looked at it laying there on the desk, I noticed something else. The drawer where I got the notepad was sitting about two inches open, just enough for me to see the bottom of a picture. I opened it and pulled it out, almost choking on my swallow, as I did.
The picture was of us – of Damon and I – from high school. It had only been a year and a half since then but we were so different. We both looked so young, so innocent, and kind of wide-eyed and hopeful.
“What a difference a year, a werewolf war, and a publishing deal can make,” I said, in a hollow voice. A dry, humorless laugh followed.
Turning it over, I read where he wrote ‘Love you, Lily – Damon,’ and that was just about all it took. My eyes got all misty, and I couldn’t stop myself. Before I knew it, tears were rolling down my cheeks.
Without thinking about it, I rested my hand on my belly. A smile spread across my face, as I thought about what was there, inside me, under that hand.
“It’s you, Damon,” I whispered, looking at the picture. “This is you and me. We made this. This baby is you and me, and... It’s going to be perfect.”
I kissed the picture, and blushed, for some reason. But when I did it, I felt like he was with me, instead of out there with his brother, in danger.
“Our baby will be perfect. I hope he’ll have his daddy’s eyes.”
That was the first time I thought of the little thing growing inside me as anything other than an ‘it.’
“You’re probably not even a week old, and I’m already making decisions for you.”
I smiled, and another couple tears rolled down my cheeks.
“I promise, I won’t be too overbearing,” I said. “Okay, maybe not promise. But, I’ll try. I know your daddy is going to be proud of you, no matter what. I will, too.”
Then, from out of nowhere, I had a horrible vision of Damon never coming back. I saw him and Devin being ambushed, on the way back from Louisiana. My happy tears turned into sad, desperate ones.
It was just my imagination, just me being emotional, I knew – or hoped, anyway.
But, I couldn’t shake the visions. No matter how much I clenched my eyes shut and concentrated, all I saw was Damon’s face – hurt, bleeding, dying. I needed to stop, wanted to stop, but I couldn’t.
Trembling, I closed my eyes and wrapped my fingers around the pencil I’d scribbled the note about my story with, and sat down, steadying myself in the chair, and taking a deep breath.
“All right, Lily,” I said to myself, just to have some noise around. “All right. Get a grip. Everything’s fine. Nothing is happening. Nothing has happened. It’s just the green thing, the vision, whatever, getting the best of me.”
I’d been fiddling with my pencil, just doodling to ease my mind some, like some kind of moving meditation.
I remembered what Damon told me to do before – to just breathe, slowly, in and out – and filled my lungs. I trembled as I exhaled, but that was all I needed. The panic began to fade, the worry turning into excitement. Between the doodling and the drawing, I’d got myself back to level.
Slowly, I nodded to myself, collecting my nerves. I thought maybe I should call Hunter. It was getting to be around noon, and, knowing him, he was hungry. Hell, knowing me , I was hungry. Just thinking of food, had my stomach growling.
I reached for the phone, but just as I lifted it to command the tiny robot to dial Hunter, it started ringing.
“Oh! hey!” I said, surprised. “I was just about to call you. How’d you do that?”
“You’re the witchy one,” Hunter said, with a chuckle. “I still get little twinges, every time I go past that cabin. You sure you didn’t cross any wires in my head when you were in there?”
“It’s good to hear your voice,” I said, with surprising honesty, and with a surprising shake in my voice. “It’s been a rough morning.”
“Hey, hey. What’s going on? You okay? You and Damon have a fight, or
The picture was of us – of Damon and I – from high school. It had only been a year and a half since then but we were so different. We both looked so young, so innocent, and kind of wide-eyed and hopeful.
“What a difference a year, a werewolf war, and a publishing deal can make,” I said, in a hollow voice. A dry, humorless laugh followed.
Turning it over, I read where he wrote ‘Love you, Lily – Damon,’ and that was just about all it took. My eyes got all misty, and I couldn’t stop myself. Before I knew it, tears were rolling down my cheeks.
Without thinking about it, I rested my hand on my belly. A smile spread across my face, as I thought about what was there, inside me, under that hand.
“It’s you, Damon,” I whispered, looking at the picture. “This is you and me. We made this. This baby is you and me, and... It’s going to be perfect.”
I kissed the picture, and blushed, for some reason. But when I did it, I felt like he was with me, instead of out there with his brother, in danger.
“Our baby will be perfect. I hope he’ll have his daddy’s eyes.”
That was the first time I thought of the little thing growing inside me as anything other than an ‘it.’
“You’re probably not even a week old, and I’m already making decisions for you.”
I smiled, and another couple tears rolled down my cheeks.
“I promise, I won’t be too overbearing,” I said. “Okay, maybe not promise. But, I’ll try. I know your daddy is going to be proud of you, no matter what. I will, too.”
Then, from out of nowhere, I had a horrible vision of Damon never coming back. I saw him and Devin being ambushed, on the way back from Louisiana. My happy tears turned into sad, desperate ones.
It was just my imagination, just me being emotional, I knew – or hoped, anyway.
But, I couldn’t shake the visions. No matter how much I clenched my eyes shut and concentrated, all I saw was Damon’s face – hurt, bleeding, dying. I needed to stop, wanted to stop, but I couldn’t.
Trembling, I closed my eyes and wrapped my fingers around the pencil I’d scribbled the note about my story with, and sat down, steadying myself in the chair, and taking a deep breath.
“All right, Lily,” I said to myself, just to have some noise around. “All right. Get a grip. Everything’s fine. Nothing is happening. Nothing has happened. It’s just the green thing, the vision, whatever, getting the best of me.”
I’d been fiddling with my pencil, just doodling to ease my mind some, like some kind of moving meditation.
I remembered what Damon told me to do before – to just breathe, slowly, in and out – and filled my lungs. I trembled as I exhaled, but that was all I needed. The panic began to fade, the worry turning into excitement. Between the doodling and the drawing, I’d got myself back to level.
Slowly, I nodded to myself, collecting my nerves. I thought maybe I should call Hunter. It was getting to be around noon, and, knowing him, he was hungry. Hell, knowing me , I was hungry. Just thinking of food, had my stomach growling.
I reached for the phone, but just as I lifted it to command the tiny robot to dial Hunter, it started ringing.
“Oh! hey!” I said, surprised. “I was just about to call you. How’d you do that?”
“You’re the witchy one,” Hunter said, with a chuckle. “I still get little twinges, every time I go past that cabin. You sure you didn’t cross any wires in my head when you were in there?”
“It’s good to hear your voice,” I said, with surprising honesty, and with a surprising shake in my voice. “It’s been a rough morning.”
“Hey, hey. What’s going on? You okay? You and Damon have a fight, or
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