24. Why was everyone so happy? #4
Leviticus? And I had thought Ember was a terrible middle name. A giggle tickled my throat. Screw it. I laughed until I cried. If he had a problem with my mirth, I’d blame it on the sedative.
To rescue the petrified surrogates, the incubi, and the succubus, I had to call the CDC on Quinn’s phone and request backup.
I explained the incident with both phoenixes, endured the twenty-minute long scolding in silence, and sighed while listening to the supervisor tear into me for failing to secure the immortal birds following their first molting.
What were they expecting from me, a miracle?
While I dealt with the CDC, Quinn and his grandfather went through the nest, conferring over each and every egg. I stopped counting at thirty, and my chest tightened each time they set one aside, knowing it hadn’t survived Audrey’s neglect and scheming.
Quinn’s grandfather found the only viable egg about ten minutes after I hung up with the CDC, and he rose to his feet, showing it to his grandson. “This one lives. See the mottling on the stone? The green and gray hasn’t dulled or paled.”
I held my breath and stared with wide eyes as my husband took the egg from his grandfather, lifting it to his lips and breathing on it. “It can’t be more than a week old at this size.”
“Bailey must not have been the only one kidnapped from New York. We might be able to learn who the surrogate is, if she survived. Go on. Take the little one to your bride.”
Quinn stepped around the dull pale eggs and approached me, holding out his hands.
How could something so tiny become a gorgon? Most marbles were larger. Swallowing, I cupped my hands together and held them out so I could take the egg. “Is there anything wrong with it? It’s so small.”
“It’s quite normal. She’ll probably be a girl; the eggs of males tend to have splashes of other colors, often correlating with their snakes’ patterning. She’s maybe a week old. Is that right, Grandfather? A week old at this size? How long does Grandmother normally hold your whelps?”
Quinn’s grandfather chuckled. “She prefers a month. By then, the eggs are a little smaller than a golf ball. She says the whelps have an easier hatch the longer they stay in the womb. The eggs can be nested right after fertilization, but she believes the little ones are weaker at hatching. I’ve learned not to argue with your grandmother on such things”
I closed my fingers over the egg, worried it felt so cool against my skin. “What’s going to happen to her?”
Quinn kissed my cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her a home, probably with a couple lacking a surrogate. A newly hatched whelp draws new females to the male, which in turn encourages the male to locate a permanent surrogate. She’ll find a good home quickly.”
While I had my doubts, especially after the lengths my parents had gone to in their efforts to get rid of me, I kept my mouth shut.
“He’s telling the truth. We’re not human, little one.
We don’t treat our young the same way humans treat theirs.
I’ll handle finding petitioners. Since I’m a former king, more new couples will be willing to approach me for a chance to claim the egg.
If it makes you feel better, you and little Samuel can help consider the petitioners and oversee the meet and greets. ”
“Meet and greets?”
Quinn’s grandfather chuckled, a low, wicked sound. “You’ll appreciate this. Prospective parents will come and battle for the right to be named parent of the unborn hatchling. When it’s your turn, you and little Samuel will decide if they’re worthy.”
With a huge grin, Quinn flicked my nose.
“You’ll like this. We get to beat the living snot out of the prospective parents.
The most determined pair wins the egg. That’s how gorgons handle adoption.
Nothing tells a young whelp they’re treasured more than their new parents withstanding the most vicious beating of their lives for the right to claim a child. ”
Oh. My eyes widened, and I held the egg close to my chest so it wouldn’t get cold. “We get to beat up a bunch of gorgons?”
“There are only two rules: we don’t kill, nor do we maim. The pair to withstand the worst beating goes home with the egg, once they’ve recovered. We’ll contact the CDC and hire someone talented with healing magics to speed their recovery.”
“And they want us to do this to them?”
Quinn’s grandfather laughed. “It’s considered a grave insult if they aren’t beaten sufficiently so they can prove they deserve to win the egg. An orphan in gorgon society is rare. While we can be vile in many ways, we get this right. Nothing is more sacred than a whelp.”
I glanced in the direction of the young whelp. She curled on the stone floor, sleeping with her snakes coiled on her shoulder. “And what about her?”
“It’s the same, with a small caveat. She will witness every interview, and she will decide who fought the hardest for the right to call her their child. She picks her own fate.”
