In the arms of my father

10. Fear

Sebastian's POV

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The sharp sense of fear that isn't my own surprises me enough to stop my throat from swallowing mid-slurp.  Confused by these feelings I scowl in annoyance, while my eyes focus more sharply at the slowing pulse and cooling skin of my latest victim.  Dribbles of blood slip past my slackened lips creating a mess, a waste of good magical blood - I'm usually such a well mannered feeder.  

Removing my sharp fangs from the neck of the limp Elf, I raise my head and shake it vigorously from side to side, trying to discern where this feeling is coming from; while my eyes search out the battlefield looking for my headstrong Beloved.  

I know that she disobeyed me - the stubborn wolf, her scent became stronger shortly after I joined in the fight against the mixture of Supernaturals and humans.  In my arms the elf jolts, like he's trying to make a last ditch effort to free himself from the evil Vampire.  Indifferently, I move my hands to the sides of his head to give it a quick twist, letting go so that his corpse drops to the ground with a heavy thud.  Frantically my eyes continue to move, searching for the form of  my Angel.

Growling in frustration, I can't stop but scowl the vast number of people with their mixed smells of sweat, species and death.  They make it so difficult for me to pinpoint Valen's location accurately; and I'm growing impatient.  

Then I finally spot her, she's running across the battlefield, ducking and weaving trying to not get hit by the people doing their best to take her on, thinking that her small stature and innocent beauty is indicative of how easy it would be to square up against her and win.

Where the f**k is she going in such a hurry?  I think to myself, just as she abruptly stops in her tracks.  She is oblivious to the enemy around her, instead intensely focused on something ahead.  I am reluctant to see what has captured her attention so fiercely, but I can't control my eyes from following the direction she is fixated on.

My languidly beating heart nearly stops completely at the sight of her brother and the arrow that protrudes from his heart and then I'm running.  The burning need to support Valen in her time of need, causes my normally shallow breaths to come out in deep, sharp bursts.  

I know how close she is to her brother despite the strange circumstances of her upbringing, this has got to be killing her - because it feels like she is being tortured on the inside.  I can feel her pain reach out to me like a tangible thing licking against my skin and making my nerve endings prickle with even more irritation and worry.

I'm almost near her location when suddenly she's no longer standing there any more.  She's across the field so fast I couldn't track her movements.  Faster than I have ever been able to move in all of my over six millennia of life 'top-side’.  It's my turn to stop in my tracks now, but this time with awestruck astonishment.  How the f**k did she move that quick?

Shaking my head from my fan-boy stupor, I will my legs to move into action as I witness the heartbreaking scene of my Beloved holding her dying brother in her arms.  More arrows have joined the first one in his chest and his blood has gathered there slowly dripping onto Valen's clothing and the ground.  I'm no doctor, but even I know that the super healing abilities of Were-kind will not help MIkaera in this situation.  Manaia and Brody have joined the somber duo, their grief filled expressions clear and in plain sight for all to see.

I feel the crippling moment of loss as soon as Valen does and despite the cacophony of battle cries and fighting, I can easily pick out the anguished cry of mourning that she releases from her mouth.  Long, deep, and deafening all at the same time, the weight of her loss is enough to stop several combatants mid aim, swing, or stab.  They turn their heads to and fro, looking for the being that is making the most horrific sound of sorrow, while others continue to fight.  They are cold and uncaring to death on the battlefield, it is a natural byproduct of war after all.

Suddenly there is a shift in the air, it sizzles and crackles with an overwhelming energy that is steadily building in magnitude.  I'm not sure where it's coming from, but I've not felt this kind of power in a very, very long time.  Not since the ‘All Saints’ flood of the year 1570, when a giant tidal wave in the North Sea wiped out one thousand people.  

What most people don't know is that the tidal wave was a build-up of emotion driven magic that was violently released by a Witch after she was rejected by her Kindred.  Guardian's are naturally in tune with the balance of the universe, so the shift of power alerted us immediately that something was amiss.  I remember well the gathering of Guardian's at her trial.  Her already tortured soul suffered so much more for the callous actions of the Warlock, who magically bound himself to another before meeting her.  Her name was Jane Lyons, his name remains utterly forgettable.

That memory and an immediate intuitive knowledge that the centre of this power is coming from my Beloved compels me to accelerate my speed, yelling at the top of my lungs for her to stop.  

Fear propels me to move faster and faster as I watch Valen move to stand proud and strong despite the broken expression on her face and the angry tension in her body.  She's covered in blood from chest to lap, making her look like some macabre avenging angel.  Fear turns into pure terror as the wind picks up, the clouds roll in to cover the battlefield and lightning forks skim across the darkening sky.  

