Layla sucked in air. “What?”
“Right, Sam?” Jo asked. “Isn’t that what you heard? That’s what Tripp told me.”
I guessed Jordyn hadn’t shared that news with Layla. But the potential relationship between Layla and Abbey shouldn’t stress her out.
Doc poked his head in. “Sam, I’ve been waiting. Let’s go.”
I pushed to my feet. “Yes, if Fred Emery is correct, then Abbey and the Aberdeen sisters are related.”
Layla’s mouth was hanging open, her blue eyes bigger than I’d ever seen them.
Doc ambled in. “They’re related?”
So much for giving blood.
Doc was an eager beaver to learn more as he settled at the foot of the bed.
I had no choice but to explain what Fred had told Tripp, Jordyn, and me. After this conversation, I was going to see my kids, then lock myself in the birthing suite and take advantage of the pullout couch. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be worth a shit to fight another day.
17
LAYLA
Itraipsed from my room to the infirmary’s nursery around six that night, freshly showered, wearing a clean hospital gown and robe, and feeling physically great but emotionally spent. The day had been a whirlwind of shock, surprises, and life-changing events. I should have been thinking of what I needed to pack, but instead I couldn’t shake thoughts of how I might be related to Abbey. If that were true, did that mean my sisters and I had magical abilities?
Abbey was a powerful ten-year-old human who could see into the future. She was also changing into a bloodsucker as she aged. She would be a full-fledged vampire when she reached her teenage years without needing to drink her vampire father’s blood. In addition, she was prophesied to be the first female bloodsucker who would be able to conceive. No one understood the mystery of why Abbey would be able to bear children when she became a vampire. As it stood, female vampires couldn’t get pregnant.
Regardless of Abbey’s powers, Doc assumed my banshee scream and mind control came from the babies when they were inside me. Maybe they didn’t. A million questions jumped around in my brain. Was my mom’s sister, Vanessa, alive? Jo had said no. Abbey’s maternal grandparents were presumably dead, or at least that was the story Abbey’s mother Rachel had told before she’d died. But through Jo’s research, it seemed Abbey’s maternal grandfather might be alive.
I had my hand on the door to the nursery when a thought stopped me cold. I replayed the conversation with my mom.
“You can’t leave me hanging like this. I need to know which of my children you speak of.”
She pulled me in for a hug and whispered, “Find Kendra.”
Did she mean Kendra knew about the prophecy and the child my mom was referring to? It was even more imperative to chat with Kendra, and not about my father, since she’d grown up with my mother. Kendra could tell me about my mom and her past and shed light on who she really was. More importantly, Kendra might know about the prophecy. If I recalled, though, she wasn’t in the States and wouldn’t be for a few weeks, according to her text.
A baby cried, severing my thoughts. It was close to feeding time. Normally, they would be in the birthing suite with me, but Sam was sleeping, and if anyone needed rest, it was him.
I ambled into the nursery, and the crying stopped. It took me a second to get my bearings as I focused on the four bassinets beneath warming lights along the left wall in a room filled with rockers, cabinets, drawers, sinks, a bathroom, and medical equipment. I then fixed my gaze on Jo, Jordyn, and Harley sitting in the rockers to my right. Jordyn and Jo were feeding Luna and Orion respectively.
Harley popped out of her seat, showing straight white teeth as her blue eyes swirled to black. “I’d never been more scared in my life than when I heard what happened in the OR.” She pulled me in for a hug.
Her strawberry-blond hair smelled of vanilla beans, and suddenly I had a hankering for a vanilla latte.
I snickered as we broke apart. “Did you bathe in vanilla?”
“You could say that. Lotion and shampoo. It’s my favorite scent.” She tittered, dipping her head at the empty rocker. “Come sit beside me.”
I checked on my other daughters who were sleeping, itching to pick them up and squeeze them to me.
Jo, reading my mind, said, “Sit. You can hold your son. I have research to do.” Jo rose slowly then handed Orion to me. “First thing tomorrow, Layla, you need to pack up as many things from the babies’ room as you can. George ordered cribs, and they should be delivered to my house in Maine next week.”
And so the running and escaping began. Not the way I wanted to start motherhood. My children needed stability. We had a beautiful apartment that we’d redecorated and an adorable nursery bathed in stuffed animals and musical crib mobiles. It was a place I could finally call home, something I hadn’t had since my dad died two years ago.
Nevertheless, I eased into the rocker between Jordyn and Harley as I cradled Orion and continued feeding him. “Hey, little guy. Momma’s here.” His green eyes danced with delight as he sucked on the bottle of formula mixed with a small dose of blood.
My heart bloomed with such a deep sense of love that it almost hurt. My babies didn’t need to be subjected to war. They needed a life free of strife to grow up unencumbered, to be kids, to climb into a tree house, play sports, play with dolls, or whatever else they would find interest in.
