EIGHTEEN
Layla kept herself together while leaving the community behind, but then Quin held her to her word and pulled her into his arms.
His chest hopped as he pushed aside her hood and buried his face in her hair, and when his tears hit her scalp, the reins slipped from her grasp. With a shuddering gasp that held traces of her kids, she crumbled, and only Quin’s tight embrace kept her afloat as she succumbed to the pain, fear and depression. Soon, they would arrive in Maganthia, and she’d have to become the angel everyone expected her to be, but today, she was a mom mourning the absence of her babies.
The tears eventually ran dry, but she didn’t leave Quin’s hug. Wrapped in his warmth and spells, she zoned out on the dark velvet covering his chest, a backdrop for sweet visions of the family she left behind. Exhaustion and stress weighed heavy on her, but she couldn’t sleep with her heart in a vice.
They flew for several hours before slowing, and when Layla peeked at the world, she found it bathed in moonlight.
Gravity shifted as Quin descended toward a desolate desert. Then shiny auras peppered the bland landscape as allies landed around him.
Quin found Drexel while lowering Layla’s feet to cracked dirt. “We need to make a phone call.”
The commander nodded before ordering his soldiers to shield the area and fix dinner, so Quin led Layla to a large chunk of sandstone. Taking a seat, he urged her onto his lap. Then he dug into his bag and withdrew a bottle of water and their new cell phone. Layla had given up her old number after letting Travis and Phyllis know it had changed. Now they carried an updated cell that matched the one they left with her grandparents.
“How do you feel?” Quin asked, handing over the water.
She took a long drink, replacing her stock of tears, which promptly welled up in her eyes. “Sad.”
“It’s a sad day.” He rubbed her back. Then he took his turn with the water while thumbing through the phone. When he lowered the bottle, a smile stretched into his shiny eyes. “Maybe this will help.”
He showed her the screen, which was filled with the grinning faces of their kids, and her aching heart softened and warmed as she snatched the phone from his hand and pulled it in for a closer look. “That’s today. They’ve already sent us pictures?”
“Several. What did you think would happen when you gave them a camera phone?”
“This,” she gushed, poring over the photos. “This is exactly what I hoped for.”
Quin’s colors brightened as he shifted her so he could peer over her shoulder. “It looks like we miss them more than they miss us.”
“Thank goodness for that. If I thought they were hurting like I am, I’d go back. But look at those smiles. Even Benz seems happy. I’d endure this hell a million times to keep it that way.”
When she reached the end of the photos, she found a text assuring them the triplets were adjusting to the bottles fine and that Benzio was staying too busy to mourn their departure. Layla wiped away relieved tears as she imagined all six of Benzio’s grandparents clamoring to make him happy while smothering him in love, and her broken heart eased a little more, making room in her churning gut for food.
“Will we reach Maganthia tonight?” she asked, scanning the temporary dining accommodations.
Quin lifted her with him as he stood. “No. We’ll be travelling for days. We’ll probably stop around midnight somewhere in Death Valley, but most of the trip will be spent over the ocean.”
“Days, huh?”
“Yeah. To say Maganthia is out in the middle of nowhere is an understatement.”
“Will they have cell reception?”
“Probably not in Maganthia, but there are communication specialists outside the city whose only job is to connect Maganthians to the rest of civilization. With land lines dying, I’m sure they’ve figured out how to access cell towers.”
“What if they haven’t?”
“Then we’ll figure it out.” He kissed her forehead while motioning toward the phone. “Give Benzio a call while I get us something to eat. He’ll be going to bed soon.”
Layla got to hear her grandparents’ voices on speaker phone when she first called. Then she listened to Benzio’s excited chatter as she stuffed a sandwich down her swollen throat. When it was time to pass the call to Quin, her depression returned, and her full breasts leaked as images of her babies flashed through her tired mind.
Quin had stepped away from everyone, fully immersed in his conversation with Benzio as his aura cut through the shadows, so he didn’t notice Layla’s half-assed effort to dry her aching chest. By the time he disconnected the call and turned his bloodshot gaze on her, everyone had eaten, so they packed up and departed.
