Chapter 7
“I’M UP,” I YELL AT Chantal as I lace my shoes, getting ready for the last ultrasound I’m paying out of pocket for.
Sonograms thus far have shown she’s growing perfectly with no signs of vampirism.
Mother and Chantal think I’m being paranoid since the last clerk swore everything was perfectly fine, but I have always been of the “You never can be too careful” sort.
One last ultrasound, just to be sure there are no glowing eyes or pointy teeth.
The cold jelly is applied to my belly, the Doppler making the small circles I’ve grown familiar with over the past few months. The sonographer is a hipster guy with lots of tattoos and an old-fashioned mustache.
“I love your handlebars,” Mother hums, and I bite my lip, taking a slow and deliberate breath. Must she flirt with everything that has a penis? And everything that doesn’t, for that matter.
“Why, thank you. They tried to get me to shave it, but I refused.” With one hand still working the Doppler on my stomach, the other twists the mustache proudly.
“It’s not a look most men can pull off, but you baby, you have pulled it off and thrown it into the laundry basket.”
What the fuck does that even mean? “Mommm,” I whisper under my breath, but she just arches a brow toward the ceiling, pleased with herself.
“Well thank you, ma’am,” he says, and her smile falls.
“Omg. He ma’amed me,” she says aloud, and he laughs, enjoying the flirtation, and I want to yell, Do you guys want me to leave so you can have the hospital bed I’m lying on?
“All right, here we are.” The tech finally points to the screen as he moves the Doppler around, and all thoughts but the baby leave my mind.
“Everything look good? Bones all there? No teeth?”
“Teeth?” He laughs. “Well, it can happen, but it’s very rare.” He’s quiet for a few moments, looking around as the sound of her heartbeat fills the room. What a fucking sound. I would bottle it up if I could.
“Heart rate is perfect. Bones look just fine. No teeth that I can see. He’s looking good in there.”
“She,” Mother corrects, and my head pops up to look more closely.
“She? Oh, I’m sorry. Did you not know the sex of the baby? I thought you had come in before.”
“We do know the sex. At twenty weeks the sonographer told me it was a girl. Most likely, she was a little shifted with her legs crossed.”
“Oh, well I’m sorry. It might have been in a bad position which makes it hard to be 100% that early. But this baby is a boy. There’s no doubt about it. Look right here.”
I blink once. Then so rapidly it’s like my eyes are the wings of a butterfly. I can’t take in what I’ve just heard. I can’t absorb the words. I look at Mother, her elbow resting on the side of the hospital bed, her chin in her hand.
“There’s some kind of mistake,” she says, looking between the sonographer and the screen where my baby’s outline shines in black and white. “Do it again.”
He chuckles, eyes kind yet confused. “Do what again? Look again? It’s right there. She’s having a boy.”
“A boy?” I ask again because it’s not computing.
“Listen, that’s not possible,” Mother cries. “I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, but it’s not possible. So do your job and look again!” Every fragment of flirtation is gone from her huge eyes and is replaced with indignation.
But I think, deep down, I knew it was possible. This baby wasn’t supposed to be possible. A life between a witch and a vampire wasn’t possible. And though everything in my heart wants to deny what I’m hearing, I know, down to the pits of my soul, that it’s true. I’m having a son.
“Oh my God,” I say out loud, my hand covering my mouth.
“Honey, it’s not possible.” But then I watch the slow spread of reality cross her face as the sonographer points at the lines on the screen. The lines that cannot be denied. The son that can’t be denied.
“This happens all the time. Moms not pleased with what they’re having. But I promise you, you will love your baby no matter what,” he says and places his hand over mine. “Promise.”
I don’t remember pulling my body from the bed, not even throwing my dress on, nor sliding my feet into my shoes. I don’t remember the walk to the car where Chantal waits, phone in hand, music blasting.
“What?” she asks, our faces telling her something is gravely wrong.