Huh. I wondered how much human society would change if parents had to fight for the right to bring a new child into their home. “How long will it take?”
“I’d give it a few weeks. I’ll ask your grandmother if she’ll serve as a surrogate for the little one.
That should give us time to make arrangements and find out if there are any health issues we’ll need to be aware of.
It’ll also help the little one recover if the nest was too cold.
I expect your grandmother will insist on three to four weeks to give the little one the best chance at a healthy hatching. ”
Quinn seemed pleased.
I stifled a yawn. “Can any human keep a gorgon egg warm?”
“Yes. Gender isn’t important when humans hold gorgon eggs. Why?”
I nodded my head towards the statues. “There are four men in the truck who can take turns holding this egg for a while. Unlike you two, I still have work to do. No rest for the wicked.”
At Quinn’s low, seductive chuckle, which was partnered by the tell-tale heat of his incubus nature washing over me, I glared at him. “You’ll just have to wait, sir.”
“It’d also help if you reversed back to human first, little Samuel, unless you want everyone to know your deep, dark, dirty secret.”
I didn’t think his crimson cobras, beautiful, glossy black wings, or soft tail were anything to be ashamed of, but I kept quiet.
“Damn it,” my husband muttered.
Unable to help myself, I laughed at the displeasure in Quinn’s voice.
Quinn’s grandfather raided the truck for supplies and took the egg to Chief Hollands for safe keeping, bringing back a meter and a spray bottle of concentrated neutralizer. Squirting Quinn with it did nothing, and I frowned at the bottle while he laughed.
“That’s not going to work.”
“Dust and other gorgon materials can trigger his transformation, little one, but he controls when he returns to his human form.”
Narrowing my eyes, I prodded his chest with the bottle. “Change back.”
“No. I don’t want to.” The gleam in his eye informed me he had something in mind, something I probably wanted as much as he did.
“He can also transform from human whenever he wants,” his grandfather added. “You have your very own on-demand incubus.”
“Traitor,” Quinn hissed, and his cobras joined in.
“This time, I’m working in my lovely granddaughter’s favor. Of course she should enjoy you at your prime at her leisure.”
Sometimes, I really liked the old man.
It took a bit of bullying and a lot of bribing to convince Quinn to transform before the CDC arrived. I’d have to pretend I didn’t actually have the vial of A grade pixie dust anymore, but I figured it was for a good cause.
Dealing with the surrogates turned sour fast, as Quinn’s grandfather discovered four more viable eggs. With a little help from a CDC representative and the privacy of one of the downstairs rooms, the eggs were retrieved and left in my custody.
I worried for the pea-sized eggs, one of which I believed was a male, its stone shell a vibrant green and gold. The surrogate identified Prince Ozmose as the father, but she didn’t remember who had mothered the eggs.
I was pretty certain she was lying about not knowing who had mothered the eggs, but I said nothing, and no one else did, either.
Before Audrey had ruined everything, the woman had been Ozmose’s bride. When she had been turned to stone and left with the eggs entombed within her, she had been held hostage so the hive could sacrifice Prince Ozmose and have their source of potent gorgon dust.
Her four eggs would be given up for adoption, as a human surrogate couldn’t care for the needs of gorgon whelps. Pain haunted her eyes. Once she left with the CDC reps to go to the nearest hospital, Quinn and his grandfather sighed.
“She didn’t want them.” My throat tightened, and I swallowed.
Quinn’s grandfather rubbed my shoulder. “Don’t judge her too harshly, little one.
To you, they’re unborn children. To her, they’re bad memories and represent the loss of her husband—and the loss of her hive, her friends, and the rest of her family.
Ozmose would not have left his other females while they still lived, and they would not have left him.
I have no doubt they were killed. That’s a lot of grief for one woman to bear.
She knows the eggs will find homes with those who truly want them, something she can’t give them right now. ”
“What will happen to the eggs?”
“The Rockwell family will be offered a chance to fight first for the eggs. While you will help beat them as is proper, it will be understood if their determination is strong enough, the eggs will remain with their clan. I know Ozmose’s father well, and he will fight hard to protect the whelps of his whelp. ”
We left the incubi and the succubus for last after clearing everyone out of the area. Since I had the most luck with escaping their influence, I got the job of hosing them down with neutralizer and hightailing it out of the area.