For a while, Layla insisted on flying on her own with only Quin’s hand to hold, but as midnight drew nearer, her breasts began hurting, making her nauseated, which seemed to escalate her exhaustion. When Quin gave her hand a light tug, she surrendered and let him pull her to his warm chest, where she promptly fell asleep.
~***~
The next time Layla awoke, she lay on a soft mattress, tucked into her favorite place on earth, but she was far from comfortable. Hot and stuffy, she was clammy from head to toe, and her chest was on fire as unpleasant chills rolled over smarting skin.
Damn. She was sick, sicker than she ever recalled being in her life.
Rolling away from Quin’s suffocating embrace shifted her engorged breasts, and she cringed while blinking teary eyes at enflamed flesh.
“Shit,” Quin muttered, his eyes bulging on her chest. Then he soared from the mattress and landed on the floor beside her. “Shit.”
He kept saying it as he visually examined her red and swollen breasts. Then his jaw flexed as he laid a hand on her sweaty forehead.
Finding her eyes with his moistening gaze, he managed to relax while leaning close. “It’s okay. We can fix this.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Probably mastitis. I should have tended to them last night. I’m sorry.”
“I need a drink,” she croaked, feeling as if she was about to melt into the mattress.
He summoned a glass of water. Then he carefully helped her drink, but the soothing of her insides was countered by chills on the outside. “I don’t remember ever being this sick, Quin. I can’t travel like this.”
“We’ll fix it.” After helping her take another sip, he attempted to regulate her temperature with a soft kiss to her head. “Stay here. I’m going to get Skyla. She has remedies for the fever.”
Before he could move away, Layla clutched his wrist with pale fingers. “Where are we?”
“Death Valley.”
“Are we safe?”
“Yes,” he assured, laying a calming hand over her strained knuckles, so she let go and closed her eyes, trying not to cry.
Several seconds of silence passed as Layla floated in a blind and sweaty state of unease. Then she heard footsteps followed by Skyla’s gasp.
“Shit,” she cursed, sounding a lot like her cousin, who continued to berate himself.
“I should have taken care of her last night. I didn’t know it would hit this fast.”
Layla opened her eyes to find Skyla examining her breasts as Quin pulled supplies from a medical bag.
“Trade places with me,” Skyla told him. “She’ll be more comfortable if you clear the mild ducts. Search for an infection while you do it.”
He moved into position, but hesitated. “May I numb her torso?”
“Go for it. At least until you relieve some of the pressure.”
He lowered his lips to Layla’s. “I have to touch them to numb them.”
“Whatever you have to do,” she breathed. “It has to be better than this.”
He brushed her damp hair back and gave her a kiss. “Close your eyes and try to relax.”
She obeyed, letting him submerge her body into numbness, but the fever wreaked havoc, heating up her face and hands as shivers vibrated the bed.
By the time Quin dropped the numbing spells, Layla’s chest wasn’t nearly as tight or sore, and Skyla had brewed a steaming cup of tea that was supposed to combat the fever and pain.
Quin helped Layla sit up. Then she sipped the bitter brew while Skyla dabbed her forehead with a cold washcloth and Quin covered her breasts with cool, cabbage leaves.
“That’s already a million times better,” Layla noted. “Once this tea kicks in, I should be able to fly.”
Quin glanced at Skyla. “Is that true?”
She shrugged while dunking the washcloth in a basin and wringing it out. “Technically, yes, but any healer worth their salt would tell her she needs to rest for a couple of days.”
Layla shook her head. “I didn’t leave my kids just so I could sit around doing nothing. Quin will help me fly.”
Skyla looked to Quin, who relented with a stiff nod. “Thanks for the help, Sky. Go get some breakfast. We’ll be leaving soon.”
She handed him the cloth then packed her ingredients in a leather bag customized with her name.
“Did my grandpa make that for you?” Layla asked.
Skyla beamed while picking up the bag. “Yeah. He and Daleen gave it to me last week.”
Layla managed a smile as she leaned against the pillows, finally able to relax. “They’ll be thrilled to know it’s being put to good use.”
