Page 121 of Born for Lace

“The infant is near.”

He can’t be. He isn’t.

I know now… It’s Lagos. Even though Spero isn’t nearby, I reach out a shaky hand and grip the drifter’s shirt, trying to hold him to me, to keep him from standing.

“Oh, baby,” he chuckles. “Do you want to play with daddy? I can give you attention after.”

“You’re dead,” I growl…

I jerk upright, the sounds of a rooster and my sobs thrusting me to wakefulness.

Gasping the earthy air that still seems so strange and raw, I gradually level with reality. Somewhere in the distance, through the window behind my head, I hear the lowing of animals, their deep first-light calls echoing from the barns and hutches.

Outside, a door shudders on the hinge, chickens chatter, and the rooster heralds the first-light again.

This is real.

At the farming community.

That was a nightmare…

I should feel relief, but instead I burst into tears.

Every. Single. Night. I wake up at the same point, right before Lagos arrives to save me. Right before I see him. Hear him say,“Close your eyes, little flower.”I can’t hear his voice anymore…

I draw little swirls on my thighs with my finger, soothing myself, aligning myself, gaining enough composure to release the burning pain, letting go of the anticipation of his arrival and his words. I am still waiting for him.

When I am awake, quietly planting seeds and tending to my little plot, I imagine him prowling through the greenhouse with booming predatory grace…

And when I sleep, I suffer the fists of the Shadow that tried to snatch Spero and hurt me. I endure it with bated breath, waiting for the moment Lagos rescues me. Maybe tonight will be different? Maybe tonight I will sleep long enough to see him… Why that night? After that night, I barely left Lagos’ side.

“Good first-light, Dahlia.” Robert’s soft voice comes seconds before he raps at the front door. “Are you dressed? Can I come in?”

I gaze down at my huge black tee-shirt. The hood creates a flap at my upper back, and the tear at my hip is my favourite part.

“No,” I whisper and then clear my throat. “One minute.” Standing on shaky legs, I stride over to Spero’s cot.

A head full of dark hair peeks over the top rail, and chubby hands hold tight. Two big brown eyes watch me slowly approach. No sleep lingers in his beady gaze. He's been awake, probably watching me toss and turn, for a while.

A cozy little sanctuary surrounds him, padded and arranged with linen toys from the community. Little animal guardians to keep him safe: an eagle, a bear, a dog, and a snake.

“Hello,” I say, my voice as lifeless as the void in my chest. I scoop him up, and he babbles as if he understands me and doesn’t blame me. By crown-light, I will have a small smile for him.

I promise.

Planting Spero on my hip, I head to the front of my quaint two-bedroom cabin and swing the door open.

Robert’s hazel eyes drop down my body, considering. “Ah… The community gave you a closet full of clothes, Dahlia. A nice nightgown, too. Why don’t you throw that away?”

My heart twists—his words are unacceptable and terrifying. I can’t remember Lagos’ voice, but this shirt… It lingers with his scent.

“Oh.” I forgot. I meant to wrap myself in the pretty, white nightgown they gave me to avoid the pity in Robert’s eyes.

“How are you feeling?” He clasps his hands in front of his neat beige pants, his stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck like a trophy he refuses to take off. Shoulder-length dark hair frames his sharp jaw, and hazel eyes beam from a perfectly kind face— unassumingly Common. Approachable. Welcoming. The women in the community swoon whenever he is nearby. He is always presentable, with a shaven jawline and hands clean of farm work as he spends his days in a clinical setting.

He is the kind of man I should want… And nothing like Lagos.

I shrug. “Fine.”

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