The Hill Witch

Turning Wheels

Turning Wheels

Six and a half hours later, the heavy oak door opened again, propped wide with a plastic wedge, and Aloysius stepped into the early morning darkness with a wrapped bundle in his arms. The crowd, silent in deference to Emma's human neighbors, shuffled closer with a murmur.

Cole watched respectfully from his seat on the hood of his truck, waiting for Emma's go-ahead. Both of them knew veiniks weren't overly fond of shifters, and less tolerant of them near their pregnant females and birthing chambers.

"We have a son," Aloysius said, smiling wide enough to show his fangs. "He is healthy, and so is Sarah-Beth."

They clustered around him, jostling each other to get a clear view of the tiny face. Emma and Anna appeared with Sarah-Beth supported between them; the veiniks parted to allow them a clear route to Aloysius's town car. They tipped their heads reverently to her, and some of the older females helped Emma get Sarah-Beth settled in the spacious leather backseat.

Emma meandered over to Cole's truck and leaned heavily against its side. She snorted softly when he tugged her ponytail.

"We will pay you," Aloysius said as the veiniks dispersed back into their respective vehicles.

"When you can. And not too much." She smiled. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." He bowed to her as best he could with his newborn pressed against his chest.

She dipped her chin in return.

Cole slid off the hood as their unexpected guests backed out of the driveway. Emma tipped her head back and stared briefly at the stars before heading back toward her workspace.

"I wasn't aware witches were midwives," he said, following her.

"Synonyms, apparently." She gathered up the sheet – stained with blood and other bodily fluids from Sarah-Beth's struggle – and decided the best course of action would be to burn it. Ritually, of course, but it wasn't worth it to try and salvage them when she could get another set fairly cheaply from Wal-Mart.

"Synonymous." He lit the pot with crumbled incense; tender tendrils of smoke wafted to the ceiling. "Which is funny, because I could swear the last thing you delivered was a cow. Veinik's a step up for you, isn't it?"

She paused in the middle of stuffing soiled sheets into a plastic bag to stare at him. "It is way too early in the morning for you to be this much of a jackass." Tying off the bag, she absently asked, "How's your brother?"

"Mike was beside himself, and chewed all his fingernails down with nerves. JJ stayed under the willow to talk with Ma." He shrugged. "I don't know what they talked about, but they were calm when they got back to the house."

"That's good." Emma rubbed her forehead, exhaustion weighing on her shoulders.

"Why don't you go to bed, Em?" Cole scrunched his nose against the incense. "I'll take care of this."

"I can clean up my own messes."

"I know," he said gently, "but you've also just delivered a baby to someone who wasn't a milk cow." His eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "Go sleep. I got this."

Emma wordlessly handed him the plastic bag, and slipped through the door to the other part of the house. It opened to the mudroom, the French doors to the deck in front of her, and the hallway to her left. She passed the upright freezer, the open doorway to Cole's tiny workshop. Turning away from the kitchen to the left, and the half-bath in front of her, she turned right into the living room. She ran her fingers along the back of the yard sale couch and chair Mike and JJ had proudly found for them, she stumbled up the stairs.