Scribe Virgin shall look upon her in her death with a favor she was not granted in her life.”
Oh... damned... cursed, damned fate...
Even as he railed against so much in his head, Darius took the tiny young closer to the fire, because he was worried about the chill in the air. As the two of them came within the circle of warmth, she opened her mouth and routed about... and for lack of a better alternative, he offered his pinkie for her to suckle on.
With the tragedy still loud as a scream, Darius took in the tiny features and watched as the little one reached out toward the light.
The eyes were not red. And upon that hand there were five digits, not six. And the jointing of the fingers was normal. Briefly opening the swaddling cloth, he checked the feet and the belly and the little head... and found that the abnormal length of feature and limb characteristic of sin-eaters was not represented.
Darius’s chest roared with pain for the female who had carried this life within her body. She had become a part of both him and Tohrment—and even though she rarely spoke and never smiled, he knew that she had cared for them as well.
The three of them had been a kind of family.
And now she had left this wee one behind.
Darius retucked the blanket and realized that the swaddling cloth was the only way the female had acknowledged her impending birth. Indeed, she herself had made this coverlet that her new daughter was wrapped in. It was the only interest she had taken in the pregnancy... likely because she had known this would be the outcome.
All along, she had known what she was going to do.
The young’s wide eyes stared up at him, her brows arching in concentration, and with a sense of grave burden, he recognized how vulnerable this bundle was—left on her own to the cold, she would die in a matter of hours.
He had to do the right thing by her. That was all that mattered.
He had to take care of her and do right by her. She had started with so much against her and now she was an orphan.
Dearest Virgin Scribe... he would do the right thing by her if it was his last action on earth.
There was a shuffling sound, and as Darius looked over his shoulder, he saw that Tohrment had wrapped the female’s body in the sheeting and gathered her into his arms.
“I shall take care of her,” the boy said. Except... his voice was not that of a boy. It was of a fully grown male. “I... shall care for her.”
For some odd reason, the way he held her head was the only thing Darius could see: That big, strong hand of Tohrment’s was cradling the departed as surely as if she lived, holding her as if comforting her to his chest.
Darius cleared his throat and worried whether his shoulders were strong enough to bear this weight. However would he complete his next breath... the next beat of his heart... the next step that must needed to happen?
For truth, he had failed. He had gotten the female free but ultimately, he had failed her...
Except then he dug deep and turned to face his protégé. “The apple tree...”
Tohrment nodded. “Yes. That is what I thought. Beneath the apple tree. I shall take her there now and to hell with this storm.”
It was not a surprise that the boy would battle the elements to bury the female. He no doubt needed the exertion to ease his agony. “She shall enjoy the blooms in the spring and the sound of the birds that light upon the boughs.”
“What of the babe?”
“We shall care for her, too.” Darius stared down into that small face. “By giving her to ones who shall look after her as she deserves.”
Indeed, they could not keep her here. They were out all night fighting, and the war did not stop for personal loss... The war did not stop for anything or anybody. Besides, she needed things two males, however well intended, could not provide.
She required a mother’s succor.
“Is it night yet?” Darius asked roughly as Tohrment turned for the door.
“Yes,” the male said as he unlatched the lock. “And I fear it will be ever so.”
The door swung open, blown asunder by the wind, and Darius curled himself around the babe. When the gust was shut off, he looked down at the tiny new life.
Tracing her features with his fingertips, he worried over what the years ahead had in store for her. Would they be kinder than the circumstances of her birth?
He prayed that they would. He prayed that she found a male of worth to protect her and that she bore young and lived as a normal within their world.
And he would do whatever he could to ensure that.
Including... giving her away.
As night fell the following evening over the Brotherhood’s mansion, Tohrment, son of Hharm, strapped on his weapons and got his jacket from his closet.
He was not going out to fight, and yet he felt as if he were facing a kind of enemy. And he was going alone. He’d told Lassiter to chill and get a manipedi or some shit, because there were some things you just needed to do by yourself.
The fallen angel had simply nodded and wished him good luck. Like he knew precisely what ring of fire Tohr was about to walk through.
God, the sense that nothing surprised the guy was almost as annoying as everything else about him.
The thing was, though, John had come in about a half hour ago and shared his joyous news. Personally. The kid had been grinning so wide, there was a good chance his face was going to freeze in that position, and that was a pretty goddamn fantastic thing.
Shit, life was so strange sometimes. And all too often this meant that bad things mowed good folks down. Not in this case, though. Thank God, not this time.
And it was hard to think of two people who deserved it more.
Leaving his room, Tohr strode down the hall of statues. The happy announcement about John and his Xhex getting mated had spread throughout the household, bringing a much- needed shot in the arm to everybody. Especially Fritz and the doggen, who loved to put on a big party.
And man, from the sounds down below, they were in the throes of preparations. Either that or West Coast Choppers was doing a Harley over in the foyer.
Nah. Turned out the buzzing wasn’t some pimp job on a cycle, but a fleet of floor buffers going to town.
Pausing, Tohr braced his hands on the balustrade and looked down at the mosaic depiction of the apple tree in full bloom. As he watched the doggen with their whirling machines go over the branches and the trunk, he decided life was right and fair on occasion. It truly was.
And that was the only reason he could summon the strength to do what he had to.
After descending the grand staircase at a jog, he waved at the doggen while dodging in and out of their paths and ducking out through the vestibule. In the courtyard, he took a deep breath and braced himself. He had a good two hours before the ceremony, which was a bene. He wasn’t sure how long this was going to take.
