof of slate and lead. The central rotunda stood a hundred feet high, with a domed and balustraded roof. The main entrance was an oval-shaped door that was so narrow Hexe and I had to enter single file. The foyer of the temple was long and equally claustrophobic, its walls barely three feet apart. There was no light at all in the corridor, save for the glimmer at its farthest point.

Upon reaching the end of the hallway, we found ourselves in the rotunda of the temple, which had ten separate interior stories that opened onto a central atrium capped by a rose-quartz skylight that tinged everything slightly pink.

At the heart of the temple stood a fifty-foot statue of a triple-visaged, four-armed woman. The far right face was that of a young girl, the middle face that of an adult woman, while the far left face belonged to an old woman. Both her breasts were bared, the right full and pert, while the left teat hung withered and flat. The goddess’ first hand wielded a pair of shears, her second cradled an infant, the third held a length of umbilical cord, while the fourth and final hand held a jug from which water eternally poured forth into the fountain pool in which the idol stood.

At the foot of Nana was a receptionist desk you’d expect to see in a medical clinic tended by a jade-haired Kymeran woman dressed in a shell-pink sleeveless robe. As Hexe helped me approach the desk, she left her seat to greet us.

“The Daughters of Nana welcome you to her temple,” she said with a warm smile. “My name is Miri. How long have you been in labor?”

“About an hour, I guess,” I replied.

As she drew closer, a look of surprise flickered across Miri’s face. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid the Daughters of Nana only accept Kymeran mothers.”

Hexe stepped forward, his golden eyes flashing in anger. “She carries my child—is that not Kymeran enough for you?”

The priestess lowered her head in ritual obeisance. “Forgive me, Serenity. I did not realize.” She quickly turned back to the desk and spoke into an intercom that echoed throughout the temple. “Sister Tipi, please report to the reception desk. . . .”

Within seconds an older Kymeran woman with hair the color of sunflowers and dressed in salmon-colored robes appeared, seemingly from nowhere. “Welcome, Serenity, to our temple. I am Sister Tipi, midwife emeritus of the Daughters of Nana. I shall be the one tending the birth of your child.”

Without warning, I suddenly found myself doubled over in pain. As I cried out, I was dimly aware of a splashing sound, followed by an abrupt dampness on my thighs, and for a brief second I was afraid I had wet myself.

“Her water has broken. Page Sister Zena and have her report to birthing chamber three fifteen,” Tipi said, checking the clipboard she was carrying.

“Right away, my sister,” the priestess replied.

Tipi led us to an old-fashioned birdcage elevator that took us to the third floor of the temple, which was lined with numbered doorways, like a hotel. I wasn’t sure what to expect in a temple dedicated to a goddess of childbirth, but was pleasantly surprised to discover the birthing chamber contained a bed, rocking chair, and a bassinette, as well as a foldout chair that converted into a bed, and an oversized Roman bathtub.

“This is your birthing chamber,” Sister Tipi said. “Please make yourself as comfortable as you can while I prepare the birthing pool.”

“You want me to give birth in the water?”

“It is the Kymeran way,” the midwife-priestess explained. “It is a ritual that ties us to the island that birthed our race, millennia ago. It also has the added benefit of greatly reducing your pain, supporting your weight, and taking the stress off your perineum during labor.”

“Now you’re talking,” I grunted as I eased myself into the rocking chair. “Anything that keeps me from getting stitches is A-okay with me.”

Just then another Daughter of Nana, this one with moss green hair and dressed in candy pink robes, entered the room.

“Hello, my name is Zena,” she said as she took my hand. “I’m going to be your Pain-Taker.”

I frowned and looked at Tipi. “But I thought you were going to be my midwife?”

“Yes, I am,” the priestess replied. “Sister Zena is here to alleviate your pain during labor.”

“You mean she’s an anesthesiologist?”

“Something like that.” Zena smiled. “Save that we Daughters of Nana do not utilize drugs of any kind.”

Before I could ask any more questions, I was hit by another contraction. And this time it was a doozy. It felt