Fallen Angel

Chapter 29.1

Something was happening. Joan didn't know what, but she could sense it. Her baby girl perceived it too. She was restless, constantly moving and kicking. The Fallen Angel's discomfort had alerted Leonora, who immediately warned the Lord of Dreams. Half-dressed and in a wild frenzy, Morpheus barged into the room, looking like a dashing peacock with his long open kimono flapping about him.

"What is it? Are you all right? Is it the child? Is it still in there? Well, speak up, you damn girl!"

"No, I switched the baby for a stuffed pillow." Joan rolled her eyes at his absurd questions. "Obviously it's still in here. What else do you think the bump is?"

"Laugh all you want, but if anything happens to your little brat, it'll be all our heads!"

Morpheus dropped onto the bed and wiped the sweat from his brow. He appeared minutes away from having a fit.

"I've sent word to that wretched Countess," he said, rubbing his temples. "She'll know what to do with you."

Joan groaned in exasperation. The last thing she needed was that putrefying witch adding to her stress. Leonora threw an apologetic glance at Joan, but she couldn't chide the maidservant for Morpheus' panicky state. She had only tried to help.
There was a knock on the open door, and sure enough, there she was — Countess Bathory. Her veil hung over her perfectly coiffed hair, revealing her pasty face, while the rest of her body was covered in rich, black velvet cloth. A foul stench entered the room, churning Joan's stomach. She noticed it even made Morpheus uncomfortable, based on his pinched expression.

"You said there was something amiss?" asked the Countess, forgoing a proper greeting (not that Joan would've given her one in return).

"I-Indeed," he said. "The... child seems to be... moving a lot."

"Hm, well, it is nearer to her time. But I suppose it's better to have a look. Wouldn't want anything to happen to the... little angel."

Joan met the witch's gaze. Hatred. A desire to kill. That's what she saw. If it wasn't for Lucifer having a hold on Bathory and needing Joan alive, the bitch would've probably already tried to kill her. The feeling was mutual.
The Countess stepped into the room, further spreading her vile odour. Joan did her best not to gag as the walking corpse came to her side and held her gloved hand above her belly. The baby kicked hard, causing Joan to groan at the sharp sting inside her. She couldn't blame her daughter's reaction, though.

"All is well," said Bathory. "I suspect it merely feels the loss the Heavens have suffered."

The room fell silent. Morpheus and Leonora exchanged a look with each other before looking at Joan, but she only had eyes for the Countess.

"What do you mean?" she asked fearfully.

The horrid woman grinned wickedly. Joan's heart stopped. What was going on outside the Dream Realm that had such an effect on her unborn child? On her, a Fallen Angel, even?

"What happened?" Joan's voice broke. "Did... Did someone die?"

But Bathory remained silent, clearly enjoying the distress she was inflicting. Her Cheshire-like grin widened.

"Tell me what happened!" cried Joan.

The triumphant smirk on the witch's face faltered at her outburst as the room started shaking. Bathory instantly recoiled and raised her hand, ruby sparks flickering at her fingertips as her broken amulet burned red. Morpheus hurriedly stepped in. He forced himself between the bed and the demon witch, blocking her view of Joan.

"All right, that's enough!" he yelled. "Get out of my palace, you decrepit viper, before I tell the Devil what you have done here! OUT!"

With one last look at the pregnant Fallen Angel, the Blood Countess left the room, leaving the stench and the echoes of her poison behind. Leonora rushed to Joan's side and took her hand. Joan trembled with anxiety. She had to know what was happening. She had to know if they were all right. Her friends, her mother, Gabriël...