Page 87 of When the Sky Breaks

“First the wolves, now this,” I muttered. “Overdoing it with the big mammals is becoming a habit.”

Sorcha nodded again, absently, then pushed away from me just enough to avoid vomiting down the front of my shirt. I sighed, rubbing my temples—this night was already too long.

“Baby’s okay?” I asked.

“Think so,” Sorcha said, pressing my hand to her belly. “They’re still moving around. I don’t feel like I’m bleeding.”

“Alright,” I said, helping her to her feet. “Ansel, how far away is the damned hotel?”

“Less than a mile now for sure,” Ansel said.

“Okay come here.” I took Sorcha’s hand and helped her up in front of my saddle. “Let’s be glad you bought us draft crosses. I’m not trusting you on your own horse tonight.”

I unstrapped the bags from my horse’s rump and loaded them onto her now-riderless gelding, then climbed up behind her.

“Please don’t do that again,” I whispered into Sorcha’s ear, kissing her hair. “Please, love.”

“I’ll certainly try,” Sorcha agreed.

It was after midnight when we reached the inn. Sorcha was still awake, groggy from the late hour and the magic expenditure. She insisted that the bears were the best and only solution that could have possibly deescalated our standoff with the bandits. I vehemently disagreed.

Ansel banged on the inn’s front door until someone woke up and came to greet us. Then he dumped twenty dollars into the innkeeper’s hands when he protested that there weren’t any rooms available.

And so, at one in the morning, we found ourselves clustered on the floor by the lobby fire—arguing.

“Clarify for me one more time, lass,” Ansel said. “You wanted to summon what?”

“I thought they were coyotes,” Sorcha admitted.

“What I’m hearing is that you need to stop attempting to use big terrifying mammals to solve problems for the foreseeable future,” I cut in.

Sorcha sat slouched in front of me, her corset still off—barely dry from the previous night’s rain—and my greatcoat pulled low off her shoulders as I tried to ease the muscles in her back so she could relax and hopefully sleep. Ansel had brushed off her complaints about the previous night on the mausoleum floor and too long in the saddle. Then again Ansel also hadn’t physically felt the impacts our suboptimal sleeping arrangements and her growing belly were having on her lower back.

“What I’m hearing,” Ansel interrupted, “is that you need to practice.”

“It’s fine,” Sorcha insisted. “It’s my power. I get to choose how and when I use it.”

“Not if it leaves you bordering unconsciousness,” I put in.

“See,” Ansel agreed, “practice. You need to be able to defend yourself, and this is no way to achieve it.”

“It’s fine,” Sorcha repeated. “I have my knife. I have my magic. And I have you two.”

“And if you don’t have us?” I protested. “If we’re in a city or heaven forbid on a boat and you don’t have any giant animals to summon.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Sorcha insisted, yawning now as my hands on her back finally got the tension to release and her body to relax.

“When we get to Washington I’m buying you a pistol,” Ansel said.

“You are not!” Sorcha nearly shouted, sitting bolt upright.

“It’s not the worst idea,” I said, pulling her back against me.

“It is!” Sorcha snapped, trying ineffectively to push me off.

“It’s insurance,” Ansel said calmly.

“It’s unnecessary,” Sorcha said, “and I don’t want to.”