The King

FIFTEEN

“I never expected to see you again. They said you’d left town.”

As St. Francis’s Chief of Neurology leaned into the computer screen, the guy seemed to be talking to himself. And sure enough, as Manny Manello didn’t answer him, he didn’t seem to care.

Beth stepped in a little closer to take a look herself—although, come on, it wasn’t as if the multiple views of her brother’s brain up on that monitor meant anything to her. Hopefully, however, this guy in the white coat with the impressive credentials came at things from a different angle.

The dim anteroom they were all squeezed into was like something out of a Star Trek episode, high-tech equipment whirring and blinking, the massive MRI machine in the chamber beyond kept separate by a thick plate-glass window. And actually, the neurologist, sitting in front of that banked console, was kind of like Lieutenant Sulu as he faced off at the computer screens, the keyboards, a telephone or two, another laptop.

“How long did this most recent seizure last?” the neurologist asked absently.

“About fifteen minutes,” Beth answered as John glanced over at her.

“Any numbness or tingling?”

When John shook his head, Beth said, “No. Nothing.”

John had come out of the hollow doughnut about ten minutes ago and changed from his hospital johnny back into his relatively innocuous-looking jeans and Giants T-shirt. The IV that had pumped contrast into his body was out of his arm, a little white Band-Aid in the place of its needle, and his shitkickers were back on.

He’d left his weapons at home.

Xhex, however, was fully loaded as she stood next to him, a black Nike baseball cap pulled down low over her eyes. Payne was the other backup, the fighter dressed in black and wearing the same kind of loose coat John’s wife was.

Beth did a retug of her own Bos Sox hat. It had been a while since anyone had seen her in the human world, and she didn’t know anyone in particular at the hospital—but there was no reason to layer on more complication to this trip.

Oh, God, please let this be okay, she thought as that doctor scrolled through all the images again.

Right behind him, not that the man was aware of it, Doc Jane was also peering over his shoulder at the black-and-white pictures—in full ghost mode.

The more eyes, the better.

“What do you see?” Manny demanded.

To his credit, the neurologist didn’t spin back around until he was good and ready—and he addressed John when he finally faced the crowd.

“There’s nothing abnormal in there that I can see.”

Cue the collective sigh of relief. And the first thing John did was grab Xhex’s tight body and haul her in close, the world obviously disappearing for them both.

As Beth watched them, she knew she should be focused on the good news. Instead, all she could think of was how she was not only alone while she waited to hear whether her brother had some kind of embolism or tumor or heaven only knew what horror in his brain—but there was a big-ass metaphorical pink elephant between her and her husband that was not going to go away anytime soon.

Pink. As in baby-girl color.

Or maybe not. Maybe it was pale blue.

“All of the brain structure is normal…”

The doctor launched into a whole lot of physician-speak that luckily meant something to Manny, given the nodding. But the lovebirds ignored all that, and their self-absorption was actually a beautiful thing to see.

At least until tears of relief mixed with tears of sadness, and everything went wavy for Beth.

Time to excuse herself.

Murmuring something about making a phone call, she ducked out into the hall. The imaging facility was isolated in the basement of one of the many St. Francis buildings, and outside of it, there was a whole lot of nothing going on: no patients in transport, no carts of supplies rolling by, no staff rushing around in soft-soled shoes.

Putting her head into her hands, she eased her butt against the wall and slid down to the floor. Thank God John seemed okay. So at least one part of her family was all right—

I need you to hear this and know that it’s the God’s honest. I will not service you in your needing. Ever …

Shit, she thought as she rubbed her eyes. Now she had to go back home and deal with all that.

A little while later, the group emerged from command central, and she shimmied to her feet, trying not to look anything other than relieved at John’s scan.

The neurologist was staring at a check in his hands and shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, Manello. Did you win the lottery?”

Kinda. Thanks to Darius’s investments, fifty grand to the neurology department as a donation was no BFD.