If Valen kills everyone, rival and friend alike, it won't matter that it was done during battle, she will suffer before being put to death.  On the other hand, if she was magically well trained enough to control her power, killing only the enemy, then it would be considered well within the guidelines of war. 

But if I'm being honest there is no one, in the past or present, who is so thoroughly in touch with their abilities that they get to pick and choose who to mass kill.  There isn't any one that could do something like that and survive without their bodies being ripped apart as payment.

She's not even supposed to have access to any kind of Witch power after she stripped her mother's bloodline of all magic.

I'm almost there when I notice that I'm not the only person running to save Valen from her own fury.  Her father is running toward her, deep sorrow etched on his features while his paternal instinct rides him hard to protect his children.

The frightening sound of sinister laughter fills my ears pulling my attention back to my Beloved.

The wind begins to slowly whip around her, her siblings and Brody, their clothing flapping about them in the hot wind.  I yell louder for her to stop as I desperately struggle against the cyclic tempest, fighting to grasp a hold of her so that I can calm her. Reaching my hand out toward her my fingertips barely penetrate the heat of the winds when my whole arm is repelled away forcefully and I am pushed back further.

Taking a couple of deep breaths and bracing myself to fight with the high winds that swirl around Valen, Manaia, Brody and Mikaera's body; I take a few running steps but abruptly stop in my tracks at the grisly spectacle taking place all around me.

Black clothed bodies slowly and smoothly start floating mid-air at various heights, Witches, Hunters and betrayers of their species, every single one of them start levitating.  They continue to hang there held by an invisible piece of rope and the sounds of so many people gasping for air sends chills of pleasure down my spine.  

The people who are grounded look on with eyes wide with shock and disbelief, some look on righteous gratification.  There are a few - like myself - who watch in carnal delight; gasping for a totally different reason right along with the ones who are literally dying out of breath.  In the centre of it all is Valen with her arms raised high, wisps of her beautiful raven hair that has escaped the beanie she wears, billows wildly in the wind.  

I watch as she spins in a circle, her evil and angry laughter echoes far and wide as she observes the suffering of those she controls.  Blood begins to slowly leak out of the eyes and ears of the hanged when whispered words that should be too quiet to be heard echoes vociferously across the fields and the most exquisite sound of our enemies necks breaking collectively fill the space all around us.

I can't help but stare in fascination as the blood from their eyes and ears is joined by torrents of crimson coloured sanguine that flows from their mouths, noses and nether regions.  The sounds of gushing liquid thunders and splashes against the ground just as the bodies of the dead start to drop.  The undeniably harmonious sounds of bodies slapping the mellifluous landscape and the subsequent breaking of bones reminds me of the home of my father.

The fact that this reminds me very much of my type of heaven, does not distract me from the fact that my Angel has just proven to me and everyone else who are present, that she is something more powerful than any of us put together.  She does not possess demi-god powers, like my own.  She possesses the powers of a full fledged god, but somehow more.  

Almost like an Omnislayer.  A being so powerful, they are considered to be on equal level to 'The Source'.  But that can't be right as well, Omnislayer's are extinct.  Killed by the War of the Gods many millennia before I was sent to earth to become the Guardian of all Vampires.

Now, only 'The Source’ has the ability to kill multiple supernatural beings in the manner that it was performed today.

I push against the winds to reach my Beloved, the force isn't as strong as it was a second ago so I'm able to move forward without much resistance.  The closer I get to Valen the clearer my view of her is, there is blood dripping from her nose and her eyes don't look like they belong to her any more.  The whites of her eyes have become completely black, the green of her irises are so dark they could be mistaken for the same black colour. 

Reaching my hand out toward her my breath hitches in trepidation as her eyes start to flutter wildly and then she's falling gracefully to the ground.  Leaping the rest of the way, I land on the dirt behind her to soften her landing, the sounds of falling bodies, cries of shock and terror doesn't penetrate my own fear or concern for the unconscious girl lying crumpled in my arms.

Sitting up, I move Valen's body into a better position to see her beautiful face.  My eyes misting over with unshed tears as I take in the sickly pallor of her skin and the streaks of blood over her mouth and chin from her nostrils.  Using my shirt I wipe away that blood trying to make her face at least a little presentable.

She's breathing easily, her heart-beat drums strongly in her chest, but I can't help but feel like something is missing.  Something is terribly wrong.

