The Moons Of Jupiter

In an overgrown meadow in the middle of the woods in Ireland, a woman's cries pierced the stormy night air. It rose above the wailing winds and crashing thunder. A small light glowed in the window of a tiny thatched-roof cottage cowering beneath the driving rain, drenched webs of ivy clinging stubbornly to its stone walls. Inside the cottage, Edur Baythorn paced the floor, his shaggy hair brushing the low-slung ceiling, his meaty fists clenched with worry. "What's happening?" he barked at the midwife bent over his panting wife, whose eyes were glassy with pain. "Is something wrong?" "Nothing you need worry about, sir," the midwife clucked. "It's all part of the process. Life is a struggle, so why should birth be any different?" "Is there anything I can do to help?" Edur asked helplessly, his stomach clenching as he watched Rosemary writhe in pain. It had been hours, and there was still no sign of a child. "I'd say you've already done your part," the midwife said with a glint in her eye. "Best pour yourself a drink and relax. This process could take all night." "Ahhhh," Rosemary groaned as another contraction ripped through her body. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. "Edur!" she cried, reaching out to him, hand twisted into a claw, her razor-sharp nails cutting into her palm. Tufts of red hair that matched the damp curls matted to her head sprouted from her knuckles. "She's transforming," Edur said nervously, watching his wife's ears lengthen and narrow into sharp points as he took her hand. She locked him in a powerful grip, slowly squeezing the blood out of his hand. It frightened him. It was so rare that Rosemary Baythorn lost control of herself. Well aware of how dangerous it could be, she didn't reveal her lycanthropy lightly. "Is that normal?" Edur asked. "It's the pain," the midwife answered, busying herself with a pot of boiling water simmering over the coals in the fireplace. She used a stick to pull out long strips of sterilized fabric and draped them across the footrail of the bed to cool. "Give her a minute." Edur's gaze instinctively traveled to the rain-glazed window, his one white eye reflected in the glass like winter frost. He ordered himself to calm down. Panicking was no way for a king to act, especially in the face of something so natural as childbirth. There was no one for miles around. Edur had spared no detail to ensure they were safe in their little wilderness sanctuary. At least for the moment. But he knew only too well that Aiden Delacour wouldn't be far behind. Vampires were relentless. It had been that way since the beginning of time. The contraction passed, and Rosemary relaxed, her body deflating as she breathed a sigh of relief. Her fingernails retracted, her ears round against her head as her delicate human features softened her face again. "That was a bad one," she said, grinning at him. "These pups are surely testing me." "It won't be long," the midwife said, sponging Rosemary's forehead. "Try not to talk. Save your strength for what's coming." "Maybe Edur should wait outside," Rosemary said, looking at her husband with a worried expression. "I'll be fine," she assured him. Thousands of she-wolves have gone before me and lived to tell about it." "But none of them were my wife," Edur said, tightening his grip on her now slack hand. "There must be something I can do to ease your suffering." "Even you have no power over the goddess of nature," Rosemary gently chided him, her words catching in her throat as another contraction started. "Your only course is to stand back in awe." Her grimace returned as another contraction racked her body, her eyes rolling back in her head. "I see a head," the midwife announced, her eyes focused on her cupped hands between Rosemary's legs. "Push like your life depends on it." "Push!" Edur commanded, his eyes locking on Rosemary's. Rosemary gasped for air and held her breath, bracing herself. Then, throwing her head back, she howled in triumph, pushing with every ounce of strength left in her body. A blue-faced baby with jet-black hair slithered out of her body. The midwife caught him in a bed of swaddling. "Oh, he's a handsome one, he is," the midwife said, working quickly to clear his mouth and sponge him off. She held him up for Rosemary and Edur to see. "He's sure to lead his pack one day." Edur kissed Rosemary's forehead and admired his son while Rosemary beamed with pride. The baby howled, his cries robust and demanding. "He's perfect," Rosemary breathed before her eyes glazed over again. The midwife quickly deposited the baby in the cradle. "The next one is fast on his heels," she announced, taking a stance at the foot of the bed again. "You know what to do." Rosemary screwed her expression into a knot and pushed again. The second baby slid out with ease. "Oh, this one is going to give his brother a run for his money, he is," she said wryly. "He won't settle for being number two." Edur held Rosemary as they examined their second child. He cried immediately without help from the midwife, the sound drowning out the howls of his brother. Unlike his