Page 15 of Art of the Hunt
“I am,” Gina snapped. “And I’m also going to push. This kid is about to be born right here in the middle of the Indiana Dunes National Park.”
Shit. Hunter pulled his phone out of his pocket, but before making the call to 9-1-1, he turned to Artemis. “What did you mean byusing your least favorite gift?”
Artemis waved at the laboring woman. “I’m about to help her birth her baby.”
“Do you even have experience doing this?”
“I just told you—not to mention, you said you studied our history—so you should know I helped bring Apollo into this world. Well, our world.”
“Artemis, that stuff isn’t real.”
She tossed him a scowl before she started toward the stressed out couple. He grabbed her arm. “Seriously. Leave this to the authorities.”
“The authorities won’t get here in time. Besides, three thousand years’ of experience makes me an authority, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, sure, if you actually were three thousand years old and actually were Artemis, who was a fertility goddess or some shit and had the ability to help women give birth, but—what are you doing?”
She tugged her arm out of his grip and approached the couple with the confidence of someone who really had delivered babies for three thousand years. Rather, someone who was delusional enough to believe that about herself.
Gritting his teeth, he hurried after her. He needed to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t do anything dangerous to anyone’s health. Except his own, of course. His blood pressure was no doubt shooting into the stratosphere right now.
Hopefully, if this were really about to happen, it wouldn’t take long. He doubted a prolonged, unexplained absence in the middle of the workday would bode well for his potential promotion.
“Hi, I’m Artemis.” She extended her arm to the man, a gentle smile on her face. “I’m here to help your lady friend birth her baby.”
“You are?” The guy stared at Artemis, clearly dumbfounded.
“I am. Is she your wife? Girlfriend? Sister? Best friend? Aunt?”
“Wife,” the guy said, shaking his head. “This is our first baby. Everybody said the first one is always late. We thought we could get one last hike in before—”
“Everybodyshould know that every birth is different. For Pete’s sake, women have been doing this for long enough that people should realize that by now. What’s your name?”
“Uh, Rich.” He finally shook her head. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m sure it is. Now, Gina, are you ready to have this baby?”
“Yes, but who are you?” Gina asked between pants. “Are you a doctor?”
“No, I’m a midwife. A really, really good one, despite the fact that I’m not a fan.”
“Not a fan?” Gina asked. “Of babies?”
“Of helping to birth them.” She turned to Hunter. “Can you go grab those blankets, please?” She waggled her fingers, indicating the section of woods to their left.
He glanced over his shoulder. “What blankets?”
“Right over there.” Artemis pointed at a cluster of ferns and pursed her lips. He could tell she was getting frustrated with him, but damn it, he was frustrated too. Maybe she was an experienced midwife; he had no idea. What he did know was that she did not have three thousand years’ worth of experience.
Gina made a keening noise ,and Rich snapped, “Dude, go get the blankets.”
These people were putting the birth of their child into a complete stranger’s hands after a two-second introduction. A woman who believed she was a god, although he supposed they didn’t know that part.
Scowling, Hunter stepped off the path, and sure enough, laying on a bed of ferns was a thick, orange blanket and a stack of towels, all wrapped in plastic. He scooped up the two bundles and hurried back to Artemis and the soon-to-be parents.
“How did you know these were there?” he demanded.
“Because I put them there,” Artemis said matter-of-factly. “Now, spread the blanket on the ground. Gina, would you prefer to stand or sit?”