My free hand roams her body checking for any other injuries when apprehension morphs into outright panic, as sudden realisation hits me like a jack hammer.  I know the thing that is terribly wrong.  My hand hovers over her midsection uneasily before I fully place my hand protectively over her babies bump.  

Raising my eyes to look over at the group of people gathered around Mak and Briar as they mourn the loss of their son, I surreptitiously glance around at the survivors of this battle trying to come to terms with the all that has transpired and what it could mean for the future of all species.  

More than a few groups of people are looking my way, some with curiosity, others with suspicion - barely hiding the animosity and fear they harbour for Valen and myself.

Mak leans away from his son, his hand moves to rub comforting circles on Briar as she leans over the Mikaera, her face buried in the neck of her dead son as she wails loudly in her grief.  His expression displays a hollowed brokenness that I am very familiar with, I understand the medley of contradicting emotions that a sudden death dishes out.  The self-blame, emptiness, helplessness, pain and suffering.

He shakes himself off, takes a few deep breaths and blinks a few times then looks over at me, like he felt the intensity of my gaze on him and asks ambiguously, "Is she okay, Seb?”

Tightening my hold on Valen I hastily stand and assert, “She will be.  Let me know if you need help taking care of this, the faster we get everyone to your Pack lands the better.  I'm going to take her to the hospital.”

______

The war torn building that I walk into hardly resembles the hospital that I woke up in earlier this afternoon.  The gathering dusk makes the shadows of fallen debris and busted walls appear ominous.  Lucky for me I am well accustomed to all things evil, thanks to my upbringing with my father.  

As the youngest of my father's children, I spent the longest time in the pasture of the Underworld while I learned my role.  Until the death of my brother Daemon put an end to my sheltered life in hell.  I was widely known as Besomar back in those days, groomed to be the King of anger, torture, rage and death.

I'm pulled away from my musings when I'm bumped into by a very harried looking nurse, the concerned look on my face must be a frightening sight indeed, because she jumps back quickly and starts stuttering nonsense that I can't understand with her very bad english accent.

“Bié shuōle píng zhù hūxī, lìjí jiùyī.“I tell her in perfect Mandarin. (translated - Stop talking.  Take a breath and get a doctor immediately.)

She is only gone for a few minutes before the familiar face of the doctor that tended to Valen since she arrived is standing in front of me, a slow frown maring his line free, dust covered face.

"Come.” he orders.  His fast steps lead me to a closed wooden door in no time.  He turns the handle and ushers me in.

The space has a wooden desk, desk chair, a sink, two cabinets with small rectangular cubby holes that hold various medical equipment and finally a narrow bed on short legs with wheels and no linen.

The doctor waves his hand at the latter, indicating that I should place my unconscious Beloved there and as I lower her to the bed, his softly spoken voice speaks soothingly, “The Jiānhùrén was not in her room for evacuation."  He gives me a small smile as he bends over her with a needle to insert an IV line into her vein, “Explain what happened please.” he asks quietly.

As I recount the events to the doctor in a modulated tone to match his own, he hmms and hars patiently.  I think the sky could be falling all around us and this doctor will remain unimpressed.  It both amazes and irks me at the same time.

Then I tell him my fears for the wellbeing of the babies and why I have them.  The lifting of a single brow is the only reaction I receive before he bustles about the room, pulling a cell phone from a  drawer.  He presses a few buttons then holds the phone up to his ear.  When the call is picked up on the other end he orders a sonographer to drop what he or she is doing to bring a mobile ultrasound machine for an emergency scan in his office.

As we wait for the sonographer, I pace the small space of the office, from the wall behind the desk to the bed to check on Valen.  I am just about to shout a barrage of insults at the doctor about how time is a precious commodity that cannot be wasted and god damn it, they're f*****g pushing it, when a small and pretty Asian lady enters the room.

As they set up the machine and bustle about the small bed I stand with my back against the wall, observing quietly.  My restlessness has me tapping my fingers against my thighs as I wait for them to do their test.

As soon as the doctor places the wand on Valen's tummy, his hand starts moving over her tummy faster and faster, a frown of concern and tightening of lips are the only other indicators that there is something seriously wrong.

“Jùyuàn sān bìng dédào fùkē pài rén xiézhù.“ He briskly orders as he blindly throws the wand back into its cradle and flicks the levers on the wheels up. (translated - Theatre three and get gynecology to send someone to assist.)

My eyes widen in alarm as I demand forcefully, "Talk to me doctor.  What's happening?”

The Sonographer moves to open the door wide while simultaneously speaking authoritatively on the phone; meanwhile I follow behind the doctor listening to him explain that the blunt force trauma has caused a rupture in the uterus and immediate surgery needs to be performed but that's all that he can tell me.

