Page 117 of When the Sky Breaks

“Greenland,” Ansel replied. “Higher concentrations in places already familiar with at least some degree of occult practice. Lower in places with high religiosity of other forms. Basically none in the Amish settlements in the American Midwest. Basically none around Rome. Best I can tell there’s very little in the Ottoman Empire or in Persia—or what there is has gone far underground. Very limited in Tibet and Nepal. Lots in Ghana. Lots in New Orleans. Lots in Paris. And uncomfortably lots in the rural far north of the States and Canada. The bohemians seem to take to it readily. Poets sacrificing to eldritch horrors to get published.”

“And here?” I asked. “Scotland?”

“Still working on it,” Ansel replied. “I had them start at the farthest extremes. We’ll have notes back on Edinburgh and Glasgow soon.”

“Go through them as soon as they come in,” I replied as Neal rushed in, expression carefully controlled but clearly upset.

“What’s wrong?” Ansel asked.

“Our healer was called back to the Inner Court,” Neal said.

“What, all of them?” Ansel replied. “They had six here when I cabled from New York.”

“All of them,” Neal said.

A long moment passed in silence, and my hands drifted to my belly.

“So when I . . .” I trailed off. I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. “Who’s going to . . .”

“We’ll figure it out,” Neal replied.

“It’s sabotage,” Ansel said. “We all agree on that?”

“What, recalling our entire medical staff within hours of Sorcha landing on British soil?” Neal said. “Yes. Technically within her purview since healers are Inner Court regulated, but definitely sabotage.”

“So she wants me to die in labor,” I said.

“Probably,” Ansel said bluntly.

“But you won’t,” Neal replied.

“We should have someone look you over though,” Ansel added.

“But who?” Neal asked. “I’ve sent telegrams to everyone. She’s wiped all western Europe, Ansel. Edwin sent me a form letter.”

“So much for her conceding once we proved the legal claim was faulty,” I muttered.

“I know a guy,” Ansel said. “I’ll deal with it.”

“You know a guy?” Neal looked skeptical.

“Trust me.”

Neal spent the following days reading every midwifery book he could get his hands on. Marta looked skeptical but sourced the texts without question or complaint. By the time Ansel’s “guy” arrived Neal had three notebooks full of diagrams, backup plans, herbal remedies, birth positions, everything. Our bedroom was littered with his notes—an unsettling change from his usual tidiness. I tried to find it funny, but I was terrified. My mother’s too-pale face lodged stubbornly in my mind. The stillness of her. The puddle of blood on the mattress.

Kadish Himmelbaum was young by Elven standards—not quite two hundred—with thick, curly black hair and a knack for small talk that surpassed even the chattiest big city socialite. He’d cut all official ties with Iksura’s Inner Court healers more than a century before and gone independent. Most of his work involved disguising actual Elven magic behind crystals, tinctures, and powders then selling it at exorbitant price to wealthy or desperate humans. The rest involved showing up at whatever poor Elven settlements Iksura had decided didn’t merit the services of an Inner Court healer and providing what services he could—at a cost.

“You want me to check on the baby?” he asked immediately when the Steward showed him into my office.

“And her,” Ansel added. “And ideally deliver the baby when the time comes. Can you get to Islay?”

“I’ll go to Timbuktu if you pay me,” Kadish replied.

“And why are you here when Iksura kicked everyone else off the Continent?” Neal asked.

“Because I don’t care,” Kadish said. “We all got orders from her lapdog ‘esteemed chief healer’ Edwin telling us to leave. New assignments. But I haven’t listened to that in a century. I don’t work on a stipend. She has a power complex. I don’t like it. I like to be paid. I’ve been in Venice the last eight months. Lovely city. Great food. People will give you anything to get rid of a hangover.”

“And you’ve delivered babies before? Elven babies?” Neal pressed.