Page 12 of Providence

“Damn Dippy. I was so worried.” He pressed his head to mine, both of us looking down at the baby. “Don’t do that to me ever again.”

I gave him a shaky smile. “I can’t make any promises.”

Cain tilted my head his way, and gave me a soft kiss filled with heartache and fear. As if to contradict his soft kiss, he murmured against my lips, “You will promise or I will spank you fucking silly.”

I laughed, turning my head to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Promises, promises.”

“I wanna hug Sera too,” a small voice interjecting, and I looked over at Marco and the kids.

Marco signed to wait, and Cara frowned. Sammie looked at his sister. “She has to get all the kissing out of the way first.”

I laughed, and Cain moved out of the way, a grin on his face too. “Come here,” I said to the kids, even though my eyes were on their father. Marco stepped forward as the kids ran to me, Sammie pulling Cara back at the last minute, hissing a warning to be gentle. Such an old soul.

I opened my other arm, letting the kids climb into the bed beside me. Cara snuggled into my chest, her lower lip trembling.

“I thought you were gonna die,” she whispered, as if she was worried the words would make it happen.

I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Never, Princess.”

Sammie sat on the edge of the bed, and I waved him closer until I could wrap my arm around his shoulders and drag them all to my chest.

The baby waved a hand toward Sammie, the first time he’d done anything but stare. Sammie sat up and blew a raspberry in the baby’s direction. I smiled at the boy. “You guys seem to get on well.”

Sammie grinned at me, such a beautiful expression on the normally solemn kid. “That’s because we are brothers. I told him we would be brothers forever and I’d always take care of him, like I take care of Cara.”

Cara screwed up her nose. “I look after myself. I’m a big girl.”

Sammie patted her on the head. “I know Ra-Ra, but now we both have to look after our little brother. He needs us.”

Fuck. I was going to cry.

Shit, I was already crying. I couldn’t swipe at my face because my arms were so full. Marco was there, leaning down and catching my tears on his thumb, the look on his face so heartbreakingly hopeful it made me cry harder. He gave me a crooked smile, and made a high pitched whistle. Both kids looked at him.

Give Sera some space. She’ll need to rest soon, and we can come back and visit later, okay?

Sammie gave a solemn nod, and nudged Cara with his elbows.

“Come on, Ra-Ra. We’ll go draw the baby some bright pictures to hang over his crib. He’d like that, right?”

I nodded encouragingly. When the kids moved away, Marco leaned forward and rested his forehead to mine. He gave a shuddery, relieved sigh. He didn’t need to sign the words, I knew how scared he’d been. I tilted my chin up, and brushed my lips against his. His hand cupped my cheek, and he gave me small, desperate, sipping kisses back.

He stood, his fingertips trailing down my cheek and then over the downy hair of the baby.I’ll be back later,he signed.

I smiled as he herded the kids toward the door. Sammie spun around before he disappeared out of view. “What are you going to name him?”

I looked down at the baby, the violet depths of his eyes seeing into my soul. “I’m going to call him Madoc.”

The name settled on the baby’s shoulders, and it was probably my imagination but he seemed to like it. Sammie nodded approvingly before racing down the hall after his sister.

Then, I turned to the last two people in the room. Hope and Azriel. Azriel’s face was his normal sneer of disdain, but I didn’t take it personally. The Angel of Death didn’t really have a lot of social skills, but Hope seemed to love him. Hope, however, gave a look of such raw emotion I swallowed hard.

That look could only mean one thing. My father had been here. I’d thought it had been a pain-induced illusion, just before I passed out. I’d never met him, never seen him in person, but an artist in the Romantic Era had painted him, and it had been a perfect likeness. I’d found the painting after a century of chasing down weird ecclestical texts, working out who the hell I was. Chasing the weird ramblings of the woman I’d called mother, but who hadn’t been related to me at all. Eventually I’d realized she was a nursemaid who had totally lost her mind when she’d been visited by an angel. It had sent the old woman crazy, and she’d rant aimlessly, keeping me as alive as she could for my first few years, until I was old enough to care for us both. I wondered if I survived those first few years not because she cared for me, but because I just couldn’t die.

I shook my head, looking down at the tiny baby in my arms. “He didn’t know,” Hope’s voice was soft but seemed to echo around the room. I didn’t need to ask whohewas.

I shrugged. I figured as much. From what I could decipher from stolen vellum and crazy priests after thousands of years, Gusion had Fallen from Heaven because of my death. My mother's death.

But the being who acknowledged that fact, and the being who had starved on the streets until my body was like flesh stretched over a canvas, well they were two different people. That bitterness festered deep in my soul, whether it was warranted or not.

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