With that, Skyla’s eyes filled with tears. Then she gave Layla’s cheek a quick kiss before floating away.
“You just made her day,” Quin noted, gliding the washcloth over Layla’s shoulders. “She’d never admit it, but she needed your validation.”
“I wish she didn’t.”
“I know, but whether or not we like it, she followed us. They all did, so it’s natural for them to seek our approval.”
He tossed the cloth in the basin. Then he took a moment to dry her sweaty skin and hair. Only then did Layla take in her surroundings, and tears sprang to her eyes, pushed there by the lengths Quin had gone to make her feel at home. Their tent was huge, tall enough to stand and with enough floor space for a queen size bed, two nightstands, a sitting area and a clothes rack. Two padded chairs sat next to a small coffee table, which was topped with photos of her kids and coven, as well as the stickman bouquet Quin made her the day after they met. He’d kept the flowers alive all this time, always displaying them in her bedroom. Until now.
Wiping away tears, she finished her tea. Then she set aside the mug and took Quin’s hand. “This tent is wonderful. Thank you.”
He sat on the edge of the mattress and checked her temperature. “I should have spent less time on the tent and more time on you. I’m sorry I let this happen.”
She shook her head, but didn’t argue. He’d blame himself no matter what she said, but he didn’t dwell on his regret.
Pulling a joint from his satchel, he lit it with a big hit before passing it over. “This will help with the pain and increase your appetite.”
She accepted, taking a big enough pull to sting her lungs. “It’s a miracle drug.”
“It’s an herb, and it beats the hell out of pumping your system full of hexless pills.”
His argument held logic, and since Death Valley was probably void of corner drugstores, she took two more hits of the weed.
Quin fixed himself an egg sandwich while peeling her an apple, and she tried to ignore the aches and pains as she eased out of bed and dressed. After forcing down the fruit, she took a few bites of toast then topped it off with a vitamin.
Quin was already packing, but he kept a close eye on her. “Will you let me carry you today? We can’t go full speed anyway. You might as well get the rest Sky recommended.”
“I may not have much choice in the matter. I’m tired and I feel like shit. If I walk into Maganthia like this, Drexel’s angel claims will sound ridiculous.” She paused and pointed at a bucket topped with a toilet seat and framed by curtains. “Am I supposed to pee in that?”
“Yeah. We’re in a desert.”
“Lovely,” she mumbled, shuffling to the makeshift bathroom. “What’s with the cabbage leaves on my tits?”
“They’ll reduce the swelling and pain if we keep them cool.”
“Really?”
He lightly laughed from the other side of the curtain. “Really, love.”
After relieving her bladder, Layla left the bucket behind, deciding she didn’t want to know what Quin would do with its contents. He’d almost finished transferring the furniture into his bag, so Layla donned her cloak and stepped outside onto cool dirt.
Squinting at the sunlight, she slid her gaze up the red walls of a winding, sandstone cavern, which was lined with tents as far as the eye could see. The shelters closest to her belonged to her coven members and Weylin, and the rest were surrounded by bustling Crusaders.
Drexel’s tent was one of the nearest, and when he saw Layla, he scowled and stormed over. “What’s wrong with you?”
Too tired to deal with his shit and too weak to punish him for it, she rolled her eyes and headed for Brietta, who sat in the shade of the eastern cliff, flirting with Kegan while watching him pack their cozy tent.
“That’s it,” she encouraged, tossing a grape at his ass as he bent over. “Show me what you got.”
Layla smiled while easing down the sandy wall to sit beside her cousin, and while Brietta expressed her love by squeezing Layla’s knee, she didn’t point out her pale and clammy appearance.
Drexel had barged into Quin’s tent. Now the two of them could be heard arguing over Layla’s condition.
“We’re taking care of it,” Quin insisted.
“You better be,” Drexel countered. “She shouldn’t have gotten to this point. If you’re not tending to her health, what are you doing?”
Layla’s nostrils flared as she considered ripping open the tent and slamming Drexel to the ground, but her energy was nil, and Quin was more than capable of taking care of himself.
