Ryder's Angel

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Three Months: Angeline

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Three Months: Angeline

Many things changed in a few days.

There was some sort of special meeting with the humans and Hutch, including his best hunters. I, of course, tried to get in to hear any news, but I was forbidden to enter or even come close. Hutch didn’t even defend me. He wanted me for my power alone.

A few hours later, I looked out my window to see a big group of burly men going down to the shore. They had battle gear. With these men, there were two reasons to leave Sand Island: to capture or kill mutants or steal some thousand cans of beer.

Second of all, Hex was in the hospital. I’d scratched him deeper and harder than I thought, and he was constantly in pain. I doubt he’ll mess with me again. However, I did feel a little guilty. But I didn’t want to visit Hex. I go down to the infirmary for only one reason now:

I was beginning to feel sick.

I remembered it was just the other day. I was taking a walk through the indoor gardens that Hutch’s maids grew for free time. It was very beautiful with its plentiful, bright green trees and luscious flowers, but I liked it best because of the peace. It was so quiet other than the calming trickle of water. A great place to think, reminisce, and just enjoy the fresh air – Hutch’s mansion was so stuffy. I sniffed a blooming rose when suddenly I felt the urge to throw up.

Dread filled my heart as I dropped the rose and clasped my hand over my mouth. No, no! This was the exact thing I felt when I – I didn’t know at the time, of course – was expecting Ethan. Great. Just wonderful.

My head whirled as I tried to process the consequences of telling or keeping silent.

The smells, sights, and sounds completely forgotten, I looked down myself – and swore. I cursed myself colorfully. No, it was too late: the small but defined bump, there in plain sight. Stupid! I didn’t pay much attention to myself in the mirror much anymore – what was the point? Damn.

I wiped away a tear and turned from the rose bushes, heading out of the massive courtyard. I marveled grimly at the thought that no one noticed – and was very grateful for the obliviousness of men.

I stumbled to the infirmary, ignoring the looks from the men. I kept my head hung and my hands at my side, though my fingers twitched with the urge to rest on my stomach. But I had to remind myself that this baby will only be born for an heir to a king who was brainwashed to kill. When I reached the bottom of the infirmary’s spiral, concrete stairs, I heard Hex’s whimpering and forceful voice.

“Give me painkiller, you damn lazy excuse for a doctor!” he growled.

I heard someone riffling through a cupboard and then the sound of medicine containers falling. Hex snorted in disdain. “I’m sorry,” Mole squeaked. “I’m sorry! Don’t –” Mole cut off and stopped cleaning when he saw me standing in the doorway. Hex was off to the side in a bed and struggled to see what the doctor was staring at.

“Are you being nice, Hex? After all, Mole’s doing all he can to get your lazy ass going.” My voice was penetrating.

Hex only chuckled and lay back on his hospital bed. Mole went back to organizing his bottles of medicine and pills, but kept looking at me. “Ah, good old Angeline. Satisfied?”

“Yes, actually,” I lied. I did feel guilty, but not enough to heal him. “I don’t have to hear your annoying accent.”

“Say what you will,” Hex purred as I made my way over to Mole to help clean up. He gave me a thankful look. “But you know you like me, deep down!”