Page 45 of Omega's Flight
C H A P T E R 3 2
A delaide made me stay in one of her rooms for an extra day after my disastrous miscarriage, so that it was Christmas Eve before I was declared fit to leave.
Bax and Holland between them kept my pups, which was kind of them. Adelaide said it was to give me a chance to rest. She'd taken blood from Holland and then from some alpha I hadn't met, to replace the blood that I'd lost. We talked about it on the second day, when I wasn't sleeping quite so much. Talked about everything that had happened. How whatever Bram had done had unexpectedly broken something inside me, how angry Holland had been and how horrified Bram was, to the point where he refused to come see me because he was so ashamed.
I didn't think he should be—he'd meant well, and new skills were always prone to mishaps. He'd tried. Adelaide said she would tell him and try to bring him by, but he never came.
She did bring the baby to me, wrapped up in a square of white cloth, as thick and soft as any baby blanket. I stroked his head, still caught between human and wolf, his pointed ears, the tiny nose just barely formed. My little boy. I wondered if he'd have been the alpha that Degan so desperately wanted. Adelaide said it wasn't my fault, that she could see just from looking at him that he would never have survived. His heart was in the wrong place, growing outside his chest.
I'd never noticed. I thought he was beautiful and I cried over him for a morning, even after she'd had to take him back. Holland came to sit with me later, once I'd wept myself dry. He’d stroked my hair and let me talk or be quiet as I wanted and while he never said much, I felt better after. Lighter, and not quite so guilty over the pup.
The pups were brought by on the third day, in the company of two other pups and Jason, their bearer. We talked, or Jason talked and the pups talked, and I was finally able to put a face to the True Omega who Bax had run to when he'd abandoned Jackson-Jellystone.
After he left, I felt—not exactly comforted, but it was good to know that I'd made the right choice to come here. My three were happy, though worried about their Papa, but Macy—an alpha if I'd ever seen one—and Seb were a comforting presence for them. They told me about all the different things they'd done and seen and all the new pups they'd met, chattering on in a way that let me know that they were settling in fine. Jason mentioned that Ann would be in Teca's and Agatha's class in school, and that Beatrice would be in Pip's, and Taden and Seb would be in daycare with Henry, so they'd all go into these new places with at least one friend. I thought they'd be okay. Now, if only I could say the same for me.
And then it was Christmas Eve and Adelaide declared me fit to go home. If I wanted to.
I was still mourning the child that would never be, but I was a parent. I'd wallowed in my own despair for long enough, and leaned on Mercy Hills' generosity for too long. I had to, and truthfully, I missed my pups.
But it was as if getting out of that bed broke the facade I'd pulled over myself, and the anger and sadness of it all came rushing back over me like a monsoon, drowning me in its intensity until it was all I could do to stay upright.
Bax and Holland brought me clothes—new ones, straight from their supply building. I pulled them on numbly, wrapping the winter coat tightly around me.
Adelaide and Bram were waiting by the door when we left. In Adelaide's hands was a tiny wooden box, the cover carved to look like a bunch of leaves had been laid across it. She held it out to me.
"What's this?" I asked, my voice slow, like the rest of me was slow. Reluctant, I supposed, to face the rest of the world.
"It's him." She held the box out closer to me. "We thought you might like to pick a spot to bury him."
"He's supposed to be burned," I said stupidly.
"The humans don't need to know." Holland spoke from behind me, and I felt...something. What? Warmth, comfort, and a feeling like fingers combing through my thoughts, pinching off the darkest of them so they withered like weeds ripped from the ground. It lent me the strength to reach out and accept the box. The wood was smooth and cool to the touch, but it felt alive at the same time. I resisted the urge to open it again and look at him, as if I could somehow bring him back to life that way.
"Duke carved it for you last night," Bram said quietly. "We almost lost ours, the twins. He took your news kind of hard."
I jerked my head up and stared at him. "Thank you," I said for lack of anything better. "And my thanks to Duke as well."
Holland put a hand on my shoulder and Bax hugged me. "Abel's waiting downstairs for us with a shovel. I don't think the back yard of the house is a good place, because it might be disturbed, but there's a pond near the wall that's very quiet, except for full moon."
"That would be nice," I told him, the words automatic. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the little wooden box. "Now?" If I didn't do it right away, I might never find the courage to let him go.
Bax hugged me warmly. "Yes, if you're up to it."
I nodded.
They kept me surrounded on the way down in the elevator. I hugged the little box to my chest and thought lullabies and puppy stories at him as we descended. He should have as much love as I could give him, until I had to turn him over to the earth's care.
It wasn't just Abel that was waiting at the front of the building for us, but the Alpha, and another tall dark alpha that I decided had to be Duke, since he opened his arms and Bram walked right into them.
We were a small, sombre pack as we crossed the park, skirting the happy shrieks of puppies at play. I flinched at each one and Holland and Bax wrapped their arms around me, cocooning me in a bubble of love and encouragement. I didn't understand why they were so sad for my loss—they didn't know me, except Bax and, a little, Abel. Back home, in Nevada Ashes or Jackson-Jellystone, this would have been a private grief, between the alpha and his mate. Close family might have acknowledged it, but certainly not strangers or the pack's Alpha.
Or maybe they would—what did I know? Stupid and incapable. I watched in strange fascination as my tears fell on the wood, soaking in to leave odd-shaped patches of darkness on the cover.
But the place they'd chosen for him was beautiful. A tiny pond with crystal clear water sparkled underneath the blue sky, tossing back bits and pieces of sunlight to share with us. The trees were tall and green, like living walls. It felt peaceful and warm, for all that we were in the dead of winter. It felt like a place you could call home.
"There's a spot, over here," Bax said in a low voice. "Between those two trees. Not enough space for people to walk through, but it gets some sun, and it's close to the pond. This is a place of happy memories for the pack, since Mercy Hills was founded."
That sounded comfortable. If I had to leave him somewhere, a place that was happy, someplace this pretty, was a good one for that final sleep. "Yes, thank you. I think that would be good."
