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  “Briella, I’m leaving. Stay here.”

  This roused the girl, who got up to run and hug her mother. At least she didn’t smell bad anymore, Marian thought a little wildly. She didn’t have to be embarrassed in front of Amy, whose own child would never go more than a day without a thorough scrubbing. Marian kissed the top of Briella’s head and caught a small whiff of sourness, but it wasn’t anything nearly as bad as it had been.

  Briella had muttered something that Marian didn’t catch. The girl was staring at Amy with a concerned expression. Wary.

  “What?”

  “When will you be home?”

  Marian grimaced, breathing through another long contraction. “I don’t know. Soon, before you know it, with a new baby brother or sister. So be good, okay?”

  “Are you going to have an epidural?” Amy asked. “I didn’t have one with Toby. I was natural all the way.”

  Of course she’d been. Marian had decided that the moment they could put the needle in her, she’d be getting as much painkiller as she was allowed. She didn’t say that now. Amy watched her all the way across the street, but Marian didn’t turn back. By the time she got inside her own front door, the pad she’d put into her panties had gotten wet enough to be uncomfortable.

  Dean would be there any minute. She took her time getting cleaned up. Packed a few extras in her bag. She was thirsty but didn’t know if she ought to drink anything. Her stomach had stopped rumbling when the contractions began.

  “Babe! Where are you!”

  She went into the hallway to see Dean almost running toward the kitchen. It would have been funny if he weren’t so seriously freaked out. He caught sight of her watching and turned, spinning so hard he twisted the throw rug and almost wiped out.

  “Careful,” Marian said. “We don’t need you to end up needing a hospital stay, too.”

  She was in his arms a minute after that. Pressed to his chest. She let him hold her, even though another contraction was beginning its rippling agony all through her, and the last thing in the world she wanted was any kind of additional pressure on her body. She let him hold her because the sight of Dean’s panicked face had shown Marian something she hadn’t guessed before. Dean, for all his usual calm demeanor, was distressed by all of this, more than she was, and she had to remind herself that he hadn’t been through it before.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she told him, stroking his back.

  That was the last thing she remembered.

  Chapter Forty

  “Follow me.” The ebony bird doesn’t caw or squawk. It speaks in Briella’s voice, but sounds much older. The way her daughter will sound when she is a woman, all grown up. “Follow me, come on.”

  “I don’t want to go with you.”

  Marian wears a white nightgown, flowing. Her feet are bare. Her hair falls around her shoulders. The hem of her gown is soaked with mud and splashes of crimson that creep down the fabric from someplace in the center of her body. She is bleeding, and that blood is what mixed with the earth and made the mud.

  “If you don’t follow me, how will you know where to go?” Onyx tilts its head to her, that bright gaze burning.

  Its mouth moves with every word. That’s how Marian knows this is a dream. In reality, the bird mimics from deep in its throat. It doesn’t speak, it mocks.

  “I’m not going with you.” Marian says this three or four times, or she tries to, but her mouth is suddenly full of something chewy and sticky like bubblegum.

  She cannot speak.

  Her feet are moving toward the raven, which is flying so slowly that its wings don’t even flap. It hovers, moving inch by inch, with Marian so close behind she could reach out and grab it. She tries, her fingertips skimming the black feathers. The bird explodes in a cluster of darkness.

  Marian screams, “I’m not going with you!”

  The ground beneath her falls away, and she tumbles into nothing.

  * * *

  “Marian? Marian, can you hear me? It’s time to wake up, hon.”

  The warm female voice was not her mother’s, but it felt familiar enough that Marian wanted to answer it. She mumbled words that were meant to be agreement, but her mouth was sticky. Gummed shut. She was so thirsty it felt like she’d been sucking sand.

  “Marian. Babe. Can you wake up?”

  That was Dean’s voice, and she struggled again, upward out of the darkness of sleep. Her eyes opened, then shut against the bright light. She tried again.

  Everything hurt.

  “Where am I?” Then, after a moment, she gave a panicked shriek. “The baby? Where’s the baby?”

  Dean gripped her arm. A woman in a pair of maroon scrubs took the other. Marian tried to fight both of them, but the pain was too much. Marian fell back into the hospital bed. She remembered Dean bringing her to the hospital and nothing much after that.

  “The baby’s fine. You had a healthy baby boy,” the nurse said. Her strong fingers squeezed Marian’s upper arm, keeping it still. “You need to relax.”

  That was a good thing, because now that she was fully awake, she could see the needle probing the back of her hand. She calmed herself as best she could, but wasn’t able to stop the shaking. She wasn’t even cold.

  “You’re having a reaction to the meds,” the nurse said. “If you feel like you’re going to be sick, there’s an emesis basin right here. Okay? And if you need me, you can push this button. Otherwise, you’ve got some nice pain meds on a drip. You can push this button as often as you want, but it will only dispense more meds when it turns green.”

  “What happened to me?” The nurse gave her another squeeze, but Marian was looking at Dean. He looked as though he’d lost weight. Haggard, face drawn, several days’ growth of beard. Days? “Dean?”

  “You hemorrhaged. Your blood pressure dropped. We almost lost you.” Dean’s voice cracked and broke.

  The nurse left them, and Marian waited until she’d gone before she spoke again. “I almost died?”

  “Yes.” Dean bent over her, and she stroked his hair. “I was so scared I was going to lose you.”

  “You didn’t. I’m here. I’m okay. Right? I’m okay?” She shifted in the bed, wincing at the pain between her legs. Part of her wanted to reach down to feel what had happened, but she was afraid to find out she’d been torn in half or something equally horrible. It sure as hell felt like it. No C-section scar, though.

  “You’re going to be fine. The baby’s fine.” Dean’s breath half sobbed out of him.

  Marian stroked his head again. “What about Briella?”

  Beneath her touch, Dean tensed. He looked up at her. His mouth worked, but nothing came out.

  “What about Briella?” Marian repeated. Her voice sounded very far away. She was fading out again. She’d pushed the button in her hand without knowing it, she thought. She was sending herself down the rabbit hole of pain meds.

  Or she was trying to pass out so she didn’t have to hear something bad.

  “There’s been some problems,” Dean said, “with Briella.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  There could never be enough apologies, but Marian was determined to try. Three weeks passed before she could convince Dean to head back to work. He was still on nights but hoped to switch permanently before the end of the month. She’d healed enough that she could walk across the street with the infant boy, Michael Dean Blake, strapped across her chest as he slept. She kept Briella tight by the hand.

  “I don’t want to go,” Briella muttered as Marian rang the bell.

  Marian did not look at her. When Amy opened the door, her wary look hurt Marian’s heart. “Amy. Can we come in?”

  “I don’t think so.” Amy gave a small shake of her head.

  “Fair enough.” Marian drew in a long, deep breath. She tugged Briella a step closer. “We have something