Page 133 of Darkness Bound (Night Prowler 5)
She looked at Leander, saw the fear in his eyes, the same fear he undoubtedly saw in hers. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms around her, and didn’t say a word.
There was nothing to say. They both knew what her dream meant.
Mama.
From the darkness beyond the bed, Jenna’s babies called to her.
She rose quickly, donned the robe left on a chair beside the nightstand, glanced at Leander as he rose and pulled on a pair of loose drawstring trousers, watching her all the while. His expression registered his knowledge that she heard what he could not, and he simply followed silently behind her as she made her way across the room to the bassinette.
In it, the twins were standing up. Waiting.
Tottering on unsteady legs, Hope and Honor cooed happily when they saw her. They raised their arms, wanting to be picked up. Jenna moistened her lips, felt her heartbeat flutter, her hands grow clammy. Inside her head, their voices murmured in the Old Language, the latest addition to their burgeoning Gifts. She wondered what unlucky soul had recently lost his ability to speak his native tongue.
“They want to go outside,” she said quietly to Leander as she lifted Hope from the bassinette. He lifted Honor, tucking her into the crook of one strong arm.
“Why?” In the darkness, his eyes shone vivid emerald, intense with emotion.
Jenna whispered, “Because it’s time.”
Above the babies’ heads, their gazes locked. She thought she’d never seen him look so beautiful, bare-chested and tense, holding their child, his hair an inky mess around his shoulders, those eyes so full of love and anguish.
He said her name, a low, fervid entreaty, but she only shook her head, her eyes filling with moisture. “Don’t wake anyone else. There’s no need.”
She turned and made her way quickly through the dark house, slipping from room to room as she listened to the sound of his footsteps close behind. The night air was soft and fragrant on her heated skin when they crossed the suspension bridge that led away from the massive Brazil nut tree, the wood planks smooth beneath her bare feet.
Finally the four of them stood on the rise of the bare rock at the Well of Souls, the stone funeral pyre a hulking black shape in the moonlight.
Jenna stood still a moment, watching the sky, her robe shifting around her ankles as a warm draft caught in its folds. Then Leander pulled her hard against him with one arm, his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, and kissed her.
It was hard, passionate, and desperate. It felt like a goodbye.
The tears she’d been holding back broke free and streamed down her cheeks. She pulled away and they stood with their foreheads pressed together, breathing hard, looking down at Hope and Honor who stared up at them solemnly, quiet in their arms.
“Don’t say anything,” Jenna begged, her voice breaking. “Please.”
“Only that I love you. And I always will.”
Jenna heard the shaking he couldn’t control in his voice, and when she looked up into his eyes, his were wet, too.
“I love you, too,” she whispered. “And I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a single thing, Leander.”
They stared into each other’s eyes until finally he nodded, swallowing.
In Jenna’s arms, Hope made a small sound. Jenna looked down at her to find her arm outstretched, her little pudgy finger pointing at the horizon. She and Leander lifted their heads, and saw far, far away in the early dawn sky, the glimmer of lights. A long, wavering line of pinprick white danced above the black outline of the treetops. Just as she felt the first, faint tremors run through the ground beneath her feet, a whiff of something sharply antiseptic hit her nose.
Jet fuel.
“All right, you sons of bitches,” Jenna muttered. “You want to play? Let’s play.”
Leander took her hand, clasping it firmly in his. She allowed herself one last look at his profile, handsome and hard, then she turned her attention back to the sky, not bothering to wipe the tears from her cheeks. The two of them stood there shoulder to shoulder on the bare rock, their children tucked into the crooks of their arms, holding hands, waiting.
As the lights came closer, Leander said in a horrified whisper, “There are a thousand of them!”
“More,” was Jenna’s grim reply.
A gust of wind whipped her hair into her eyes, swirling it wildly around her shoulders. Leander’s grip on her hand tightened. Far off in the forest, a flock of birds took flight from a tree with a haunting cry.
Then Honor lifted both her arms, reaching out to the horizon. Hope mimicked the motion, and Jenna felt a fear unlike she’d ever known sink with cold, serpentine darkness down into her soul.
