Bound by Night
Page 45

“We make a fine pair, don’t we?” she asked with a rueful grin.
“We will learn as we go along,” he assured her. “People have been having babies for thousands of years. Most of them survive, one way or another. Ours will be rich in love, if nothing else.”
Rich in love, Elena thought. Perhaps that would see them through. But, to be on the safe side, she had Drake drive her to the bookstore in the city the following night.
Drake shook his head as she handed him one book after another. “Are you sure we need all of these?” he asked, perusing the titles—Your Baby from Birth to Teen, Doctor Spock’s Baby and Child Care, Your Baby’s First Year, How to Be a Successful Parent, Do’s and Don’ts of Rearing Your Child, The ABC’s of Baby Care.
“I just wish they had a few more.”
“More? Good Lord, woman, we are only having one child.”
“I want to know everything there is to know.”
Wisely, he didn’t argue, just paid the bill, and prayed that the baby would be born strong and healthy and that Elena would survive the birth of their child.
For the next two weeks, Elena immersed herself in reading. She’d known she had a lot to learn, but she had no idea how much she didn’t know.
She said as much to Drake when they were in bed one night.
He laughed softly as he stroked the curve of her cheek. “You do not have to learn all of it before the baby comes,” he said. “You only need to learn what you need right now. No point in worrying about raising a teenager until the time comes.”
“You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “I know you’re right. It’s just such an awesome responsibility, raising a baby.” Taking his hand in hers, she placed it over her womb. “Feel that?”
“Quite a lusty kick for a little girl,” he remarked. Surely that was a good sign. “I hope she looks like you.”
“Drake?”
“Yes, wife?”
“What will she be?”
He knew what she was asking, knew she was wondering if their daughter would follow in her father’s footsteps when she turned twenty. “I do not know if she will become vampire, Elena. To my knowledge, there are no half-vampires in existence.”
“Does that mean they are born either human or vampire?”
He drew her closer, afraid to tell her the truth, yet certain that keeping it from her would do more harm than good. She needed to be prepared for the worst, should it happen.
“Drake?”
“As far as I know, no child conceived by a vampire and a human has ever survived.”
Elena stared at him, her hand pressed tightly, protectively, over her stomach. “No! No! That can’t be true!” Tears flooded her eyes. “I don’t believe you!” she said, sobbing. “I won’t!”
He drew her into his arms and held her close. He should have taken precautions, he thought, should have remembered what had happened to Stefan, but matings between vampires and humans were rare, and conceptions rarer still. . . . He cursed softly. If anything happened to Elena or their baby, he would never forgive himself.
Tavian Dinescu huddled under a tree in the forest behind Wolfram Castle. Clad in rags, his body gaunt from lack of food, his beard thick, he stared at the lights burning in the window on the second floor.
He had hidden here for days, leaving the cover of the trees only late at night to scavenge in the forest, or creep down the hill to the town to steal whatever food he could find.
Sitting there, shivering in the cold, he tried to make sense of his muddled thoughts, but it was hard to think, hard to concentrate. He recalled the trial, but could not remember why he had confessed. Even when they showed him the confession, written in his own hand, he could not remember writing it. Deep in the far recesses of his mind, a faint memory niggled, something to do with the lord of Wolfram Castle, but when he tried to remember, it made his head hurt.
He hated all of them, hated the whole town for their treachery. He had protected them, kept them safe, and they had all turned their backs on him.
But the worst offender was Elena. He had opened his home to her, fed and clothed her, offered her his name and what had she done in return? She had testified against him, the ungrateful brat! Sent him to that awful place for crazy people. He clapped his hands over his ears, shutting out the echo of tormented cries in the night, the moaning and groaning of the sick, the dying, the sobs of the hopeless, the helpless.
They would pay, he thought, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. Oh, yes, they would all pay. And Elena most of all. When the moment was right, he would strike. She would not escape him again.
Chapter 34
November turned to December, bringing a flurry of snow that quickly covered the ground and clothed the trees in gowns of white. In spite of the fireplaces and heaters in every room, the castle was chilly. Elena spent most of her time in the main hall, curled up on the sofa in front of the hearth, sometimes reading, sometimes napping.
Strangely, Drake, in his cat persona, had returned. He spent his days sitting beside her, or stretched out along the back of the sofa, sleeping. She was glad for the company.
