Shadowman Read Free

to make it to term,” a nurse was saying. “Someone with her condition never should have gotten pregnant.”
    â€œShut up,” Maggie bit back. “You don’t know anything.”
    Kathleen’s vision sharpened as the forest grew around her. Twilight had followed her into wakefulness as her crossing neared. Trees speared the hospital room, floor to ceiling, invisible to all but her. A woodsy scent filled her nose and soft fae voices whispered excitedly. It was a place of magic and dreams, of fantasy and nightmare. There was no escaping its Shadows, not for anyone. No eluding it for long, even with Shadowman holding the darkness back. Everyone eventually had to travel the dark tunnel formed by its trees.
    She’d been at its brink all her life.
    â€œKathleen,” Shadowman said, a murmur at her ear. Of course he would be near.
    â€œNot yet,” Kathleen begged soundlessly. Heart failing, her lungs filled with fluid. “Please.”
    Maggie leaned in, face blotchy and white. “Honey, it’s time. The baby needs to come out now. Stay with me, okay? I need you, sis.”
    She veered out of view as the doctor brushed something across the mound of Kathleen’s stomach. The world blurred as the colors of Twilight became more distinct—deep vermillion, raging magenta, violent indigo. Static roared in her ears. Her heart clutched. Sensation both numbed and heightened in a frightening electric fission. A change.
    Not pinned to a table. Not drowning. Not gasping for air.
    Held.
    Shadowman’s arms tightened around her. Touching her for the second time in her life. His skin brushed hers. His hair tangled on her shoulder. His breath was warm at her neck.
    Their first union had led to this moment, when he had crossed to her world, disregarding fae laws so they could be together, to touch just once. They’d stolen time, defied Fate, and created new life. She had never regretted it. Not even now.
    With the Twilight forest behind her, Kathleen looked on the world through a thickening veil. Her mortal body lay collapsed on the operating table, eyes glassy, unfocused. A doctor worked at her belly. His hand disappeared into her skin.
    â€œ. . . she’s in asystole. . . .”
    â€œKathy!”
    The doctor eased a small form out of her womb. The baby filled his palm, her skin tinged slightly blue and smudged with a whitish paste. Her face was scrunched, beautiful, while her pink tongue touched air.
    Her baby. Her little love. Talia.
    A wail rose in Kathleen’s throat like gorge. She reached out her arms, straining toward her child. So small! Kathleen’s fingertips grazed the mortal world.
    But Shadowman held her tight against the wall of his chest. Into her ear, he said, “Forgive me.”
    â€œPlease let me hold her.” The separation from her child was a vacuum of pain in her chest. Every nerve screamed in protest. Her marrow burned while her skin went frigid. There was no heart pain like this scoring need, no injury or disease more vicious than tearing her from her child.
    His lips moved against her cheek. “You know I cannot.”
    How could he be so cruel? Did his cold fae blood spare him this pain? The child was his, too.
    Kathleen turned to face Death, bitter recriminations on her tongue. Shadowman looked down on her, his gaze filled with sadness.
    â€œShe’ll live,” he said. “Even so small, her lifeline is strong.”
    â€œI want her. She’s mine . Don’t take me now,” Kathleen said. But Death had walked by her side since she was born, holding back the Shadows. She’d always known that one day she’d have to cross. She’d known that bearing her child would part the veil. She’d fought for this very moment.
    Kathleen whirled back to view the receding world. Maggie was standing sentry next to the nurse, watching her siphon mucus out of the baby’s nose. Prick for blood. Enclose her in a preemie