Finding The Lost Mystic Islan - Liberty Parker Page 0,7

stench that I can’t shake. “Hi, my name is Shyla. I’m a caseworker for the baby girl you will be giving up. Would it be alright if I ask you a few questions?”

“I thought that this was a safe haven and I did not have to tell anyone why I was giving my child up,” the mother quips.

“Oh, this is a safe haven. You don’t have to answer anything at all if you choose not to do so. I am just here to get as much information about you and the father as I possibly can so that we can have all the medical records as we place the child with new parents.” She starts to cry and I try to calm her as much as I possibly can. I can tell this has been one of the hardest decisions that she’s ever made in her life. As she begins to calm down, she tells me of the night that she got pregnant. I can’t even imagine the hell she has been through. In all of my two hundred years, I have never heard such graphic details of this magnitude. I embrace her as I tell her that her child will be raised with no knowledge of how she was brought into this world. This seems to give her some comfort during this painful time of her life. Knowing that some of the women that have been raped and given birth to the babies have been killed within days after giving birth, I walk out of her room and place a call to the sheriff’s office. I’m hoping that he’ll be able to get one of his deputies to watch over her and possibly be able to catch whoever is sent to take her out. After I hang up the phone, I go in search of Vaughn to tell her everything that I just discovered. As I am walking the floor to find her, I eventually see she’s in the nursery holding the baby girl, not the child to the mother she was just questioning. Something in her eyes has me stopping cold in my tracks. She seems entranced as her eyes are connected with the baby. It’s as if she is communicating with her. It’s as if they are one entity and are carrying on a conversation that only the two of them are privy to. I walk into the nursery and walk over to them and Vaughn never even flinches. I have to yell, “Vaughn,” to get her attention.

“Oh, Shyla, you startled me.”

“I wasn’t quiet when I walked into the room. You looked like you were in deep thought while looking into the baby’s eyes. It’s as if you were no longer in this realm any longer. It was a strange sight to witness. What is it, Vaughn? I can’t imagine what you were thinking so intently that you didn’t hear me.”

“Emmaline is her name,” she remarks with watery eyes, leaving the rest of my statements and inquiries unanswered. This feels more like an introduction than a formality.

“And exactly why would you name this child?” I will never understand why someone would name a child that is not of their own blood. One that they won’t be taking home and raising as if she were. This concerns and bothers me extensively, and I’m not sure how to broach the topic with her without upsetting her.

Vaughn

“I don’t know why or how I know her name—she was talking to me like she knew who I was...am. I knew something felt off the closer we were to the mothers and infants. I just wasn’t sure what it was. She is a witch, and that’s why I couldn’t tell if she was supernatural or not right off the bat. I need to go back and talk to that mother and see if I can get her to tell me something more than what she told you. Did she say anything of importance that immediately stands out in your memory?” Before I give Shyla a chance to answer, I push my way past her, headed back to the room which she was recently in to talk some more with Emmaline’s mother. I can feel Shyla hot on my heels. To my surprise, the mother has disappeared into thin air. “Did you happen to at least get her name? Her real name, not the pseudonym these mothers notoriously give the hospitals.”

“Well, shit,” she defeatedly hisses out as she turns around and walks out the