Chapter 28
Ivar
My brothers and I are pacing in the waiting room with the other expectant fathers, worried to death about our mate.
So far, it’s only been good news. Every time a doctor steps into the room, there are shouts of joy as fathers learn the fate of their wives and children. After they get the good news, the family is escorted to a room so they can see the babies.
I can’t wait to see mine. Three children. The future of Midgard. The future of the gods that used to walk amongst us. They will bless these three children, because they are going to ensure our people survive.
“How long is this going to take?” Sigurd growls, downing some coffee.
“Labor could last a long time,” Erik sighs. “Especially with three babies. We need to be patient.”
“We should be in there with her,” Sigurd grouses. “If we were on Midgard, we wouldn’t be waiting out here. We’d be caring for our mate. Possibly already caring for our children.”
“Things are different here. We have to respect their customs,” I mutter. “Avery needs the best medical care Mallow can offer.”
“She’ll get it here,” Erik says.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of waiting, but isn’t nearly as long as Erik suggested it could be, Dr. Grant steps into the waiting room. Erik is on his feet immediately, so I deduce that he must be Avery’s doctor.
“How is she?” Erik asks.
“Your wife and your children are excellent,” Dr. Grant says. “Your wife needs some time to recover, but congratulations, Mr. Smith. Two healthy girls and one healthy boy. The girls are a little premature, so they’ll need specialized care until they gain a few pounds.”
My ears perk and I smile. A boy. I have an heir. That alone is usually enough for a feast, but I’ve got two daughters, too. Two daughters that may be healthy but aren’t out of the woods yet. That fills me with worry and erases my smile.
“When can we see Avery?” Erik asks.
“Not until she’s in recovery,” Dr. Grant answers. “But if you’d like, I can take you to see your children.”
“We’d like that very much,” Sigurd says and Dr. Grant gives him a curious look.
“Proud uncles,” Erik hurriedly says, gesturing to Sigurd and me.
“Right, okay, follow me,” Dr. Grant says, his tone flatter.
Dr. Grant leads us out of the waiting room and down several halls. He stops in front of a large glass window where several other men are waiting. Some of them are smoking cigars, chattering and pointing out their babies.
“Your son is right there.” The nurse points out our son, then points to the corner of the room. “And the girls are in the sterile glass incubators.”
I put my hand on the window and I lean forward. The boy looks a lot like Sigurd. He’s a big, strong baby. Already crying like he’s hungry. The girls aren’t moving or crying. They’re silent and look so fragile, it makes my heart clench.
“How long will the girls need to stay in there?” I ask, gesturing to the incubators.
“Just until they are a safe weight,” Dr. Grant replies. “Could be a week, but we’ll take good care of them.”
“Thank you, Dr. Grant,” Erik says. “For everything.”
“Just doing my job. I wish you the best.” Dr. Grant pats Erik’s arm before walking away.
The three of us stand in front of the window like we’re in a daze. Maybe we are. When the plague swept through Midgard, we thought it was the end of us. Thought we’d all get sick, since the Intergalactic Alliance had us under quarantine.
Fenrir’s Mark protected us. It gave us the strength to withstand the plague and overcome it. Long enough to give our people hope. Long enough for Erik to build ships from scraps. Long enough for us to find our mate.
“They’re so beautiful,” Sigurd rumbles. “Do you think the boy looks like me?”
“Looks more like our grandfather,” Erik smirks.
“Our father said I was his spitting image,” Sigurd rebukes.
“Both of the girls look like Avery, don’t they?” I ask, peering at them.
“Yes, brother,” Erik says. “Same nose. Same smile. Yes, they will be beautiful princesses on Midgard. Every warrior will want to wed them once they’re gorgeous young women like their mother.”
“They better keep their fucking hands off them,” Sigurd snorts.
“We picked quite a few names. We’ll have to talk to Avery and decide on the perfect ones,” Erik says. “But for now, we can be happy.”
“I’ll be happier when we can see Avery,” I sigh.
The elevator doors open. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of several men spilling into the hallway. When I turn my head, I realize they’re all dressed in black suits. Black hats pulled down. And they’re reaching into their coats.
“I think we have trouble,” I say.
“What the fuck is this?” Sigurd growls, turning toward the men.
There’s six of them and a second later, we’re staring down the barrels of six drawn guns. Some nurses scream. The other expectant fathers leap in front of the window, like they’re trying to protect their children.
“Hands where we can see them!” one of the men shouts, taking a step forward.
“Shit,” I mutter. “We have to fight.”
“We have to make sure the babies are okay,” Erik says. “We can’t risk one of them getting hit.”
“I’ll make sure all those fucking bullets hit me,” Sigurd rumbles angrily, stomping down the hallway.
“Wait!” Erik shouts, but it’s already too late.
I move in front of the window, just to be safe. The men at the end of the hallway start firing shots, and the sound seems wrong. It’s more like a whoosh than an explosion, like these weapons make. Sigurd gets hit several times and he spins around. There are darts lodged in his stomach and chest.
“It’s… It’s fucking wolfsbane,” Sigurd groans, then he hits a knee.
“Shit!” Erik yells, then the men fire shots at him. He dodges the first two but gets hit by several more. He turns to me, reaching out. “Protect the babies!”
Wolfsbane. It’s a poison that paralyzes us, or more specifically, paralyzes the wolves inside us. We eradicated it from Midgard long ago, according to legend. But even if it is grown here, how do these men know to use it? How do they know what we are? That there’s even a poison that can hurt us?
I don’t get a chance to process it because I have to dodge the darts fired at me. This is such a closely guarded secret in our legends that even the Intergalactic Alliance doesn’t know about it. This shouldn’t be possible.
I either stand here like a sitting duck or fight. I glance back at my babies. I’d die for them, just like I’d die for my mate. That may be closer than I’d like to admit, because both of my brothers are down.
I dodge the shots as I weave my way down the hallway. I want to call my wolf, especially since they already know what we are, but it’s risky in a hospital full of people. There’s already enough panic. Already enough danger.
“Fuckers!” I growl, catching one of the men and twisting his neck until it snaps.
But that’s the only blow I land. Several darts stab into my back. I reach back and yank one out before the poison can take hold, but I’m not fast enough to get them all. The poison burns through my veins, silences my wolf, then silences me.
I’m still swiping at them when I drop, and then there’s nothing I can do to stay conscious. I reach toward my babies as the world narrows to a thin stream of light. Then I lose consciousness.