Chapter 20
Ishould have been able to relish in the defeat of Lyra.
So naturally, my body decided this was the perfect time to remind me that I was about to push three magical babies out of my vagina.
The next contraction that hit me felt like someone had wrapped barbed wire around my spine and yanked.
Hard. I doubled over as much as my massive belly would allow, gasping for air that tasted like copper pennies and desperation.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I wheezed, gripping Aidon's hand hard enough that my knuckles went white.
The babies were thrashing around. It felt as if each one was clawing at my insides.
Their tiny fists and feet were battering against my ribs like they were trying to punch their way out through my sternum.
Their magic felt like live electrical wires loose in my bloodstream.
They were sparking and snapping with raw panic.
"Something's wrong," I panted, pressing both hands to my belly as another wave of agony rolled through me. "They're still terrified."
"But Lyra's gone," Aidon said. "The parasitic bonds are broken. They should be calming down."
But they weren't. If anything, their terror was getting worse.
Without Lyra's influence dampening their emotions, I was getting the full force of three babies who'd spent months learning that existence meant pain.
They kicked and writhed like they were fighting for their lives. Maybe they thought they were.
Clio appeared at my side. "Let me help them," she said, placing her palms over my stomach. "I can ease the trauma and help them understand they're safe now."
Her healing magic flowed into me, warm and soothing as honey on burned skin.
For exactly three seconds, the babies went still.
Then Melaina's power exploded outward in a pulse of golden heat that made every piece of metal in the room vibrate like a struck tuning fork.
Thaniel's electricity followed, blue-white arcs that left the smell of ozone and singed hair.
Nyssa's shadows writhed up from the floorboards.
They were thick as motor oil and twice as dark.
Clio jerked her hands back like she'd grabbed a hot stove. "They pushed me away," she gasped, staring at her palms. "They won't let me in."
The next contraction hit like a sledgehammer to the kidneys. This time, the babies' response shattered every window in what was left of our bedroom. Glass rained down in glittering fragments. Each piece caught the light from their wild magic.
"They think anyone trying to help is another threat," I said through gritted teeth. "They've been conditioned to expect pain when magic touches them."
"Even from me?" Aidon asked. The hurt in his voice could have broken hearts in three counties. He leaned over me on the bed, and his shadows reached out like careful fingers. "Little ones, it's Papa. You know me. Let me—"
The rejection hit him like a physical blow. His shadows recoiled so fast it looked like they'd been burned, and Aidon actually staggered back a step. The babies had shut him out completely. Their tiny minds locked down tighter than maximum security prisons.
"They can't tell friend from foe anymore," I gasped as another contraction tried to tear me in half. "Everyone feels like a predator to them."
"Someone call Bridget," Clio barked. "Now. Get her here right fucking now. We’re going to need her."
"Who's Bridget?" Aidon demanded.
"She’s a coven member. She's a doctor who works for the coroner’s office, but she can intervene medically," Clio explained as another wave of agony stole my breath. "If anyone can deliver babies without using magic, it's her."
Mom was already dialing, her voice sharp with urgency as she explained the situation. "She's coming," she announced. "But she's at least thirty minutes out."
"I don't have thirty minutes," I snarled as my uterus tried to turn itself inside out. The babies were getting more violent with each contraction.
Twenty-eight minutes felt like twenty-eight hours.
Each contraction was worse than the last. At one point, Melaina's heat got so intense that the metal bed frame started to warp.
Thaniel's electricity shorted out the backup generator, plunging half the house into darkness.
Nyssa's shadows began seeping through the walls, and I could hear Nana downstairs shouting at them to, ‘Get back where you belong before I get the holy water’.
When Bridget finally burst through our doorway, she took one look at the magical chaos and started barking orders like she was commanding troops.
"Everyone out except parents and Clio. I need you to monitor vitals," she commanded, snapping on surgical gloves, taking me back to my nursing days.