Mother gets in the driver seat, turns on the car, and screams. “It’s a fucking! Boy!” She throws the car in reverse and presses on the gas pedal as my hand clutches the door handle. “What the flying fuck are we going to fucking do?”
“That’s impossible,” Chantal states, and Mother groans, the skin of her hands stretched tight from strangling the steering wheel.
“Apparently, we’re wrong, Chantal. Apparently, it is!”
I can’t even speak. The weight on my chest pressing on my ribcage, the realization of what this means striking me over and over. I can barely get my thoughts out, scrambling for an explanation.
“Maybe because Bastian had human qualities when the baby was conceived? And he’s also a vampire? Do you think that’s why? Some supernatural, inexplicable phenomenon?”
“I don’t know how else to explain it. Fuck!” Mother shouts, her driving nauseating me from the pulses on the gas pedal.
“Slow down, just slow down, please,” I say, taking deep breaths in and out, my head spinning. But...what are we going to do? My head falls against the window, cloaked in a helplessness I can’t fix.
“We can hide him...we can come up with something,” Mother says more to herself than us. Her brain wants solutions, but mine needs to stop and think.
And the words I say now more than any other words whisper from my lips. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Tears fall from my eyes, my blood galloping like a wild horse.
And for the first time, she doesn’t tell me, “It’s okay,” or, “Don’t be sorry.”
For the first time, she’s silent instead of comforting me. Mouth curling between her teeth, her curses becoming internal. Tears fall from her eyes now, a helplessness I hate seeing on her.
I go straight to bed. I cry for hours. More tears than I’ve cried in months.
For the daughter I was falling in love with and the son growing inside me.
The son that will out me. When Violetta and Rosemary find out that I’m having a boy, they will know his father is not human.
Vampires have their own unexplainable magic, and I created a potion that gave one the ability to procreate.
To conceive a boy. If I can bring Bastian back, they will find out that I had an affair with a vampire, but I can’t bring him back until the baby is at least two months old.
If they find out that the baby’s a boy, they might take action against me before I have a chance to resurrect him. And that can’t happen.
A son. A boy. A little Bastian that will love me, and I will love and protect him with everything I have. Will he be a little witch? Will he have my powers? I’ve never known of any male witches. There are so many questions, and the only answer is time. And I feel like that’s even running out.
Sitting up, I cross my legs and place both hands on my taut stomach. Taking deep breaths, I close my eyes and feel around the large bump. There was supposed to be a daughter in there, the next true witch.
But surprisingly, I feel something else, something unexpected. I see Bastain’s smile. I see his smile and my heart ignites and I can hear him telling me, “Baby, let go.” Let go of what I thought I had and embrace what is to be.
I know I’m supposed to be devastated. I know I should be petrified of the consequences of my actions, for the wrath we could all endure because a lineage of only women is on the verge of breaking.
But something about hearing that word...
son...boy...does something to me. An innate feeling of protection has taken root, but also, there’s the breaking of something I loathed.
It’s not the cycle of girls birthing girls, it’s how it’s enforced.
I don’t know what the future looks like, but I doubt my son will be forced to reproduce a girl because he will be breaking barriers that have been caging us for years.
I know I’m getting ahead of myself, and this will change our future forever, but that little fragment has sparked so much hope inside me.
I’ll keep it buried down deep. Despite the odd relief I feel for the change on the horizon, I’m not blind that this change could put our lives on the line.
We’ll name her Aventurine, after my green eyes, he had said once about a daughter we were never supposed to create.
“What would he say about you?” I lean down in a whisper, a tear falling onto my top. I lie back, curling on my side, no longer devastated. Fear and wonder have replaced that emotion.
I think about Nicola’s sneer every time she sees me.
How she knows I’m carrying Bastian’s child yet still hates me.
I think about Cassius and his desire to protect the child.
..the child that will need more protection than ever now.
Cassius. Cassius will help me. I fall asleep, thinking about Cassius and the visit I’ll pay him tomorrow.