“Everything. I don’t like not knowing how to win a fight, and I like it even less knowing Lucifer might try to use me as a distraction too. Turning me in could offer just enough time for him to get away or something.” I take in a deep breath, calmed by the scent of the night. “I wish my mom were still alive,” I confess. “She was involved with an archangel and had a baby who wasn’t quite human. Granted, I killed her on the way out, but she could shed some light on all of this…and just tell me things are going to be okay.”
“Things are going to be okay,” Lucas presses.
“I want to believe you,” I sigh and rest my head on his shoulder. “I kind of feel bad saying I miss my mother or wish I could have gotten to know her.”
“Why?”
“Tabatha was more of a mom to me than Nancy ever was.”
“But why do you feel bad wanting to know about your birth mother?”
“I don’t know…it’s like I’m saying Tabatha wasn’t enough.”
Lucas turns his head in and cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t see it that way. You have a whole other side of you that you have no idea about. It has nothing to do with how much or how little Tabatha was involved in your life. I’ve heard her say many times she considers you her daughter, and you refer to both her and Evander as your family.”
“They are my family.” I look at the stars above the trees. “I guess now that I’m having my own kid, I want to know more about where I came from. This kid is going to be more human than me, and knowing her family history could be helpful.”
Lucas plants a kiss on the top of my head. “You’ve only known your true heritage for a few months, and you’ve gotten more questions than answers thus far.”
“Right. And I know I’m never going to get much from my dad’s side. It’s not like they’ll invite me to the next extended family get-together where I can show up with a bottle of wine and a bowl of store-bought potato salad I’ll try to pass off as my own recipe. But my mom’s side…” I trail off, slowly moving my head back and forth. “They could be really awful people. I can’t imagine anyone being worse than the Martins, but they could be pieces of shit I want nothing to do with. Or I could have a cousin that looks like me. Or an aunt who can tell me stories about my mother from their childhood. It’s not knowing that bugs me.”
“Can you try to find her? You know your mother was a witch named Callista, who died on your birthday.”
“I could ask around. Callista isn’t a common name, but at the same time—”
“Let sleeping dogs lie,” Lucas finishes.
“Exactly.”
Scarlet comes trotting back, dragging a big stick with her. Lucas gets to his feet and holds out a hand for me to take. “Come back to bed, my love. You need to rest.”
“I know.” Physically, I’m exhausted. This baby is the size of a seed and is draining my energy. I’m going to be practically comatose by the time she’s ready to be born. We go back inside, and Lucas rearms the security system, and then we go back up into bed. We snuggle together and Lucas runs his fingers up and down my arm, lulling me to sleep.
The wind wakes me up five hours later. Lucas is awake and sitting in bed next to me with his computer on his lap.
“Morning,” I say with a yawn.
“Good morning.” He leans over and kisses me. “Did you sleep well? It seemed like you did.”
“Yeah.” I stretch and move my pillow, getting comfy again. “I’d still be asleep if the wind wasn’t rattling the house.”
“A storm is blowing in.”
“Oh, that’ll make some good napping weather.”
Lucas puts his computer to the side and takes me in his arms. “What do you want for breakfast?”
“Cheerios. And maybe some bacon. Yes, definitely bacon.”
“What are Cheerios?”
I laugh. “Cereal. Like really basic cereal that toddlers eat. I don’t have any in the house.”
“Monica is delivering blood today,” he says, unable to keep the grimace off his face. I know Lucas hates drinking bagged blood, but he’s unable to take what he needs from me right now. “I’ll have her bring you Cheerios too.”