Page 124 of Madness Behind the Mask
Her arms are wrapped around her stomach, and she wobbles towards me, looking ill.
“Delilah, are youok–”
She holds up a hand. “I’m bleeding.”
There’s no blood on her palm. None on her anywhere I can see. But my heart jumps into my throat as I jump to my feet.
“Where?” I ask, my fingers sparking with my healing magic, ready to act as soon as I know where to focus it.
She touches her throat, and I shake my head. “There’s no blood there, Delilah. Are you having a vision? Are –”
I stop, the blood draining from my face as I catch the glint of the knife she has in her other hand, still pressed to her stomach.
I’mrootedwhereI am, torn between jumping back for myownsafety or rushingforwardto save herand her babyfrom herself. “Delilah,”I whisper, trying to keep my voice calm,“put down the knife.”
“I’m bleeding,” sherepeats, her eyes glassing over,the desperation in her voice leaking out onto her face. “It won’t stop. I can’t get it to stop.”
“I can,” I blurt, raising my hands to show her my white light. “I can stop the bleeding. Just put down the knife, okay?”
“You can’t stop it.” Delilah angles the knife across her stomach. “No one can stop it.”
“Delilah. Delilah, lookat me.” I wish Caden was here. Iwish I could call him back. His telekinesis could keep her blade steady while we calmed her down, figured this out. Foreseers shouldn’t be disturbed when they’re having a vision. Doing so could kill them. In this moment, she’s being touched by the divine, and the gods don’t take too kindly to being interrupted.
“He’s dead,” she whines, so much pain in her words, on her face. Tears streak down her cheeks. She’s trembling, the knife shaking. “I can’t stop the bleeding.”
“I can, Delilah. I promise. I’m a strong healer. I’ve even healed a guy after he stopped breathing. You remember Johnny?” I’m not a necromancer, but I can bring one back to life before they fully pass over, just like human doctors do with their medicine. “And if not, we can get a doctor. I can get a whole team of doctors.”
It’s risky bringing them in. We might have to kill them after if they witness any magic or any ‘wrong’ anatomy, but I’ll risk it for her and my grandchild in her belly.
“Just put down the knife, Delilah. Please. Just put down the knife.”
She looks at me. The glassiness in her eyes fades for a moment, replaced by so much sadness and pity. “I am so sorry, Sau, but you’ll have nine sons to love.”
She raises the knife to her throat, and I tackle her on a hope and a prayer.
The blade clatters on the floor a second before we hit. My hands go over her temples, white light building in a foolish notion that I can heal her from any godly damage that might be dealt.
She gasps, then starts to scream in agony, and I realize I can smell blood. A lot of it.
Terrified one of us is stabbed, I pull away, directing my hounds down. Her body is fine – no cut or stab wound through her gown. As is mine.
So where –
And then I see it, the first lines of red seeping through the fabric over her thighs.
My own cry escapes me.
She’s losing the baby.
My hands go to her stomach. I feed my magic through, seeking the damage to try to find it. Is it with the mother or the child?
I can’t figure out what’s wrong.
I don’t know why her baby’s dying.
I can’t savemy grandchild.
“He’s dead,” Delilah sobs, covering her face with her hands. “He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.”
