Or not.
Evidently, Michael had overshot his trajectory, and rather than end up in the main waiting area, he found himself in a storage closet, his wings pinned up against a boatload of little rolls of white paper. When he turned, he knocked a few to the floor. In his attempt to pick them up, he knocked over a few more. That was when he said fuck it, as Shadow liked to say.
Michael frowned, pushed his way out of the closet, and stumbled into another anteroom before finally making it to the waiting room proper.
It was empty.
Where was everyone?
Surely they hadn’t decided to do this in a bedchamber. That seemed … awkward.
Michael strolled across the gleaming white tile that reminded him far too much of Heaven. He leaned forward, glanced down the wide hallway that led back to the bar—nothing and no one—then the opposite direction, leading to the winding tunnels that ended at the vampire lair.
Not a soul.
Hmm.
What the hell?
The gentle click of a door came from behind him. Michael spun around in time to see Obsidian’s broad back as he pulled a door closed behind him. When he turned around…
Michael’s heart stopped beating. His lungs ceased to inflate. He was pretty sure his molecules dissolved into nothingness and wouldn’t have been surprised if he simply drifted on the warm air pushed through those metal squares in the ceiling.
Obsidian smiled. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Speaking required breath, so it took a moment to get his shit together, but he managed to squeak out a response. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
Michael’s gaze darted between Obsidian’s face and the tiny bundle he held in his arms.
A thick hand reached up and landed on Michael’s shoulder. He felt it even through the armor plating that protected him.
It took effort, but he tore his gaze from the babe, meeting Obsidian’s eyes. “Healthy? Strong? How about Penelope? She okay?”
“Everyone’s perfect.”
Michael believed Obsidian’s tone more so than words, and based on the relief he detected, they were all well. Thanks be to God.
“I’d like you to meet our daughter.”
A daughter. A precious baby girl. The pink blanket and cap should’ve given that away, but … yeah.
“She’s beautiful,” Michael heard himself say.
“Ari’el.”
His gaze shot up to Obsidian’s face as every cell in his body stopped firing at once and there was a weird buzzing in his head and a strange sensation in his chest. Pressure. So much pressure.
The firm hand on his shoulder tightened ever so slightly, pulling him back together.
“Ari’el,” he whispered, eyes lowering to the babe as a tear formed. He hadn’t shed any since … not since his sweetereswahad been taken from him. Her name: Ari’el.
“Without you, she wouldn’t be here,” Obsidian said, his voice low and reflecting the same emotion filling Michael’s chest.
Memories of that day on the front lawn of the mansion, Eevuhl coming at them, coming for the baby… “That was as much you as—”
Obsidian canted his head to the side, waiting until Michael looked at him again. When he did, he said, “I’m not talking about that.”