brother, his hair was fair like his mother's, but his eyes were strangely dark and focused, as though he was already suspicious of the world he had just entered. "Two sons," Edur said proudly. "Both strapping young boys. You've done well, my darling." "The missus isn't done yet," the midwife said, quickly cleaning the second baby and placing him in the cradle. "You've done a fine job increasing the pack, your highness. But you'll need to gather yourself once again." Rosemary's eyes grew wide with fear. "I can't," she cried. "I don't have anything else to give." She laid her head against Edur, weeping gently into his chest. "I'm sorry." Edur looked at the midwife, who nodded gently in his direction. Edur took Rosemary by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "You are the queen of our pack and the strongest she-wolf I know," he told her firmly. "You can do this. I know you can." "No, I can't," Rosemary groaned, the pain taking over her body again. "I'm not strong enough." 'Then we'll do it together," Edur insisted, crouching behind her head. "Push!" "No," Rosemary cried. "I can't." "Now!" the midwife shouted, working furiously to free the head stuck in the birth canal. "You must push, or you will lose this child." "On three," Edur said, bracing Rosemary against his shoulders. "One…" "I can't," Rosemary cried again. "Two…" Edur commanded in her ear. "Please," Rosemary said. "Help me." "I'm here with you," Edur assured her. "This is it. On three." Rosemary focused on the space between her legs and took a big breath. "That's it," Edur said. "One last push, and it will be over. I promise." "Aaaarrrgghhhh," Rosemary grunted as the last baby trickled out of her womb. The midwife caught it, a look of surprise spreading across her leathery face as the baby started to squall. "Praise Mother Moon, it's a she-wolf," she said, examining the baby whose screaming face was as purple as a ripe plum. "Natural born. I've only delivered a few in all my years of service, and it's always an honor. She's a beauty too. She'll fetch a fine line of suitors to strengthen the pack." "A she-wolf," Rosemary repeated, pleased with the surprising turn of events. There hadn't been a natural-born she-wolf in her line for centuries. “She’s got a lusty cry,” Edur said proudly, stroking his daughter’s fiery red hair. She continued to wail, her tiny body shaking with fury. "Can I hold her?" Rosemary asked, holding her arms out toward her daughter. The midwife gently handed Rosemary the baby. Feeling the warmth of Rosemary’s chest, the baby girl instinctively sought out a n****e and suckled greedily. Edur watched, fascinated by his strong-willed little girl. "She has your eye," Rosemary said, pleased to see the baby’s right pupil glistening like ice. "So she does," Edur said. "What shall we name her?" Rosemary looked out of the window to see the skies clearing. The storm had passed, and the full moon peeked between the dissipating clouds, bathing the pond beside the cottage in a silver light. Bright pinpoints of light began to populate the night sky. One planet burned brightest of them all. "Jupiter," Rosemary suggested, admiring her infant. "Jupiter Rose," Edur murmured. "A moniker to honor her mother and her stormy disposition.” “Jupiter Rose," Rosemary agreed. "May I hold my sons too?" she asked the midwife, her strength returning. "This one looks to be done nursing," the midwife said, peeling the infant off Rosemary. “'She’s calm now. Let me clean her up while you spend time with your boys." She handed one baby boy each to Edur and Rosemary, laying Jupiter Rose in the cradle. "They’re fine strapping young boys," Edur boasted in praise of Rosemary as they cuddled their newborn sons. "They'll make fine hunters," Rosemary agreed, her voice swelling with pride. But their joy was short-lived, as Edur's ears pricked at a sound outside. He put a finger to his lips as Rosemary froze in alarm. The midwife, humming busily to herself, didn't appear to notice. Edur handed Rosemary the baby and quietly got to his feet. Creeping toward the door, he slid the iron bar across it. Then, gently helping Rosemary to her feet, he helped her carry his sons toward the small root cellar at the front of the house. He snapped at the midwife and, catching her attention, gestured for her to follow. Alarmed, the midwife froze where she stood. "Now!" Edur hissed, holding the root cellar door as he checked the steel bolt on it. It was reassuringly sturdy."Move!" Suddenly, the door burst open, and two dark figures in cloaks invaded the house, several more men on their heels. Aiden Delacour's men! Edur thought, his mind racing. How had he found them? The midwife screamed as an arrow pierced her neck, and she fell to the floor. The baby girl, still in her cradle, cooed softly, unaware of the danger. Edur, seeing it was too late to reach the girl, slammed the thick wooden door shut and bolted it. "My daughter!" Rosemary cried, her eyes pleading with him as he turned to face her. "Where is my daughter?" "You must hush, or we'll all die," Edur whispered harshly in her ear. "Don't make a sound. Your sons' lives depend on it."