Chapter 14
“Hospital,” I choke out again.
“Hannah…”
“Damn it, Dad! Either you take me to the fucking hospital or I’ll get there myself!”
He glares at me. “You’ve got to listen to me. It won’t work. It’s a scientific impossibility. Let it go, Toosie.”
Toosie. His name for me when I was a child. One of the only good memories I have of my father. I close my eyes the moment the pain lessens.
I see myself sitting at an old-fashioned soda fountain.
The server brings my father and me each a glass of frothy root beer.
I take a drink, let the flavor slide across my tongue—creamy vanilla, crisp wintergreen—like those pink candies I love—and something earthy and tangy that I find out later is sassafras.
Root beer with Daddy.
I wasn’t quite three years old.
But the memory is fresh in my mind.
Mom was home with a newborn Larissa, and Dad took me to an afternoon cartoon to get us out of the way.
“Root beer,” I say.
“What?”
“I want a root beer, Daddy. First I need you to take me to the hospital, but then I want you to get me a root beer.”
“For the love of God…”
“Don’t you remember? That time when Larissa was a baby, and you took me to a matinee and then we stopped for a root beer?”
His gaze softens.
Good. Maybe now he’ll do as I ask.
The one thing that’s different about my father and stepfather—other than I have the former’s genes—is the few good memories I have regarding my father. I have no good memories of my stepfather. Not a single one.
My father lets out a sigh. Will he acquiesce? Or do I need to call a damned ambulance?
“Hannah…”
“This isn’t just my child, Daddy.” I clutch my abdomen. “It’s your grandchild. Have you forgotten? It may be the next vampire monarch.”
“Do you really think our people will accept a monarch that’s only a quarter vampire? This child is more lycan than anything else.”
“They’ve accepted me.”
“Yes, but you’re half vampire, and you’re from a legitimate union. Your child will be a bastard.”
“So what? He or she is still my child. Heir to your throne, Daddy. Please.”
He sighs again, and in his eyes I see that he’s relenting. Thank God. While the pain isn’t as sharp, it’s still beating down inside me.
I haven’t seen my child yet. Haven’t had an ultrasound. Haven’t heard a heartbeat.
Please, I beg silently. Please let there be a heartbeat.
“My car isn’t here,” my father says. “We’ll have to get a cab.”
“Damn…” I clutch my belly and stand tall. Pain shoots through me. I grit my teeth. “I have to get there. Now.”
“All right.” Dad scoops me into his arms and carries me out of my bedroom and then out of the apartment. “Close your eyes, Hannah.”
I obey.
Vampires—full-blooded vampires—can move quickly, sometimes so quickly they’re unseen by human eyes. As a half vamp, I’m quick, but not lightning fast like a full-blood.
A few moments later, we’re entering the emergency room, my father still carrying me. He walks briskly to the reception area.
“I believe my daughter may be having a miscarriage. We need to see someone immediately.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.” She gestures to an orderly who brings a wheelchair. “We’ll get her right back. In the meantime, I need you to fill out her paperwork.”
“She works here. You should have all her information. Hannah Bates.”
“Hannah Bates?”
“You probably don’t know her. She works nights.”
“Right. Okay.”
Dad helps me into the wheelchair and another moment later, I’m in an examination room with an ultrasound machine.
“How far along are you, ma’am?” a nurse asks.
“I don’t know. Not very. Please. Just save my baby.”
“We’ll do everything we can.” She helps me onto an examination table. “We’ll do a vaginal ultrasound. We get the best view that way. I just need you to remove your jeans and underwear.”
I nod, getting rid of the garments slowly, as the pain prevents me from moving quickly. The nurse covers me with a paper blanket and applies some lubricant.
“All right,” she says with a weak smile. “Let’s see what’s going on inside you.”