"Aidon, I need you to ground that wild magic before it brings the house down. "
Bridget looked like she'd stepped out of a trauma ward. Her scrubs were clean and pressed. And her light blonde hair was pulled back in a braid that could double as a whip. She had the kind of no-bullshit expression that suggested she'd handled more than one medical crisis. Her magic was different from Clio’s. It wasn’t the gentle healing warmth.
It was sharper and cleaner. It was hard to describe.
"How long have they been in magical distress?" she asked Clio while unpacking equipment that made me wish we had a sterilized OR instead of a warzone. Watching her, I had hope. She'd done field surgery before. The missing wall didn’t even phase her.
"They’ve been struggling for a couple of hours, but things escalated after the parasitic bonds broke forty minutes ago," Clio replied. "Their signatures are completely destabilized. They won't accept any magical intervention."
Bridget nodded grimly, then turned to me with the kind of bedside manner that somehow managed to be both reassuring and absolutely terrifying.
"Phoebe, listen carefully. Your babies are in magical shock. It’s not surprising.
They've been traumatized for months. Now that the immediate threat is gone, they're having a complete breakdown.
We need to get them out before their power tears you apart from the inside. "
"What?" I gasped through another contraction that felt like being disemboweled with a rusty spoon.
“That’s possible?” Aidon asked. It was his turn to squeeze my hand.
Bridget nodded and began arranging surgical implements on what remained of our dresser. “It’s not going to come to that.”
"How do we do that when they won't let anyone help?" Mom asked.
"The old-fashioned way," Bridget said. She moved with purpose around the medical supplies with steady hands despite the chaos.
"There will be no magical assistance. No supernatural pain relief.
And no psychic intervention." She paused, loading a syringe with practiced efficiency.
"Just you, your body, and whatever's left of your stubborn streak after nine months of pregnancy. "
"So, a typical Tuesday in my life," I muttered, then promptly ate those words as the worst contraction yet tried to split me in half lengthwise.
Bridget appeared beside me with the loaded syringe.
Her expression was somewhere between apologetic and determined.
"This is going to help move things along," she said, not bothering to sugarcoat it.
"Your babies are being as stubborn as their mother. We need to give nature a nudge so I don’t have to cut them out of you. "
The needle slid into my arm with surgical precision. I barely felt it over the tsunami of pain already coursing through my body. Within minutes, everything intensified. If labor had been brutal before, now it became something that would have made medieval torture masters take notes.
What followed redefined my understanding of pain.
Labor was exactly what evolution had designed.
Raw, primal, and utterly merciless. The injection Bridget had administered kicked my body into overdrive.
Suddenly, the contractions were full-scale assaults that left me gasping and cursing every deity I could remember.
Bridget coached me through each contraction with gentle encouragement. "Breathe through it, not against it," she encouraged when I tried to hold my breath against the pain.
"Your body knows what it's doing, even if your brain is having a meltdown," Tarja said into my mind.
Between contractions, Bridget pressed her hands firmly against my swollen abdomen.
Her fingers probed with the confidence of someone who'd done this countless times before.
"Melaina's sideways," she muttered, then began what felt like an aggressive massage from hell.
Her hands pushed and manipulated my belly with surprising force, trying to coax my stubborn daughter into a better position.
"Why are you—ow, shit, Bridget!" I gasped as she applied pressure that made my ribs feel like they might crack.
"You’re familiar with external cephalic version," she reminded me without letting up. "Your babies are all tangled up in there like Christmas lights. And Melaina's decided to go transverse. We need her head down, or this gets a lot more complicated."
She worked with methodical determination.
Her hands moved across my abdomen in practiced motions that felt like she was rearranging furniture inside me.
Push here, press there, encourage this baby to shift while convincing that one to stop hogging the prime real estate.
It was deeply uncomfortable on top of the already excruciating contractions.
But, I felt movement. It was a reluctant, stubborn movement.
“It’s okay, little ones,” Tarja crooned to them.
Aidon held my hand and whispered encouragements that I couldn’t properly process. Something about strength and love and how proud he was. Honestly, I was more focused on not screaming loud enough to shatter more windows. We had enough broken.