And to think, all the white coat had had to do was shove her brother into his pinging machine for about a half hour.

“I’m just grateful you got us in,” Manello murmured.

The doctor turned to John as he folded the check and put it in his pocket. “So, yeah, I still recommend the anti-seizure meds, but if you’re dead-set against them, the only thing I can tell you is, try to keep track of the whens and wheres. See if there’s a pattern—maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. And know that I’m here if you need me. Remember what I said, though—just because I can’t see anything doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods. The episodes are happening because there’s something wrong. Period.”

“Thanks, man.” Manello put out his hand. “You’re the best.”

The former colleagues clapped palms. “Anytime—and I mean that. And … you know, if you ever want to come back, they’d take you in a heartbeat. You’re missed here.”

Manny’s eyes shifted over to Payne, and the secret smile that hit his lips was another source of awwww.

“Nah. I’ve got it good now, but thanks.”

Chatter. Chatter. Good ol’ days. Bye. Thanks again.

And then the vampire contingency split off once again from the human one, Manny leading them out through a maze of bare tiled corridors that looked exactly the same—to the point where she began to become convinced they were lost. Wrong. Either their man in front had a compass implanted in his frontal lobe or he remembered well his decade working in the place—because eventually they hit ground level and went out the revolving doors they’d entered.

Fritz was waiting by the curb, that huge black-on-black Mercedes looking like it belonged to a diplomat. Which was another reason the car was so useful: People tended to err on the side of not screwing with it, like its inhabitants were really important or heavily armed. Fritz got more wave-throughs at stop signs and parking garages than she’d ever seen. Then again, he drove in the exact opposite way he moved.

The elderly butler didn’t have a lead foot. The damn thing was made out of tungsten—

Let’s go back now? John signed in front of her face—like maybe he’d been trying to get her attention.

“Wha—oh, sorry.” She pushed her hair back. “Don’t you want to go with Xhex?”

“I’m heading to the club,” the female said. “With Trez out, I need to check the traps.”

And that was a good, plausible excuse—except it was impossible to ignore the side glances being shared among the group.

“This isn’t about me,” she muttered.

Of course it isn’t, John signed. You’re doing a favor coming back with me. You know, to keep me company.

Fritz was only too happy to jump out and get her door for her, and as she ducked into the back of the sedan, she caught sight of Manny giving Payne a smooch, and John lip-locking with Xhex.

As a wave of dread came over her, she thought fondly of getting drunk as opposed to confronting her husband. The only problem was, that wasn’t going to solve anything, and besides, she had always despised women who got lit. Nothing uglier or more pathetic.

John got in on the other side, and then the Mercedes floated off, following the lane out from under the porte cochere and into the roadway that went around the medical center. With signs like EMERGENCY ROOM, FARNSWORTH REHABILITATION, and YARDLEY SPINE CENTER, it was like a highway with exits to towns you really didn’t want to visit.

Next to her, her brother kept looking over, like she was a stick of dynamite and he was measuring how much wick was left before shit went Technicolor boom.

“I’m fine.”

Okay, I won’t press. But here.

“Huh?” He answered her question by passing over a white handkerchief. “Why do I need—”

Fantastic. She’d started tearing up.

Really, truly fantastic.

As she blotted away tears she hadn’t been aware of crying, she shook her head and let it all fly: “I want a baby.”

Holy crap … that’s awesome, her brother signed. That’s—

“A nightmare, actually. Wrath’s a no-go.”

Oh, her brother mouthed.

“Yeah. Pretty much. And I found out right before we left.”

My God, you shouldn’t have come.

“I needed to get out of that house. And I wanted to help you.”

Well … Wrath’s probably just worried about you. It’s a scary thing for females. At this, his face got tight. I mean, Xhex isn’t into kids, and I gotta tell you, I’m relieved.