“Back off,” he snapped. “If you want someone to blame for her condition, go find a mirror. You think you’re pushing an angel, but you forget she’s a mother in a human body. Her symptoms are a result of abrupt weaning and stress. The whole fucking world plays a part in her pain, including you, so you can take your self-righteous indignation and shove it up your ass. I said I’m taking care of it, and I am. She’ll be fine by the time we reach the city.”
Silence captured the tent. Then Drexel stomped outside, but he didn’t have room to rage away. Kegan, Weylin and Banning had overheard the confrontation. Now they lined the commander’s path, forcing him to endure their encroaching auras and deadly stares if he wanted to pass. The message was clear. If Drexel screwed with Quin, he was screwing with all of them.
Tense and angry, Drexel squeezed by while muttering something about priorities, but if he considered lecturing Quin’s friends, Weylin’s intimidating size and stance made him change his mind.
Once Drexel was out of earshot, the guys resumed their tasks, and Brietta quietly laughed while handing Layla a lit joint and a bottle of water.
Layla accepted both while resting her head against the cliff. “You know, for a name like Death Valley, it’s gorgeous here.”
Brietta smiled while gazing around, as if taking note of the majestic canyon for the first time. “You’re right,” she decided. “The name doesn’t begin to do its beauty justice.”
~***~
With her pain and fever receding, Layla fell asleep within minutes of Quin taking flight, and after waking long enough to eat lunch and call home, she drifted off again.
The next time she stirred, she lay in their spacious tent, and Quin was changing the compresses on her chest as Skyla brewed tea.
Layla reached for Quin’s tense face while rubbing her eyes. “Where are we?”
“The Pacific Ocean,” he answered, turning his head to kiss her palm.
Her eyebrows drew together as she gazed around. “Does our tent float?”
“No. The Crusaders put together a floating platform. Do you feel like going outside for dinner?”
Her lip curled. “Not particularly. It feels like my fever’s back.”
“It is,” Skyla confirmed, “but not for long. Here, drink this. If you’re not better by morning, we might need to ask the Crusaders’ healers to take a look at you. We’ve cleared the blockages, so you should be on the mend within twenty-four hours of the fever setting in.”
“I’m sure I will,” Layla encouraged, saddened by the concern and disappointment in Skyla’s eyes. “It’s not as bad as it was this morning.”
Skyla placed a bowl of herbs on the nightstand for a later cup of tea. Then she squeezed Quin’s shoulder while gathering her bag. “Are you coming out?”
“No,” he answered, still tending to Layla. “Tell everyone we’ll see them in the morning.”
She agreed before taking her leave. Then the tent steeped in silence as Quin worked and Layla sipped.
Once her mug was on the nightstand and her breasts were covered in cabbage, Quin moved to the spot beside her and lit a joint, taking a few hits before passing it over. “Two more nights.”
“Until we get there?”
“Yeah, and we probably won’t get cell reception until then.”
Layla puckered, but withheld her complaints. “I’m sorry I’m being such a needy pain in the ass.”
He laid an arm behind her head and lightly played with her hair. “You’re not. You’re sick. There’s a difference. And it’s not like you’re letting it slow us down.”
“It’s causing problems with Drexel.”
“Fuck Drexel.”
Layla’s eyes widened, and smoke rolled from her open mouth as she recalled the few times she’d heard that word come from his mouth. He said it more when he thought she wasn’t listening, but even those instances were few and far between. For him to say it in front of her was a surefire sign he was pissed.
“I’m sorry,” he quietly offered. “Does that bother you?”
“No. I’m just not used to it coming out of your mouth, but it’s understandable considering the stress you’re dealing with.”
“I’ll feel better once you’re well. Until then, Drexel can piss off.”
“I’ll be better in the morning,” she predicted, hoping she told the truth. “Is my milk supply dwindling?”
“Yes.”
She nodded, half relieved, half depressed. “Let’s eat. I’m still tired.”
They ate sandwiches in bed. Then they lay side by side as Layla drifted off. But once her fever broke, she rolled toward her safe haven, and he quickly wrapped her in a hug, desperate for the intimacy their relationship had lacked since New Year’s Eve.