Page 76 of Incoronate
Anita nodded and stepped forward, her hands reaching out. “I’ll take him.”
I arched a brow and let out a short, humorless laugh. “The baby stays with me.”
Her hands froze mid-reach. “Do you really think that’s wise?"
"Yes."
"The Order will come after you harder than they ever have before. How are you going to fight them with a baby? You’re barely an adult yourself. You can’t even control your own power half the time—”
“He’s family,” I cut in, my voice coming out harder than I’d intended. “My blood. And no one in this world is going to understand him better or protect him fiercer than I will. So if you think you’re taking him from me, you’re welcome to try. But I promise you, it won’t end well for anyone involved.”
Anita’s lips twitched. Almost a smile. “Just when I was starting to like you.”
“Well, you should keep doing that because I’m going to need your help,” I said flatly.
“And what makes you think we’d help you again?”
“Because helping me means protecting him,” I said, meeting her eyes with unflinching certainty. “And after everything you did to get him here safely, after all the spells and planning and risk you took to bring him into this world, you’re not going to let him fall into the wrong hands now. You need me just as much as I need you.”
Anita studied me for a beat and then glanced over at her sisters. Some silent conversation passed between them before she turned back to me.
“Do you really think you can do this? That you can raise the Son of Perdition while the entire supernatural world is hunting for him?” she asked as though the notion were almost laughable.
“No,” I admitted honestly. “But I won’t be doing it alone. I have my family. And now I have the three of you.”
Annabelle scoffed. “Bold of you to assume we’d agree to that.”
“Bold of you to assume you have a choice,” I countered. “You brought him into this world. You want him to see his first birthday? His tenth? To grow up and become something other than what everyone expects? Then you’re going to use every ounce of your considerable power to help me protect him. Because if you don’t, and the Order gets their hands on him, everything you did here tonight, all the blood and death and sacrifice, it’ll be for nothing.”
The sisters exchanged another look. This one lasted considerably longer.
“She’s not wrong,” said Arianna quietly.
Annabelle’s jaw tightened. “The Order will come after you for this. You know that, right? The moment they find out you have him—”
“They’re already coming after me,” I cut in. “They’ve been coming after me since the moment they found out about me, and probably even before that. That ship has long since sailed. The only thing that matters now is whether you’re going to stand with me when they come or against me.”
A tense and drawn-out silence stretched between us for a beat.
Then Anita’s mouth curved into something that might have been a smile. “Alright, Slayer. You’ve got our allegiance. But if this goes badly, I reserve the right to say I told you so.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
Arianna stepped forward then, her expression considerably softer than her sisters’. “What will you call him?”
I looked down at the baby sleeping peacefully in my arms, at the innocent face that had no idea what kind of storm was waiting for him out there. What name could possibly carry the weight of everything he would face?
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted, brushing my thumb lightly over his tiny fist. “But it won’t be a name that marks him as a weapon or a harbinger of the end of times. It’ll be something that reminds him he has a choice in who he becomes. Something that gives him the strength and courage to face whatever battles lie ahead.”
Arianna nodded slowly. “He’ll need it. The courage, I mean. The world won’t make this easy for him.”
“I know,” I said, my grip tightening protectively around him. “But he won’t face it alone.”
“No,” agreed Anita, the faintest glimmer of respect flickering in her eyes. “He most certainly won’t.”
24. A NAME FOR THE STORM
Light spilled from every window of the Blackburn Estate by the time I finally made it home, the warm glow of it bleeding out across the front lawn as though the house itself had been holding vigil for my return. The sound of frantic voices carried through the heavy front door even before I’d reached the porch, overlapping and climbing over each other in the particular pitch of people who had spent hours searching for answers and finding nothing but dead ends at every turn.