Like they have a will of their own, my feet scurry to follow the two medical professionals through another two more corridors before I am stopped at a set of doors by nursing staff who explain to me that I can't go any further.

Before the doors close I yell out desperately hoping she can hear me, “Don't give up.  You have to fight, Angel.” 

Then the doors close and I am left there watching through the small glass window in the door as my Beloved is wheeled through another set of doors with no windows.

____

It's been nearly 5 hours since they wheeled her away now.  I've been in the waiting room the whole time standing whenever a doctor enters the room to give either good news or bad news to the family members of loved ones who have been hurt during the battle.

Brody, Manaia, River, Tiernan, Blake, Kaiah and Kara have joined me for the long wait.  No one speaks to me, they talk amongst themselves and if I'm being honest, I prefer it that way.  I have no need to share in commiseration or worse pointless pity.  

I know what they see when they look at me.

Cold.

Heartless.

Controlled.

Exactly the mask that I wish to convey to the world.

I wonder if they think that I don't really feel true love for Valen because I am not willing to wear my sorrow or my fear so easily.

Why do I even care about what they think I feel?

A surgeon with scrubs walks through the door and I watch as he calls out the name that isn't the one I'm waiting for.  The warrior's family practically sprints to the waiting doctor eager to hear good news of their loved one.  My lips flatten in disgusted irritation as I watch the surgeon lead the family out into the hallway.

I've figured them out now.  Good news - the family is told in the room.  Bad news - they deliver the news out in the hallway.  Most likely to keep the weeping away from those who still wait for news of their own family or loved one.

Too bad, the sounds of weeping mothers, howling fathers and sobbing siblings can be heard by the occupants in the family room - no matter how far down the hall they herd them to.

Standing up I start pacing the room, trying to use up some of my pent up energy.  I've contacted Boris to let him know what happened here today.  He's on his way here because he has news that he has to share with Mak and I.  I could have ordered him to tell me over the phone, but since Mak needs to hear it as well, I didn't even bother.

The first hour of being here in the family room, I was practically doing what my father has always deemed as pathetically disgusting on many occasions.  I begged him for the life of my Beloved and the babies.  

My father has many names, some of them as old as time while the newer infantile cultures created their own names for him.  

Hades, Anubis, Mictlantecuhtli or in Valen's culture Whiro, but in my culture my father is called Veles. 

I know that I am able to connect with my father telepathically but he doesn't always answer me, this is one of those times where he is too f*****g busy to connect.

I must have called out to him in every name that has ever been used for him, but still he remains frustratingly silent.

I'm just about to take a seat in a section of chairs away from the other Were's in the waiting room when Boris’ muscular body fills the door.  His eyes search around for mine and when he finds me he moves further into the room.  I find it rather amusing when the other occupants of the room tense up uneasily, like they think we're young Vampire's prone to bloodlust at the drop of a hat.

He strides with confidence until he is facing me and asks solemnly, “How is Regent Valen?” 

The narrowing of my eyes conveys my warning, no one knows about our second chance pairing, and he of all people should remember that I have no desire to have this fact advertised.

The slight twist of a grimace is the only acknowledgement of understanding before he bows his head in apology.

Sighing, I tell him truthfully, “I don't know.”

He nods his head once and asks, “Would you like to speak to her father now, or would you rather we wait for news of Valen first and then approach her father.”

“I think it would be better if we waited, I don't imagine it would be much longer than it already has been.” I answer dryly before taking a seat, my head moving to take in the stoic, defensive expressions of the family to the right of me. I watch closely as mother's hold onto their children just a little bit tighter, fathers deceptively lounge in their chairs like they aren't prepared to protect their families instantly and friends stand around trying and failing to act nonchalant.  Their behaviour is so ridiculous I can't help the eye roll, which Boris catches making him chuckle darkly.

I'm just about to ask about the welfare of our people when another surgeon enters the room, and by some miracle this one actually calls out in broken english, “Family of Valen Rihari.”

Immediately the surgeon is surrounded, and I note Tiernan's muscular frame is just as strained as my own.

“Please...follow me.” the surgeon requests.

Those quietly uttered words would have had me gasping for breath in pain, but I know that my Beloved is still with us and as his eyes find my own, I know that Tiernan would have felt it as well.

I see it in his eyes, the second he realises that the bad news isn't about Valen, but about the babies.

And even though we have no blood ties to the small fetus twins that were growing in her belly, I also understand the sorrow in his eyes, for they are mirrored in my own.