Twisting the cotton square in her hands, she let her head fall back against the rest. “But if I’m willing to assume the risks, I feel like he should go along with it. And by the way, it wasn’t like he laid his argument out in terms of being worried for my health. It was just, ‘I’m not servicing you.’ Period.”

John whistled under his breath.

“I know. Not our best moment.” She glanced back over at her brother. “I envy you and Xhex so much. You guys are so in sync.”

Ha! You should have seen us a year ago. John shrugged. I didn’t think we were going to make it.

“Really?”

Shit, yeah. She wanted to go out to fight, and like, that was fine with me—until it really dawned on me that she could get hurt. He circled his hand next to his brain. Fucked my head up bad. I mean, as a male, your woman is your thing in a way I don’t think you females can appreciate. When it comes to Xhex, I am literally not in control of my emotions, my thoughts, my actions as they relate to her safety. It’s a kind of psychosis.

When she didn’t respond, he touched her arm to make sure she was paying attention. Sounds a lot like what you and Wrath are dealing with. Yeah, you can be all, ‘It’s about a kid,’ but given the mortality rates for females? In his mind, it’s probably about your survival—and he’s picking that over any kind of son or daughter.

God, maybe it made her a bitch, but … she really didn’t want to see Wrath’s side of things. Especially not spelled out so rationally—assuming that was, in fact, how her man felt.

She was still too hurt and angry.

“Okay, fine, maybe that’s all true. But let me ask you a question—would you ever deny Xhex a child if she wanted one?” When he didn’t answer, Beth said, “See? You wouldn’t.”

Technically, I didn’t reply.

“It’s in your face.”

Yeah, but, it’s easy for me to be all like, whatever—because she doesn’t want one. Maybe I’d feel differently if she did. The risks are real, and there’s only so much medical management can do.

“I still say it’s my body, my decision.”

But you’re his primary concern. So he does get a vote.

“A vote’s one thing. The royal veto’s another.” She shook her head again. “Besides, if you’re able to articulate the position of a bonded male? So should he. He doesn’t get a pass just because he’s the King.” As sound bites came back from the confrontation, she got nauseous. “His solution is to drug me. Like I’m some kind of animal. I just … I don’t know if I can get over this.”

Maybe you should take a break. Like … get away until you aren’t so pissed off. Then come back and talk it out.

She put her hand on her stomach, and as she measured the fat padding that was now there, she felt so damned dumb for sitting on her ass eating ice cream with Layla. She wasn’t any closer to her needing—whenever, if ever, that came, it was clearly going to be on its own schedule. All she’d done was make her pants tight and drive a wedge between herself and her husband.

In the words of Dr. Phil, How’s that working for ya?

Great, Phil. Just awesome.

Hell, maybe she should watch OWN more often. Dr. Phil reruns were on for, like, five hours every morning, Monday through Friday. Surely he’d done a show on couples who disagreed over the baby thing.

Why don’t you go stay at our father’s house, John signed.

She thought of the mansion. “Yeah, no. I don’t want to even think about that place.”

As if on cue, images of her and Wrath from back in the beginning hit her hard—especially the memory of their first official date. God, things had been so perfect back then, the two of them falling in love so easily. Wrath had had her over to the house and dressed in a Brooks Brothers suit for the one and only time in their relationship. They’d sat at the dining room table and Fritz had waited on them.

That’s when Wrath had told her she tasted like—

With a groan, she put her head in her hands and tried to breathe calmly. Didn’t work. Her brain seemed to have the mental equivalent of an arrhythmia, thoughts and memories from the happy past and worries about the grim future mixing into a jumpy, jerky mess.

The only thing she was clear on?

John was right. She couldn’t go back home yet: The instant she saw Wrath, she was going to light into him, and that was going to get them nowhere.

God knew they’d already had that conversation once. A repeat was just going to make things harder.

“Okay,” she heard herself say. “All right. But I need something to eat first.”

It’s a deal, John signed.