She had asked Drake about the return of the cat the first time it appeared. He had said only that he missed her during the day and wanted to be near her. She suspected it was more than that. Her uncle was still out there, somewhere, and even though Drake claimed not to be worried, she knew he was.
Drake appeared late one afternoon, when the sky had turned dark and overcast. “This will be our first Christmas together,” he said, helping her into a heavy winter coat. “I thought we should have a tree.”
Excited at the idea, Elena pulled on a pair of fur-lined boots and gloves, put on a fur-lined hat, and followed him outside, where he picked up an ax and laid it on his shoulder. “Ready?”
“Ready,” she said.
She followed him down a path he had cleared earlier to the edge of the forest.
“Which one do you like?” he asked.
She glanced from tree to tree. “That one,” she said, pointing. “But how will you ever carry it into the house?” she asked, and then grinned sheepishly. To a vampire, carrying a ten-foot tree was akin to a mortal carrying one-half that size.
It took only a few strokes of the blade to bring the tree crashing down.
Returning home, he shook the snow from the branches, then carried the tree into the main hall. “Where do you want it?”
“There,” she said, pointing to the far corner of the room.
He quickly built a stand and nailed it to the base of the tree.
“We don’t have any ornaments,” Elena said. “Or lights.”
“We’ll take care of that tomorrow night,” he said. “For now, you need to get warmed up.”
“I’m fine.”
“Of course you are.” Even as he was speaking, he was helping her out of her coat, boots, and hat, settling her on the sofa, covering her with the afghan she had made, bringing her a cup of hot tea.
Elena smiled up at him, thinking he was the most wonderful, sweet, caring man in the whole world.
She was about to tell him so when she sensed a familiar ripple in the air. Moments later, Andrei materialized in the room.
Elena’s smile of welcome faded when she saw the expression on his face. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
“The baby was born tonight,” Andrei said, his voice flat.
He didn’t have to say anything else. She saw the sorrow in his face, the pain in his eyes.
“He came too early, and lived only a few minutes. Just long enough”—Andrei swallowed hard—“long enough for me to hold him.”
“How is Katiya?” Drake asked.
“For a time, I thought I would lose her, too. But she will be all right.”
“Andrei, I’m so sorry,” Elena murmured. “Is there anything we can do?”
“No.” He sank down on the edge of the sofa beside Elena, his head cradled in his hands. “Her mother sent me away, told me Katiya needed to rest. I wandered around outside the Fortress and then”—he shrugged—“I found myself here. We were happy here.”
Feeling helpless, Elena looked up at Drake, who was standing near the hearth. What can we do?
He shook his head. He needs time.
“I should go back,” Andrei said. “I just thought you should know.”
Biting down on her lower lip, Elena slid her arm around Andrei’s shoulders. To her surprise, he turned into her embrace, his arms going around her waist. He held on tight, his body shaking uncontrollably as sobs racked his body.
“She’ll be all right,” Elena said, patting his back. “She’s young and strong. And she loves you.”
Andrei took a deep breath, then drew back. “Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
Andrei rose heavily to his feet. “I must go back.”
“You may stay, if you wish,” Drake said.
Andrei shook his head. “Katiya will be missing me.”
“How are things at the Fortress otherwise?” Drake asked.
“All is well. Your plan to free the sheep was a good one. The transition has gone smoothly. I must go.” He bowed in Elena’s direction, and then he was gone.
“Poor Andrei,” Elena murmured.
Drake nodded. He had never fully understood Stefan’s pain, he thought, perhaps because he, himself, had never been in love, never lost anyone he cared for, but he understood it clearly now. He had seen Stefan’s pain reflected in Andrei’s eyes.
Needing to hold Elena, he sat beside her and drew her into his arms as he faced the very real possibility that he could lose Elena, and the baby, too.
Later, lying in the dark in Drake’s arms, fears about her baby, about the birth itself, rose in Elena’s mind. Katiya had been young and healthy, in her prime for bearing a child. If Katiya could not conceive and carry a vampire child, what chance did a mortal woman have? Elena placed her hand over her womb. Would her baby be born too early, as well? Take a few breaths, then slip away, its life over before it had even begun? And what of her own life? Andrei said they had almost lost Katiya. If a vampire, who had the strength of twenty and was nearly invincible, was at risk, how much more so was she?